#it's not just that the target has been lifted off her back | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rinhaler · 6 months

Note

hey hey, ik ur requests are closed so im gonna leave this till u open them back up,

imagine Yakuza Boss!Toji bucking his hips into you, bored out of his mind at his meeting, you’re cute whimpers and whines for him to slow down slightly amusing him as a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, all this happening while his most trusted subordinates watch as he fucks into you at this meeting, while you just sit on his lap babbling about how good he feels until he finally makes you squirt, causing him to stop the meeting and kick everybody out so he can abuse your little hole some more, wanting to see you squirt for him more. :3

I feel like I went a little off script and I threw some Shiu in there too bc we're all sluts for Shiu right?? Bon apetit!

warnings: 18+ MDNI, age gap, possessiveness, slight jealousy, slightly mean toji, dom!toji, exhibitionism, public sex, oral fixation, squirting, daddy!kink, DDLG esque?, pussy spanks.

words: 1.6k

“She shouldn’t be in here.” Shiu comments, his boss gives him a passive stare before looking in your direction. You sit politely with your hands in your lap and a shy smile, looking awkwardly around the room full of terrifying men. “She shouldn’t be listening to the shit we’re discussing.”

“I shouldn’t be listening to this shit, either. What the fuck do I pay you all for?” Toji responds, putting his arm around the back of your seat as he scoffs. “She’s needy, she needs constant attention and I know all you filthy fucks have got your eye on her so I don’t want her out of my sight.”

Shiu groans, but stands to his feet. You feel bad, really, you know what an inconvenience you are but you do try your best to remain demure and out of the way. But he’s right, you’re needy. And to be honest you’re a little afraid. Since you’ve become Toji’s plaything you’ve got a target on your back. You know with all of the security and loyal men at his disposal the odds of anything happening to you are slim. But still, you know it isn’t impossible.

Toji’s second in command leads the meeting in the board room, and you are engaged and silent as he speaks. It’s something about a territory dispute. You don’t fully understand but you know it’s illegal and dangerous. And you begin to whimper as they discuss resorting to violence.

The sound catches Toji’s attention. It seems you’ve been paying more attention than he has. He’s got more money than sense, and that is why he keeps Shiu around. But he can read you like a book. He knows when you’re happy or sad, angry or scared. And now, he sees how hard you’re trying to hold in the fear you feel. He knows what always makes you feel better, though. And he’s bored out of his fucking skull.

He shows no care or consideration for his audience as he lifts you from your seat and into his lap. Shiu stutters a little as he watches Toji manhandle you, your legs spread apart over his own before he touches under your little miniskirt. He smirks, kissing your shoulder when he feels your naked flesh.

“Good girl, no panties, jus’ like I told you.”

He doesn’t see a point to you wearing panties, he told you that after your first encounter. He told you he’d be keeping you around and you were his perfect little girl. And perfect little girls don’t need panties.

“Perfect little girls just need to keep their cunts wet for their daddy’s.” that is what he told you.

Your face flushes with heat when you realise if anyone in the room is brave enough to look they’ll see your dripping little slit. You aren’t sure how brave Toji’s men really are, though. But Toji is bold and uncaring and he knows what he wants. Always.

You gasp, softly, stealing a few gazes from the men in the room. Shiu is busy trying to keep the meeting on track and keep everyone focused. And it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before. He knows your pussy like the back of his hand, too. Because Toji loves to show you off. But he’ll never share. But his second in command knows better than most what your cute cunt is capable of. It’s a novelty to him, now. Why would he steal glances when he knows his generous boss will brag about you in private to him?

You fall forwards, little hands slamming against the table top as Toji rams his cock into you without remorse. He holds your hips, pulling you down until the back of your thighs smack against his. His fingers squeeze into your doughy skin, sure to leave bruises as he’s often one to do. Any fear that you’d felt at the thought of the men surrounding you committing acts of violence are a distant memory, now. You’re too busy trying to steady yourself through daddy’s onslaught.

“P-Please, fuck, please… daddy! S-Slow down!” you beg, a smirk sprawls like wildfire across his face as he listens to your desperate pleas.

“No no no, you don’t tell me what to do,” he reminds you. A light slap coming down on your clit as he continues fucking up into you. “Stop thinking, just take it, princess.”

Shiu sighs, his focus wavering as you continue to moan and yelp through Toji’s never ending fucking. He lights a cigarette for himself and then hands one to Toji. He takes a hand away from your hip to bring it to his lips, and Shiu proceeds to light his and then his own.

He continues to speak as if nothing is happening. He’s so calm and collected, but it’s no wonder. Toji is a man he’s known for as long as he can remember and he knows all of the complexities that come with him. Not to say that you are complex. You’re probably the best thing that’s ever happened to him, truthfully. But it isn’t as much of a distraction as it seems to be for the rest of his subordinates.

Toji chortles when he watches Shiu slot his thumb into your mouth, his other hand still holding his cigarette with no care to where the ash lands. The lackeys are even more confused, now, do they share you? Toji isn’t the type to share, no, but he isn’t going to chastise Shiu for doing what he needs to do to get through his meeting.

Besides, you look quite cute sucking on his thumb. He always thinks you look cute when you’re sucking on something, though. You hold onto Shiu’s wrist as you suckle on his thumb. And you hate that he won’t give you any attention, especially when you’re blinking up at him with pretty, wet eyes. Doesn’t he want to admire how cute you’re being for him?

You begin to act up, mewling loudly around his fingers as you try to get him to look at you. But it only ends in another wet slap on your pussy from Toji and a particularly rough cantering of his hips. He pulls you back towards him, your shoulder blades cushioned by his pecs as you’re pulled into him.

Shiu wipes your saliva from his thumb onto his blazer and gives you a passive glance before focusing on the men in the room again. He snaps his fingers in a bid to command their attention.

Toji, however, is fixated on you. His sharp canines ghost over your jugular. Your heart rate quickens and so do the shallow breaths escaping your throat. He silences you, his hand smothers your lips as he continues to nip and bite softly with ease. It’s exciting, and terrifying, because you know he could tear out your throat if he really wanted to.

“Did I just hear you beggin’ for another man’s attention, princess?” he whispers, his large palm pushing your legs further apart before repeatedly slapping down against your firm clit. “Is daddy’s cock ruinin’ you not enough, hah? Because I’ll stop, right now, and you can forget about cumming for a while. A long fucking while, darlin’.”

You muffle your protests through his smothering palm. Of course he’s enough! You got carried away, that’s all. He’s more than enough. You don’t need anyone else’s attention. Just him. Only him.

“Heh, that’s what I thought.” he laughs, harshly, licking a fat stripe up your neck with his wide tongue. Tears spill from your eyes as he continues to pound into you, gritting his teeth with each squeeze and stifled moan he’s suffocating with his hand. He wraps his free hand around your torso and drills upwards into your slippery heat.

Your moans become louder as you reach your peak. He repeatedly nudges your sensitive insides in the most beautiful way and forces you to clench and wince and fucking scream through your nostrils as he drags your orgasm out of you.

And eyes begin to turn white as they roll into the back of your head. Your body turns limp as his touch forces an orgasm from your body. Your body is wracked as you violently shake through it, your cunt squirting all over his lap and onto the floor below. He moans, boisterously at your display.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by the men in the room, either, as the sound of gushing water hits the ground below.

Toji bends you over the desk, carnal desire flooding all sense that he has. He pushes your head down so your cheek is squished against the table. You look up at Shiu, blinking pathetically. And now, you do have his attention. Toji hisses, flipping your skirt up to reveal your plump ass. He has no doubt his men will find it difficult not to look.

“Everyone out, now.” he commands, his men readily jump to their feet and begin to filter out of the room. Shiu stubs his cigarette out on the table top, not even an inch away from your nose and he prepares to leave. “Not you. Stay.” Toji orders. Shiu chuckles, weakly, and takes a seat.

“What do I owe this pleasure?” he asks, tucking your hair behind your ear as he watches your fucked out face continue to swallow Toji’s cock again and again. “Sorry I couldn’t give you any attention, angel. That meeting was a disaster, huh?” he smiles.

“This isn’t your pleasure, Shiu.” Toji informs him. “She jus’ likes it when you watch.”

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werecreature-addicted · 2 months

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I have been waiting for this! This has been stuck in my head since you mentioned how there's too many werewolf x bunny fics.

Imagine there's a village of prey hybrids. All the villagers that live there are some kind of prey animal.

The village is very peaceful, but is the target of a tribe of predator hybrids that dwell in the deepest part of the forest.

Every year, these predator hybrids would attack the prey village and would kidnap any villager unlucky enough to be caught.

These attacks typically happen around mid to late spring, from dusk to well into the night.

The prey villagers always hide around this time, but at least one to three people end up being taken.

Last year was one of the reader's friends. A sweet little sheep that was said to be taken by a large male black wolf. Poor girl was likely eaten by that horrible beast! (In a way she was eaten~)

This year, it is reader's turn.

Reader is a deer hybrid that got caught while out gathering food in the forest. Only to be jumped by a strong and handsome male mountain lion hybrid and taken back to his tribe.

There reader finds her friend as well as other people from her village, all well and alive and with large clearly pregnant bellies as well as a few children.

Turns out the predator tribe has been taking people from your village as their mates. Even treating their prey mates with the utmost care.

Something the reader will understand fully once she's been bred with her first litter of cubs.

your parents had always warned you to be careful when you left the safety of the village, especially during spring when nearby predators would go into heat and kill little deer girls like you to feed to keep up their strength. You were so careful, the fastest in the herd, the best at running away, no predator could ever catch you....other people weren't so lucky. Every year a few people would go missing, trail too close to the border, stay out foraging after sunset, and disappear.

Most of the time, you don't know the prey who gets taken, but sometimes you do, like when your best friend got dragged off by a horrifying wolf. You grieved the loss of your friend and redoubled your commitment to safety... but you got cocky. you were the fastest in your age group, no one could catch you, especially not some heavy, slow predator.

It's a warm spring evening, the breeze gentle and sweet, smelling like honeysuckle and green grass. the sunsets casting the valley in golden light, your basket is full of fat wild blackberries. how could anything go wrong on a day like this? A twig snaps to your right, and you turn and freeze, looking carefully at the tree line. you don't see anything... but your heart is still racing, by the time you spot the hungry green eyes peering up at you it's already too late. you take off running, but for once, you aren't fast enough.

The mountain lion pounces and lifts you off of your feet, throwing you easily over his broad shoulders, you freeze, your heart beating faster and faster, you need to think, he hasn't killed and eaten you yet- maybe you could escape, you just need to keep your head.

It's a much shorter journey to the preditor village than you would have thought, you'd never traveled far from home so you had no idea that they were so close this whole time. What's even more surprising is the amount of prey animals, wandering around town and looking happy. A rabbit boy with big floppy ears hanging off the arm of a buff-looking wolf, a deer hybrid like yourself flirting with two different lions, and a sheep- a sheep that you recognize. Your eyes go wide as it clicks into place. the people being taken weren't being killed at all.

The mountain lion puts you down and looks at you closely, evaluating you. "I wasn't too rough was I? You're not hurt?" he asks. you shake your head slowly

"n-no. I'm not hurt just- scared," you admit shyly. He nuzzles you comfortingly,

"awe, don't worry my mate, I'll keep you safe... I won't let anything happen to you, no one else will touch you while you're with me," he purrs and you shift, embarrassed to tell him that it was him you were afraid of. although you had to admit if this big scary mountain lion is guarding you, and claiming you as their mate, you do feel a little safer.

#monster imagine #monster #monster fucker #teratophillia #monster boyfriend #werewolf x reader #werewolf boyfriend #werewolves #werewolf

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meatonfork · 1 year

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Hi! Can I request for a grim au where, grim goes missing and the whole squad is freaking out. Then, grim just comes out of no where, covered in blood from head to toe after surviving an ambush. They take care of her and after she’s taken care of, they get ready to absolutely destroy the people who hurt her.

How Copy?

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pairings: platonic 141 x grim

warnings: cod violence, blood, angsty, nudity (not sexual)

summary: when grim goes missing, the task force fears the worst of their friend.

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“grim, how copy?” soap heard ghost’s voice crackle through the comms. his heart sank upon not hearing a response.

“grim! how copy?” again, soap and ghost were met with silence.

“god, damn it. soap, you have eyes on them?”

“no, sir.” a sigh left soap’s mouth as his brows furrowed upon the realization that you weren’t going to respond anytime soon.

the last they’d heard from you was when you’d announced that gaz had been right, and this had in fact been an ambush. that was over twenty minutes ago, and nothing since.

rubble surrounded soap’s boots, crunching under his weight as he scanned his surroundings. fallen buildings and ash littered the ground as smoke bellowed into the air. sweat had started to form at his hairline from not only running around, but worry at your lack of response.

“can we look for them?” gaz asked as he lifted his foot over a large piece of building.

“no. we need to go to the rendezvous, we can come up with something there. mission comes first, you know that, gaz.” price’s voice was strained as he answered. he didn’t like the answer he had to give, but emotion couldn’t take control. they had a mission to finish, and then you came next. they could only hope they weren’t too late by the time they’d find you.

reluctantly, gaz answered his captain’s command, “yes, sir.”

and, to the rendezvous point they went.

it was right after sunset, the four men gathered around a table as they figured out their next move. the targets had been detained. a russian operating force who was in the process of getting a new weapon that could wipe out countries at the flick of a switch.

now you.

“you think they were taken? grim isn’t dumb enough to turn off their comms.” gaz was getting frustrated. he had come to a quick conclusion that they were going around in circles. no one could decide on what to do, which was rather odd for their group considering who they were. but they were frazzled. someone so important to them has gone missing, and they all only wanted the best outcome from this incident.

“no. absolutely not. they’re too quick. no way they would’ve gotten taken. they could be hiding.” soap quickly countered back.

“then why the fuck aren’t they answering?” gaz quickly stood from his chair.

“they could be compromised. unable to answer.” soap stared him in the eye, daring him to lash out.

gaz’s nostrils flared as his eye twitched.

“calm down. now. we can’t help them if we’re arguing.” price cut in, hands up as if to prepare to physically diffuse the situation.

“well, let’s stop goi-“ soap was cut off at the sound of a thump outside the front door.

ghost was on watch, “i don’t see anything. there’s no one there.” his eyes narrowed from behind his mask as he looked through the scope of his rifle. shifting ever so slightly as he scanned the immediate area.

“then what the fuck was that?” price stood, and made his way to ghost.

“no ide-“

the door slamming open startled all four men, weapons drawing in the direction of the door.

everyone froze as you entered the room, blood covering your small shaking figure.

your hair was matted with dirt and blood, eyes wide and darting around the room. your black fitted shirt was torn, and that was made the men notice your tactical vest was missing.

you right arm was raised to your left bicep, blood seeping from between your fingers. a sizable cut made home on your throat, making the guys’ eyes immediately hone in on it.

“grim? are you okay?” price gently reached for your figure, pausing when you flinched back.

“please don’t. please don’t touch me.” a raspy breath shuttered from your cracked lips.

your eyes wouldn’t meet any of theirs, a steady tremor racking your body made it almost impossible for you to continue standing on your own.

“grim, you wanna come sit down? we gotta check out your wounds, kid.” gaz stayed where he stood, slowly raising his hands to show he was no threat to you.

standing there a second longer, you nodded. no one made a move to help you, fearing you’d lash out. instead, they let you have your moment of silence and independence before bothering to help you.

soft murmurs from deep voices met your ears, but you made no move to see who was talking. you could barely even feel your own hand gripping your arm with white knuckles.

the couch cushion under your bottom barely even registered in your mind. you sat there, unmoving as you slowly made your way back to reality. five grueling minutes before you finally came down from the adrenaline flooding your system.

a sob wracked your body, making the men in the room turn to your hunched over figure sat on the edge of the couch.

“gaz,” a whisper left your mouth, “please. kyle, please help me.”

kyle’s hair stood on end as a shiver ran over his body. he’d never heard you call for him so desperately. you’d never used his name unless it was absolutely necessary. if asked how he felt right then, he would say he was terrified. no one actually knew what had happened to you while you were missing. anything could’ve happened in those long hours you were gone.

he quickly, but steadily made his way to you; crouching in front of you, as to not startle you.

“what do you need me to do, grim?” his voice held desperation.

“i need to change. i need to get out of these clothes, please.” your hand reached out to grip his shirt, knuckles whitening.

“okay.” he nodded.

helping you off the couch, he took you to the bathroom.

under your shirt was more blood. small nicks here and there littered your skin. nothing too major, gaz had noted.

“do you want to shower? i think it would help.”

you’d only nodded, and he turned to start the shower. making sure the water wouldn’t be too hot nor too cold.

he helped you undress and step into the tub. and when you meekly asked him to help you with your hair, he did it with no hesitation. you needed help, and he was there to do so.

after you washed the blood and ash from your skin, he helped you change into a pair of his sweats and a t-shirt.

“we gotta look at your wounds, kid. ghost can help with that.” gaz’s eyes were kind, and his touch on your lower back was barely noticeable from how soft he was being.

“okay.”

stepping out, you made a beeline to the giant lieutenant.

“can you help me with these?” your shaky hand pointed to your neck and arm.

he looked you over. you looked like shit. blood seeping from your wounds and onto your freshly clean skin. a nasty bruise was forming beneath your left eye and around your neck.

“yeah, c’mon.” he beckoned you over to the table.

he made quick work, cleaning and stitching the wounds. his touch was gentle, which was a stark contrast to the anger radiating from his form.

you cleared your throat as he wrapped gauze around your bicep, “are you… are you mad at me?”

his eyes widened and snapped to yours, “what?”

his harsh tone made you flinch.

he sighed at your movement, “i mean, no. why the hell would i be mad at you?”

“i didn’t answer my comms.”

he stared at you, dumbfounded. “kid, i’m not mad at you at all. we don’t even know what the fuck happened to you. why would i be mad at you for getting hurt?” he continued wrapping your arm, quickly starting on your throat.

“i don’t know.” you whispered back. tears pooled in your waterline. “i was really scared. they just came from nowhere. i wanted to answer back, i promise! i just couldn’t. and then- and then they broke my earpiece, so i couldn’t hear you. and-“

“kid, hush. it’s okay. you’re okay. we’re here. we’re safe.” his hand latched onto your shoulder, lightly squeezing.

you took a deep breath in, “thank you, simon.”

“of course. now, let’s go find the sons of bitches who did this, and go home. yeah?”

“they’re dead.”

silence overtook the room.

“what?” price moved to stand next to you, eyes locking onto yours.

“i killed them. i wouldn’t be here if i hadn’t.” you shakily ran your hand through your wet hair. “they’re dead. all of them.”

“okay, then.” price cleared his throat.

you watched in silence as ghost packed up the med kit.

“can we go home?”

“we’re leaving in the morning, kid. come eat and then you can get some rest, mkay?” price helped you up from your seat.

“okay.”

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a/n: mmmm idk if i like this that much LMAO

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georgiapeach30513 · 8 months

Text

Your Mark On Me, Part 4

Summary: you just don't know when to quit...

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explici

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, mean!Steve, fingering, squirting, dirty talk, degradation, oral sex (F&M receiving), slapping, choking, drinking, begging, tears, swallowing, spitting, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.8K

Series Masterlist

*tattoo edit by @randomagnes0210

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“Steve?” Bucky pokes his head in his best friend’s office, and Steve tenses. Scowling as he looks up at him, “Dove is in class, and she is fine,” Steve stands up quickly, starting to walk towards the door. If Bucky didn’t want to watch you, then he would. He’d just make sure Bucky paid for it later., “Where are you going?”

