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mistyresolve · 9 months

Note

Request for Reader asking to wrestle ghost and then he does that one move he does when he goes under someone’s legs and flips them on their back

Please if you want to 🫶

| Takedown

Word Count - 1.5k

Summary - Y/N is regularly called upon by Ghost to help out as a fake assailant. Today's close combat lesson is on disarming and takedowns.

Tags/Warnings - Depictions of combat, slight sexual tension,

A/N - i think i know exactly what you're talking about! i believe it's a finisher from MW2019 called "Fangs Out".

I also found this TikTok by cctvsoap that shows the actual finisher.

Masterlist ❤︎ Tag List Form

There was truly nothing worse than when Ghost roped you into agreeing to be his pretend enemy when he did his hand-to-hand combat training with his troops. Ghost preferred to demonstrate his lethality on someone who was resilient enough to take the blows and was trained enough to know how to safely take them. Why you agreed to it every time was a mystery, because you would go home at the end of the day and count all your new bruises. Last time, it was seven.

At the very least you weren’t alone. Soap has also fallen prey to this scheme more than his fair share. You and Soap had created a “Victims of Ghost” Club. It mostly consisted of you two texting each other to run and hide when Ghost began his training doll recruitment.

You could hold your own in a fight. Even against Ghost himself. However, this situation was different. You would be subjected to taking all the hits and tackles he needed to do for demonstration.

Today he was going over disarming and disorienting. His forte. Which meant a lot of being thrown on the ground and having your ass handed to you.

Ghost was explaining the purpose and importance of close combat when he signalled for you to join him on the mat. You positioned yourself at the front of the mat, with a plastic gun in hand. Standing as if you were on a watch. Feet slightly apart and gun poised.

He always started off by letting you know what moves to expect from him so you could prepare for it. The best you could. Then he would do a full run-through of the move, followed by a slowed down set-by-step explanation.

He began the training session with simple disarms. His motions were snappy and well-practiced, the gun was knocked to the floor and a hand was pinned behind your back. He moved like it was second nature to him.

“Sorry,” he said lowly, dipping down to your ear. Your heart dropped down to pulse between your legs.

This was why you kept saying yes.

You nodded, rubbing at your wrist where he had grabbed it and offered him a thumbs up. He returned the nod, eyes watchful. Once he was satisfied that you were truly fine, he proceeded to the step-by-step. He was extremely gentle when he did this, his hands ghosting across your body. A complete paradox from just moments before. Like when his fingers linger a second too long sometimes. Or when his thumb drew little circles on the bare skin of your wrist when he pinned it behind you once more.

Near the end of the session, you felt like you were going to burst into flames. The man radiated heat like he was a furnace and his proximity throughout the last hour has been torturous. That and every time he whispered apologies to you, you felt yourself melt a little more.

Only to be brought back to the cold earth when he announced the next disarming tactic and takedown. You had yet to decide if you hated or loved this next one.

Ghost turned back to you, “I’ll be going between your legs. Try and break your fall this time, would you?” he teased you about the last he taught this one in class he had moved in on you so fast you hardly had time to catch your fall. Your face had made friends with the floor that day.

If the situation was different the words “I’ll be going between your legs,” would have made you weak in the knees.

You glared over at him, “Go easy on me,” you had to force yourself to relax your muscles. It would make the fall hurt a little less. Once again you positioned yourself at the front of the mat, allowing a little extra space in the front of you this time. Since you’d be falling forward. You made sure you bent your knees and your grip on the gun lose.

Ghost tapped your left leg as he passed you, letting you know which leg he’d be attacking. It helped with knowing which direction you’d need to twist towards when falling.

He didn’t give any cues when he moved in. Aside from the quiet swish of fabric, he was nearly silent.

A foreign leg hooked around the lower half of yours, and a well-placed hand pushing at your back forced you to lose balance and teeter forward. It was instinct to toss the gun and bring your hands up in front of you. You were still free-falling when a large hand wrapped around the ankle of your right leg, redirecting your momentum to the side so you landed on your shoulder. By the time you were on the ground, you were facing him with your back to the floor. You struggled to catch your breath for a moment. The force of the fall had stolen the air straight out of your lungs. Ghost was kneeling over you, a hand placed into your chest to keep you to the ground. There was no pressure to the contact thought.

He kept his attention on you until you gave a reassuring tap to the arm pinning you down. He remained as he was to allow you extra time to regain composure. His eyes flicked between the group of soldiers and you as he decoded his motions for them. There was no anxiety behind his eyes, just a hushed concern. He knew you weren’t injured, but the fall was never pleasant and he was well aware of that.

He helped you back to your feet, squeezing your shoulder lightly before walking everyone through the action. This time when he hooked his leg around you there was no push or pulling. You still followed through with how it would have gone if it were happening at full speed. When he brought your right leg across his body so you were lying facing him once again, his watchful eyes were on you. Before he had to drag them away from you.

He allowed for the remaining time for the troops to use as practice. You made your way to your water bottle, needing the ice cold water to chill the heat in your core. Ghost trailed after you as he watched the soldiers try out all the different moves and techniques he showed them today.

“You’re going to have to go track down Soap for the next class,” You were half kidding.

“If you stop giving him a head start every time I try, I just might do that,” he fixed you with a bored look.

Of course, he knew.

You faked a shocked expression, “My loyalties lay with McTavish.”

“Then I’ll see you on friday,” he stated. He could pull rank on you, but you knew if you said “no”, he wouldn’t. He very very rarely pulled rank on you.

Bonus of Ghost taking the legs off Soap

If there was one thing in this world that Simon had no issues throwing class and grace to the wind for, it was when someone challenged him. He also had no qualms about besting Soap in a fight. So when Soap told Ghost that he could take him down in a fight, Ghost rose to the occasion. A few members of the 141, including yourself, were in the training room when Soap contested that he could take on Ghost in a duel. To which he immediately denied the thesis. Much to no one’s surprise, Soap didn’t back down. Claiming that his agility was superior to Ghost’s resilience and power.

You and Gaz set up camp on the benches. Placing bets on how long Soap would last.

“No holding back on me,” Soap pointed a finger at the Brit before taking a ready position.

As soon as Ghost tapped at his chest, a silent sign to begin, Soap was moving. It looked promising for the first few punches. Ghost on heavy defence.

...It ended quickly.

He blocked one of Soap’s punches, deflecting the momentum to create an opening for himself. With a quick jab to the abdomen to disorientate, then a sweep of his foot, and a body check, Soap’s feet were above his head.

You sighed, hanging your head as you dug into your pocket to retrieve a few bills, “I thought he’d last a little longer,” you mopped as Gaz took the money from you.

“You gotta stop betting on the dofus.”

Across the room, Soap rolled over to his side, “That hurt.”

Ghost was already walking to the bench, “It’s supposed to. It’s an ass kicking,” he turned and pointed a finger at Soap in the same manner he had done to him just moments ago.

Masterlist

Close Quarters

A/N - everytime i see ghost in hand to hand he goes for their legs... everytime

Taglist - @thychuvaluswife ❤︎ @shuttlelauncher81 ❤︎ @lostinsideourminds ❤︎ @v1naco ❤︎ @konig-breedme ❤︎ @wolfyland07 ❤︎ @cumbersome-robes ❤︎ @adelaidai ❤︎ @ddioriez ❤︎ @johfaam0 ❤︎ @ryethebrokengae ❤︎ @mychrysanthemums ❤︎ @purplefishingline ❤︎ @dog55teeth ❤︎ @mymommmy ❤︎ @lockleywife

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon riley #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod ghost #ghost mw2 #cod x reader #mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n

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thetistaboveall · 1 year

Text

The Lawrence Collection: The Pratt’s

Many varies journey’s can take a lifetime of all the changes that happen in your lifetime

so no shocker.

Zach has no idea that a moment of change is on its way as he jolts up at the sound of shattering glass erupts.

He gets up rolling off of his bed into his soft designers slippers he grabs a bat, reaches for his door and sneaks down the staircase.

He lands on the last step edging closer to the looming figure with his back turn to him in fear.

He backs up a bit to the wall taking a deep

heavy breath lifting his bat he skits over to

him.

Getting ready to swing it the man swerved to face him using his hand to block the blow easily.

The man unleashes a wicked smile bursting in to an evil laugh as he cuffs Zach’s neck to hold him tight.

The man looks in to his eyes distracting him while he forces a spray can in his face let it flow.

The aerosol canister goes off flushing deep in to his nose pushing past Zach’s defenses he lay mindless like a rag doll.