“If you’re not going to watch her, then I will,” Bucky sighs, as he takes a seat in the chair in front of the desk. Leaning back, and propping his legs up. “I’m glad you don’t think this is important.”

“She’s a good kid.”

“Please, don’t call her that. She’s not a child,” it’s the last way he would want to see you. The first way is underneath him, crying while he pushes into your warmth.

Bucky takes a slow breath as he covers his eyes, “That’s not what I mean. I call Sam a kid. She’s fine, Steve. She started her classes again. Nothing has happened, and I need a break.”

“And why do you need a break?” Steve huffs. His flair for quick anger rising up into his cheeks as his brows furrow. “What about my Dove?”

“And what about my girl?” Bucky’s voice raises, standing up and going nose to nose with his friend. “What about her being unprotected?”

“You never brought her into the fucking club. Nobody even knows about her! Dove….”

“You are the one that walked her through the club, drenched in her pussy juice, and your arm on her back. You are the one that has been seen out and about with her. You are the one that put the damn target on her back. But nothing has happened. She is in school, and she is fine. She’s being your good little innocent girl, going to class. And she’s still not fucking begging for you, you fucking prick.”

Steve takes a slow step towards his oldest and best friend. No one talked to him like that. His hand lifts, and moves towards Bucky’s neck, but Bucky is faster. Wrapping his hand around Steve’s wrist, stopping him, “I don’t want to fight, Steve. I’m just saying that I need a break.”

“You’re the only one I trust to watch her, and I think she’s getting used to you.”

Bucky starts lowering Steve’s hand. Trying to remain calm. Steve didn’t respond well to aggression, “You have her schedule. You can be the one to watch her when she gets out of class. Stop being a child,” Bucky growls when Steve lets out an exasperated puff of air. “Your little bird will be fine. I promise. It might do you some good to realize how annoying it is to sit and wait on her every move. You need to move her in with you at this rate.”

“I can’t have her in my fucking bed, until she begs for me. I can’t have her laying next to me knowing that I couldn’t just use her whenever I want.”

“Maybe that’s your problem. She was doing well after the cabin. Just stop being so damn hard. Poor Dove is overwhelmed with her head and her body. It’s a lot. Now. I am going to be off. Please, leave me alone,” he nods his head to Steve as he starts to leave.

Steve looks down to the floor, a mild panic setting in at you not having someone watching you. Bucky deserves some time off, but he needs you safe. Balance. He was trying to figure that out.

You step out of class, taking a deep breath before looking around. Eyeing each and every vehicle. He wasn’t here. No Steve. He was supposed to be here. You stand still for a moment, your classmates meander around you. All of them turn to give you looks. They all know who it was that dropped you off.

They all knew the rumors about him. And the stupid man decides to bring you to campus, and drop you off like a child. There were some ways he embarrassed you that was fine, for an odd reason, walking you to the front door was not. You set off walking towards your apartment. It’s a trek, but you didn’t want to wait to be humiliated, and questions asked by the large tattooed drug lord that had attached himself to you.

You had just enough fight left in you to piss him off delightfully, and pissing him off was fun. But there was one thing that bothered you. Eventually you had to tell him, you just had to. He scared you, overwhelmed you, but damn if he didn’t make you feel good. Too good.

And then there was that moment, however fleeting it was, but it was there. A tiny sliver of care. It’s the only reason why you haven’t fully pushed back with it. It confused you because it — it made him feel human. It made him seem like he cared for more than just your innocence.

Hearing a rev up of a SUV makes you tense up. You have gotten used to that sound. The hairs on your body stand straight up, and chill bumps arise over your skin. Feeling his eyes on you, before you see him. You keep your head looking straight ahead, but see the vehicle in your peripheral vision.

The heat from the motor tingles your body, but you don’t look. Even when you hear the back window roll down, and can feel his icy stare on you, you don’t look. Sam slows the car enough to ride beside you, and your breath shudders.

“Dove,” you gulp, but still don’t look at him. You could feel his anger. You didn’t wait. You walked away from the school without him.

“Dovey,” there is an annoyed sweetness wrapped into his voice, but you keep your eyes in front of you. “Dove, you better stop walking, and get your fucking ass in this goddamn car now.”

You shake your head no. It was going to be bad, and you weren’t ready for it. “Get in the fucking car!”

“No,” there is no confidence in your meek response. It was shallow, and pitiful.

The SUV stops abruptly, and when Steve jumps out of the car, your pace picks up. Only to be met with his thick hands pulling you into his hard body. Dragging you to the car, his nose nuzzles up against your neck. Whispering into your ear with a deep rumbled timbre “If you want me to spank your ass, next time just ask. There’s no need for this fucking show, when you know who is going to win.”

“Steve, please.”

“Have I not taught you anything? Quit fucking whining,” he hauls you to the car, and all but throws you in. “Stop telling me, please. Please, what, Dovey?”

“You’re an asshole!” You scream loudly as Sam starts the car.

Steve angrily bites at his lip as he cracks his neck. His hand tenses on his knee. Trying to scoot further away from him has Steve reaching over to pull you even closer. “And why’s that, Dovey? What makes me the asshole?”

“You…what don’t you do that makes you not be an asshole?”

“Explain,” he growls out. Brows furrowing, and you look away. Doing so has him grabbing you by the jaw, forcing your face towards him. “And you better fucking look at me when you talk to me.”

“You…you won’t let me hang out with friends.”

“You don’t have any. You have a roommate. You two don’t even go out together.”

“Because I’m scared of you! You always…you’re just an asshole.”

He spreads your legs apart, laying his own leg on top to keep you spread. Placing his hand on his thigh, he slides up and under your skirt, and cups your covered core, “And you’re walking around in a skirt.”

“I’m wearing the panties you bought for me,” your voice is flat and without emotion.

“Yeah, I thought I told you, you are only a whore for me. Those stupid boys you’re in school with aren’t even good enough to lick your cum off my pants. All the while I see their eyes. I watched them. Looking you up and down. Looking at what is fucking mine. Wondering just how good of a cunt you have. Don’t worry, I’ll soon remedy that.”

“Steve, don’t threaten to kill someone that looks at me. They’re not…nobody’s looking,” Steve lets out a low growl, and you tremble beneath his touch. Hating the way that it makes even more slick pool in your core. “What…what do you think is yours?” You challenge. There is something a bit more freeing with being the only person to talk back to Steve.

“You know what’s mine, Dovey.”

“Tell me,” your eyes roll up to meet him, and you give him a little smirk. “Go on, Steven. Tell me what’s yours?”

He slides your panties to the side, shoving two fingers into your wet heat, laughing when you whimper. He lays his palm over your clit, watching as you start grinding on him. “That right there. You, and your hot little cunt between your legs belong to me.”

“You…no, it’s not.”

“You sure,” he lets your body gyrate on his fingers for a moment. Smiling when your juices gather in his palm. The sound of your pussy echoing in the small car. “Even your pussy knows what you’re trying to deny. Does it feel good, pretty girl? Do you like the way my fingers stretch you out?”

You shake your head no, but moan shortly after, “Yeah you do. You’re a fucking liar. Go on, Dovey. Make yourself come since you’re such a needy little bitch. I’m the big bad drug lord, but you, sweetheart, you’re a liar. Why are you lying when it’s so obvious how greedy your pussy is? She’s crying for me, Dovey. Just like you do every night.”

“I don’t — I don’t cry for you,” you deny as your body moves faster. Your pussy sucks his fingers in so deep, and you get a high knowing that you are getting better.

“Was it just last night that you moaned out my name while you fucked yourself with two measly fingers in your pussy? It’ll take more than that, baby. Whose fingers feel better?” You move in silence, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“You don’t have to tell me. Your cunt wasn’t as loud last night. You were being so sweet putting on a show for me. Whimpering out my name, thinking you were teasing me. At least when I was fucking my hand, I got to come. Had my cum dripping down my fingers, you stopped yourself. It’s almost like you know that you could never fill the void left by me. You’re so much wetter right now. Is it because it’s my thick fingers, instead of yours?”

“Uh uh,” Steve chuckles as your body starts writhing hard over him.

“There you go, Dovey,” you pant, nearing stopping, but he pulls your body down the seat. Your legs spread even further, and his hand starts fucking into you. Destroying you with his fingers alone. “You’re going to fucking come like a good girl,” he grunts pounding into you.

Your voice goes from moans to desperate sobs, and Steve can only look at your pussy clinging onto him. Adding a third finger just for measure, and you scream out his name. Keeping your legs wide, and you lift up to watch him drive into you. A pleasurable pain at what he was doing, and your legs tremble.

Shaking at the amount of complete bliss that you were in. Steve pulls his fingers out of you, letting your juices squirt into the floor, before shoving them back in. Repeating the process until your ass is soaked and so is the floor of the car, and Sam rolls his eyes.

“Tell me, Dove,” he demands, slapping his whole hand on your bundle of nerves. You thrash around, but he doesn’t stop. “Fucking tell them all, that I own this cunt!”

You have no idea how even the slaps was making you leak all in the car. Wet and pouring sounds light up the car, and you can’t think. “Who owns your pussy, Dove?”

“Y-y-you do!” Your whole body quivers, and you’re unsure if you can come again.

“Say it. Say who owns this pussy.”

“Steve. Steve Rogers owns…he owns my pussy!” You come undone again, and he leans over to feast on his prize. Sucking on your lips, and slurping up every bit of the release he made. Pulling off you with a smirk before sucking his fingers clean.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Steve…why do you want to just own me?”

“Mmm,” he moans at your taste. Licking his lips, and wiping off his beard. “I don’t. I want to destroy you. Only so I can lift you back up, and wipe away those tears that I earned. I want to own you. I want that virgin cunt to be molded to my cock so bad that you whimper when you think of me not inside of you. I want to take care of you, and worship you. I want you down on your knees begging for me to fill you with my seed, and I will gladly listen over and over again. I won’t stop until your belly is swollen with me. And then, Dovey, I will truly own you. And I have no problem with wearing you down slowly. Is that what you wanted to hear, baby? How I desire nothing more to be as much of a menace to you as you are to me?”

“You want to test me every part of the way. You enjoy breaking my rules, because you love this torture I’m giving you. You enjoy the fight, don’t cha? You think I don’t notice your fucking games you’re playing with me. If you need to fight me to finger fuck you or tongue fuck you, I guess whatever makes you wet, Dovey.”

“I — no, that’s not…”

Steve twists his head to the side, giving you an evil sneer before his eyes dart to the seat and floor, “You did that, Dovey. You made a fucking mess in my car, and I have half a mind to make you clean it up with your filthy tongue. Your fucking game of refusing me made you that wet. Because you like when I get angry, and take from you.”

“You’ve never kissed me,” you whisper, head dipping down. “You just want me to bow down to you, and I never see what you want from me, but my body,” he reaches over, pulling you over on him. Letting your ass settle in his lap while you straddle him. Pulling you close to his chest. So close you feel his heart pounding. He’s nervous. His inky hands run up and down your thighs as you take staggered breaths.

“Steve,” you whimper when his nose rubs up your jawline. Whispering a breath over your ear before pressing a chaste kiss behind your ear, “That’s not the kissing I meant.”

“I know, Dovey,” the deep growl he releases sends sparks throughout your body as everything heats up from the electricity the two of you create. “I don’t just give a peck on the lips. I claim every part of you. You will never desire anyone else, but me.”

His lips trail down your neck, and back up. Teeth nipping at your jaw before his lips hover over yours. Staying still while that devil may care grin turns up his mouth, “Are you ready to submit fully? Once I kiss you, I’ll own more than just your body.”

“No,” weak. You are a liar. Your voice couldn’t even lie for you.

Opening his hand, he slides it all the way up your body before his fingers that smell of you, tickle your neck. Flattening out his hand, he wraps his fingers around the sensitive column, and gently pushes you away, “Try again, Dove.”

“I’m not begging.”

“And that’s not what I asked. Are you ready to fully submit? You’re already…”

“Yes,” you squeak, nodding your head, “I’m ready to submit,” hand still around your neck, he crashes his mouth against yours. Immediately his tongue pushes past your lips, demanding entrance, and you grant it to him. Moaning, and starting to grind on his lap, his free hand squeezes your thigh, holding you still.

It was too good. Your body is reacting, but he needs you motionless as he dominates your mouth. Giving your tongue a suck as he slides off. His teeth grab onto your lip, and he adds enough pressure to cause some yummy discomfort as he slides off your lips, “Little bird, you’re too easy. One kiss had you a needy bitch in heat. What am I going to do with you?”

“Fuck me.”

“No,” you stare at him aghast. That wasn’t what you were expecting. “You didn’t realize we’ve been sitting in front of your apartment complex. You need to go home.”

“Fuck me!” You bite your lip as tears spring to your eyes. You asked, well demanded.

“No. You’re not begging, and I’m not rewarding your bad behavior. You really wouldn’t want me to for your first time. Go home, Dove.”

“Steve, fuck me, please?” Your lip trembles, but he shakes his head no.

“I have work to do. Go home,” opening up his door, the girl down the hall stares at you straddling him, and his hand still around your neck. “Clean yourself up. And change panties. They’re a filthy mess,” his laugh is sadistic as he releases your neck. Letting you awkwardly try to get off him.

Your legs still wobbly, and head dizzy with confusion, you stare at him. You hate him, and still crave him. “I won’t see you walking from school alone, again, Dove. Bad girls get punished. Good girls get fucked,” he closes the door in your face, but the car doesn’t leave until Steve sees you in your bedroom window, and you pull the curtains closed on him.

It was a beautiful day, but you didn’t care. You didn’t want him to see you live in person. He can watch his stupid little cameras. There were enough of them that he could see every angle, but you didn’t care. Fuck him.

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose as he listens to some dealer groan about where his money was. They always thought they could get one over on Steve. “What the fuck?” He grits his teeth as he looks up at him. “Natasha, please make sure our guest gets what he deserves.”

She stands up from the shadows, walking over and ignoring his pleas. Raising her gun, she puts a bullet in his forehead, “Goddammit, Nat! Now who the fuck is going to clean this up?” She shrugs her shoulders and walks off. Never caring about the mini tantrum he pitches.

The couch was now tainted. He had visions of having you lean over the back while he railed into. “Get rid of it,” he commands to whoever was in the room.

“The man or the couch?” A particularly small newbie asks. He was learning, but had no sense of making an executive decision.

“Both of them,” Steve walks towards his office, looking at Bucky before entering. He needed a distraction. And the most perfect thing to distract him was you playing coy in your bedroom. Walking around in nothing but panties, playing with yourself, taking pictures that you never send him, “What she doing?”

“Still sleeping,” he gives him a nod while Steve looks at the monitors in his office. He trusted Bucky to back off of you for a bit. Still had him take you to school, and pick you up. But Bucky was right. He didn’t need to stand outside your apartment all night. There were cameras everywhere. No one could get in without them knowing about it.

His eyes dart around your body for a bit, “Why is her head covered?” Bucky shrugs his shoulders, and yawns. Leaning back into his chair. “Why is she not breathing?”

“What?”

“Fucking decoy,” his fist slams down on the desk. You never slept with your head covered, and you most certainly breathed. And yet there was a lifeless body on the bed. Oldest trick in the book, and Bucky fell for it. “Find her now! Bucky, I swear if something happened to her, I’ll have your other fucking arm!”

“Calm down.”

“No! She’s not in her fucking bed!”

“And I had to take a fucking piss. She…” he stops his train of thought, and pulls out his phone. “I know where she’s at. There’s a field party at Lakems old barn.”

“If…if someone touches her,” he scowls at his friend as he stomps out of his office. Fraternity parties at Lakems barn were notorious for random hookups. He’d have any man that looked or touched you ripped of their dicks.

“Yeah, yeah. You’ll make me choke on my own dick. I got, your highness.”

Steve’s eyes zero in on you immediately and he growls. “I’m gonna kill her,” he slings his door open, walking straight towards you. Booze and horny fraternity boys are all around. You dance around giddily with a damn solo cup in your hands. Teeth stained a bit purple from whatever you are drinking.

He’d murder them all. They didn’t care. You stumble too close to the bonfire dropping your cup in the flames, and it angrily ignites more from the alcohol. And they just eye you up and down. Waiting on you to become too inebriated before they took what was his.

Grabbing your wrist, he slams you into his body, “Hey, Steven,” you giggle, puckering your lips for a kiss, but he hauls you into his arms instead. “Aw, you won’t kiss me, daddy. Won’t even fuck me, but he acts like my pussy is all his. Thinks he’ll be the first person to use my untouched cunt.”

His grip tightens on your body, and he growls, sending slick straight to your core. “Mmm, I like that, sir. You gonna fuck me in front of these people that aren’t my friends. That guy right there tried to take me deeper in the woods.”

“Hey, man,” he holds his hands up in surrender. “Didn’t know she was your girl. I don’t want,” you giggle when his words are cut off due to Steve punching him hard in the face. The boy stumbles back, and grabs onto his nose, and you continue to giggle.

“Ooh, that makes me so wet, daddy,” he rolls his eyes, that rumbling in his stomach making you so giddy. If you were in your right mind, you wouldn’t be saying as such, and you would know he was holding back.

“Can’t even have fun. Daddy wants me all to himself. Big bad…”

“Little bird, you’re pushing my patience,” he pushes past the overly drunk college students, wishing you’d just shut your fucking mouth for two seconds. ��Keep running your mouth, baby, I’ve got something for it.”

“It’s that big fat cock, huh? You gonna fuck my face, daddy?” Oh he was about to destroy you. Every little slurred word coming out of your mouth was just making him more pissed off. It was making him want to steal your breath away by shoving his cock down your throat.

“You gonna give it to me? Gonna finally fuck my virgin cunt? I want it, daddy. I want you to fuck me in front of everybody so they realize who owns this tight pussy,” your hands try and tug down your shirt, but Steve grabs your wrist. “Only Bucky and Sam get to see my holes? Did Bucky enjoy looking at what’s yours? You gonna make him watch your cum drip out of my swollen cunt.”

“Shut the fuck up!” He screams as he climbs into the car with you. “Go, Sam,” you snarl your mouth at him when he sits you in the car.

“What? What is it, little bird? Are you trying to embarrass me? Didn’t work. You were embarrassing yourself.”

“You are such an asshol, Steve Rogers!” Your hand slaps the seat in between you. He put you as far away as he could. No longer frustrated, but now completely pissed off. “I hate you!”

“Why’s that, cutie? You were just bragging to the whole goddamn field how you wanted me to fuck you. Why do you hate me?”

“Because!” Steve cocks up his brow, smiling at your pouting. “You…you pull me away from my friends, and…ahh!” Grabbing your leg, he pulls you to lay flat in the seat lifting up your skirt, and those fiery eyes turn to look at you. “You like what you see? You didn’t buy these.”

“You want to know why I hate you?” He asks, his hand rubs up and down the sheer silky material that is drenched. The black gusset barely covering your cunt, and just string in your ass. With a skirt.

“Why? Because I refuse to beg for you? You treat me like a cocksleeve, and yet you won’t fuck me,” you wince as the slap on your pussy reverberates off the car. “Teasing me nonstop,” another slap. “Controlling everything I do, but can’t finish the fucking job!” A hard slap on your pussy, and he shuffles to lay over your body. Lowering his weight onto you.