“Sorry Zach we have been tracking you for a while since a hot tip came across our deck.”

“You will never have freedom again I promise you.”

“You are pretty hot”

“Will sell you as set.”

“Wow! Nice grip”

“Still resistant I see”

“Mwahahahahaha”

“You will soon be re-educated”

“Eventually we will be best friends”

Stephen is his second eldest brother who he adopted as a kid walking into the mansion at midnight.

The man places a mini chip on a wall cause a shake in the disturbance opening up a tiny portal.

He kicks Zach into the portal as it closes up in a magnificent flash so he can turn his attention back.

“Who are you? Answer me! “

“Mwahahahahaha! Why don’t you sit your ass down and shut up?”

“Excuse me! Who do you think you are?”

“Who am I? Your new owner bitch”

“Kneel and submit”

“Fuck you and fuck that!”

“Finally a challenge. Yum!”

“Ok guys! Commence”

“Who’s on the other line?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know”

“Your days are numbered”

“You think so?”

“Cough-cough-cough”

“Idiot! It’s called Hypno gas”

“Your muscled tone ass is mine for all eternity.”

Brenton the second youngest brother is all that stylish, hot and so damn sexy in his bed room window.

I am thirsting a bit watching him stand near the room, putting his cell in between his lips he sighs.

I see him dance a bit lifting his tee shirt over his head in a bit with a dance he throws it to the side.

A shadow appears behind a man enters into the room from a door forming behind him in the wall.

Brenton is lost in the heights of feverish sexy dance off with his own shadow unknown to the danger.

The man takes a step further grabbing him by the neck and spraying him till he falls a sleep.

“Welcome Brenton”

“Nighty night”

“My love”

“Hello?”

“It’s concluded sire “

“Well done”

“Bring him to the lab”

“Sir Yes Sir”

“Thumbs up and he is gone”

“Three down and two to go”

“Oh sweet vengeance !”

“Soon it will be mine”

“Drop the canister “

“Don’t move”

“Oh! Officer Colton”

“I said stay still”

“No way!”

“Huh? Sleep”

“What the…uuuuuhh”

“You freeze”

“HOT!”

“Motherfucker”

“Who’s assuming control?”

“You are Master Lawrence “

“Follow me into the main room my love”

“Open the portal and go in”

“You are my property now”

“Nothing you can do about it”

“It’s your life now”

“Yes, Master Lawrence “

Robbie is a firefighter coming home from a huge day with exhaustive sigh he looks so exasperated.

“Oh! Poor Robbie”

“Where on earth?”

“Zip it “

“Mouth close”

“Hands to the side”

“No more speaking”

“No more free will”

“No more life”

Robbie eyes go dull falling back into his couch he falls completely under my spell for the rest of existence.

“Oh! Hey Master”

“Did I fall a sleep?”

“Kind of, yes”

“Yyyyeeesss!”

“My Master”

“You are right and just”

“A leader”

“A king”

“No matter what”

“Call me Master”

“Sir Yes Master Lawrence Sir”

“Kiss me”

“Yyyyeeesss”

“Your lips sweet”

“Intoxicating”

“Damn!”

“My mind is blown”

The end

#Zach Levi #Stephen amell #brenton thwaites #colton haynes #robbie amell #live doll #action figure #hypnosis #mind control

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tauriatalksmonkeys · 2 years

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Alternate Evil Ages: A Bulletfic

so @sweetcircuits & i were talking about Evil Ages for unrelated reasons & my brain fed me this idea, so!

it started with me once again dwelling on my thoughts on Evil Ages (fun & cute but also, frustrating bc it's all earth/american-centric history when shuggazoom is a separate planet, & it would have been rly cool to see unique lore/eras. tho it being a 00's kids show i understand why that's not what we got)

and THEN i started thinking about like, the eras of the show we DID get to see--a glimpse of Scrapperton-era Shuggazoom, and then, of course, Cap's flashbacks to the Golden Age.

which THEN led me to, uh. this.

(also BIG thank you to @sweetcircuits who both encouraged me to write this & also was a big help with making sure it worked with the episode <3 ilu)

Instead of landing in the Prehistoric-era, Chiro & Nova land in Shuggazoom. Kind of. It's... different. Recognizably home, but altered enough they feel like strangers. There are buildings missing on the skyline. Some are shorter than they remember. Others are wearing different logos, painted alternate colors. Hovercars whiz down the street, but not the cars of their memory. These ones are shiny chrome with sharp angles and boxy fronts.

They wander the streets, looking for any clue as to what the heck is going on. And then they see people running. They share a glance before they take off running as well, towards the source of the disturbance, not away.

I like the idea of them reaching the place where the Robot is now parked, but it could just as easily be the site of the museum, a town plaza, a park---it doesn't really matter. What matters is what they see:

A man who looks awfully like the museum curator stands in the center, surrounded by giant, creepy puppets with abnormally wide grins. Across from him, a stranger hovers several feet off the ground. He's clad in black and white and orange, a cape billowing from his shoulders. His uniform is familiar; Chiro is wearing it's match right now. But it's not the uniform that really draws the eye.

It's the helmet.

"He's wearing our logo," Chiro says dumbly. He meets Nova's eyes, and sees his confusion echoed there.

Chiro doesn't get a chance to ask what it could mean.

The stranger says--- "You won't get away with this, Puppeteer!"

And the curator-lookalike laughs. "I already have!" He raises a set of pipes to his lips, and begins to blow. The puppets fly forward, hands raised to hurt, and the stranger throws bolts of electricity. It's enough to startle both Nova and Chiro into the fray, joining the stranger.

They are, of course, overwhelmed, defeated, and they wake up in the dungeon with the others, no sign of the helmeted stranger. They don't think about it, for a bit; instead focused on stopping and defeating the Curator.

And then the episode ends. The Curator is gone, disappeared to who-knows-where, or when. The team returns to Shuggazoom, where the dolls sit on display; small and life-less once more. Among them is the stranger. Chiro picks him up, looks at him. He's never heard of any other heroes on Shuggazoom---but then, history was never his best subject. (That's what he has Antauri for, now.)

Speaking of. Antauri approaches. "What have you found?" he asks, and this prompts Chiro to explain the bubble that he and Nova were caught in.

Antauri, too, seems mystified.

On a whim, Chiro pulls at the helmet. It slips off. (Ignore that this doesn't make sense, please and thanks.) It doesn't make sense, but he's half expecting to see the Alchemist. He doesn't. The monkeys have gathered around, now, and upon the sight of the stranger's face, their heads tilt. The doll is simple, of course, but there's enough detail before them. Short, slightly spiky brown hair. Dark eyes. Chiro thinks he's meant to be handsome.

"He looks... familiar," Nova says, visibly unsettled. The other monkeys nod, slowly, just as unnerved. Just as perplexed.

"Who IS he?" Chiro asks.

Episode fade-out.

Four episodes later, they track down a mysterious signal... and find a helmeted stranger.

#srmthfg #srmthg #srmt #super robot monkey team hyper force go #super robot monkey team hyperforce go #my posts #my writing #alternate canon #episode rewrites #monkey fic #evil ages #what is tagging

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idkmanfuckthisall · 9 months

Text

Life on Mars

Tracy K. Smith

Tina says what if dark matter is like the space between people

When what holds them together isn’t exactly love, and I think

That sounds right—how strong the pull can be, as if something

That knows better won’t let you drift apart so easily, and how

Small and heavy you feel, stuck there spinning in place.

Anita feels it now as a tug toward the phone, though she knows

The ear at the other end isn’t there anymore. She’ll beat her head

Against the rungs of her room till it splits, and the static that seeps out

Will lull her to sleep, where she’ll dream of him walking just ahead

Beside a woman whose mouth spills O after O of operatic laughter.

But Tina isn’t talking about men and women, what starts in our bodies

And then pushes out toward anywhere once the joy of it disappears.

She means families. How two sisters, say, can stop knowing one another,

Stop hearing the same language, scalding themselves on something

Every time they try to touch. What lives beside us passing for air?

Last year, there was a father in the news who kept his daughter

Locked in a cell for decades. She lived right under his feet,

Cooking food, watching TV. The same pipes threading through his life

Led in and out of hers. Every year the footsteps downstairs multiplied.

Babies wailing through the night. Kids screaming to be let outside.

Every day, the man crept down into that room, bringing food,

Lying down with the daughter, who had no choice. Like a god

Moving through a world where every face looked furtively into his,

Then turned away. They cursed him to his back. He didn’t hear.

They begged him for air, and all he saw were bodies on their knees.