Rolling his hips onto your center, and your legs spread fully to accommodate his hips. His large hand covers your mouth, but he never stops grinding into you. “I hate you because here you are walking around in a skirt and barely there panties. I have told you that you’re only a whore for me. After I fuck you stupid, I’ll buy you all kinds of trashy lingerie for me to see.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, and you grip onto his back. Unable to hear what he says with his ministrations. “Who were you hoping would see your sweet little cunt, Dovey? Who were you trying to be a whore for? Because I wasn’t there. Who?”

Steve moves his hand off your mouth, stopping his movements when you just mewl up at him. “Steve, I want to come.”

“Answer me.”

“I’m your whore! I’m Steve Rogers whore! Just fuck me!” He shakes his head no, starting to grind over your core again. His stomach is getting coated in your juices. “Fuck me! I’m begging! Steve, fuck me, sir! Fuck me! Claim me. Cum in my pussy!”

“No,” he deadpans, and your hands slide to his waist, attempting to undo his pants.

“I want to come! Steve, Please!”

“Aw, is this what this is? Did my sweet little bird get her some liquid courage, and now she wants to act like some bad ass bitch that wants to be fucked good and hard?” You nod your head rapidly, getting his button undone, and trying to jerk his pants down. “She let her walls down, and can’t lie anymore, and thinks she’s going to take my cock fully. Let Sam hear you cry as I cram myself so hard into you, that it makes you see stars. Licking the tears off your face as I take whatever the fuck I want from you?”

“Yes! Yes, please, Steve. Please, I'll be a good girl. Just fuck me! Fuck me!” He shakes his head again, and you can’t contain the tears that drift down your cheeks. “Steve! All you do is talk. Fuck me!”

“I said no, dammit!” Sitting up off you, he shimmies out of his pants and underwear, and his giant dick stands up in wait. “Take your fucking clothes off,” you shake your head no, but Steve starts ripping and pulling at everything he can get his hands on. Shredding at your clothes until you're trembling in the seat naked.

“Are you going to stick it in?”

“Yeah, in your dirty cock sucking mouth. Get on your knees, and let me fuck your face. You want to use that dirty mouth so much, have at it.”

You sit silently in the car, looking at the discarded mess of what was your clothes, and there wasn’t enough to cover you up. Vulnerable and shivering, and it had nothing to do with temperature. His long arm reaches over to you, and pinches a nipple. Pulling on you hard until you're on your knees. His cock stares at you, mocking just how inexperienced you were.

“Swallow me.”

“Steve…I’ve never…”

“No shit. This is your cock. Let me fuck your face. Wrap that pretty hand around the base. Go on,” anxiously you move your hand to him before he grabs you, forcing you to hold his cock in your hands.

It feels like steel covered in silky skin. His blood pumps so deeply in his veins, it makes you moan. Your fingers couldn’t even fully wrap around his girth, and you become terrified of Clarence. Heat radiates onto your hand, and you twist your neck to look up at him.

“Oh, this is a good angle, baby. Open your mouth. Come on, you can do,” he mocks, tapping his finger on your lips. “There’s a good girl. Got all quiet now, huh? Stick out your tongue, and taste me.”

Turning back to face his one eyed demon, you look at the beads of milky precum that drips down the spongy tip, “Dove, please,” he does a tiny thrust up to your mouth, close enough you smell him. “Dovey,” weakness. You hear it laced in his voice.

Nervously you give his tip a chaste kiss, and he whimpers. Hips bucking up into you, and the mushroom head opens your mouth, and you moan. Leaning down further you lick a stripe up his head, and swirl your tongue around him. Your mouth bursting with his musky essence, and you crave more.

“Baby, please,” you gulp before you open up wide, and sink down over his shaft. Closing your mouth around him, you suck hard as you pull off him. Taking him out with a pop, you turn back to look at him with a smile.

“You like that?” Little minx. Had you not been tipsy, you would have never challenged him.

“Yeah, keep going,” your ass wiggles around, and you repeat that process, “Yeah. Yeah, that’s good,” he moans when you start bobbing your head over him. Your arousal leaks onto your thighs as you start moaning over him. The vibrations making his head lean back on the seat.

“Good girl. Such a good girl,” his voice airy as you sink fully over him. His tip touches the back of your throat and you gag. Tears spring to your eyes, but you want more. “Hollow your cheeks, Dovey. Let me fuck you. Just relax, sweetheart.”

Steve’s hand smooths down your back, and swoops under your ass. Coming back up before he plays with your empty and begging pussy. “Oh, Dovey, does my cock make you this wet?”

“Mhmm.”

He slips three fingers inside of you, and you open up wide. Taking him about halfway. He thrusts up into you, while his fingers drive into your greedy cunt. Completely full of Steve as you let him have you. Every bit of you. Drool pools on his lap, and start appear in your vision. The fact that this was taking place in a car, and under Sam’s watchful eye makes it so much more alluring.

You let yourself fully sink into his depravity. He could have it. He could take what he wanted if it felt this good. Both sensations make you a sobbing mess. His moans are as loud as your wails. Neither of you care about the struggle to breathe. Barely notice how your lungs are screaming for some relief. This was glorious. It was heaven. It was Steve.

Backing your body up on him harder, he gives you one more finger to take. His whole hand is nearly inside of you, while he forces every inch of his cock into your mouth. Holding you down on it, while your lungs cry for air. Filling your throat with his salty cum.

He moves his hand off the back of your head, and you move your mouth off him. Sucking off every morsel of his cream before sitting up to smile at him. Mascara tears stain your cheeks, and your lips are swollen from his driving pelvis, and still you have a pretty dopey smile on your face. Nipples hard, and ready to be sucked while his fingers are drenched in you.

“Did I do good?”

“Of course, Dovey. Is that what you need? To be told how good you’re taking me?”

“Mhmm,” your heart swells with the praise, and you have a deep need to please him again.

“It was the best,” he moans, giving his thigh a tap. “C’mere. Let me look at you,” biting at your lip, you throw a leg over him, and he pulls you just so his softening cock feels your weeping cunt. “You sure are a pretty little thing, Dovey,” he moans, pinching your nipples.

“But if I ever catch you drunk with a bunch of trash again, I’ll make sure to spank your ass in front of them. That is the one and only time you get to see me stay calm. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. Will you fuck me now?” You need him. Wanted him. And you were right there.

“No, sweetheart,” even though you pout at him, he still shakes his head, “I’m not taking your cherry when you're drunk on…what were you drinking?”

“Blueberry cider.”

“Seriously? I’m going to have you throwing up later, huh? Here, let me give you my shirt, so I can walk you in,” he pulls off his shirt, and your dainty fingers trace his chest tattoos. Smiling when he shivers. You want to know every story to each one. Where every scar came from. You need to know him.

“Will you stay with me tonight? Please?” Your face is a wreck. Dribble of his cum dries around your mouth, and you look so pitiful, but more beautiful than he’s ever seen you.

“That was the plan, little bird. My god, your nipples are a work of art, pushing through my shirt. And Dovey, don’t ask me to fuck you for the first time when your drunk. I want you to remember each moment. I want you to know that I made my cock fit inside you. Open your mouth,” you gulp, looking up at him confused. “Why do you always do this? Just open. Please.”

Your mouth stretches open, and he spits into your mouth, “Swallow,” you listen. You didn’t argue. You did it. “Who owns you?”

“You do. Steve Rogers owns me.”

“And I’ll always take care of you. Even if you throw up blueberry cider. Only get drunk with me though, okay?” You whisper out okay, and he grabs you by the cheeks. “And never ever call me daddy again.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @theinheriteddutchess @annaallicce @feyfantome @jesevans @tittittoee @bananapiedreams @onclouds999 @darkserenity24 @abbatoirablaze @ashychangeling @identity2212 @mrsevans90 @weirdothatwritess @floralwsloki @thestralwriting @ambearsstuff @softherveauxs @kandis-mom

#your mark on me #mean!steve rogers #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fics #steve rogers fic #dark #dark!fic #soft!dark!

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lovethatpinkvenom · 7 months

Text

IMAGINE... (GP!LISA X FEMALE READER)

going on a romantic getaway with your rich wife, gp!lisa, and seeing her frolick happily in her pretty bikinis. bathing in the sun everyday, drinking the most expensive alcohol by the pool and having the most privacy all the world can offer to bask in each other. one day, when you're both in your private pool and splashing water at each other, she gets out with a giggle and sits at the edge.

only her legs are submerged in the water, spread wide to air out the not-so-humble bulge under her bikini bottoms. the water accentuates it all too much that you can't take your eyes off it, gravitating toward it like it's a magnet. there's a shift in her eyes and she no longer has that playful smile, it's moreso a smirk as she looks down at your lustful expression. you lick your bottom lip and reach for her panties, and she lifts her hips so you can pull them to the side.

her cock is half hard already, the tip pointing toward you before the length starts rising taller. it's average length but thick and engorged, leaking arousal from its pink tip.

you grinned. "you're so hard already, baby..."

"it's pretty easy to be when my beautiful wife's between my legs," she quipped, reaching down to play with your hair.

there were some days where you liked her balls more than her cock. they were just always so large, heavy and full with cum that you just wanted to milk dry. and today is one of those days.

you don't have the patience to keep your hand away from her cock anymore and grab it like it's yours to own. the water sloshes as you move closer and push her thigh away to make space for your lips to kiss the tip. your face lowers to your original target and you get to work. she leans back on her hands to give you more access before your mouth is sucking in her left nut.

"o-oh, fuuuuck. someone's especially h-hungry today," lisa groans.

you hum, sending vibrations that run shivers all over her body as you stroke her cock. your tongue fondles her spit-coated balls as you grab ahold of them with your free hand. they swell in your firm grip and they're sliding in and out between your lips. your other hand is busy trying to get you what you want—you want it to twitch and shoot all that cum she's been keeping in her balls.

"such a n-naughty girl... oh, fuck yes! just like that. keep sucking my balls, b-baby. they're all y-yours..."

if you weren't so focused on your goal, you would've snapped and sat on her cock already. fuck, you were a lucky girl.

"gimme your cum. i want your cum on my face," you muffled.

your hand spares no mercy on her sensitive cock, your gentle strokes becoming harsh tugs until you feel the familiar twitch in your grasp. lisa sits up as your mouth lets go of her balls with her loud pop, and with a few more jerks on her cock, she spurts out what feels like an endless amount of warm cum on your face. she moans while you continue your minstrations on her dick, one of her own hands grabbing her tit as she paints your face with white and looks off to the view of the sun setting behind the greek sea.

for the next few days, you might just forget about all the sight-seeing you planned to do and just fuck like rabbits. it's not like you can't extend your stay here anyway.

#blackpink smut #girl group smut #gxg smut #kpop smut #blackpink lisa smut #kpop gg smut #wlw smut #g!p #blackpink x reader #lisa x reader

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simpleeindulge · 3 months

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The Beast and The Mouse

Info: fem/reader x Kid, 1st meetings, cussing and rude language, Kid in denial, Kid gets a crush, implied sexual yearning, future mature content planned.

Context: Kid develops a crush on a girl, and he can't deal with it.

Part 1.

Part 2. Me Mouse, You Bull.

Kid breathed heavily as his heart pounded in his chest. A mixture of joy and rage with hits of excitement and annoyance sparked his adrenaline to act. Kid had to give this lame example of a pirate crew some credit. It was a ballsy move to sneak attack his crew.

"Rip them apart and burn this hunk of wood!" Kid shouted over the noise of the battle. "I want this ship buried at the bottom of the ocean!"

His crew cheered out to signal that they heard his command. Kid smirked and lifted the defeated captain by his shirt.

"This is why you don't mess with real pirates." Kid sneered as the man struggled in his grip.

The sound of a bullet hitting its target nearby caught his attention, and Kid saw one of his crewmembers wounded. His flaming orange eyes narrowed, and he looked for the perpetrator. The failed pirate captain beat his hands uselessly at Kid’s grip while pleading for his life.

Growing more annoyed and bored, Kid hung the man on the handle of a knife stuck in the central mass of the ship. He then swung his metal-covered fist and punched the man’s face. The impact made cracks in the wood surrounding the man's once-intact skull.

The crushing wet sound satisfied Kid a little, but it didn't make up for how boring this fight had been. Another shot rang out, and Kidd moved his head. The wood in the mass splinters, sending pieces flying onto Kid's shoulder.

That sniper is getting brave to try a headshot, especially since he's a lousy shot, Kid thought as he turned.

The space where his crewmate had been shot was empty. In the air, Kid could get a brief whiff of her scent. This would be his mouse’s third battle, and the silly girl was actually doing fine. Kid scoffed at the mental praise and rubbed his neck as he thought of her.

This battle is nothing compared to his past ones, and this was only the beginning. The bloodshed will get to her eventually, and she will leave.

Kid had to wonder why the girl hadn't left yet but not now. Now, he had a ship to set on fire.

“Heat!” He shouted at his long-time comrade. The man cut down two fleeing enemy pirates and then looked at Kid.

“Light it up! We’re done here!”

Heat thumbs up him as Killer and Wire called the crew back to the ship. Kid didn’t bother to stick around and turned his back.

The gunshot came a third time, but Kid was ready. He used his power to repel the bullet and then used it to summon the rifle. The sniper stupidly held on to his weapon and flew towards Kid.

Kid grinned wickedly, balled up his fist, and punched the man into the sea, knocking him out.

Around him, Kid’s crew fled towards the Victoria Punk with whatever valuables they found. At least they had some decent treasure, Kid observed as he tapped his fingers on his arm. His eyes searched for the girl among the others. Usually, he would just trust that everyone on his crew made it safely back, but…

“Mouse!” Kid shouted out impatiently.

She had a name, but Kid didn't want to be too familiar with her. She couldn't possibly last another week of pillaging, killing, and whatever debaucherous acts he and his crew committed. Or once did, Kid had been cutting back on his usual "habits".

“Yes?”

Kid snapped out of his thoughts and peered down at the short girl. Her hair was pulled up, and on her right cheek was a small bandage. Over her shoulder hung her medic bag.

“Did you get everyone off the ship?” He asked gruffly.

“Anyone that needs help has been assisted.” She replied militantly.

Kid rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue. Smartass. He then noted the bandage and motioned at her cheek with his chin.

“You were careless.”

Y/N’s hand flew to the bandage to cover it.

“I was-“

"Careless!" Kid snapped.

Her eyes glanced down, and Kid could see the defiance in her body. It angered him that she wasn't understanding what he was trying to tell her.

"I can't be looking out for you! I need everyone to pull their weight in a fight!"

Y/N winced at the Kid's loud voice, which, in her defense, can be jarring when you least expect it.

However, Kid saw her wincing as something else. Weakness. Weakness was the last thing he needed on his crew, and his simmering annoyance at her flickered to rage.

"GET ON THE SHIP AND STAY OUT OF MY SIGHT!"

With one blink, Y/N had disappeared. Kid huffed and rubbed a hand over his face. What had gotten into him? How could he let his temper get so out of hand?

Why did his mood become unstable every time he talked to the girl? This was clearly on her, not him. Why hadn't he gotten rid of her? And what happened to her face that she needed a bandage?

Kid sighed and quieted his mind as Killer approached him. In the background, Heat spread his fire over the ship's deck, and Wire was busy tying up the rest of the sorry crew together.

"You okay, Captain?"

"Yeah, let's go."

Kid started to walk back to the ship as the screams of the men filled the air along with the smoke from their burning ship.

Killer followed beside him quietly and calmly. There were many reasons why Kid considered Killer to be his best bud. The main thing was that Killer didn't talk just to talk. Kid spat on the burning deck just before boarding the Victoria Punk.

"Bunch of weaklings. Couldn't bother to put up a decent fight! What fucking waste of time!" Kid mumbled to himself. Killer said nothing as he listened to his best friend. Kid walked along the deck side of his ship and opened a door.

"I mean, why bother attacking if you're just going to run when it gets difficult! You either attack and win or have some guts and die trying!" Kid went on as they kept walking.

Killer was still listening to his friend, but now he was wondering why they were heading in this direction. Kid stopped talking momentarily as the image of Y/N's bandage cheek crossed his mind. Killer waited patiently to see if he would say something else, like what was actually bothering him.

"Hey," Kid asked Killer in a low voice. "Did you see what happened to Mouse?"

Kid could see the brows raising behind the mask Killer wore and turned away as he walked.

"She has a bandage on her face," Kid explained with a hint of a growl in his voice.

"She was doing her job, Kid. Mosh got shot by that sniper you punched into the sea, and Mouse was helping him."

Kid considered Killers' words and then asked again. "But did you see what happened?"

Killer sighed, rubbed the back of his head, and said, "It doesn't matter. You already punched the guy into the sea."

Kid stopped cold, and Killer stopped with him out of curiosity. Contrary to what his rival, Trafalgar Law, thought, Kid wasn't stupid. Impulsive, egotistical, and cocky, yes, but stupid, no. He understood what Killer had implied and what had happened to Mouse. That made him think of what could have happened to her, and it angered him.

Kid had never once thought, "What if...", but ever since that damn girl joined the crew, his mind had been filled with nothing but "What if...".

His shoulders shook with anger, and Kid's steps hit the floor with a heavy sound as he started walking toward the medical ward. Killer's shoulder heaved as he sighed, then followed behind his captain.

Y/N was busy putting away supplies and restocking her medical kit. Thankfully, the battle wasn't that bad, and there were only minor injuries to treat. Most of her injured crewmates were in the mess hall drinking while the others were resting in their rooms. Still, she wanted to be prepared for the next time-

"YOU!"

Y/n hated that she squeaked at Kid's sudden outburst of anger, and she stepped back as the jar she held in her hand slipped and exploded on the ground. Kid had this annoying habit of shouting at her whenever he came near her. She guessed that it was a silly tactic to frighten her off. All it really did was stoke the flames of her own simmering temper.

Oh, god, what now? She thought as her eyes met Kid's while she focused her breathing. The last thing she wanted to do was get in a screaming match with her Captain. One, she would lose, and two, it would hurt her throat.

Y/N stood still, not wanting to step on the broken glass and spilled ointment. Her hands gripped the side of her pants as she mourned the broken jar of salve that took her three months to make. Maybe she could salvage some of it?

Kid was used to her eyes by now, and by used to them, it meant he trained himself not to look directly into her eyes. He stormed up to her and ripped off the bandage from her cheek.

"Ouch!" Y/N cried.

Her hand went to cover the mark, but Kid grabbed her wrist and gripped her chin to turn her face. The wound looked red and puffy. It was barely two inches long, but had she not been lucky, her jaw could have been shot off.

The sniper was a lousy shot, but Kid would have lost his mouse if he had more skills.

"Captain," Y/N said in a harsher tone than he was used to hearing. "Captain, please let go of my face and wrist."

Kid blinked and released Y/N from his grip. Y/N noticed that he was standing on her homemade salve. There would be no saving any of it now, and it angered her.

For the first time, she glared up from her lashes at Kid. His anger simmered down, and he took a step back. Y/N knelt down to see what, if anything, she could still save.

"Y-you," Kid started to say, then glared down at her and shouted, "You could have been shot dead today!"

This again?!

"You were careless doing your job, and you could've-"

"Well, I didn't! I didn't get shot, and I didn't die! I did my job!" She shouted back as her face snapped up at him. Her eyes brightened with anger, and Kid and to glance away before he could get lost in them like a damn fool.

Killer stayed leaning in the doorway in case he needed to jump in to defend the girl, but it looked like Kid's 'little mouse' could fend for herself. He was tempted to leave but wanted to see how this would play out.

"Are you raising your voice at me!"

"If it will get you to listen to me, then yes! Captain! I am!"

"You have some gull-"

"And you're rude! Look at my salve! You made me drop it and stomped all over it like some raging bull!"

"Are you calling me an animal!"

"Not to insult the beast, but yes, I am!" Y/N said as she stood to her feet.

Kid blustered and paced before her. He wanted to punch something. Not her, no, he could never hurt her, but he wanted to punch something hard to release everything he was feeling. That "what if..." feeling, along with his desire for Y/N, he wanted to punch it all away.

Y/N watched him carefully as she shook with frustration. She could tell he wanted to hit something. She bit her lip and clutched her fists, ready to run in case Kid decided to make her his target.

Y/n didn't think he would, but the past was something to learn from, and she didn't know him completely yet. Killer had to be by the door for a reason. Would he jump to help her out? Why did she think joining this crew would be good for her?

A better question is, why did she fall for Kid's charismatic offer? For him?

She stopped asking rhetorical questions when she saw Kid stop and raise his fist above an examination table.

''Don't you dare!" Y/N shouted in a commanding voice.

Kid flinched and felt chastised as his fist fell short. Killer snorted and felt impressed as he turned to leave. He had seen enough to know that the girl had a fair amount of sway over his short-tempered friend. She would be alright.

Kid held his fist over the table with the temptation to slam it down, but he stared at Y/N. Stared right into her beautiful, stern eyes. How strong they looked without being cold, and her lips pressed calmly together looked tantalizing to kiss till they were red and swollen.

With his mind clearly drifting, Y/n walked around her ruined salve and put her hands on his fist. Kid raised a brow as she tried to move it away from the table.

"What are you doing?" He asked with a corner of his lip turning up.

She grunted and said forcibly as she continued to push on his arm.

"I don't want you breaking anything else in the medical ward! Go, oof, break something in the mess hall, you big bull!"

Kid snorted and then laughed as Y/N kept trying to move his arm. He flexed his arm and held it steady.

"Come on, Mouse! Is that the best you can do?" Kid teased.

"I used too much of my speed strength during the battle," Y/N said, punctuating each word as she struggled.

Kid quieted, then surprised her by grabbing her by the waist.

She gasped and shrieked as Kid lifted her up and sat her on the table. Y/N may have overused her power, but she had enough to escape if needed. Only Kid shocked her again as he slammed his hands down on the table, trapping her.

Her face was close to his, and she felt her breath go still as Kid's red/orange eyes bore into her. Her heart thumped, and her spine heated with a shiver she hadn't felt in a long time. Her lips tingled, making her crave something she shouldn't.

Kid wanted to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her deeply with his tongue, tasting her while pushing her down onto the table to feel her. She would taste good, and her whimpers would be like sprinkled sugar on an already delicious treat.

It was hard not to lick his lips as he, for once, thought of what he would do. What he would do her.

"You need more training, Mouse," Kid said in a warm, gravelly voice.

"This battle, along with the other two you were in, is nothing. I have seen worse, and this was nothing."

Y/n's eyes widened, and she sucked in her bottom lip nervously. God damn, Kid didn't think she meant to do it on purpose, but he ached for her. Seeing her soft, pink lip moving like that made him ache in the worst way.

"Alright," She sighed, looking down at her lap. Kid had to shift to keep her from seeing and winced painfully at what he hid from her.

"I'll train harder, but you need to stop yelling at me for no reason."

"I have-"

"No!" Y/N said in a sharp, pleading tone. She then touched his chest, and Kid instantly calmed. "Please, Captain, you can't barge in here and scare me into dropping things! That salve is expensive and takes a long time to make."

"Fine."

Kid pushed off the table and crossed his arms. Being scolded again by this little woman made Kidd's aching lessen, but only a little.

"I'll give you the money to make it again."

"And you'll help me make it!" She added cheerfully.

When Kid tried to argue, Y/n held up her hand and explained, "So you will understand its value. It's a family recipe that helps with cuts and burns."

"I don't-"

"Please."

She gazed at him with that soft expression that warmed the blood in his heart. As he gazed at her, sitting calmly on the table with that mark on her cheek, Kid started to feel a vague sensation that had not been felt in a long time.

He looked at the ground where the salve was smeared and found a glob that looked clean enough to use. He picked part of it up with his finger and swiped it upwards on Y/N's cheek. She closed her eyes at the cold ointment touching her skin.

A small part of her wished he would kiss her, but when his hand left her face, she knew it was hopeless to wish. After all, she wasn't his type.

Part 3

@ella157 , @bdudette ,

#eustass kid x reader #eustass x reader #eustass kid x y/n #eustass kidd #eustass captain kidd #eustasscaptainkid #op kid #one piece #one piece x reader #op fanfic #one piece fanfiction #kidd one piece #x reader #eustass kid #eustass kid x you #op eustass kid #kid x reader #captain kid x reader

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thesunloveschips · 3 months

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Eye of the Storm - Chapter 5: Brothers and Sisters

Summary: Nyra is one of the older Archeron sisters. Twin to Nesta. Plagued by a mysterious illness that her mortal body cannot endure for too long. And yet, it seems her curse is to see her family suffer. When the youngest of her sisters is whisked away into the land of fae, immortality soon follows for the rest of them. And as an immortal, there is more to her that she has yet to know.

Chapter Summary: The brothers discuss the sisters. Nyra has more relevant information. Newborn shadows are adorable.

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

****

Cassian was almost always the first to rise. He had a strict training regimen to follow and he would only compromise when there was no choice. For now, he figured he could still go over his training as long as he had a good glamour in place and an open space. With no shame whatsoever, he lifted the blankets off Azriel.

“Good morning, brother dearest!” The General was awfully cheery despite their current predicament. Azriel began to suspect that Cassian would now do anything and everything to get on Nesta's nerves even if it meant greeting him like the sun shone out of the shadowsinger's ass.

Azriel greeted him with nothing but a glare and the newborn shadows striking Cassian as if to punch him but they only felt like peanuts being pelted. The shadows had felt the need to tell him everything and explore everything. Consequently, the shadowsinger had to stay awake all night to rein them in lest they enter one of the females’ rooms and start reporting anything inappropriate. He had a suspicion that Nyra would be the primary target if these shadows had freedom to move around. Regardless of his restless night, he rose from bed and agreed to train.

The sun was just rising over the horizon, its rays kissing the snow. They were out of the room, walking towards the staircase when they spotted Elain dressed and holding a towel to dry her hair. She hummed a tune they recognised as the same one Nyra hummed for Feyre yesterday. While Cassian did little to quieten his footsteps, Azriel always had a silent presence. The sounds the General made alerted Elain and she looked up at them. Her freshly bathed skin that had been rosy just now seemed to pale.

"Good morning." Cassian grinned. The whole of Elain's body jolted at the greeting but she returned with a softer one of her own.

"Are there any large clearings around? We would like to train." Azriel's tone was much more gentler, having known that this sister was still wary of them.

Elain nodded. "To the east, there is a forest. There might be something there." She realized that the sisters were now very vulnerable without servants or guards in the estate. And without these fae around to protect them, they would probably be easy prey for anyone. She scurried back into her room and slammed the door too loudly. The salty scent of tears from behind the door to her room had Azriel and Cassian leaving immediately. They did not know how to react to a crying human female.

Cassian and Azriel soon exited the house, glamoured. They flew towards the forest Elain mentioned and found a suitable spot. They landed, removed their armour to be bare chested and began.

"So." The way Cassian drawled made Azriel realize that his brother was going to pester him about something. He remained quiet, knowing that Cassian would take the liberty to continue anyway.

"What are those?" The general's question resulted in a raised eyebrow. "Those shadows. You left yours behind and these are new." The conversation did not interrupt the clash of their swords.

"Shadows born during dinner last night." Azriel offered.

His answer seemed to be too short for Cassian. "Is there ever a trigger for new ones to be born?"

"Maybe." Azriel replied, irritated. Cassian looked unconvinced. "They are born when something significant happens. When I was in that cell," Both of them darkened at the mention of Azriel's imprisonment during his childhood. "Our oath of brotherhood. Becoming Carynthian. And so on."

Meeting all the Archeron sisters could be a significant event. Rhysand spoke into their minds.

"Possibly." Azriel did not think further but he saw the grin on Cassian's face. He was thinking of Nesta and the challenge between them. It was a dangerous game.

Try not to provoke Nesta Archeron. She might skin you alive. Rhysand's voice carried his mirth from a conversation he had with Feyre the previous night.

"Her twin is more amiable." Cassian noted as he defended against a strong strike.

That, she is. Rhysand sounded a little hopeful. Elain Archeron is perhaps more human than her sisters.

"Because she's afraid of us?" Cassian asked.

Her fear is what we expected from the twins. Clearly, they are not afraid. Nesta is annoyed by our presence and Nyra doesn't mind. Cassian grinned again. Nesta was most annoyed by him and it thrilled him immensely. Or maybe, the significant event right now is meeting Nyra Archeron. The way Rhysand said the word ‘significant’ had a teasing note that Cassian picked up. The General grinned and the Spymaster knew without another word what his brother might be thinking of.

"Whatever stupidity you are thinking of, stop." Azriel spoke with another strong strike. He landed a hit to Cassian's hand and caused him drop his sword. The shadowsinger abandoned his sword and readied his fists.

No more than that, you two. There is no need to frighten hosts with any more of your bloodied and bruised selves. Rhysand spoke. The two of them halted hesitantly.

"We continue in Velaris." Cassian grinned wildly at Azriel's declaration. He was already anticipating the rush their next sparring session would bring.

Your shadows certainly seem to think that meeting Nyra is a matter of significance. Azriel simply ignored the nosy High Lord he had as a brother while he wore his armour. He did not want to expect anything. He was already waiting for... And that was when it struck him. And Rhysand, who was still loitering around his brothers' minds to continue conversation, heard that thought. It could be a possibility.

Wishful thinking, Rhys. Azriel now spoke mentally. Cassian who was still linked to them heard all of it. He clapped on Azriel's shoulder once and asked. "But what if it is true?" It was the possibility of Azriel's mate, Rhysand's sister, reincarnating. Of the Bone Carver's prophecy finally coming true.

I dreamed of Feyre even before I ever met her. Even when I was under the mountain. Rhysand spoke of something he had yet to divulge to anyone else. It was a hope he wished Azriel would have. What were the odds that Rhys would meet his mate in a human who had been turned fae, for new shadows to be born when Azriel and Nyra met for the first time, and for Cassian to be drawn to a female who shared the same fighting spirit?

Hope is dangerous. Azriel warned. He looked over to Cassian who now frowned.

Says the one who has been waiting for five centuries. Cassian's voice was a bit low but still not low enough. He had made his point. Azriel's wings unfolded and he prepared for flight. After noting when the winds were convenient for him, he took off without a glance at Cassian who soon followed.

There is a possibility of your waiting period coming to an end, Az. Cassian sounded kind now. All the teasing had ceased and now, it was genuine.

And Azriel wanted to hope. So badly. He was needy. Ever since he discovered that he did not face the same symptoms as others whose mates had died, he resolved to wait. There must have been a reason his sanity survived. That he survived. The inside of him was numb and hollow and he waited for life to be breathed into him. Waiting to be woken up from some deep slumber his soul had gone into. And he returned to the Archeron estate with his brother with a confusion haunting him.

****

In the house, Rhysand and Feyre ran into Nesta at the living room. "I'm preparing breakfast." Nesta simply announced. "It will be ready in an hour." She turned on her skirts and headed to the kitchen.

Nesta looked around the kitchen and gathered the ingredients for a meal and then remembered Feyre's distaste for human food. She looked around for anything that her youngest sister could possibly consume.

"Nesta." Feyre's voice caught her attention but she did not turn around.

"Yes?" That one word was the only acknowledgement Nesta offered and Feyre took it.

"The letter is ready." Feyre placed the letter on the kitchen slab, a little further from the ingredients gathered and right next to a large vessel containing something hidden by a lid. "It's near this copper vessel."

"All right. I'll send it after breakfast."

"Thank you." Feyre turned around and was about to join Rhysand who was waiting for her just outside the door when Nesta called her name. "Yes?"

"Can you eat bread?" The question was an awkward one and invited more awkwardness between them. "Or rice?"

"I think I can eat rice." Feyre smiled just a bit for the sister who was clearly very unfamiliar at extending an olive branch. Nesta hummed and Feyre took that as a sign to join Rhys outside the room.

What Feyre did not expect was to see Rhysand and Nyra standing outside the door, next to each other, with their backs to the wall and staring at the ground. Rhys had just finished conversing with Cassian and Azriel while simultaneously sharing a moment of silence with Nyra as the two of them eavesdroppped outside the kitchen.

"That was... well..." There were never any words to describe any such interactions between Feyre and Nesta. The two of them barely got along with each other for most of their life and it seemed that was how it would remain.

A knock sounded at the door, alarming them.

"I'll get it." And Nyra walked away before anyone could say anything. Rhys and Feyre shared a glance, the former nodding once before casting a glamour on them. They risked a peak at Nesta who was busy with breakfast. Elain was nowhere around and surely, a fae couldn't answer the door.

As Nyra approached the door, Rhys and Feyre were just behind, ready to strike at anyone. The High Lord had already cast an invisible shield on Nyra and when she opened the door, it was just a man carrying letters.

"Post for the Archer..." He paused upon meeting Nyra. Nobody had ever met Nyra. She was somewhat of a myth and a reality only to those who ever truly met her. "Mrs. Laurent?"

"Is away for a bit. I'll take that." And she snatched the letters from the man's hand. The man continued to stare at her and when she finally noticed that, she frowned. "Yes?"

"Who are you?" The confusion was understandable. As the one with ill health, Nyra never opened the door in Mrs. Laurent's absence. It was either Nesta or Elain. She was always confined to the first floor where her bedroom, the library and their father's office were.

"An Archeron."

"I mean, who-"

"If you have something to say, please be quick. I have a life to get back to." It felt good saying that. Nyra had to constantly remind herself that she was recovering, somewhat. And if everything went well, she would be healthy again to enjoy life outside the house in a year or two. If they lived through this war.

"Nothing." The man blushed. He raised his hat once. "Good day!" And he ran away.

Nyra closed the door and started looking through the letters when she noticed Feyre and Rhysand.

"Are men usually like that with you?" Feyre asked, thoroughly amused at what she had just seen.

"The only man I meet is father and that is not often." She was still going through the letters when one of them caught her eye. She discarded the others on the nearest side table and ripped the envelope open. She skimmed through the contents of the letter.

"We have bad news." She looked at them. They immediately took a seat at the couch nearby and waited eagerly. She joined them, taking a seat on the opposite couch. "Vassa has been sighted on a ship headed for north from the Continent. She was unconscious and accompanied by the guards of one of the older queens."

"How do you think this will impact our negotiations?" Rhysand wanted to be prepared even if this was a losing battle. There was never any positive information related to the negotiations.

"Vassa is protective of her people. Therefore, she is more understanding despite what we’ve been taught about the fae." Nyra looked defeated.

"What about the others?"

"The older ones are highly prejudiced. They fund the Children of the Blessed from time to time who then spread those stories about the fae. And it seems like they are scheming something." Nyra rested her back on the sofa and craned her neck upwards. She closed her eyes and then suddenly opened them and leaned forward. "The other one. The golden one, is our best bet now."

Rhys rested his back and crossed his arms across his chest. "Why do you still think she would be our best bet?"

"Demetra is unpredictable. But that makes her the most dangerous bet."

The next moment, a swarm of shadows crawled into the room through the gap between the door and its frame. They seemed to swim as they moved towards Nyra. The shadows gathered in front of her and a tendril moved forward slowly as if waiting for her permission to touch her. Nyra extended a hand forward and the tendril gently wrapped itself around her little finger. More tendrils followed and both her hands were now engulfed by the shadows.

The clearing of a throat had the three of them turned to Nesta who had just entered the room. At the same moment, a sweaty Cassian and Azriel entered the room. Nesta did not even look at the General and all the frustration he tried to control by sparring hit him in the chest once again. She looked at Azriel and nodded in acknowledgement. The shadowsinger nodded back. She then looked at Nyra, Feyre and Rhysand and then at the letters.

“Good morning to the sweaty people with the most wonderful body odour.” Nyra sounded playful in a manner that reminded Feyre what about her older sister she had been missing. The wild humour she carefully concealed and had glued the sisters together. It was something, she realized with all the horror, that Nyra shared with Rhysand to an extent. Cassian might also share the same humour, maybe more than Rhys did. Azriel probably did not, or maybe he did. “Pray tell, why couldn’t you wait till breakfast for an adventurous tumble in the forests?”

Cassian grinned in delight. “We couldn’t wait for the inevitable. Right, Az?” He rested an arm on the shadowsinger’s shoulder. Azriel looked back at him with disbelief and mild disgust. “Maybe, after breakfast, we might continue. Would you be inclined to join us?”

Cassian’s blatant flirting and invitation raised enough eyebrows. The shadows playing with Nyra’s hands froze and then almost immediately enveloped her in their embrace, curling around her hair, hands, waist. Azriel’s silent command to them to behave was as lethal as he was. With a formidable glare, the shadows retreated from the girl and he walked forward.

“Are you alright?” He knelt by her side. His voice was gentle, like the caress of his shadows. “They won’t bother you anymore.” He wanted to vomit on Cassian for inviting Nyra. Why would these idiots tease him about her? And why would he even suggest such a thing even if she was the one who started this playful conversation?

“I’m fine. They felt nice.” Nyra replied with equal softness. She felt herself warm up under the shadowsinger's intense gaze. Before she felt any longer like she had a fever, Nyra turned to Cassian with mirth in her eyes. Azriel was too beautiful for her to look at for too long. “I’m not inclined to join anyone with that stench.”

Cassian laughed heartily. He walked forward and rested his hands on the backrest of Nyra’s couch. “Maybe after breakfast and a bath?”

“Who knows?” Nyra’s gaze then turned to Azriel. She shifted to one end of the sofa, clearing up for him. “Sit down. I suppose this sofa is large enough for your wings?” It was not but Azriel could care less. He nodded and tucked in his wings before sitting down next to her. It was uncomfortable but he was closer to her and his shadows were happy now. He saw the letter in her hand. She followed his gaze and frowned. Nesta noticed the piece of parchment.

"Please tell me you didn't write another letter." The shadows seemed startled at Nesta's words. They froze for a second before swimming towards Nyra. Azriel held up his hand and effectively collected them to stop the female sitting next to him from being startled.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Nyra's mirth seemed to be calming for the shadows. Azriel watched her and the shadows. The little bastards had abandoned him as soon as the two of them were in the same room. They constantly fawned over Nyra even when he had commanded them to separate from her. Impatient little snakes. With Azriel kneeling before Nyra and his shadows now with him, they were still a little closer to her than they were when he had previously banished them. Warm. Lovely. Weakened.

Nesta almost stomped over to Nyra, took the letter from her lap and asked. "Do you think I don't know what you've been doing? It might not be safe for you to be using father's seal like this." Nesta then proceeded to glare at the shadows as she took a seat on the armrest.

Azriel had been hearing the shadows describe Nyra’s hands. Soft. Pretty. Weakened. And then he heard them hiss when Nesta made her appearance. Their hisses were turning into growls. Azriel began to understand that the newborns felt like Nesta was a threat to Nyra from the expression she wore.

"We're probably going to die so if using a seal is going to somehow prevent that then I don't mind."