How close that room. What heat. And his wife upstairs, hearing

Their clamor underfoot, thinking the house must just be

Settling into itself with age.

Tina says dark matter is just a theory. Something

We know is there, but can’t completely prove.

We move through it, bound, sensing it snatch up

What we mean to say and turn it over in its hands

Like glass sifted from the sea. It walks the shore,

Watching that refracted light dance back and forth

Before tossing whatever it was back to the surf.

How else could we get things so wrong,

Like a story hacked to bits and told in reverse?—

He grabbed my blouse at the neck.

All I thought was This is my very best

And he will ruin it. Wind, dirt, his hands

Hard on me. I heard the others

Jostling to watch as they waited

For their turns.

They were not glad to do it,

But they were eager.

They all wanted to, and fought

About who would go first.

We went to the cart

Where others sat waiting.

They laughed and it sounded

Like the black clouds that explode

Over the desert at night.

I knew which direction to go

From the stench of what still burned.

It was funny to see my house

Like that—as if the roof

Had been lifted up and carried off

By someone playing at dolls.

Who understands the world, and when

Will he make it make sense? Or she?

Maybe there is a pair of them, and they sit

Watching the cream disperse into their coffee

Like the A-bomb. This equals that, one says,

Arranging a swarm of coordinates

On a giant grid. They exchange smiles.

It’s so simple, they’ll be done by lunchtime,

Will have the whole afternoon to spend naming

The spaces between spaces, which their eyes

Have been trained to distinguish. Nothing

Eludes them. And when the nothing that is

Something creeps toward them, wanting

To be felt, they feel it. Then they jot down

Equation after equation, smiling to one another

Lips sealed tight.

Some of the prisoners were strung like beef

From the ceilings of their cells. “Gus”

Was led around on a leash. I mean dragged.

Others were ridden like mules. The guards

Were under a tremendous amount of pleasure.

I mean pressure. Pretty disgusting. Not

What you’d expect from Americans.

Just kidding. I’m only talking about people

Having a good time, blowing off steam.

The earth beneath us. The earth

Around and above. The earth

Pushing up against our houses,

Complicit with gravity. The earth

Ageless watching us rise and curl.

Our spades, our oxen, the jagged lines

We carve into dirt. The earth

Nicked and sliced into territory.

Hacked and hollowed. Stoppered tight.

Tripwire. The earth ticking with mines,

Patient, biding its time. The earth

Floating in darkness, suspended in spin.

The earth gunning it around the sun.

The earth we ride in disbelief.

The earth we plunder like thieves.

The earth caked to mud in the belly

Of a village with no food. Burying us.

The earth coming off on our shoes.

Tina says we do it to one another, every day,

Knowing and not knowing. When it is love,

What happens feels like dumb luck. When it’s not,

We’re riddled with bullets, shot through like ducks.

Every day. To ourselves and one another. And what

If what it is, and what sends it, has nothing to do

With what we can’t see? Nothing whatsoever

To do with a power other than muscle, will, sheer fright?

#poetry

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sinner-as-saint · 3 years

Text

Slow Hands

Steve Rogers x Reader AU

Run-through: Tony Stark found you while on a mission one day, since then he raised you as his own daughter. Most of the Avengers knew nothing about you, because Tony was so protective over you that he kept you sheltered and cut off from most of the outside world almost all the time. The few people who knew about you were Nat and Steve. And they adored you, even though you were a whiny baby most of the time despite being a young adult. However, somewhere in his all righteous, super soldier heart, hidden in a shadowy chamber beneath all the courage, loyalty and bravery - Steve Rogers nurtured his immoral, sinful desires for you. He was a composed man, and he thought he could keep it all hidden, in complete secrecy and perhaps never let his improper feelings show. But that was until he no longer could…

Themes: fluff, smut, age gap

“Steve!” you shouted in excitement, almost running to the front door to greet your favorite super soldier.

His laughter filled the entire house as you jumped into his arms, wrapping your arms around him and gave him the tightest hug you could. “Hey doll! Happy Birthday!” He wished you, returning the same excitement you showed him.

You pulled away from the hug, smiling as big as you could. His deep, ocean blue eyes looked down at you in awe.

“Well I’m not jealous at all. Not even one bit.” A voice spoke from behind Steve.

Steve moved to the side and your face lit up again at the sight of Natasha standing there with the biggest teddy bear you had ever seen under her arm. She gave you her signature smirk and you went in for a tight hug.

“Nat! I missed you!” You whispered against her hair. She chuckled and kissed the side of your head.

She pulled away smiling, “Don’t lie, we all know you only ever miss Steve.” She teased and walked past you and Steve and further into your home.

Once she was gone, you immediately grabbed Steve’s hands and led him inside the lavish living room.

“You just turned twenty one, doll. Are you excited?” Steve asked, letting his attentive gaze roam all over you. Something about you always made his body tingle with excitement.

You looked adorable, he thought, as always. The blue dress looked perfect on you, and as much as he tried to fight the urge to look down at your chest, he couldn’t. He felt something stir inside him the more he looked at you. So he looked away.

“I don’t know. Being a grown up is scary.” You answered, mindlessly playing with Steve’s fingers as you walked into the spacious living room.

“Hey,” Steve said gently, turning his body towards you. He carefully cupped your face to make sure he has your undivided attention, “You don’t have to worry about anything. We’re all here for you.” He meant that with all his heart. “I’m here for you, I’ll keep you safe.”

You smiled up at him and went in for another bone crushing hug. “Thank you Steve.” You mumbled against his chest.

Steve kissed the top of your head and wrapped his arms around you. He could feel your body heat pressing up against him - and his mind went straight to filth. He couldn’t help it, he tried. He always tried to suppress what he felt for you and hide it beneath many, many layers but he could never truly get over you.

Steve met you for the first time just a few weeks after you turned 18. Because that’s when him and Nat finally figured out what secret Tony had been hiding for so many years. It was you; you were the perfectly hidden secret that Tony kept away from the rest of the world. The adopted, darling daughter of Tony Stark.

Tony was very much protective of you. You only ever left the house when accompanied by someone. You were very much sheltered too. Too innocent for your own good. Shortly after Steve met you he realized that you were void of all the sinful things which filled the heads of most young adults your age. You were a perfect, pure little princess who was needy and playful but also more beautiful and feminin than any woman Steve had ever met.

He was whipped, gone. You had him wrapped around your little finger and he wasn’t even complaining. He caught feelings pretty quickly for you, thinking it was nothing Steve thought he would get over it soon. But here he was now, years later and still feeling the same way.

He knew he couldn’t be with you, Tony would kill him. But at the same time, the thought of you with someone else enraged him. He couldn’t bear the thought of another man touching you like he couldn’t. Something in him flipped like a switch when it came to you; he no longer wanted to be just or brave or be the hero or the knight which saved everyone.

With you, he felt something much stronger, darker. The need to protect, the need to be territorial. To be selfish, and keep you all to himself. All his righteousness faded into sin around you. Secretly, he liked how everyone knew that he was your favorite. He liked how whenever you were being difficult, Tony would always call him for help to deal with you. He liked how even with other people around, you chose to stick to his side like his shadow.

He loved it, loved you.

“Okay honey, make a wish.” Tony spoke as soon as he finished lighting up all the candles. Twenty one of them.

You were so excited, on your tiptoes as you closed your eyes and thought of a wish and right as you bent to blow your candles, the sound of the AI alerting something urgent was heard. You looked at Steve, a little nervous, and he was by your side in less than a second.

“It’s okay, princess. It’s okay, it’s probably nothing.” He whispered, wrapping a protective arm around you while Tony and Nat were looking into what information they had just received.

And judging by the look on your dad’s face, you could tell something bad had happened somewhere in the world, and they needed him to fix it. Which meant that you would have to spend the rest of your birthday evening all alone in this big, empty house.

“You have to go to work?” You asked Tony, tears already forming at your waterline. You sounded hurt and heartbroken.

Tony walked over to you and pulled you into his arms. Steve had to hide how he hated having to let go of you, as he took a few steps back to let Tony hug you. “I’m sorry, honey. But people need help right now.” He whispered into your hair. “I have to go.”

Steve noticed that Nat was already gone, probably getting the Jet or calling the rest of the team for backup. Part of him knew that duty came first and he hated how he’d have to leave you.

You pulled away from Tony’s hug, “You’re all gonna leave me alone on my birthday?” You asked, looking so broken that Tony felt his world breaking apart. He looked past you and his eyes landed on Steve.