"And handwriting forgery."

"It's a necessary skill." Nyra looked at Nesta like the latter had said something unnecessary. As if she was questioning why it was even up for debate that handwriting forgery was a necessary skill.

"As necessary as picking locks?"

"You know its significance."

Nesta went quiet and then sighed. The twins had travelled back to their childhood for a few seconds before Nesta brought them back with her words. "Have some breakfast before you write to your little network of spies."

Azriel shifted his gaze from the shadows playing with Nyra’s hands to her face. It was difficult to believe that this ill female had any connections to the world outside her home. And here was Nesta, recalling that she would communicate with others and have her own network. As the spymaster of the Night Court, that piqued his interest.

"I do not have a network of spies." The shadows were attentive of her actions and ready to obey. They were now disobeying their master and were perched on her shoulders and arms and the skirts of her gown. They even hid behind her hair and Nyra did not seem to mind that she was now highlighted by them.

"You forge father's handwriting, use his seal, write letters to god knows who, get replies, knows things nobody knows, and keep your sources a secret. You have a spy network." Nesta’s revelations had Feyre widening her eyes. The youngest sister looked between the twins in utter shock. Rhysand smirked next to her and initiated a conversation with his lovely mate mind-to-mind.

"That is absurd." Nyra was not even trying to hide her amusement at the entire situation. She was one statement away from laughing. "I do not spy."

"You get others to spy. I've read your letters and I'm going to read this one too." Nesta's gaze had steeled as she read through the contents of the letter and she then set it aside as everyone settled. "Is this-"

"A reliable source." Nyra spoke. She sounded tired of all that she knew at the moment. Nothing seemed to be on their side. They had nobody by their side except for each other but that was clearly not enough.

The shadows headed towards Nesta, took the letter from her hand and placed it on Nyra's lap. "Thank you." She whispered. Azriel was now more than curious. He wondered if the shadows would obey if she asked for anything. Warm. Lovely. Home.

Feyre found that this picture was a precious one. Azriel and Nyra sitting on the sofa. Cassian behind it reading the letter Nesta held as she settled herself on the armrest. And she could cry at this. This painting that she now desperately wanted to paint. The four of them seemed to fit perfectly into each other’s pieces. And Feyre raised a hand to her mouth to bite on the sleeve. She was close to crying. Too close. And if the situation was different, if there was no war looming over them, then maybe, Feyre would paint this. And it was a promise to herself. A small tattoo inked itself on her chest. Two swords. One with fire and one with lightning crossed against each other.

"For now, Feyre darling and I will be off to practice a little magic." Rhysand stood up, picked on some non-existent lint on his blazer and extended a hand out to Feyre. She simply stood up, ignoring his flirty grin and looked at Nyra.

"We'll figure it out." It was odd. To receive reassurance from her younger sister. And yet, Nyra felt like she could breathe a little easily. Nesta was still rattled by reality and clutched Nyra's hand like a lifeline.

"We'll be back in half an hour." Rhys clapped his hands on his brothers' backs and then looked at them. "You stink."

"It’s part of the appeal.” Cassian turned to Nesta with a grin and winked playfully.

"You reek." Nesta spoke with convincing indifference before realizing that she had given Cassian attention. She saw his grin widening and the horror rising in her mind made her flee to the kitchen.

****

“Do either of you feel something different about the food here?” Nyra asked. The shadows were being ticklish now and she did not want to laugh in the middle of carrying plates. “Azriel, could you reign in the shadows for a bit? They’re being ticklish.” The shadowsinger blushed and nodded.

Newborn shadows were easy to command as he was naturally intimidating. His command had them retreating back to him where they found home on his shoulders, on his back, all over his wings. He had been used to the shadows’ touch all over him for so long that he felt out of place without them. Having these newborns eased that feeling that would be completely gone only when he returned to Velaris and the older shadows joined him.

“I’ve had worse.” Cassian began and Azriel closed his eyes with a defeated sigh.

“What he means is, there’s a difference but we don’t mind it.” The spymaster’s attempt was mainly to calm Nesta before the storm within her raged over Cassian.

“Then you may carry your own food to the mortal lands any time you deem to visit.” Nesta was clearly not calmed even at Azriel’s attempts. He looked at Nyra who sighed. She looked back at him and shook her head and a silent indication to be quiet with a finger to her lips.

“Are you inviting me back to your home?” Cassian asked, his bright grin taking over. Nesta blanched at the interpretation Cassian had somehow lead her words to. She glared at him but said nothing. He continued pestering her, picking up a spoon to taste the freshly cooked soup. She cleared her throat from behind him, armed with a glare and a very sharp knife that had a startled Cassian dropping the spoon.

While Nesta and Elain took over the kitchen and Cassian insisting on being wherever Nesta was, Azriel and Nyra were in the dining room with the crockery.

“Is it always like this?” Nyra gazed up from where she was standing near a chair with spoons in her hand. Azriel went blank for a moment and then she responded to his question.

“It wasn’t. Back when we were children, Elain and Feyre were left on their own while Nesta and I were groomed to navigate the social circles for husbands.”

Nyra sounded like she did not like speaking about it. Azriel picked up on that and spoke. “It is fine if you do not wish to speak of it.”

She turned around and looked at him for a few seconds before speaking. “It is a part of our past. I prefer to delude myself into thinking that it’s a story than a reality we once lived in.” She moved forward to the next seat to put a spoon. “Then, life happened. I fell ill. Grandmother died. Then our mother. Father lost his riches. Feyre going out hunting. Those two fae and their brainwashing magic on Elain and father. Life without Feyre. Wealth. My improving health. Elain’s engagement. And now, this.” By then, Nyra had placed all the spoons. Azriel had placed all the forks as he circled the table behind Nyra.

“All of it changed something in our family. For Nesta, it was like she had to weather so many storms all at once.” She turned around to face him but Azriel’s long strides resulted in him and Nyra colliding. He helped her regain her balance by holding one of her hands while she had used the other to grab the nearest chair. “Thank you.”

Breakfast was ready in an hour. Cassian had put in all his efforts into annoying Nesta. She slapped the General's hand away whenever he tried to taste anything, not understanding the warmth blooming within her. Azriel quietly helped Nyra and Elain before he froze for a few seconds. He walked closer to Nyra who looked at him in confusion.

"Take care." He sounded a little hesitant and his shadows were actively protesting against leaving her. Azriel gently took Nyra's hand, lifted it, bowed and kissed her knuckles. His final wish for her to take care of herself was a sincere one that she felt in her nerves as he kissed her hand. "If fate wills it, we shall meet again." Before Nyra could ask him anything, the shadows enveloped him in darkness and Azriel was no longer in the house.

“Stay inside.” Cassian suddenly commanded. “It’s not safe out there.” His red siphons were glowing faintly. Nesta wondered how the glow of the siphons and his attentive posture had suddenly made Cassian more beautiful. She found no reason to look away. The more she looked at him, the more she wanted to look at him even more for the mere reason that he was there. Standing in her line of sight. Breathing. Existing. And just being so beautiful.

Rhysand and Feyre joined them and the absence of the shadowsinger immediately attracted a question from Nyra. "Where is Azriel?"

"He will not be joining us for breakfast. He has something urgent to attend to." Feyre diplomatically answered and the implication of something bad did not go missed. Breakfast passed with a dark cloud looming over everyone.

The letters were delivered and a glamour was cast on the estate. Rhysand had Azriel send over guards to protect the mortal sisters and informed them of the same. Cassian, Feyre and Rhysand then bid farewell and left for Prythian.

****

TAGLIST: @waytoomanyteenagefeels@impossibelle@esposadomd@starswholistenanddreamsanswered@judig92 @bunnyredgirl@sh4nn@a-frog-with-a-laptop@kattzillaa@ronnieglennn@wallacewillow0773638@forgiveliv@justdreamstars@donttellthecats@cat-or-kitten@jojodojo02@wandas-dream@evylynny @weasleyreidstyles @stqrgirlies-blog @why4anne @acourtofdreamsandshadows @saltedcoffeescotch @mybestfriendmademe @macimads @footyandformula @noelli-smv @mqlfoyelf @thehighlordishere

#a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #acofas #acomaf #acosf #acotar #acowar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x oc #azriel x original character #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #feyre archeron #feysand #nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #elain archeron #rhysand

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unnerving-presence · 8 months

Note

Pls Ghostface, Wesker, Ji-Woon, and Evan when a fem! Survivor flashes them during a trial as an attempt to distract them from killing her or a teammate? Like flashing her panties or boobs at them. 🫣 How would they react

MANNNN 😖

as of right now i only do 3 characters at a time so i will be excluding mr dan man johnson from this one ajdhskfb

☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎

Albert Wesker:

While there’s no doubt that Wesker is a ruthless, power-hungry individual, his man brain cannot help but submit to the fleshly desires of the world that he so dearly hates. That includes in this very moment, seeing your tits slightly jiggle as you lift your shirt up. If his glasses were off his eyes would be glued to your chest but you can already assume he’d be doing that already behind that grimace plastered on his face.

Wesker recovers very quickly as if you flashing him didn’t almost give him a hard-on on the middle of a trial. He can’t let that distract him from his mission but he fears it already has.. He can already see the mistakes he makes before he even makes them. All he can think about are those breasts and it’s like a virus in his brain. Damn you!

Even he can admit that it was a smart move.. Especially since you made him feel things he hasn’t felt in YEARS. At this point arousal is a foreign concept to him. You flashing him was like him getting smacked with 5 semi-trucks of pure arousal. Even when he thinks about getting back at you he can’t help but drift his mind back to that magnificent view you gave him. He.. actually respects it. You don’t see many people bold enough to show their tits to a random stranger. He views you as a challenge, a worthy foe. And.. a quite attractive one at that.

Ji-Woon Hak:

For a moment that murderous smile was wiped off his face. He’s had fans flash him before, but having his prey do so? That’s quite surprising. Ji-Woon never cared much for romantics, but he didn’t have a problem with free eye-candy. Even if it were just for a moment. While it didn’t exactly effect him, it did distract him long enough for your teammate to escape. Well done.

Recovers quite quickly though and decides that you are a far more valuable target. As said before, he’s seen tits plenty of times. Being flashed is something that doesn’t exactly phase him anymore, though you were a slightly different story. A little surprised, but ultimately not very effective. Cute though..

Sees you as a worthy victim as well. One he’d like to see how else you’d try and defend yourself against him. For his own twisted pleasure he may just keep you alive. He’ll be checking out your behavior in trials to come. He’d love to see what else you can bring to the table. Though he’s not gonna complain if you flash him again..

Evan Macmillan:

The one out of this bunch that actually gets severely effected by your little distraction. It’s already difficult having to kill people against his will, having to live with constant pain rippling through his back, shoulders, and arms. It doesn’t exactly help when an admittedly hot survivor suddenly flashes their magnificent tits right at him.

He wishes he could get you out of his head but he can’t. For the rest of the trial you plague his mind, making it ever more difficult for him to focus and actually hit a damn survivor. In some ways it’s a motivator, making him more brutal for the remainder of the trial. Though at times he gets so distracted that he even steps in one of his traps, causing a bit of an injury he would have to brush off if he were to please the Entity. He’s no weak man by any means, but it’s definitely been a while since he’s a seen a pair. It’s.. gonna take him a bit to regain himself. Maybe even give you the sweet gift of forcefully pushing your head down into a bear trap just so he can think of killing again.

Evan may be a very tough, intimidating killer one wouldn’t want to willingly approach, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel lust. It’s definitely a feeling he hides away, though it quickly erupts into something much more than that when you come around. After that trial he soon does get over it in the sense where he’s not getting constantly distracted during trials. Though he promises to himself that he’ll never forget your face. He’s not after you for the thrill of the hunt. He’s after you for something much, much more than that.

#dbd x reader #dead by daylight x reader #albert wesker x reader #ji woon hak x reader #evan macmillan x reader

899 notes · View notes

killsaki · 1 year

Text

final girl. ☆ surely all the girls being murdered in your town having something that fits your own description is a coincidence… right?

izuku midoriya x female!reader

4k words | part 2 (tbp)

cw/tw : yandere!izu, quirkless/loserboy!izu, stuttering, stalking, drugging, thighfucking, facial, male masturbation, noncon, somnophilia (kinda), alcohol, oc side character, kidnapping, murder (mentions).

“you’re not seriously going out, are you?” comes from your doorway, you turn towards the voice in just enough time to catch sight of your roommate inviting himself into your room, as he always does, before plopping himself down on your mattress.

you sigh before answering, knowing he’s about to spout some of his repetitive nonsense.

“of course i am, fuzen.” he blinks at you with his usual unamused expression, heterochromatic eyebrows slightly raised in a way that you’ve come to learn is a signal for you to ask more about what he’s saying. you take the bait. “but, why do you ask?”

“you’re the target of that serial killer.” you purse your lips at his immediate and dramatic response to stop yourself from laughing, you really shouldn't entertain him all the time. he’s mentioned a few things that could probably cost him his job for disclosing the, in his words, eerie similarities, that you have had with all the victims of recent murders.

it started with things like how they all had your eye color, or that they were all described to have your height and build. you passed those off as generic things, but fuzen didn’t. it spiraled into things as specific as one of them having your hair. well, their hair, but it was the same length as yours, the same color, and her body was found with it styled with the same way that you’d fallen in loved with and wore repeatedly that week. one girl was found with copies of the jewelry that you frequently wore, another even had her nails done almost exactly like your new set.

the longer it went on, the more insistent your roommate became about you listening to what he had to say. but you always changed the subject, figuring that the less you know the easier it’ll be to shake off the cold feeling on your back you sometimes get after leaving the apartment.

“i thought you were a stealth sidekick,” you laugh him off, yet again. ”when did you get demoted to a detective?”

“why does your room feel weird?” he asks suddenly, adjusting his sitting position like he’s been made uncomfortable while he looks around your space. “has someone been in here?”

“uh, yeah, me.” you suck your teeth at him before turning back to your vanity and get back to finishing getting ready.

“why don’t you believe me?” he asks, you can tell he’s a little irritated and it makes you feel bad for always brushing him off.

“‘zen… i know you care about me, i’m sorry.” you meet his gaze in the mirror, finding him already looking back at you. “maybe you’re just overthinking because you care about me?”

he nods slowly, before cracking a grin and shaking his head, “nah, i’m probably just jealous because i don’t have a stalker.” he rolls his neck and you wonder how much truth is in his words. “though i’d probably prefer it without the murder.”

“i don’t have a stalker.” you retort while he chuckles to himself before standing.

“you know,” he stretches his arms, fingertips touching the ceiling as the hem of his shirt lifts to reveal his toned stomach, something you quickly look away from. “that habit of immediately denying stuff that you’re anxious about is gonna bite you in the ass one day.”

his mouth is good at keeping you from being attracted to the rest of him.

“but not today,” you speak matter of fact, “because i do not have a stalker.”

“right, yeah.” he sniggers, clearly not believing a word from you. “didn’t you say you felt like you were being followed home the other night? you should think harder on the description—”

“anyways!” you cut him off, knowing that he’s not going to stop talking unless you make him. sometimes you’re not sure if he actually likes having conversations with you or just the sound of his own voice. “shouldn’t you get back to tying some red thread between the pictures and articles hung up on your wall mr. detective.”

“fuck off.” he flips you off from where he’s now lurking by your dresser, leaning against it as he’s focused on checking his phone. “i know you think i’m joking, but they put me on the west end so i’ll be patrolling over by the party if you–”

“oh! my rides here,” you lie, jumping up to slip past him and out of the conversation. “so, i’ll text you when i make it back home since you’ll be on patrol and i won’t see you again tonight, right?”

“wait!” he calls after you, annoyed by your sudden escape, as you slip on your shoes. “text me if something happens with your ride and i’ll walk you back!”

“bye, fuzen!” you yell back, walking out the door. “love you!”

/// /// ///

maybe… fuzen wasn’t just talking to hear his voice. maybe, there’s a small possibility that you do have a stalker.

you could chalk it all up to your roommate giving you anxiety about the whole situation, or that you’ve had a few too many already. but you can’t deny the fact that from the moment you stepped out of your apartment building until you climbed into your ride’s car, you felt something watching you.

it was a hot gaze, a familiar one. it could’ve been a neighbor, you reasoned to yourself as you waited for kirishima to arrive, and that theory sounded best as you repeated it to yourself at the party, laughing with him and his friends and downing drink after drink. until the chill on the back of your neck reappeared, despite how warm your blood is from the alchol. and no matter how much you looked over your shoulder to try and find some kind of source for it, there just wasn’t anyone there.

“you good?” sero asks when you fail to reply to your name being called.

“huh?” you turn to him to find the whole group looking at you with concern, your face flushes at how ridiculous you must look, being so skittish. “oh, i’m fine,” you force a laugh, hoping it seems genuine. “think i just had a little bit too much.”

“no sweat.” kirishima nods towards the glass door behind him and you try to ignore how sero and denki exchange glances. “let’s go get some air.”

“yeah, okay.” you hope the earth swallows you whole as you follow behind him.

you regret coming, regret not shutting your door while getting ready, regret letting fuzen talk his mouth off at you for so long about it. you’ll chew him out about it tomorrow.

you take a deep breath as you walk out the glass door, kirishima’s large palm rubbing soothingly on your back helps settle the nerves. there’s a comforting warmth that takes over the anxious heat as you lean into him.

“sorry i’m being weird.” you mumble as he guides you into his chest, melting into him and the sound of his steady heart beat.

“you’re fine,” you feel the arm holding his cup raise, the pause between his words meaning his downing the rest of his drink that smells way too strong. “don’t worry about it.”

the two of you sway for a bit, his arms around you and your head on his chest with the muffled music as ambiance.

it could be blamed on the alcohol but in this moment, you’re thankful you have kirishima. thankful for how it took absolutely no time at all for you to get comfortable with him, how it felt like an instant connection when he silently prompted the two of you to play tictactoe in the margine of your notes. something that quickly snowballed from passing messages to walking you back to your dorm, and then hang outs as his frat house.

he’s always offered himself as a stress relief for you, making sure you’re comfortable while you’re with him and pressing you about it any time that you seemed tense. there’s been a few awkward moments where you thought he’d tried making a pass at you but he’s always been quick to clarify. plus he’s so warm, like… really warm. his arms feel like a blanket around you. god, how is someone so big and bulky also so soft? you could probably fall asleep like this, surrounded by him.

“hey.” you’re pulled from your thoughts, and from where you were tucked into him. “you knocking out on me?”

“sorry.” you giggle, at his ever playful expression. “you’re just so comfortable.”

the smirk on his face is a harmless one, you think. and it’s awfully pretty.

“bakugou needs me at the beer pong table.”

“i don’t need you, fucker.” you hear the blonde shout from where he stands at the door. did he yell at him before too? “they just don’t want me to embarrass them by beating their asses by myself.”

kirishima laughs. ”you stayin’ out here?” you hesitate, but nod. you feel better, but the thought of facing his friends again so fast is a little too intimidating. “i wont let anyone come out here and fuck with you.” he squeezes your hip before chasing his friend inside. “come watch me when you’re ready!” the redhead calls to you from where he now hangs out the door, his toothy grin clear as day even from this distance.

you only wave back, your dizziness telling you it’s not a good idea to raise your voice right now.

you let yourself stumble back against the wall before pulling your phone out. you try three times to call fuzen and it immediately cancels before you realize you have no service where you’re standing. you curse under your breath as you push off the bricks and force your legs to carry you around the corner of the house. finally a full bar of service, you have to focus on the blurry phone icon while your thumb finds its way there.

why is everything so hard?

you manage to fumble your phone before you’re able to start the call. it feels like there’s a brick in your skull with how heavy your head becomes as you bend over to reach for the device. just as your finger tips touch your screen, there’s big, rough ones which grab at your hips. you don’t have time to scream before your arm is wound behind your back and used to press you against the brick of the house. you lose any hope of grabbing your phone and yelp as your chest and cheek sting at the harsh contact. your vision spins as you blink in the dim light, you can’t even make out the shape of the person behind you.

”don’t scream.” the stranger speaks in your ear, though slightly muffled, it still makes you freeze all the same. the adrenaline delays the recognition of the cold blade at your back, a knife. how were those girls killed again? you immediately nod, further scraping yours skin against the jagged edges of the brick. fear courses through your veins as he takes hold of your free arm and brings it back with the other, wrapping a large hand around both to keep them in place.

you try to plead with him when his knife moves from your back, the threat of it gone, or maybe all the alcohol making you bold enough to speak.

“i haven’t seen your face.” you whisper, hoping it was low enough for him to allow it. “you don’t have to kill me, you could just let me go.”

“let you go?” he asks, surely it’s your intoxicated mind, but he sounds genuinely confused, almost hurt by your words. “i can’t,” he mutters and you whine as your heart hammers in your chest. “i f-finally have you.” you hear the man sigh behind you before he presses his face into your neck, you can hear the echo in whatever metal he has wrapped over his face as he inhales deep against your skin and your body instantly reacts with chills shooting up your spine. “you smell so good.” he begins to pant as his free hand gropes at your body. “so m-much better than any of them did.”

“please… don’t,” you beg when he reaches your breast, where he squeezes it just enough to hurt before clumsily rubbing his fingers over your nipples through the cloth.

“but i knew you would.” he continues as if you didn’t speak, as if your words don’t matter. “you’re the b-best, the only good one, only you.”

his hand drags from your chest down to your waist where he starts to struggle with your bottoms. and your eyes begin to feel with tears at the inevitable.

“please just let me go.” you try again, hoping for just an ounce of pity. “i really won’t tell anyone.”

“i’m sorry.” his body pressed up against you, shoving you farther into the hard wall, ”i’m sorry, angel,” you finally realize just how much bigger the man is than you. “im just–i can’t stop. i need you.” his grip on your arms disappears as he opts to use his large stature to keep you pinned, with both of his hands to work your bottoms down to your knees before he’s humping against your ass. “i wanted to wait– wanted our first to be special.”

the deadweight feeling at the back of your mind aches to takeover, the dizziness, the fear, the effor it takes for you to just breathe right now it far too much, so you succumb to it all– making you completely helpless. all you can do is stand there and hope he’ll let you go once he’s had his fill. not that it’s easy, there’s bile churning in your stomach when you hear the click of his belt, feel the shuffle of him tugging his own pants down.

you have to bite your cheek to stop yourself from crying when you feel the heat of what has to be his cock prodding between your thighs. the only thing keeping any distance between its heat and your most vulnerable parts is the underwear holding the last bit of your dignity together. but once he wraps his arms around you—which squeeze you so tight you think you’ll burst— and he angles you so your hips stick back enough for him to rub between your thighs while pressing up against your cunt, you’re sure you’ll throw up regardless.

he, however, groans at the contact. “s-so warm.” you can hear him begin to pant as his hips start rhythmically pressing into yours, the force alone enough to jolt your body against the wall. “f-feel so good.” you can taste blood as you hold back your sobs. it feels like an eternity passes, each groan and inhale against your nape makes you more nauseous until your body has had enough.

being pushed too far from the fear, the drinks, and the pain, it causes you to collapse on yourself. everything seems like it fades as you fall slack in the stranger's arms. maybe if you die while unconscious, it’ll be okay. at least you won’t feel the pain.

sounds come in and out like you have bad radio service, your eyes too heavy and body too weak to get a good sense of what’s happening, but you hear—

“t-this? my girlfriend drank too much s-so i’m j-just—“ comes from somewhere around you, somewhere close.

“awww!” you hear, whiney and dragged out from some girl who definitely had more than you tonight. “you’re such a good boyfriend for babysitting.” your heart aches when you try to fight, to move, to scream and you’re far from successful.

“i wish my boyfriend let me drink that much.” if you could just tell one person what’s happening, if you could just show even a little bit of struggle, someone could save you. “you’re even carrying her! so cute!” if someone could just see your face, maybe they’d see that this is not who you arrived with, someone could tell kirishima. “you guys get home safe~!”

you feel like a boulder is set on your chest, the weight of your failure weight bearing on you when everything’s quiet again.

/// /// ///

you don’t know how much time passes before you’re able to bring yourself out of your useless state until you’re finally able to blink your eyes open and take in your surroundings. it’s all blurry at first, but the furniture in your line of sight slowly starts to resemble that of the setup you have in your room. there’s your vanity, your nightstand, this is your comforter, a weak smile works its way onto your lips.

you could cry from the relief. whatever happened, whether it was all a dream or something you won’t be able to remember, you don’t care. you’re home.

you toss your head back into your pillow, taking in a deep breath, catching the smell of what's likely your own sweat before you try to stretch your arms out, the needles stabbing into your hands making you feel the need to shake them to fix your blood flow. but they don’t budge, and the sound of metal clanking makes you shoot your eyes open and then you feel it.

your grogginess to blame for you not being able to the cuffs that encase them before. nor the sinking weight that kneels beside you, a large figure looming over you looking that much more daunting with the light behind him illuminating only his towering figure as he hunches over you, huffing and whining with his cock only inches from your face.

your lips tremble when the false sense of safety washed away and you look up past the movement of his hand, slowly taking in the dark green mess of hair that falls around his face, the chunky metallic mask that causes each of his heavy breaths to be echoed before you meet his eyes, the wide, terrifying green gaze that burns back at you makes you wish you were still unconscious.

“o-oh.” he’s so loud as he shoots out his load across your face and the bare parts of your chest, thick and hot where it lands. you cringe as your name is chanted off his lips and you squeeze your eyes and mouth closed, not wanting to let yourself be any more violated than you already feel. your head pounds as you feel the urge to cry, but you can’t seem to force yourself to.

“i didn’t—i didn’t finish earlier,” you hear him mutter above you, “and it hurt—looking at you,” a hand smoothes along your hairline, making you jump at the contact, and he retracts. “s-sorry… you’re just… so pretty.”

“can i…” he starts and you’re not sure if you’ll be able to answer if he actually asks you a question. “can i take a picture? it’ll only be for me, i promise.”

“please…” your voice is weak and you have to try and gather some spit to swallow to allow yourself any more volume. “don’t…” your request is sure to be ignored, he’s seemed to do whatever else he’s liked.

“you’re r-right,” you feel the mattress rise once he disappears from beside you, “another time.”

you try to test your voice again, you’re not sure how long it’s been since what you can last remember, but if fuzen wasn’t on patrol, he’d be in bed. if only you could scream.

“i’ll clean you up, is that o-okay?” you don’t reply, only tense when the warm cloth wipes at your skin. “sorry, again. i feel like such a pervert.”

you open your eyes again once they’re clean, and staring at your curtains, you try to think. you can’t even speak, can’t move, can’t fight. how long are you going to be so helpless?

“are you okay? i know i probably scared you…” you wish you could scoff. “could you at least look at me?”

you don’t move to face him, not wanting to look into those horrifying eyes again. just the thought of him, next to you now, staring at you with them makes you shudder with fear.

“look at me.” he grips your jaw, reminding you how big his hands are as he forces you to turn towards him. you avoid meeting his gaze. not wanting to know if it’s just as piercing as before, instead, you take in the green mess of curls, how they stick about and fall into his face. you can see him staring at you, but still, skip over making eye contact and make out the freckles at peek out from behind the metallic mask that seems to be slipping, making you close your eyes again.

if there was any small chance of you getting out of here alive, there’s no way you can see his face.

“hey–”

“your mask,” you whisper, and his grip loosens as soon as you speak.

“oh,” he mumbles back. you can hear what you guess is him toying with it, but you realize as you peek up, was him removing it. “guess i don’t need this.”

with his face fully revealed, you can feel yourself sinking into acceptance of your fate.

“you’re staring…” you can visibly see him swallow, his eyes darting between yours and the floor. “am i attractive?” a soft smile grows on his lips at him complimenting himself as if you’d really said it. “i’m happy you think so.”

“i have a roommate,” you speak, voice cracking.

“what?” his eyebrows drawn together, face set in a scowl before he pushes himself from your bed. “you need some water.”

“he’s a hero.” you try again, even as he walks away and you’re sure you’re out of earshot. “a strong one, and he’ll be home soon.” you pick your head up to watch him throw the door open, and all of your hope for your roommate saving you drains as you stare down a hallway that doesn’t belong in your apartment; you’re not home…

if you saw any typos, no you didn’t !!<;33

reblogs + asks + feedback appreciated !

#bnha smut #mha smut #my hero smut #izuku smut #bnha x reader #mha x reader #my hero x reader #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya smut #izuku x you #bnha x you #mha x you #stalking tw #yandere tw #drugging tw #noncon tw

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lazyneonrabbitt · 5 months

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Feral for you

Daryl Dixon x Reader | Pt.2

Requested by anon. Delete this if it doesn't do anything for ya, but what about (were!??)Daryl coming to terms with the way he feels about a reader who's too soft and sweet? Walkers or no, he's head over heels but feels bad about it because damn if it doesn't feel like he'll get you dirty just by touching you. (But then he sees that you're stronger than he gave you credit for--or maybe you're even the same kind of "monster" that he is?!)

🐺 🐺 🐺

Ever since the prison you and Carol had been close friends. You were a Woodbury resident the group had saved and instantly became friends with her as you claimed your place in the makeshift kitchen.

Being there with her had you meeting Daryl fairly soon, and oftentimes more than once a day.

Seeing him reminded you of the time before you had arrived at Woodbury. Your group living in the woods, surviving off hunted down animals and other food stolen from anywhere you could get it.

It wasn’t until you were safe behind the walls you had become the proper citizen you were seen as today, in your neat outfits that even though they were made up of patched up and old pieces, still looked like they used to come from an expensive boutique.

Daryl noticed this about you. First thinking lowly of you, thinking you had never even seen a walker up close and managed to be walled off since day one.

The way you made sure to put your hair up in a nice do and seemed to always be clean made you an easy target to focus on so he was almost always staring at you when you were around. But after a while the reasoning for the stares changed. The way you walked, talked and even the way your scent seemed to make his inner beast howl.

Your interactions with the others never went unnoticed either. The way you handled the younger children with the sweetest smiles and softest touches. The delicacy of your medical practices or the focus with which you prepared the food he hunts and brings you. His hunts went from providing food for the community to hunting for animals to skin and gut so he has meat to bring to you. Often using his animalistic side to bring back a larger amount in the hopes of impressing you.

He'd usually retreat to get some rest after his trips, but ever since you joined Carol's side in your makeshift kitchen he'd been sticking around to watch you cook and smoke his cigarettes. And then of course make sure to not smoke anywhere too close to you because you probably disliked his dirty habits.

It wasn't long until Carol picked up on her best friend's actions and told him to quit worrying and shoot his shot.

He obviously didn't listen and scoffed at her assumption. "Yer crazy, woman." He'd said. "Tha' soft 'n sweet thing aint' fer me."

Where Carol heard it as Daryl not being interested in such a neat lady, he had really meant it in a much different way.

He'd kill to spend the day with you out in his bike, riding and scavenging. Showing you his entire self. That same self that had Carol deathly afraid of him for over a week before she finally dared to speak to him gain..

But also, you'd never be even remotely interested in his dirty old bike and his always wounded hands, his messy clothes and looks. He almost wanted to clean up and change himself for you but then he'd be lying to not only you but also himself.

So he never changed.

He kept eyeing you from the sidelines when you weren't looking, and with that never noticing you were doing the exact same thing to him. He loved bringing you the hunted ingredients as Carol collected home grown foods from Rick down in the field. Assisting in heavy lifting whenever he was near. He spent his time around you mirroring your kindness since he realized it made him feel good as well to help beyond just using his skills for hunting.

But of course everything had to go to shit again.

The prison fell, everyone split and you founds yourself in the surrounding woods with Beth and Daryl.

When the search for booze finally ended in an old shoddy place stacked with moonshine, Daryl learned you had a fairly high tolerance for the stuff as you happily kept playing round after round of Beth's dumb game well after Daryl had quit. He wasn't in the mood to show you he couldn't get drunk at all off this homemade booze no matter how much he'd chug and make you think he used to be a drunk in the old world.

He also learned you weren't too bothered by getting dirty in the woods.

And of course as soon as he thought those specific words he pictured a different kind of 'getting dirty' in the woods. Specifically getting dirty with his other half, who was big and strong enough to protect her while he made her feel good.

But no, you were friends and survival partners, in search of other surviving members of your group. Plus you were a soft human lady who would probably pass out if you saw him for the gross redneck monster he really was.

You ended up living in a surprisingly well-kept funeral home for a couple of days, getting scared by a dog once, and then twice as walkers suddenly roamed the house. You went to grab a weapon as you shouted for Beth to escape and soon following with Daryl right behind you.

But you weren't quick enough as you both watched the car that took Beth drive off.

Daryl took a full sprint following after it as you grabbed the bag and barely made it out of the street as you had lost track of not only the car but also Daryl.

And no way of turning back to the house as it was now filled with Walkers..

So you traveled alone for a while, being thankful for Beth's dropped bag that held mostly food.

You traveled along the tracks for a while, hoping others had the same idea but never finding anyone until you eventually after god knows how many days you ran into Rick, Michonne and Carl when you all responded to the same cry for help.

Seeing their familiar faces, together and alive had you cry out in happiness, crashing your entire body into Michonne's and holding on for as long as you could.

Rick immediately went back into cop-mode, seeing you all alone.

"Beth, taken.." a deep breath between words was needed to make yourself understandable. "Daryl ran after her.. couldn't keep up.."

Michonne rubbed your back as Carl came go hug you as well.

You traveled with them and settled on an abandoned car as your place to rest for the night. But rest wouldn't come tonight as a group of men surrounded you and quickly overpowered you all.

You and Carl were tucked away in the car as you awoke to a man's loud voice.

Surrounding you were multiple armed men, their leader counting down as he held a gun to Rick's head but stopping as a familiar voice rang through the midnight air.

'Daryl!' You recognized him in a second but didn't dare to call out for him as one of the men stood outside your window with a knife on display, waiting to strike.

You watched the scene in front of you, not clearly hearing due to you being inside of the closed off car.

Your daggers still rested uncomfortably against your hips, just like Daryl showed you how to wear them as he gave you and Beth quick hunting lessons.

You watched as they spoke, moving as undetected as possible to ready your daggers any time the man at your window looked away and opening the snaps that held them inside their holsters.

Daryl was now right in your view, dropping his crossbow and widening his stance and opening his arms.

You just stared though the window, confused with the whole ordeal as everyone was now very focused on the two men in the centre of the group.

Then a gun was moved from the side of Rick's head to now hold Daryl as its target..

Without a single second to rethink your plan you had your daggers unsheathed and stuck in the head of the filthy looking man you knocked out with the car door when he wasn't paying attention.

Hiding behind the car gave you just enough time of the men being distracted to sneak around and get the jump on the man who held Daryl at gunpoint only a second ago. As soon as he turned his head towards his men and bark a new command you had caught up to him, coming up from behind Daryl and stabbed the man in the arm and gut. As he dropped to the ground you kicked the gun and stomped on his chest, digging both daggers into his chest. A brutal snarl left you as you chose your next target, seeing most them either got taken care of by your friends or had ran off.

A low, gurgling noise came from the man beneath you, who you had now fully straddled and who's blood covered most of your front. With a gruff noise you spat in his face and roughly twisted one dagger in his chest cavity while you pulled the other out with a scrape against bone and shoved it down his throat.

Daryl watched you heaving, almost growling form as he held his crossbow at half attention in case the surviving members of the group came back. He knew it was highly unlikely seeing you just took out their leader with the most feral anger he had seen in a very long time.

Huffing you turned around, yanking the daggers from your victim and wiping them on your trousers before placing them back in their sheaths.

Looking up at Daryl, standing there with his jaw slack in awe staring at you covered in blood, bright glowing eyes and fangs out trying to calm your breathing.

You saw yourself in the reflection of Daryl's blue eyes and panic set in. Your hands flying up to cover your mouth and averting your gaze and closing your eyes, begging yourself to just calm the hell down and hide away again.

The others stood at a distance now, offering the two of you at least a little bit of privacy.

The tears you tried to hold back threatened to spill as your breathing just would not even out. Not until a clattering sound caught your attention and in your turn to look behind you a pair of strong arms wrapped around you and your tears were softly kissed until you were breathing okay again and the tears had stopped.

"Yer okay, pup. Yer more than okay." He softly hushed you, making sure you were looking at him as he showed you his own hidden self. A pair of bright blue eyes accompanied by sets of fangs that made yours look like baby teeth. The tips of his ears poked out of his hair even more now as they had grown into a slight point. With a smile you raised your hand and brushed your fingers along the edge as he pulled you closer to him. He made a point of having you feel the claws at his fingertips as he pressed you against him before pulling you into a kiss.

"Don' think I've ever seen a girl go so feral over me."

~~☆☆☆~~

A/N: Thankyou for this request, Anon!! I had fun writing this one when I finally figured out how to do the plot twist ♡♡

#sometimes i write #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon imagine #twd daryl #twd #twd au #werewolf #werewolves

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lightwise · 2 months

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Full Circle - The Return to The Outpost

The Return is a masterpiece in visual, verbal, metaphorical, and situational parallel and payoff. We have been waiting for 3 long seasons to see Crosshair and his family come to terms with their choices, reunite, and move forward together, and this episode somehow manages to give us all of it by walking us point by point through the scene of Crosshair’s change of heart—The Outpost. Most likely the themes presented here will continue to be parsed out for the rest of the season, but their fulfillment is begun here.

We start with Crosshair outside of the ship, choosing target practice as a thinly-veiled excuse for avoiding his brothers. He is reunited, but not yet comfortable or fully trusted. In The Outpost, the scenes open with Crosshair outside of the ship on a smoking toothpick break, and he is approached by a Lieutenant who is decidedly not amenable to him. In both instances he is starting to be a little more open, however—his helmet is off, and in the first is listening to a group of regs, and the second, chatting with Omega and letting her show him physical affection.

After a reunion on everyone’s part with Echo, who we see fully embrace a hug from Omega, and slip back into familiar banter with Crosshair, we are taken to the dining area on Pabu. This is a callback to the dinner that the main group had when they first arrived on the island, except this time, Crosshair and Echo have come home, and there is an empty chair symbolizing the absence of Tech. This episode shows no other characters besides the Batch (now including Batcher as the best girl that she is). The conflicts and themes in this episode are meant to fully delve into the heart of what makes this family tick.

Barton IV is, as Crosshair states, a “remote, understaffed facility. It shouldn’t be a problem to infiltrate.” He can barely hold eye contact with Hunter while saying it, when once he was Hunter’s second. Hunter wants Omega to be safe and instructs her to remain behind, but she is adamant that they should stick together, just like she always has since joining them. Hunter almost looks like he’s going to cry, but he relents to both her demands and Crosshair’s input, although he is still suspicious of Crosshair’s motives.