“No,” Tony answered, “Steve will be here keeping you company and keeping you safe until I return. Okay?” Tony knew that you loved spending time with Steve more than anything, and he knew that your mood would get a little better upon hearing that. “Right Steve?”

Steve was surprised. It’s not that the team wouldn’t be able to manage without him, but he truly wasn’t expecting this.

“Yeah. Of course,” he spoke as you turned to face him with tears in your eyes. He reached out and gently wiped a tear away. “Don’t cry princess, I’ll be here with you. Let Tony go, he’ll be back before you even know it.”

You sniffled, weighing it out. Hmm, spending time with Steve was your favorite thing to do. But that would mean having to let your dad go. You hated it when Tony went away on missions. But you also knew that this was important. This was his job as Earth’s best defender after all.

“Fine,” you mumbled, a little grumpy.

Tony gave you a kiss on the forehead and apologized and promised to make it up to you when he came back, and left.

Within the next half an hour, Tony and Nat were gone. You watched the Jet take off from your bedroom’s balcony, tears streaming down your face. You hoped and prayed that they came back home safe but you were also hurt and angry that they left you on your birthday.

You stared at the night sky until the Jet could no longer be seen, then you walked back into your room and angrily started undressing, murmuring under your breath, “Stupid, stupid, stupid! Stupid dress! Stupid cake! Stupid birthday!” you got stuck in your dress because of the zipper and that’s when you started sobbing.

Steve heard you crying and hurried his way upstairs and into your room. He found you knelt on the ground, on your soft rug, crying. Your dress was almost off but not quite, stuck around your hips, exposing your entire upper body. He pretended not to see the black, lace bodysuit you were left in. Your hair was a slight mess and the teddy bear that Nat gave you was thrown carelessly on the ground. Steve approached you with caution.

“Hey princess,” he spoke softly. Your hands covered your face but he could tell you were silently crying. “What’s wrong? Don’t you wanna go downstairs? We can have a movie night, and there’s so much cake-,”

You cut him off with a calm, yet bitter tone. “I don’t want that stupid fucking cake. I don’t want a stupid fucking party. I want my dad, and Nat.” You sniffled. “But where are they? Right, out saving the fucking world because people need them. Well I need them too.” You sniffled again. “Throw that stupid fucking cake away!” You raised your voice by the end.

“Hey!” Steve grabbed both your hands and pulled them away from your face. His heart broke at the sight of your teary eyes. “I know you’re upset, but watch your language.”

You lowered your eyes in shame. “Sorry.” You mumbled.

Steve settled down on your rug, leaning against your bed as he gently pulled you onto his lap. You happily settled on his thighs, like you had many times before. And he noticed that you didn’t seem to mind your semi nudity.

Steve placed his hands on your thighs, rubbing them gently. He reached behind your back and unzipped the dress fully so you could take it off. You tossed the dress aside and Steve watched how you purposely threw it and made sure that it landed on the teddy; Nat’s gift to you.

“That wasn’t nice.” Steve pulled your closer, praying to God that you don’t notice his erected cock pressing against you.

“I hate it.” You mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest and huffing in anger.

“No you don’t.” Steve fought back a chuckle. “You’re adorable when you’re angry.” The correct word would be ‘smoking hot’ but he knew he couldn’t say that out loud. But fuck did you look hot.

You glared at him through your lashes and he could no longer hold back the chuckle.

“Oh come on. There’s so much we can do.” He tried to get you in a better mood. And there was one thing which worked each time, “You want ice-cream?”

The minute he said that, your face lit up in excitement. “Yes please!” You bounced with excitement right on his lap and Steve had to fight back the urge to lean in and kiss the living hell out of you.

“Alright then,” he tried to ignore the way his body was begging for you. “Wait right here, I’ll go get you some.”

Steve walked out and was back in less than five minutes. He wondered if you had gotten dressed in the meantime but when he walked back into your room; you were just as he left you. Half naked on the floor, waiting patiently, sat on your fluffy rug.

“There you go,” as he handed you your tub of ice-cream and sat down next to you he also noticed that the teddy that Nat had given you was no longer on the floor but perfectly placed on your bed. He was right after all, you didn’t hate it. “Wanna watch a movie?” he turned to look at you and found you with a mouth full of rich, chocolate ice-cream.

You nodded.

Steve couldn’t sit still. The sounds of your moans of delight after each spoonful of ice-cream was driving him insane. And you weren’t doing it on purpose either. But he was falling apart, he could no longer maintain his calm and composure.

He had to do something to get you to stop before he loses it. “Okay now, that’s enough. You’re gonna get sick.” He took the spoon and the half-empty tub from you and you groaned.

“But-,”

“No,” he set it aside, looking at the mess you made with ice-cream all over yourself; somehow all over your lips and chin. “You’re a mess, princess.” He said, looking at you lovingly.

You felt the sudden need to get on his lap again, so you did, probably high off all the sugar. You straddled his thighs and scooted closer to him. “Clean it.” You demanded, playfully.

You caught Steve by surprise. His arms wrapped around you instinctively but he was still a little surprised by your behavior. “Okay,” he reached out and wiped the sides of your mouth with his thumb and then he got lost in your eyes and before he knew it, he began leaning in.

Your lips met his halfway, and while he was still surprised he kissed you gently; testing the waters. You kissed him back, slowly. Steve smirked through the kiss and deepened it while he gently laid you down on the fluffy rug, on your back. He hovered above you, your legs wrapped around his waist. He nibbled on your lip, tugging on it before slipping his tongue past your lips. You moaned, letting him do what he wanted.

Steve’s heart raced in his chest as he pulled away to look down into your eyes. He then saw the wild look in your eyes. Had you always looked at him with that look in your eyes?

“Hey,” he said softly, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “What’s that look for?” He couldn’t help but ask.

Your face felt really hot for a moment, then you answered, shyly, “I… I’ve always wanted to kiss you.”

Steve’s eyes widened in surprise. Then he chuckled, “Is that so?”

You nodded quickly. And Steve leaned in for another kiss; he kissed you with all he had. He had dreamt of kissing you so, so many times. But not once had he ever thought that it would be on your bedroom floor, on your pink rug.

You could feel his hunger through his kiss. Your hands gently cupped his face to pull him closer when he tried to pull away. Steve smiled and kissed you with more passion and he didn’t stop until you pulled away to take a breath.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” he asked, looking down at you and wondering if this was truly happening. You got shy and tried to hide your face but he wouldn’t let you. “No no, answer me princess.”

You told him the truth. “I was… scared that you didn’t… that you wouldn’t- I was scared that you wouldn’t believe me if I told you how I feel.”

It was true. Ever since you met Steve, you have had a secret crush on him which morphed into something so much more over time. No one knew, it was your little secret. Although, not so much anymore.

Steve fought the need to smirk. “And how do you feel?”

You released the lip you had in between your teeth. “Right now, tingly.”

Steve smirked. “Show me where, princess.”

You grabbed his hand, the one which gently touched your face and you guided it down till in between your legs. “Here.” You were almost breathless.

He immediately cupped your core, applying just the right amount of pressure against your throbbing clit. He chuckled before leaning in to kiss along your jaw, whispering sinfully, “Mind if I touch you?”

You let out a quiet moan, “Please…”

Steve kissed down along your neck as he gently moved your underwear aside and gently slid his fingers up and down your wet folds. You gasped the moment he slowly circled your clit. You moaned when he dragged his finger down and pushed it past your entrance. “You okay, princess?”

You nodded. “More...please,” you whined.

Steve placed his mouth back onto yours and then added another finger and started gently pumping them in and out of you.

He placed his thumb on your throbbing clit and rubbing it gently while he finger-fucked you; your wetness dripping and smearing all over his hand. You threw your head back and moaned when his fingers touched you in all the right places. Your body squirmed, your back arching off the floor as he made you feel good.

“Have you ever thought of me? While touching yourself? Hmm?” He asked and your face burned again and you whispered out your answer.

“Yes…”

He chuckled against your lips. “You dirty, dirty little girl.”

You moaned again when he sped up; his fingers stroking your walls perfectly and increasing the sweet pressure forming in between your hips.

“Are you gonna cum for me, princess?”

You nodded at his question and caught yourself grinding your hips against his hand; moaning and whimpering.

“It’s okay, princess. Let go, cum for me…”

You didn’t hear the rest of what he said. You came all over his fingers, moaning out loud in pleasure. Coming undone all over his hand as he kept pumping them in and out, getting everything he could out of you.

Steve pressed his lips to yours and kissed you like there’s no tomorrow; there was nothing gentle or innocent about the kiss anymore, just hunger and passion and pure craving. He moaned through the kiss when you slid your hands into his hair and tugged on it gently.