Before they leave, Crosshair has his original Bad Batch armor returned to him by Wrecker. His old identity and loyalties, kept by his family the same way he never left their hearts. A contrast to his previous mission, where Crosshair and the other clones are considered “used equipment,” and their only purpose is to protect and retrieve the shiny new armor meant for their replacements.

As they make their way to the base, the weather also points to a drastic difference between the two episodes. In The Outpost, the weather is MISERABLE. Cold, stormy, clouded, dangerous. Crosshair’s inner turmoil at that time cost Mayday his life, and broke his allegiance to the Empire. But on their return it is clear, sunny, calm, settled—almost serene (on the surface). Crosshair has thawed and grown as a person, and his emotions appear to be in a much calmer, if somber, place. As they land, Echo states that there are no signs of life on the scanners.

The planet is a graveyard. A memorial. A resting place. Made to dredge up and bury.

A baptism. A resurrection.

They exit the ship, and a vulture shrieks overhead, a reminder of Crosshair’s failures. Crosshair lifts his head to look at it, and his shoulders slump. (There’s an excellent little explanation of the vulture symbolism here.)

Mayday had told him that the vultures are vicious creatures who find a way to survive. They bury the dead and they take the scraps and they clean up for everyone else. They are shunned but beautiful. And they survive. Against all odds.

The second the vulture disappears, tension between Hunter and Crosshair begins to spill over. While the others are happy to see Crosshair assuming his old identity, Hunter is suspicious that the planet is deserted yet still heavily guarded by sensor beacons, and rounds on Crosshair demanding explanations. Crosshair has willingly led them to the site of his trauma but he is NOT ready to talk about it yet, and matches Hunter snark for snark. According to him (he should know) the danger (local raiders) has been taken care of. Hunter is even more pissed off as he gets a glimpse of Crosshair’s activities under the Empire, and Omega is disappointed in both of them. Their feelings remain tense and tight as Echo convinces them all to get inside and focus on their mission.

Once inside, Wrecker asks a question that encapsulates the fate of all the clones.

“So why’d the empire abandon this place?” “I guess it served it’s purpose.” “Hmm, sounds familiar.”

This prompts Crosshair to separate from the rest and go to a side storage room, where he first comes across the same heater that Mayday had once carried over to him as a gesture of friendship. It is dark and dead now. A sweep of his flashlight, and an even more sickening sight awaits him. All of Mayday’s troopers helmets, once lined up in a silent memorial, are now in a pile on the floor. And Mayday’s is among them.

Crosshair must have known this was a possibility, coming back. He isn’t ready to talk about his feelings toward this place, but his face tells us all we need to know about his grief and his regret. He steps over and in reverence, greets the helmet of his friend. He understands now. Loss, grief, death. The burden that Mayday carried. Succumbed to. At the time, Crosshair had merely watched. Now he participates and gives Mayday and his squad the honor they are due. Hunter, who has become more and more suspicious of what Crosshair isn’t telling him, catches sight of his brother honoring a (supposedly) random group of regs, but slips away to not disturb him. Yet.

Crosshair rejoins the others as the sensors are turned off to redirect the power supply, and Batcher suddenly starts acting up. Crosshair takes her seriously, although he is forgetting something important that Mayday once told him—“you’ll freeze to death in that armor—if what’s in the ice doesn’t get you first.” Typically this is Hunter’s job, to be alert to shifts in the environment, but he is so focused on Crosshair “leaving” that he seems to be completely unaware of something stirring outside.

Crosshair walks out both to scout and to process his feelings, and is greeted with an up close look at the ice vulture that has haunted him. He starts to scowl and as the bird takes off, asks “are you going to be my shadow everywhere?” A statement that could hold true for both the vulture and Hunter, who has followed him. And Hunter gets right to the heart of it.

“I know you,” he says. Or I did, before you became someone I don’t recognize. Someone who would betray us and leave. “There’s more you’re not telling us. Start talking. What did you do to get on the Empire’s bad side?” Hunter needs proof. He wants to know how the brother who swore loyalty to the Empire thrice over and stayed on that Kaminoan platform had a supposed change of heart. But he frames it bitterly, believing that Crosshair is simply repeating a pattern—one that had almost made them enemies.

Crosshair’s hand shakes so much that his toothpick slips (like the sharp and pointed wit that often protects and comforts him), and we see a rumbling in the ice. Their emotions are starting to bubble and seethe.

“You thought we’d take you back and not ask questions? I don’t think so.” Hunter is losing his grip on his emotions and physically shoves Crosshair in an attempt to spark the fight. His face is drawn, angry, and anticipating hurt.

Crosshair remains remarkably calm, not even necessarily wanting to make an argument out of it, but he eventually responds to Hunter’s indignation with his own. And this time he doesn’t hold back. He starts at the end, admitting he killed an Imperial officer, but holds the tender explanation of why close to his chest still. Instead he tells Hunter what he thinks he wants to hear—that his betrayal of the Empire mirrors his betrayal of the Batch. Except Crosshair adds his own perspective—that he only betrays after feeling like he has been betrayed first.

Hunter doesn’t have time to ponder that information as Crosshair now unleashes the root of his own turmoil onto him—and he knows how to hit Hunter where it hurts. Where he’s failed.

“I risked EVERYTHING to send you that message! You ignored it. You let Omega be taken to Tantiss.” The hurt blooms on Hunter’s face. “You failed.”

Crosshair isn’t even concerned about what happened to him on Tantiss. He’s concerned about Omega. And he knows that fact will twist Hunter’s gut in ways nothing else can. Hunter is their leader. He by default bears the blame of what happens to them, even though his squad makes their own choices freely. Crosshair doesn’t want to let him forget it. Hunter never lets himself forget it either.

Both men only know their own sides of the story. And it’s tearing them apart.

They’re ready to trade blows but their attention is pulled back to their family and larger circumstances by Batcher barking. Hunter finally realizes where their emotions have brought them, but it’s too late. The snow erupts from a giant wyrm creature, no longer kept at bay by the high-pitched hum of the sensors. No matter the gulf between him and Crosshair, Hunter’s first priority is to shove him away screaming “move!”--echoing Mayday trying to save Crosshair during the avalanche. They fall to their knees and the ground splits between them. They barely make it back to the base as the symbol of their outburst chases them across the snow.

Plans are made. The squad won’t be safe until this threat is dealt with. Each member volunteers their strengths. Hunter is in mission mode now, his face open, and extends an olive branch after his brother offers to shoulder the burden of leading the creature back beyond the perimeter alone. “We’ll do it together.” But now it’s Crosshair’s turn to be suspicious. Will Hunter really trust me again? Can I trust him?

The creature follows them. Disaster strikes. Hunter shrieks and falls below the ice. All animosity gone, Crosshair rushes to him, panic lacing his voice. Hunter! I can’t lose you the way I lost Mayday, buried beneath the snow.

And now, it is Hunter’s turn to tunnel into the darkness below the ice and face everything he’s been running from. Shot for shot, Crosshair has already been on this journey, already faced himself, his fears, his failures, down there. They can’t reconcile their perspectives, because Hunter has yet to do the same. Hunter commits to making sure that the wyrm is led away from his family, putting himself in harms way to make sure they stay safe. However, he has a safety line—Crosshair and Batcher up top, tracking him, covering for his usual role.

“We found a weak point in the ice. We’ll try to dig through.” “You’ll try?” Their old banter makes a hesitant appearance. Hunter is still running. Crosshair is willing to try, as long as that effort is acknowledged. But despite their words, they hope that they won’t let each other down this time.

“Am I going to have a way out or not?” “If you end up where we hope you do.” Hunter needs reassurance of an outcome first. But Crosshair reminds him that he is the only one who can plot his path, and its consequences. Hunter has to take responsibility for his own journey. The way out of this predicament hinges on how far, and where, Hunter lands. And he won’t take shortcuts, even when Crosshair begs him to go ahead and exit the tunnel once they find each other. He begged Wrecker to get Tech back onto the railcar. This time, he’s in the trenches himself.

Tuned into his senses again, Hunter still doesn’t jump even as he feels the wyrm get closer, until the sensors are reactivated. Finally, he accepts Crosshair’s to help pull him out of the literal mouth of danger as the worm barrels into view. And they run again, leaping to safety just in time, having accomplished their mission. The wyrm is now harmless, roaring at them from the other side of the perimeter, chastened until it finally slinks away.

The boys collapse, share a fully open look. All they need now is a nod. They have each others’ backs. Approval, gratitude, and trust now have space to grow. They are brothers again.

And Crosshair gets a redo of his trek back to the platform, except this time, instead of Mayday dying in his arms, Hunter is by his side, unharmed, and Batcher prances alongside them. Instead of silent TK Troopers and the insolent sneer of Lieutenant Nolan, they are greeted by Echo and Omega’s shining faces, and Wrecker running to meet them (and hug them. We all know they secretly loved it.)

(Side note: both Crosshair and Hunter have shown self-sacrifice on behalf of someone else in these parallels. Behind the scenes, Echo and Omega have a conversation that hints at the fact that Omega might be contemplating the same. The outcome of the guilt and confusion shadowing her even while Crosshair returns to the light remains to be seen, but it does not bode well.)

The episode could end here. But it doesn’t. Now the real conversations can begin. It’s late in the evening and they have dug their ship out in order to depart. Bathed in warm light, Crosshair is finally ready to open up, at least a little, although he can’t face Hunter in the process.

“I thought I knew what I was getting into with the Empire.” Owning up to his perspectives, not shifting blame. It was a choice he made. “I’ve done things. I’ve made mistakes.” Ones that he regrets. Crosshair's default is still to paint himself in the worst light possible when trying to reconcile with someone, in the hopes that the darkest parts of him will be accepted. He so desperately wants to be accepted for who he is, even when he knows he has done terrible things, and maybe especially, because he hasn't fully forgiven himself for them yet. So he tries to shock and hurt in the hopes that either his inner self-loathing will be corroborated, or his need for forgiveness can come from an outside source.

And Hunter does forgive him, and doesn't even dwell on the many, many things he could blame Crosshair for, now that his own anger has passed. He acknowledges that he has regrets too, gives an even playing field by saying that none of them really had full information of what was going on when their separation first began, and extends solidarity in the best way he knows how.

A smoothing of the path behind, and a glimpse toward the path ahead. He doesn't know what it holds either, but he's willing to walk it together.

And I think their choice of words is what they needed from each other. Hunter needed to know how Crosshair viewed his own actions. Crosshair needed to know how Hunter felt about the consequences, both those caused by him and those caused by Hunter’s own choices since. Hunter has always questioned his brother’s perspectives—his mind. Crosshair has always questioned his brother’s heart—his loyalty. Their strengths--and also their weaknesses.

“All we can do is keep trying to be better. Who knows? There might just be hope for us yet.”

And for now, it’s enough. Crosshair looks into the sky, watches the ice vulture flying overhead once again, except this time, it flies off into the sunset, leaving him still mournful, but slightly more whole than when he first arrived.

✨ Tag List ✨

@drafthorsemath @freesia-writes @sunshinesdaydream @the-bad-batch-baroness @heyclickadee @the-little-moment @ladyzirkonia @jedizhi @burningfieldof-clover

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honeyedmiller · 9 months

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Fate, After All | Joel Miller — Epilogue

warnings: pregnancy, childbirth, cursing, mentions of smut but not super explicitly detailed, tooth-rotting fluff, no-outbreak! Joel, no use of y/n. also, I’ve never personally given birth so I have no idea how the whole process works lol this has major inaccuracy so just go with it pls :’) this is very poorly written and not my best work at all but y’know, Joel with a baby is precious

word count: 1k+

series masterlist

“Babe, what about this one?” You hold up a pink floral onesie to your protruding belly, looking up at Joel. You were at Target with him shopping for some last minute things before your daughter’s arrival.

It’d been a little over two years since you and Joel got married, and you found out you were pregnant eight months ago. You’ll never forget the look on Joel’s face when you showed him the multiple pregnancy tests you’d taken. You’d been feeling unwell for a few weeks prior to taking the tests, blaming it on stress from work. But then you missed your period, and you had an inkling that you might be pregnant.

Sure enough, you were right. You didn’t know who was more excited about it, though—Joel or Sarah. You were plenty excited and so ready to be a mom of two, but Sarah bawled her eyes out when she found out she was going to be a big sister and Joel would only talk about it for days on end.

You remember when you told your parents too, calling them up telling them that you and Joel could finally repay them for the honeymoon they’d so sweetly gifted you. Your mom cried tears of joy, and your dad got a little misty-eyed.

And when you and Joel found out the baby was going to be a girl? You both lost it. Joel loved being a girl dad so much, and he knew you’d been such a wonderful mother figure to Sarah, that you’d be the best mom to your little girl.

“I love it, darlin’.” Joel takes the onesie carefully from you, admiring how tiny it was. He’d completely forgotten how small newborns are.

You and Joel both thought for sure you were going to get pregnant on your honeymoon, with the way you two couldn’t keep your hands off of each other using every surface of your room possible to go at it. You had no idea your libido was so high. Neither did Joel.

Even now, with your hormones raging, you craved Joel so badly. He was terrified at first, not wanting to ‘hurt the baby’, but the nurses at the third ultrasound checkup told him it was completely okay—in fact, they encouraged it.

Joel was tender with you in bed (and in general) since you’ve been pregnant, and honestly, you thought it was so sweet. He wouldn’t let you lift a finger if he could help it, but you had to remind him that you had to do things for yourself, too. Though, you loved that he was so careful and gentle. He was before, but he’s a little bit moreso now.

Your focus shifted back to reality, Joel looking at you with a small smile.

“What?”

“You’re so beautiful, y’know that?” Joel asks as he steps to you, resting his hands on the sides of your tummy.

You huff a small laugh, shaking your head. “Sure don’t feel like it.”

“You’re glowing, sweetheart. You’re carryin’ our child and you look damn good doin’ it.” He leans down to kiss you gently.

“This baby has made you such a softie, Miller.” You tease, grasping the side of his face as he chuckles. The crow’s feet around his eyes showcase in fullness, displaying how truly happy he felt.

“What can I say? I love all three of my girls more than anything in the world.” He kisses your forehead, pulling back from you before picking up another pair of shoes that he shows you—big, soft, brown eyes on display for you.

A few weeks later, you’re sitting on the couch with Joel as you rest your eyes while he gave you a foot massage. You told him constantly that he didn’t need to do that, but he insisted on the sweet gesture. It was quiet in the house; it’d been that way since Sarah left for college. You and Joel were definitely lively people, but Sarah always kept the conversation going with her wittiness and smarts.

Recently, you’d been having Braxton Hicks, so pain would come and subside. You were due in only just a couple of days, so any time now your little one could choose her arrival. Your whole body was so sore and just the thought of even getting up to do something made you want to cry. You were extremely emotional even moreso now, and Joel was taking your moods graciously.

It wasn’t too late into the night, so when Joel’s phone rang, you knew it was Sarah. She’d do check-ins every couple of days to make sure you were okay, and just to say hi. She was planning on flying back to Texas the next day, so you were happy you got to see her soon.

“Hey babydoll.” Joel answered softly, probably thinking you were asleep by now.

“No, mom’s sleeping right now. Let her get some rest. I’ll call you immediately if anything happens or changes, okay?”

Your heart clenched in warmth at the fact that Sarah referred you to ‘mom’. She’d been doing that since you and Joel got back from your honeymoon, and you loved it every time. You truly don’t think you’ll get over it, probably ever. It meant a lot to you that she was comfortable with you and liked to call you that.

You shot your hand out to retrieve the phone from Joel, and he chuckled, handing it over.

“Hello?” You say, voice a little hoarse from not talking for awhile.

“Hey, mom! How are you?” Sarah’s cheerful voice rung through the other line, and you smiled softly.

“I’m hurting everywhere. Can’t wait to get your sister out.” You half-joke.

“I’m sorry you’re in pain. Tell dad to run you an epsom salt bath or something to relieve your pain.” The idea didn’t seem half bad, but the thought of getting up and moving seemed like hell.

“I think I’ve tortured your father enough the past nine months with mood swings and emotions.” You laugh, running your free hand over your hard belly. Joel shakes his head at you and cracked a smile, softly patting your shin.

“Tell him to suck it up. He’s not the one that has to push a whole human out of him.”

“I’m sure he’d love to hear that one.”

“I’ll tell him, don’t worry mom. Get some rest. I love you.”

You huff a laugh at her slight overprotectiveness. “I love you too baby girl, can’t wait to see you tomorrow. Have a safe flight, okay?”

“I will! Bye!” And the line went dead.

“I’d love to hear what?” Joel asks, cocking an eyebrow at you.

“I’ll let Sarah tell you that one.” You grin cheekily, handing his phone back to him. You were feeling really tired, so you groaned as you moved your legs off of Joel and sat up slowly.

“I’m gonna take me and this baby to bed. We’re tired.” You looked at Joel, who nodded.

“Let me join you.”

And that’s how the rest of the night went. Joel helped you upstairs, made sure you were comfy in bed, and got behind you to spoon you the rest of the night.

It wasn’t until around two in the morning that you felt a really bad contraction. You’d never had one this strong before, and when they kept coming at least fifteen minutes apart, you woke Joel.

“Joel.” You whispered, taking his hand that rested on your stomach to squeeze it. He didn’t wake at the first attempt, but another contraction washed over you, this time much more painful.

“Fuck. Joel.” You said louder, and this time, he groggily hummed.

“You okay sweetheart?” He sleepily said, and you gave his hand a squeeze.

“No. My contractions hurt really bad.” You say, and he sits up behind you.

“Do we need to go to the hospital?”

“I think so.”

Joel gets out of bed swiftly, putting on some sweats and a t-shirt before helping you sit up. You try to focus on your breathing, but the pain is really starting to bother you. He helps you dress into some biker shorts and an oversized t-shirt of his, grabbing your hospital bag before he helps you slip on your slippers with a grip at the bottom.

He leads you down the stairs ever so carefully, grabbing the keys and his wallet from the front table by the door before heading outside with you. He locked up as fast as he could and got you into his truck, helping you buckle in. Joel had completely forgotten about the rush and adrenaline that comes with having a baby. It’d been so long since he’s experienced it, so he was trying to keep it together as best as possible for your sake.

You closed your eyes as you rested your head on the back of the headrest, one hand gripping the door handle inside and the other one onto the seat.

Joel starts the truck up, throwing it into reverse before taking off down the road. Luckily there was barely any cars on the road at this hour, so you wouldn’t get stuck in any traffic.

Joel flipped open his phone and speed dialed Tommy, who picked up after the third ring.

“Hey, brother. What’s up?”

“Hey Tommy. We’re headed to the hospital now. Her contractions are pretty bad and not super far apart.” Joel explains, trying to drive to the hospital with urgency but also not break any laws.

“Oh, oh shit. Okay. Do you need me to do anything?”

“Uh, just– just pick Sarah up from the airport later today so you both can come to the hospital at the same time. I’ll call you if I need anything else. I gotta go.” Joel’s rushed words almost made his brother chuckle.

“You got it, brother. And Joel? Don’t worry. She’s got this, and so do you. Be the best support system you can be to her, yeah?”

“Yeah. Got it. I’ll call you when I can.”

“Bye.”

The line went dead as you both neared the hospital, and Joel luckily found parking near the front. He hopped out and jogged to the other side, opening your door to help you out of the truck. He grabbed the hospital bag and slung an arm around your lower back and around to the side of your tummy so you could lean yourself into him if you needed to. He locked the truck, walking at your pace up to the front doors.