He couldn’t take it any longer, he had to feel you. So before you could process what was happening, Steve tore your body suit off of you like it was nothing. You gasped in surprise but before you could say anything, he diverted your attention elsewhere by kissing down your body.

“Do you know,” he kissed along your chest, “how long I’ve wanted this for?” He took one of your breasts into his mouth, sucking and teasing it with his teeth before releasing it and giving the other the same attention. “Been waiting to kiss you,” he kissed further down your body, “to touch you,” he settled in between your legs and spread them further apart, “to taste you…” you felt his warm breath and then you felt his warm tongue, parting your folds gently.

Your back arched off the rug as his tongue slowly circled your throbbing clit and licked down again, teasing your entrance with the tip of his tongue. You whined and whimpered; with your legs wrapped around his head, your body squirming in pleasure and your moans incessant. Your hand flew to his hair instinctively and you tugged on it as he flicked his tongue and teased your clit over and over again.

You felt your legs shaking as he teased your entrance with the tip of his tongue. His hands wrapped around your thighs, securing you in his grip as he pushed his face further into you, making you cry out loud in pleasure.

“Steve…” you whined.

You heard him chuckle as he kissed along your inner thighs for a moment. “You’re gonna cum for me again, princess?”

You nodded, and let out a moan when he got back to eating you out. You had touched yourself before, but none of that compared to what his mouth felt like.

“Go on, cum for me again…”

You did. You came all over his mouth, shaking and moaning in pleasure under him. He looked down at you in pure adoration. “You did so good, baby.” He leaned in to kiss your lips briefly, “So good,” he mumbled against your lips.

Next thing you knew, Steve tossed his shirt off and started unbuckling his pants to free his erected cock. He couldn’t wait to just be inside of you but before he could, you got on your knees and gave him a look he couldn’t quite understand.

“What is it, baby?” he gently touched your cheek.

Your lips were swollen, and he couldn’t take your eyes off them. “I want to make you feel good too.” You mumbled, quietly, avoiding his eyes.

Steve smirked and leaned forward to kiss the side of your mouth. “You want to use that pretty little mouth and make me cum, is that it?” he sounded cocky, and his sinful words sent shivers down your body.

You nodded, shy despite your request. Steve stood up immediately; towering you with his tall and large frame as you remained on your knees in front of him. You realized that you liked it when he looked down at you.

“Go ahead princess, make me feel good.”

You inched closer to him and went ahead and unbuckled his pants and lowered it just enough to free his erected cock. You bit your lip as you looked up at him, “But I… I don’t know how…” you finished in a whisper and a nervous look in your eyes.

Steve traced your mouth with his thumb, urging you to part your lips. “Know what you do to those big lollipops you love so much?”

You nodded at his question.

“Just like that, princess. Go on,” he inched forward, pressing his tip to your lips.

You parted your lips, sticking your tongue out and licked his tip.

Judging by the way he hissed in pleasure you assumed you were doing something right and it only made you want to hear him moan even more. He inched his hips slightly forward, encouraging you to take more of him into your mouth.

“Come on, you can take it princess…”

You did. You let him into your mouth and then pulled him out, then let him in again. You watched how his face morphed into a frown as he gently slid his fingers into your hair. Steve looked down at you and smiled, you got the hang of it pretty quickly.

In no time you were bobbing your head around him. You took him in inch by inch until he hit the back of your throat.

“Fuck…” he swore under his breath again as you took him deeper into your mouth. “Your mouth feels so good, princess.”

His praise gave you a rush. You wanted more. You wanted to be good for him; good to him. You wanted to be his good little princess. So you gave him your all. You took most of his cock into your mouth and repeated your actions again and again, letting his raw taste fill your senses.

He bucked his hips forward very gently into your mouth, and loved the sight of your spit coating his cock. He moaned and growled and tugged on your hair occasionally as you pleasured him. His taste was all you could focus on; his raw taste, the occasional saltiness of his cum and the feeling of his smooth skin against your cheeks and the top of your mouth. You felt the veins of his firm cock against your tongue.

You closed your eyes to keep the newly formed tears from escaping, and you sucked his cock until he came undone all over your tongue; groaning and hissing in pleasure. You swallowed all that he gave you, licking his tip gently even after he came; wanting to get every last drop of him.

He smiled down at you, “That’s enough baby, stand up.”

Steve leaned in to kiss your face once you stood up again; along your cheek, your lips, your chin, whispering, “You did so well. I’m so proud of you, princess.”

You stood there, a faint smile on your swollen lips as you let him shower you with compliments. Steve wrapped his arms around you as he walked the two of you back until you felt the end of your bed. He pushed you down on it gently.

“I need you… bad,” he mumbled, looking down at your naked body lying there in front of him. “Will you be my good girl, baby? You’re gonna let me make you feel good?”

You nodded, lips parting as your heart raced. “Yes…” You were a bit too eager.

Steve discarded the rest of his clothes and he was on top of you in no time. He parted your legs and settled in between them. “You ready, princess? It might hurt a little bit, but it’s gonna be okay. I’m here, okay?”

You nodded quickly.

“Good girl,” he mumbled under his breath and lifted his hips to align his erected cock to your entrance. You instinctively spread your legs apart to give him more room.

You squirmed and moaned as he rubbed the tip of his cock up and down your wet folds, parting them as he circled your clit gently. You shuddered under him; whining in need. Your body was on fire, you wanted him. Bad.

With a slow, steady push, he inserted his length into you. You shuddered as you felt all of him. A strange pressure building up in between your legs as your body accommodated him inside.

“You okay, baby?” He asked, stopping halfway.

You forced your eyes open as you looked up at him, nodding, “Yeah…” You gasped as he pushed his cock further into you, your eyes closing once he was seated deep inside you. It took you sometime to get over the foreign, yet pleasurable feeling.

“Look at me.” He almost moaned, and the sound forced you to open your eyes again. “I want you to look at me while I fuck you,” he whispered a little breathlessly, looking intensely into your eyes.

Your eyes were fixed on his as he gently pulled out and pushed back into you again. You whimpered, but his kisses and soft words calmed you down. He sped up just a little, rocking his hips against yours. He stared into your eyes, speeding up into you again as he repeated his actions.

“Does that feel good? Do you like having me inside of you? Huh?” he whispered, leaning in to kiss your open mouth, shamelessly shoving his tongue past your parted lips and stroking the inside of your mouth as you nodded, or tried to.

His lips left your mouth and kissed down your face. You moaned again as he bit and licked the skin beneath your jaw, all while fucking you like his life depended on it. Passionately and gradually speeding up.

Your legs trembled as you wrapped them around his waist. The tip of his cock touched your most sensitive spots and your back arched off your bed.

“You feel so good, baby…”his voice cracked as he whimpered in your ear. You could feel your walls clench around him, and tighten around his thick member; making him swear out loud.

“Steve…” you whimpered as fucked deeper into you.

He groaned, and swore and bit down on your skin as he felt his orgasm building up nicely. “Are you close, baby? Are you gonna be my good little princess and cum all over my cock, huh?” He cooed. “Come on baby, cum for me…”

He didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, he kept pounding into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out his name as you came. “Steve….”

Your body trembled under him as you came. He caught his breath, then leaned in to kiss you, repeatedly. Whispering something you couldn’t make sense of at the moment. Your mind was clouded, with lust mainly.

You weren’t sure how long it took you to calm your heartbeats and your breathing, but when you got back to your senses you were cuddling Steve, holding onto his chest. Your ear was right above his heart and his steady heartbeats calmed you down.

“You did so well, baby.” He whispered, kissing the top of your head.

You were quiet for some time, and Steve thought you had fallen asleep but then you replied, “Thank you, Steve.”

“What for?”

You smiled, turning your head to kiss his damp chest. His cologne was fading but it was still there, and you loved it. “For always making me feel safe.”

Steve smiled.

“This is gonna be our little secret though. Okay, princess?” He asked, playing with your hair and running his hand down your back.

You giggled. “I know, I won’t tell anyone.”

Steve caught the mischief in your tone. “God, you’re gonna use this against me to get all the ice-cream you want in the world, aren’t you?”

“Yup.”

#steve rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #captain america #avengers au #marvel

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the-broken-truth · 3 years

Note

Can you do a oneshot of Miranda x Male Reader? something about the male reader being Eva's father and that he disappeared in the first world war centuries ago and left miranda heartbroken and sad, but he did not really die and since he discovered that he was immortal and then he only remained hidden for centuries working for Russian organizations with a secret identity. and that after finding out that her lover was still alive and in a Romanian village, he went to see her. 👨 - 🐾 (EAGLE) - ✈

Wings Of A Feather - Mother Miranda x Male Eagle Shifter Reader

- Quick Key -

[Y/N] - YOUR FIRST NAME

[FL/N] - YOUR FAKE LAST NAME

[L/N] - YOUR LAST/SURNAME/FAMILY NAME

[H/C] - HAIR COLOR

[H/L] - HAIR LENGTH

[E/C] - EYE COLOR

[S/C] - SKIN COLOR

«Сержант [Y/N], ты слушаешь?» (Sergeant [Y/N], are you listening?) The voice of the Master Sergeant called out to the man rubbing his forehead on the other end of the meeting table who looked up with his [E/C] eyes upon hearing his rank and name.

«Да, сэр. Пожалуйста, простите меня, сейчас я довольно устал»." (Yes sir. Please do forgive me, I'm rather tired at the moment.") The man replied with a tired exhale.

«Это понятно, вы только что вернулись с месячной миссии с отдыхом. Вы уволены с этой встречи, вернитесь в свои апартаменты и расслабьтесь на весь день. Нам нужно проверить наш Орлиный Глаз». ("That's understandable, you've just returned from a month-long mission with rest. You are dismissed from this meeting, return to your quarters and relax for the day. We need our Eagle Eye in check.") The Master Sergeant said to the man. The Sergeant rose to his feet and saluted his Master Sergeant, who saluted back and he was on his way out of the room.

Sergeant [Y/N] [FL/N] walked down the hall of the Russian Special Ops base with his jacket draped over his shoulders - waving behind him with each step he took; he passed by two Corporals on his way who moved aside and saluted him. He gave a simple "Отставить." (As you were) as he marked down the path before reaching his private quarters.

The Russian Sergeant removed his hat and placed it on the coat rack by his door followed by his coat before he walked over to his desk and took a seat - pouring himself a glass of vodka as he looked out the window at the setting sun.

Oh, the sun - so many times has he seen it in all of the centuries he's lived.

Yes - Centuries.

The [H/C] haired man looked at his glass as he thought about how long he's been doing this - going around with names other than his own, joining militaries, after all, it was the only thing he's known...since the First World War.

[Y/N] thought back to when this all started - back to when he was something else; then he thought of them.

Miranda and Eva.

The Wife and The Daughter he left behind when he went to fight in the war.

There was never a day he didn't think about them: wondering how they were doing, if they were alright, or if they were even alive. So many questions about them filled his mind, he wanted nothing more than to return to them but he didn't know where they could possibly be.

When the first war was coming to a close - he was blown in the chest by a snipe rifle, it killed him...or at least, it should have. He woke up in the morgue which surprised the diener - a person who works in the morgue - that was working on preparing his body for an honorable burial. According to the man - that bullet ripped his heart to ribbons but now he was alive; they even sent a letter to his wife to inform her of his death.

Once he was given the okay to leave, he went back home to Miranda - only to find to the house he built for them was completely burned down and they were not there; fear filled his heart. Were his wife and daughter dead? Did Miranda take her and Eva's lives when she got that letter or...did someone else do this? Unsure of what to do - [Y/N] returned to the military and continued to serve before faking his death and starting over

He looked at a photo of him and Miranda when she was a few months pregnant with Eva that sat on his desk by his laptop - it was the only thing he had of them now. He gathered the picture in his hands and tried to fight back the tears that were coming.

'Miranda... Eva... Where are you?' He wondered but his thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door. He stood up, walked over to the door, and opened it - revealing a Corporal with a folder in his hand.

"Капрал, я могу вам чем-то помочь?" (Corporal, can I help you with something?) He asked.

«Простите, что беспокою вас в свободное время, сэр». (Sorry for bothering you in your spare time, sir.) The Corporal saluted him, «Но есть кое-что, на что вам следует взглянуть». (But there is something you should look at.) He said as he held out the folder for the Sergeant to take. [Y/N] looked at the emblem on the folder and his eyes narrowed at the familiar logo on the front of the folder.

'Umbrella? What could they possibly what?' He thought to himself before looking at the Corporal before him.

«Что это? Они сказали, что хотели?» (What is this? Did they say what they wanted?) [Y/N] asked.

«Нет, сэр.» (No, sir) The young man shook his head. «Мужчина просто передал мне папку и сказал, чтобы я отнес ее вам. Он также сказал мне, что есть номер телефона, по которому вы можете позвонить». (The man just handed me the folder and told me to take it to you. He also told me that there is a phone number you can call.)

«Хорошо, я разберусь. Вы можете уходить, капрал.» (“Okay, I'll figure it out. You can leave, corporal.) [Y/N] said before closing his door.

He walked back over to his desk and opened the folder - something about the 4 Lords of Romania and Their Leader - Mother... His eyes widened.

"Miranda?" He gasped.

There were photos too - there were of the supposed 4 lords: A rather large lady, a veiled woman with a doll, a hunched back figure, and a man with a large hammer, and...

"That's her." he said.

Before him was a photo of a woman in a golden raven mask in black robes with black wings and some crest behind her. He looked at the number that left behind

XXX-XXX-XXX - Chris Redfield.

[Y/N] narrowed his eyes before calling the number and placed the phone to his ear - it picked up on the first ring.

"I see you chose to call me, Mr. [L/N]." A deep male voice said on the other side of the phone.

"How do you know that name?" [Y/N] asked.

"Umbrella knows a lot about you, Mr. [L/N]; we've been watching you since your face has shown up in our database since the first world war. We know you're not human, Eagle Eyes; but your eyes aren't the real reason people call you that, are they?" Chris asked over the phone.

"Just what do you want? Why have you sent this?" [Y/N] asked.

"We wanna make you a deal, Mr. [L/N]. I know you've been looking for your wife and daughter since your first death during the first world war but they haven't been located - I know where to find your wife." Chris said.

"And my daughter? What about Eva?" [Y/N] asked, gripping the phone tightly in his hand.

"That's the main reason I'm calling you - you see, your daughter is dead; she's been dead for centuries but your wife thinks she can bring Eva back by finding a proper vessel to rebirth her from. Here's what that has to do with me - the latest vessel she's taken is Rosemary Winters, the daughter of some very close friends of mine; she wants to use Rose to bring Eva back but I know it won't work. Her father and Umbrella are intending to get Rose back but that would mean killing your wife and everything she holds dear; we think you can stop that from happening." Chris explained - there was pure silence on the other end of the phone. "Mr. [L/N], are you still there?"

"Tell me exactly what you want me to do?"

[Timeskip - One Week Later / In an Airborne Helicopter above the Romanian Village.]

The side door of the helicopter opened and [Y/N] stood there - his hair blowing around in the high winds as he glared down at the earth below.

"Remember, Mr. [L/N] - Find Miranda and convince her to release Rose. Once that happens, we shall leave you and her to be as you wish." Chris said from his space sitting behind [Y/N].

"Just make sure you're ready, Redfield." And with that, [Y/N] jumped out of the helicopter.

His eyes narrowed as he fell from the bird of metal before he closed them - a warm feeling coursed through him as he felt the mortal flesh of his form shrink and take a new shape. Once he felt the wind against his wings - he opened his eyes again as he flew through the sky as the might eagle. He flapped to catch himself against the current before he got to a gliding height - he could see the village below. He got close to the ground and flapped again to slow himself before he changed forms again - back to his mortal face, his boots landing on the ground.

'Now, all I have to do is find one of the lords and they will take me to Miranda.' [Y/N] thought but his thoughts were cut short when he heard growling - turning, he saw the Lycans from Chris' File.

"Heisenberg's Servants." He pulled out two knives. "Just my luck." He darted forward and made quick work of the lycans before his knives went flying out of his hands - he turned again and there he stood: The 4th Lord.

"Karl Heisenberg." [Y/N] said as he glared at the hammer-wielder.

"Oh, you know me?" Karl asked.

"I know of you. I need you to take me to see Miranda right now." [Y/N] said.

"And just who the hell do you think you are, demanding to see Mother Miranda like that?" He asked.

"I'm her husband - [Y/N [L/N]." With those words, Karl's eyes widened.

"I heard of you; she talked about you some times." Karl looked the man up and down. "Alright, I'll take you to her but you need to cuffed; I don't know you that well,"

"Do what you will." [Y/N] held out his wrists, "Just take me to my wife."

"Fair enough."