The receptionist, who looked bored out of her mind, looked up beyond the glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.

“Um, my wife– she’s– her contractions are strong and not far apart.” Joel explains as you try to not think about the excruciating pain you’re feeling.

“Oh, honey, let’s get you checked in real quick and we’ll get you a wheelchair.” The receptionist asked Joel the few questions, because in all honesty, your mind was foggy and unfocused. You just wanted to lay down in a bed with some medicine that’ll make you feel better.

A nurse brought a wheelchair and took you up to the labor and delivery unit of the hospital, checking you into your room.

After you changed into the hospital gown, the nurses took some tests and checked how much you were dilated. You were too tired to even pay attention to what was going on around you, but one nurse tapped your shin softly.

“Hey mom, how’re you holdin’ up?” Her Southern drawl was strong, but she sounded sweet.

“‘M okay. In a bit of pain.” You mumbled, trying your best to look at her clearly.

“Well I have good news. You’re about five centimeters dilated, so you can get an epidural if you want one.”

“Please. This pain is nearly unbearable.” You chuckle nervously, and Joel grips your hand. You look up and him and smile as he leans down to give you a soft kiss.

“You’re doing amazing, mama.” He says, and you nearly melt into the bed. He was so damn sweet to you, even in the most challenging of situations.

“Alright, we’ll schedule you for one asap and get an anesthesiologist in here to give you one. Sound good?” She looks down at you, and you nod.

“Thank you.” You say before she exits the room, and it’s just you and Joel. Joel pulls up a chair beside the bed, taking your hand in his and kissing the back of it gently.

“Gotta call Sarah and my parents.” You murmur, eyes closing in exhaustion.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I will right now.” Joel gave your hand a squeeze before you completely knocked out.

A few hours later, you woke up to see Sarah and your mom in the room. You’d been completely knocked out this entire time, except for when they gave you the epidural. Your surprise was evident to see them, and you smiled tiredly.

“You’re here.” You say, voice gravelly.

“Hey mom!” Sarah whispers, bending down to give you a hug and a kiss on the head.

“Hey kiddo. Where’s dad?”

“Went to get a cup of coffee with uncle Tommy in the cafeteria downstairs.” She smiles, and you nod. You look to your mom who had tears in her eyes, and you suddenly began to worry.

“Mom? What’s wrong?” Your voice is a bit panicked, and your heart rate on the monitor noticeably picked up.

“Oh nothing baby! Relax, relax,” She brushes your hair away from your face, cupping your cheek with her hand. “I’m just so happy for you. I’m happy you’re getting some rest.” She grins at you, and you nod.

“The epidural really knocked me out.” You chuckle, feeling a strong pressure in your pelvic area. You wince, shifting uncomfortably.

“Oh baby, that’s a contraction. Nurse said you’re about seven centimeters now.” She said, and your eyes widen. Before you could respond, there was a soft knock at the door as Joel and Tommy appeared.

“Hey sweetheart. How you feelin’?” Joel asks as he sets his cup of coffee down, kissing your forehead.

“Tired, but fine.” You weakly smile, and Tommy bends to give you a hug.

“You got this sis. Squeeze Joel’s hand as haaard as ya need to.” He winks at you, and you laugh.

“Well he is the one who got me like this after all.” You quirk an eyebrow, and Joel holds his hands up in defense.

“Hey hey hey, it takes two to tango darlin’.” He says.

“That it does.” Exhaustion was overwhelming you, and your eyes were starting to drift close without you even noticing.

“Let’s let her and Joel have some privacy. Let her get some rest.” Your mom suggested, leaving Sarah and Tommy to follow out of the room after her.

“Come cuddle with me.” You weakly reach out to Joel, and he huffs a laugh.

“Pretty sure ‘m not supposed to get on the bed with you, darlin’.”

“Who cares. I want my husband to hold me.” You pout, and he softly chuckles. You hear him take off his boots, carefully climbing into the small hospital bed with you. He wraps his arms around your shoulders as you nuzzle yourself into his chest, his scent and warmth surrounding you. You were out like a light again in no time.

It didn’t even feel like five minutes later to you when you’d been woken up by the nurse, but apparently it’d been a couple more hours.

“Hey hon. You’re almost fully dilated. We’re gonna need to prep you.” The nurse spoke softly, and you looked at Joel who was sitting in the chair next to your bed. His head rested on the side of the bed as he held your hand in his. You smiled softly at the sight before regretfully shaking him awake.

“Babe. Wake up.” You coo softly, and he opens his eyes. He looks at you wearily, trying to wake up fast.

“You okay?” He asks, rubbing his thumb on the back of your hand.

“Yeah. Nurse says I’m almost fully dilated so they have to prep me now.” You give his hand a squeeze, and he nods.

“You’ve got this, baby. I’m going to be right by your side through it all.”

And he was right. He was.

Once you were fully dilated, they had you starting to push, and god you’ve never felt a more soul crushing pain in your life. You were trying to steady your breathing, but it was getting harder for you to focus. Pain overtook your whole being and you started to sob.

“I can’t do this, I can’t do this.” You cried, shutting your eyes tightly.

“Yes you can, baby. You’re doing so good. So good. She’ll be here in no time.” Joel encouraged, clasping your hand as he kissed your temple repeatedly. He kept whispering sweet encouragements into your ear, being the supporting husband you knew he’d be. You just couldn’t fathom the pain you were going through.

“I can see the head, mama! Just a couple of more big pushes and she’ll be out.” The nurse was trying to talk you through it.

It’s like the next few pushes you completely blacked out—all you remember is the sound of your silent screams, a ‘there she is! I see her!’ from the nurse, and the sweet cry of your baby girl.

“She’s here, mama. You did it! Congratulations!” The nurse set her onto your bare skin, and you sobbed. You looked down at her, then up at Joel, who’d also happened to be crying. He gave you a kiss and rubbed the back of your head as he looked back down at his newest daughter.

The nurses took her to get her cleaned and weigh her before swaddling her and giving her back to you.

“She’s perfect.” You cry, knuckle running over her cheek as gently as possible.

“She is. You did it, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you. She’s here.” Joel cried, and you leaned in to him as he looked down at the both of you.

“So what’s her name?” The nurse asks, smiling at the three of you.

“Sophia Evelyn Miller.” Joel says, his chest swelling with pride. You gently handed him his tiny daughter, as she cooed softly in his strong arms. She was safe and sound, a silent promise Joel made to all three of you that he would love and protect his girls until the end of time.

You’d given Joel everything he ever wanted—a loving wife, a mother figure to his first daughter, a bigger family, and a house he could call a home with you and his girls in it. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky, but his heart was so full with love and pride. So much love for his three girls, and pride to call you his wife and Sarah and Sophia his daughters.

This was really the fate that the universe brought upon you two—

One you both will always cherish forever.

a/n: ahhh it’s finally done :’) sorry this epilogue wasn’t really all that great, I just wanted to give Joel the endgame with his new daughter and wife lol

hope u guys enjoyed this mini series <3 love u all forever. muah

#joel miller imagines #joel miller fic #joel miller series #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x pregnant reader #joel miller x afab!reader #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal imagine

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waynewifey · 9 months

Text

dear mr. wayne — b.w

part one: dear mr. wayne

part two: aftermath

part three: aporia

epilogue

summary: it’s not easy being a politician’s wife. it’s even harder to love a vigilante. months of negligence make you an easy target to his enemies.

pairing: bruce wayne/battinson x reader

genre: angst romance & dark action

warnings: swearing; smoking; kidnapping; violence; a bit of gore; “you” is she/her; bruce is the worst husband ever btw

word count: 2.8k

A/N: i wrote this back in january 2022 when the batman movie had just premiered, so kinda off the hype here. i hope you enjoy it anyway. already working on part 2, let me know if you guys would like it! also, this has taken a path way darker than i had in mind so i’m sorry if it’s too much. comments are appreciated!

gotham city, USA.

it's late.

you have no clock nearby, but you feel it in your bones. in your muscles too. it's too late and bruce should be home already. laying in the sofa, only half conscious, you regret telling alfred to go to bed. at least you wouldn't be alone. of course, being married to the batman you knew he would patrol at night often. you were okay with it. but lately bruce had been too focused on his other, and recent, goal: running for mayor. at first it seemed out of character, he was never good with the public or the press. but he stared at thomas wayne's painting in the hall in such painful façade, it made sense all off sudden. you were supportive of it. you showed up to every event just to stay by his side, to show the people the lovable man he was. the man you loved. the man who couldn't even be home for dinner.

the penthouse's elevator dings, opening its doors at the end of the hallway you see perfectly from your seat. your head doesn't lift instantly, like in the first week. instead, a long sigh escapes from your lips as bruce reaches the living room.

"hello, darling." he says, still in motion as he walks the stairway up to the room you shared. not a single kiss, or a hug. you follow him, because what else is there to do? you need to go to bed anyway. by the time you get there, slowly, his suit is already on the floor and he's taking a shower.

"how was the meeting?" you ask, knowing he usually did his Wayne Enterprising meetings — which consisted of hanging out long hours in bars with business men — at night. recently, he started a complicated relationship with a real estate company he wanted to invest in.

"the usual." he stopped fully answering these questions three weeks ago, making the only time you ever talked even shorter. the city has gotten more violent than ever since his batman duties were put on standby.

"any closer to sealing the deal?" you sit on the bed, watching the open bathroom door.

"probably." it's not like he's being rude. well, maybe a little bit. he just doesn't want to talk any more, it's clear on his tone. but it's 2am and you brain isn't working too well.

"when is this gonna end, bruce?" you finally say, as he puts his boxers on. "when are we ever having dinner again? or going on a date? when are you gonna stop treating me like i'm some sort of home decor?" you almost vomit out the words that have been stuck on your throat for days. surprisingly, the heartache doesn't softens. instead, it gets worse. it's like admitting your abandonment.

six months ago, you started trying to get pregnant. it hadn't always been a dream of yours, but the idea of having an heir to all you've spent your life building is charming. you realised you were in the right time to do so, you had just turned 28, bruce was 32, and both had stable careers. a month later, bruce announced his candidacy. and so soon you gave up. you told yourself once he won the election everything would be fine. you would try again. but, realistically, being a mayor was already a lot of work on itself. he wouldn't want a pregnant wife or a child to take care of. after the four years, who knows? he might as well have a new life project. and your family would always stand on the side.

"i don't know what you're talking about..." he doesn't look into your eyes. hell, he barely looks at you. that feeling, the negligence, is enough to trigger the tears. you take a deep breath, making an effort to look composed.

"don't you, though?" your voice is shaken. look at me. look at me. look at me. look at me. he doesn't. "bruce." you call, finally getting his attention. however, the boredom on his face knocks you off your feet, legs trembling in pain and anger. "i just want you to make an effort on us..."

"really? cause that's all i ever done." he's leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed in a way you would find attractive in other circumstances. but now he's yelling and you fight back the urge to shrink into the mattress. "do you think i wanna have a kid on this fucked up town? i'm tryna fix this. fix everything!" his faces turns red-ish. something inside of you makes you want to leave the room. you've always been an avoider, that is one of the reasons you hadn't really had couple fights. so, basically, this is very new. "i've got the weight of the fucking world on my back."

"let's leave then" you manage to say, replacing the you chose this. it was true, however, that he was the one to put himself in this position. bruce wayne could've gotten his entire life without working if he wanted to. but he always needed to save everyone, to suffer for other's happiness. he was a giver. sometimes you wondered if he needed to be saved instead.

"you know i can't do that." he mumbles, in a defeated tone. a sigh escapes from his lips, suddenly the tiredness takes over his face. it's almost enough to make you let it go, to internalise your distress again. he really can't, you know that. he feels that the city is his liability, because it was the only thing he had since he became an orphan. but he had you, too. he just didn't acknowledge that.

"and i can't stay like this." it sounds like an whisper, but it's a plead. choose me. please. he seems to read it in your eyes, face contorting in agony when he realises what you're asking for. me or gotham? it's stupid to think he would ever choose you. but you hoped, so desperately, because you would choose him. always.

"let's not do this tonight, okay? i have to be in the office by the morning." tears instantly fall as he turns off the lights and lays on the bed, turning his back to where you slept. for a moment, you're static. his words were final. were you ever in control of something in your life? why were all of these decisions being made for you? mechanically, you stand on both feet and walk to the door. you don't even notice your movement until you're on the elevator. your husband didn't intervene either. this neighbourhood is one of the safest in town, which honestly isn't much but you had to get out. anyway, nowhere is totally safe at 3am.

you walk two blocks, clinging to the fluffy sweater you wore. the depressing air of gotham slows your pace, to a point you start wondering if it was really necessary to be aware. you could feel the city devouring you, starting with your hope. the blue 24h sign lights up the street, in a way that isn't welcoming, but you know the place well enough to not be scared to get in. a bell sounds over the door and wakes up the male behind the counter. he's got long black hair and seems to haven't seen a good night of sleep in weeks. same,you think.

"hi. can i get the blue one?" you point at the camel's behind the man. he nods, quickly putting a pack on the wooden board. the prices pops up on the cashier's display. you pay and go outside. smoking was an bad habit from your college days, when pressure got too excruciating. every now and then you would treat yourself to some cigarettes, for the confidence it gave you. the sense of control to be the one, for once, ruining yourself. the smoke burns your throat on the first inhale and you hold back a cough. you're too entertained by the cigar to notice the black van approaching. it stops right in front of you, and everything happens too quickly for your brain to process. it's all dark.

he's in a meeting, the boring kind.

the kind that has him seated in silence while a representative talks to his employees, who never get to listen to their actual boss. there's a chart being shown on a large tv on the other side of the room. he's not listening, though. he's writing down ideas for a thanksgiving speech. a head pops into the conference room.

"mr. wayne." it's one of the new assistants, hired especially for the election season. he didn't care to memorise her name, because temps usually don't last long. if she hadn't called him, he might've not even looked up. but the room is silent, expecting eyes on him. the girl at the door looks terrified. "you're urgently required outside, please."

he sighs as he gets up from his leather chair. the second the door closed behind him, chatter is heard again. in the corridor, the woman conducts him to his office and they get in. there's a bit of a commotion, four men lounge around his table, all their faces tense.

"mr. wayne, i'm afraid we don't have good news." the head of the marketing team speaks, a man called robert vance. he's probably said the same phrase to bruce about seven times this month, so that doesn't do much. the assistant approaches with an ipad, unpausing a video. "we received this from an anonymous email about forty minutes ago. we weren't able to get the ip address just yet."

the video starts with a black screen, zooming out to show a woman with a bag over her head. she has her hands on her back and is kneeling on the ground. bruce's heart skips a beat noticing the hair falling down her shoulders.

"bruce wayne..." an eerie voice whispers from behind the camera, breathing heavily. "i've robbed an egg from your basket, and you haven't even noticed!" there's a disturbing chuckle and the video shakes a bit. bruce doesn't move, eyes stuck on the screen. no one in the room has done anything other than breathing. someone gulps. "it's been long hours, but we're having fun, aren't we, darling?" a gloved hand reaches for the bag, pulling it out. her face - your face - is dripping blood. you're biting on a fabric, still in your home clothes. bruce's jaw clenches. you're crying, face beaten, in this degrading situation. your eyes pierce the screen right into his. suddenly, a gun is tapped on your forehead and you close your eyes into a sob. your lips mouth please. "i'm running out of patience here, you're running out of time. let's do business, shall we?" he laughs, knocking the pistol on the side of your head, making you fall laying on the floor, unconscious. the spot bleeds. "here's my proposal: you come clean about your father's deal with carmine falcone and maybe i don't shoot little mrs. wayne... or i do both. it's your choice, really. the clock is ticking. tick tock, wayne."

the video stops, the sight of a gun pointed at your unresponsive body burns into his mind. bruce is panting, the adrenaline rushes into his brain. there's a million of plans being built, but none of them seem viable.

"don't let media get this." he managed to say. one of the men in suits says it's too late. the tv flicks on showing a news report on the video. he kicks the side of his table, the contents being thrown across the room. "FUCK! you bastards wait forty fucking minutes to show me this?" he screams, no one can look him in the eyes. a hand runs through his black hair. "meanwhile my wife is out there with a gun on her head! and what have you done? i swear to god, if i don't find her alive and well i'm killing everyone in this goddamned room with my bare hands."

he storms out of there, reaching to his phone to call alfred and noticing the multiple missed calls. fucking silent mode. the sun is setting.

"i got the address." the butler says, instead of hello. a 'ding' sounds in his ear.

there has been pain for so long. you try to remember before the pain. but all is pain. he has to make it stop.

the floor is cold cement and you feel so small in this huge warehouse. the man in the mask knows you can't run. not only you're tied up, but the will had left you long before getting dragged into that van. he sees it in your eyes. so he strolls around, always in that ridiculous dark green overall. then he beats you up for fun. no cameras. just you and the devil himself. you find yourself praying, after all these years. you don't pray to get out, no. you pray so that it ends soon. you pray that the stab wound in your abdomen will get you an infection. you pray that when you close your eyes, you never have to open them again. but the divine has left you in the cold cement.

there's an explosion. your eyes open. there's smoke and dust taking over one of the walls. you're seeing everything horizontally, cheek on the floor. the man in green is just as scared as you were.

bruce wayne busted that fucking wall down. he expected a full team of psychopaths and maybe some more security. there was just one coward in the warehouse. the thing stares at him coming out of the smoke, fingers fidgeting. the batman steps forward. the freak steps back. then turns around, runs to a half broken wardrobe and grabs a gun from it. bruce walks slowly. there's a struggle loading the gun. he takes the opportunity to run and throw the thing on the floor. he bangs his head on it. the vermin screams. he takes one punch. two. tries to reach for the fallen gun. bruce steps on his hand and the loud crack echoes in the room. he screams again. three punches. the mask is taken off. his nose is bleeding. more punches. he holds the neck. the head is turning purple. oh how he wants to kill this little shit. bruce wayne will kill him. it will just take a few more seconds...

"baby, no" at first he thinks he's imagining it. it's so soft, so weak. but he looks up and there she is. his hands loose. right on the corner, chains on her legs. her face is ruined from blood and dirt. her wrists bleed too. the motherfucker chained her. hell is too good for this thing.

bang. on his shoulder. he looks down and the blood is dripping on the freak's face. he’s pushed to the side, holding the wound. tiny white dots obstruct his vision. he grunts through the pain. the man gets up and runs towards you. bruce can’t move. he arches his back, trying to roll and lay on his chest. it feels like he can’t move his arm anymore, like his bones had detached. when he finally does so, the man is escaping through a window. his hand searches for the adrenaline-boost in his belt, grabs it and quickly injects on his leg. it takes a second to get his blood rushing again. he crawls up and jumps through the window, which leads him to a metal balcony.

you’re almost standing, but he holds your chains and a gun to your face. the shooting sound had scared you awake. you can’t believe how close to bruce you finally are, but the conditions couldn’t be worse. you can hear water running below your feet, you don’t need daylight to show you the violent river you’re standing above. this is not good.

bruce has his hands up in the air and is holding himself back to not do anything stupid. the man’s face is contorting into the creepiest smile. no.

everything happens so slowly, yet he’s not quick enough to grab you in time. you’re falling in the air and he jumped after you. for a moment, the world is air. you can’t hold out your hand. your hair is flying in your face, he does not want to die without seeing you one last time. his cape holds him back and the distance between you only increases. you’re gone. the impact comes.

part two

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