[Timeskip - Miranda's Chapel]

"Heisenberg, just why have you called us here?" The tall lady asked before looking at [Y/N], "And who is this man-thing?"

"That's none of your business, Lady Super-Sized Bitch. This dude is for Mother Miranda." That made Alcina and Miranda raise their eyebrows.

"And who is this male that wants to see me?" Miranda asked.

Before anyone spoke - the bound man walked forward.

"It's been a while, Corbul meu întunecat." (My Dark Raven) That name made Miranda's eyes widen...and she removed her mask to make sure she wasn't seeing things.

"[Y/N]? Vulturul meu?" (My Eagle) Miranda asked as she walked closer.

"Yes." The man said with a smile.

The leader ran into his chest and clenched his shirt tightly - crying instantly.

"I MISSED YOU SO MUCH! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?!" She cried.

"I'll tell you - we have a lot to talk about."

After hours of talking - everything came to the light: [Y/N] explained what happened all those centuries ago, Miranda explained her plan, [Y/N] managed to take her out of her & Rosemary - along with Mia Winters - was given to Chris Redfield. Ethan Winters was captured in Castle Dimitrescu by her daughters but was ordered to be let go. The Winters Family left with Umbrella and [Y/N] & Miranda sent all that week making up for all the centuries of lost time...and possibly making an Eva #2.

#ask #mother miranda x male reader #resident evil 8

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lord-explosion-baku · 4 years

Text

Keep Away

Yandere!Bakugou x reader

It’s a special occasion, so Bakugou decides to wine and dine you. It’s too bad for him that you’re intent on ignoring him.

Warnings: yandere, dark themes, lime, forced orgasm, minor food kink, stockholm syndrome, spanking, light violence

A/N: I woke up at like three in the morning and decided to finish this. I saw a bad ending to a certain cyberpunk bl dating sim, and thought “would be kinda cool to be force fed cake,” but then it didn’t really turn into all that much cake feeding which is probably for the best. Who’s to say. It’s just kinda fun to say “it came to me during a cyberpunk bl dating sim bad end,” rather than, “it came to me in a dream.” Also, I’m so sorry if you read this and go “ew strawberry cake isn’t my jam. Belgium chocolate 5evah!!!!1!!” but if you do happen to like strawberry cake, I got you fam.

“So you’re not talkin’ to me now, is that it?”

You keep your gaze low, careful not to even lock eyes with your captor—because no, you’re not talking to him, you’re not looking at him, you’re not even going to acknowledge his existence. It’s your verbal keep away. You’ve decided that it’s the worst possible punishment for Bakugou—ignoring him. You’ve tried just about everything: screaming at him, hitting him, crying to him, begging for your release, and it’s all given you nothing. You figure, why be anymore of a source for his entertainment?

“You should at least thank me for cookin’ you a proper meal.”

From across the candlelit table, Bakugou uncrosses his arms, glaring from the admittedly very well-made plate, to you. He clicks his tongue when you don’t respond, then moans around a mouthful of pad-see-ew, just like he knows you can’t stand.

“It’s so good, baby. Practically melts on my tongue…”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at that. It would be different if it wasn’t his food he complimented, but that’s Bakugou for you. Insolent, prideful, and terrible.

Bakugou stabs his chopsticks into his plate. “You’re not wearing the dress I bought. Not good enough for you?”

You didn’t even try it on. You want to tell him, but that would only spur him on. Bakugou likes it when you challenge him. He always gets that stupid smirk on his face, that daring look in his eye—always like he’s ready to bend you over and fuck you into submission. More often than not, that’s what ends up happening.

“Your ass would look great in it,” he says before taking another mouthful. You can feel his crimson glower scorching your skin, but you won’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. “You can wear whatever you want, though. I want your ass even in those sweats.”

You exhale and lean back back in your chair. He really has to be so vulgar, doesn’t he? Well, that’s not gonna make you crack.

“Yeah, I won’t force you in it. Not yet, at least.” Bakugou grins at the thought, chewing loudly. “I wouldn’t mind playing a little dress up with my doll.”

Your lip twitches, and you hope he doesn’t see. You have to squeeze your thighs together and ignore impending thoughts of Bakugou’s hands on you—first tearing your clothes off, then slowly, sensually zipping that tight, black dress up. You can’t keep from imagining his lips grazing your back, hands running through your hair, him pressing into your backside…

“Need some water, babe? You’re looking a little flushed.”

Your eyes snap to Bakugou’s and your cheeks warm even more when you realize he’s just caught you fantasizing. At least he doesn’t know what you were thinking about. Christ, you could only imagine the field day he’d have with you if he found out you ever thought about him like that.

After you’ve spent plenty of time hating yourself for having these thoughts, you’ve come to the conclusion that it has to be natural. In a psyche class you’ve taken, you learned a bit about Stockholm syndrome, and though you’re sure you’re definitely not falling in love with your captor, it’s perfectly fine that you occasionally think about him in the lusty kinda way. Admittedly, he’s earned it with the amount of orgasms he’s given you since you’ve been taken. But he hasn’t earned your love. Definitely not.

Bakugou stands, folding his napkin onto the table, and walks over to the ice chest he has on standby. He’s wearing his red dress shirt, paired with that white floral vest and nice slacks. You want to know what the occasion is for, but you won’t ask. You’re definitely underdressed, and a part of you wishes you had put on that dress he picked out for you.

You close your eyes and empty your mind of such stupid thoughts.

“How about some champagne?” Bakugou flips a knife out and cuts the cork off with a pop!, making you jump a little bit. He glides over to you, puts his hand on your shoulder, leans in, and fills the crystalline flute sitting on the table. He smells like spice and that natural burnt toffee aroma he has. It’s so nice that you can’t help but lean into him just a teeny bit. And he notices.

“You’re gonna eat somethin’ for me, yeah?” he whispers lowly into your hair before kissing your temple. You freeze while he moves down your neck, brushing a finger along the opposing side of your face, coaxing your head to turn. “Or are you not in the mood for Thai? We can always skip straight to dessert.”

Bakugou dips down to kiss you, but you turn so he misses and kisses your ear. He growls out a sigh and you clench your hands into fists. You’re waiting for it—for him to lose his cool. You don’t know why he’s trying to act kindly to you, but that’s sure to end at any moment, and when it does, he’s going to feel guilty. You’re planning on exposing him as the monster you’re always accusing him of being.

“I’m serious, I made cake,” he says, a slight edge in his voice. He twirls a finger around a strand of your hair, tugging it so you face him. “Your favorite. Strawberry cream frosting, and it tastes fucking fantastic.”

Bakugou’s gaze drops down to your lips before finding your eyes. “I could feed it to you—have you lick that sweet cream right off the tips of my fingers.”

Your scowl tightens on him. He smirks.

“Your lips always look the prettiest when they’re wrapped around something. I’m startin’ to really like that idea.”

“Why?” you bite out, because you can’t take it anymore. You’re either going to die from curiosity or die from embarrassment when he inevitably undresses you and finds out just how much his teasing gets to you, and you won’t let him have that.

Even still, Bakugou looks as triumphant as ever because you gave him what he wants: your attention.

“Why what, huh?”

“Why the dress!” You bark, resolve out the damn window. “The meal, the champagne, the cake?! Why are you trying to be so nice to me all of a sudden?”

“I’m not trying to be nice. I am nice.” Bakugou rolls his eyes as if he’s explaining something simple to a child.

“No, you’re not!” You insist. “You’re...you’re…” Shock sets in and your shoulders grow rigid. He couldn’t possibly be...but if he is...he’d be absolutely daft to think you’ll say yes. “You’re not proposing to me, are you?”

“Hah?” Bakugou’s eyes widen. You definitely caught him off guard, and you could melt from the steaming blaze in your cheeks. “You want me to put a rock on those pretty fingers of yours? Make an honest man out of me?”

“No! No!” You exclaim on a head shake. “I just thought...with the whole atmosphere-“

“Princess,” he interrupts, taking your hand into his. He brings the back of your wrist to his lips, and for a moment, you think you could be right about him proposing after all. At least, until he speaks again. “We ain’t gonna get hitched ‘til you’re good and knocked up—at least four months in, too. That way, there won’t be a chance in hell you can skip out on me.”

There won’t be a chance in hell he will knock you up with your IUD in, so good luck to him on that endeavor. It’s not like he doesn’t know about it, either. There’s a reason why he’s never been hesitant to enter you unwrapped. Although, considering what he just said, you don’t believe he’d be any different if the circumstances were different.

Your lips curl into a snarl. “Then what’s going on?!”

“You seriously don’t know?” He scoffs, then leads your hand to your champagne flute. Once you take it, Bakugou tells you he’ll be right back, and you down the drink. You let the bubbles wash down your throat and quickly take a bite of noodles before he sees. You sigh. They really do melt on your tongue. Bastard.

Before you know it, the faint smell of burning wics envelope your space, and all the lights in the room besides the candles on the table dim. Then, there’s a cake placed in front of you—pink, with intricate, white designs lining its frosted edges. You count the candles and there are exactly the same amount of years you’ve been on this earth, plus one—no, not plus one.

You look up to Bakugou for an explanation. He’s simply grinning down at you, looking proud.

“Happy birthday, baby.” Bakugou kisses the top of your head. “Make a wish.”

Absently, you blow the candles out, but you don’t make a wish, because your brain is too busy doing mental math. On your last birthday, you’d gone on a date with Hitoshi Shinsou. He took you to a cute, little café, bought you a coffee and a tiny cake. He’d ended the night with one of the shyest, sweetest kisses you’ve ever received. Not even four days later, Bakugou took you. You never got to thank Shinsou for that perfect day.

The hair on the back of your neck rises with the sudden realization that you’ve been with Bakugou for nearly an entire year. That’s one year of your life ripped away from you. One year where you haven’t made any progress achieving your dreams. One year that you’ll never get back.

“What’d ya wish for?” Bakugou asks, but you hardly hear him due to the scathing fury that rings in your ears and burns your back. You’re unsure of what you should say or how you should react; you already pulled the silent treatment and you think you’re far too livid to go zipping your lips again.

There’s only one thing you can do: go absolutely batshit crazy.

“I hate you!”

With a quick shuffle, the cake is splattered on the table, your plate flies across the room, and chopsticks are in your hand, aiming for Bakugou’s eyes. It’s too bad for you that Bakugou either expects it, or his reflexes are just so good that he catches you by the wrist before you can stab him. You’re immediately twisted around, chest on the table, arm pinned to your back, and his erection pressing into your ass.

“Yeah? You hate me?” Bakugou’s voice is erratic, husky, dripping with lust. He climbs on top of you, grinds into your behind, and hisses, “wanna say that again?”

“Let me go, asshole!” You below and try to buck him off of you, which only encourages him to pull your arm tighter, forcing you into paralysis. You grit your teeth while tears sting your lower lashes. The only weapon you have is your voice, and that’s always proven ineffective against him in the past. Still, you can’t stop yourself from yelling. “It’s been a goddamn year! I’m sick of being your prisoner!”

“Is that right?” Bakugou shifts, and you hear the sounds of metal clanking. You know instantly that he’s taking off his belt. You writhe as much as you possibly can, fearing a lashing. He hasn’t ever really hit you before, and though getting him to the point had been your end goal, taking the belt is a whole other level of pain you’re not willing to endure.

“Katsuki,” you pant, desperate. “Please, no. Please don’t. It’s...it’s my birthday!”

“You think I don’t fucking know that?” Bakugou releases your wrist, and goes for your hair instead. He yanks you back so that his chest presses against your back. His lips are against the junction of your shoulder and neck as he growls, “after everything I’ve fuckin’ done for you? Ungrateful little slut.”

He pulls your sweats down, cupping your ass roughly with his large, calloused hands. They feel good—his rough touch against your soft cheeks—and despite feeling fearful for the state of your ass, you can feel yourself getting aroused. “I really gotta put you in your place today of all days?” He squeezes your ass tight and possessive, like he owns it, and in the moment, you can’t really say that he doesn’t.

“No,” you cry and god you’re pathetic. You had this entire plan set up and now it’s barreling out of your control. As his lips graze your shoulder, you let out a sigh and say, “the cake was really, really pretty, Katsuki. I’m sure I would’ve loved it. I’m sorry I did that. I just…”

“Just what?” He rasps against your neck before his hot tongue draws a long line across your skin, making you shiver in response.

“I was just...overwhelmed,” you admit. “Our anniversary-“ you choke out, the words sour on your tongue, but you manage to make it sound sweet-“is just around the corner. I wasn’t prepared...I don’t have a whole lot of resources to do something special for you…”

Katsuki Bakugou sure is a lot of things, but he’s not a moron. You’re positive he can read your facade like a book and he’s certainly not one to play along. .

“Oh yeah? You wanna do something for me?” He sucks in your earlobe between his teeth, nibbling playfully. You mewl as Bakugou reaches around your body, large fingers moving down the front of you and sliding down your pubic bone. He dips two fingers between your lips, swiping smugly at the traitorous puddling at your core. “Is this really what gets you off, sweetheart? Lying to me just so I get a little rough with you?”

“N-no.” You try to sound stern, sure of yourself, but Bakugou is light to the touch, fingers barely teasing your sensitivity. You catch yourself grinding into them, directly resulting in your ass moving against his erection. You can feel him pulse against you, and it only makes your pussy throb in direct result, which doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Just admit you want me,” he seethes, pressing more firmly against you while his middle finger teases your entrance. “You like me like this. You don’t want sweet—you want me to be a hard ass, don't you? Why else would you act like such a slutty little brat? Good girls don’t get wet after shit like this, baby. Good girls don’t like to be thrown around.”

“Katsuki,” you say on a sigh while bringing a hand to his arm, hoping to direct him to break through your surface.

“Put your hands on the table,” he growls.

“Please.” You ignore him, pulling his arm more insistently, needing him to deepen his touch.

“This is the last time I’m gonna ask you; put your hands on the table, or I won’t hesitate to use this belt against your bare fuckin’ ass. I’ll lick you so good, you’ll have bruises for months. You’ll need to sit on a fuckin’ ice pack the next time I’m courteous enough to have you dine with me at my table.”

Shuddering, you obey him, planting your palms against the flat of the table, away from the splattered cake. Bakugou lets out a contemptuous scoff, brings your wrists together, and easily wraps his belt around them, tight and with no leeway.

He then pushes your shirt up so that it’s around your wrist with the belt, and pulls your sweats down all the way off of your legs. You’re virtually naked in front of him, with the exception of your bra and panties, helpless to do anything about it. Just like he likes it. He always wants you to bite back until he gets you to submit. He was probably enjoying your little silent treatment show, too; it was just another kind of rebellion, another barbel that he’s fought and won.

A tingle runs down your spine as he traces it with calloused fingers. You feel your stomach tighten from anticipation when he reaches your tailbone and his touch leaves your body. You hear him chuckle as he pulls at a strap of your thong, snapping it back into place. “At least I know you like the panties I got you.”

Pain bursts on your right cheek as the sound of his sharp slap ricochets around the dining room. You have to bite your lip to keep from crying out—even still, you’re trembling when he rubs the sore spot.

“Awww,” he coos, snickering. “You gonna try and act tough?”

You exhale, trying and failing to keep a steady breath, but it’s all wrong and you’re already panting.

“Show me how much you hate me, baby, I wanna hear you sing it.”

The next lick comes without any precursor, no warning, no time for you to brace yourself, so when he slaps your ass, you can’t help but cry out—ecstatic or indignant—it’s not your place to decide.

“Katsuki!” You fall forward, forehead on the table, inches away from the ruined cake.

He chuckles at your position, petting the back of your hair. “If you want me to stop, you’re gonna have to lick it up, Princess.”

Your eyes narrow and you shoot a sideways glare back at him. “I’m not a dog.”

His lips tilt sideways, cocky and annoyingly hot, cheeks red, brow raised provocatively. “You sure look like a bitch to me.”

He spanks you a third and fourth time, and your mouth hangs open with unspoken yelps, a familiar, shameful feeling traveling down your stomach to your throbbing heat.

Taking a second, Bakugou dips his fingers into the pink frosted mess in front of your eyes, and brings it to your mouth. “Taste it for me. I worked hard to get the flavor right,” he commands, smearing the cream over your bottom lip. You’re helpless to oblige. Only, when you stick your tongue out, he pushes two fingers into your mouth.

“Bite me, and I’ll have you tied up for the entire night. I’ll make you scream until you’re on the edge of passing out, then I’ll fuck you awake. I’ll use you—fill every hole you’ve got ‘til you’re nothing but a leaky drainpipe full of my cum. Do I make myself clear?”

“Mhmm…” Not wanting to test to see if he was just making empty promises, because he never makes empty promises, you glide your tongue around his fingers, aiming to please. You let out a soft, appreciative hum when you taste the sweet, strawberry flavored frosting, and suck his fingers clean.

“Good girl,” he says, his fingers leaving your mouth, only to dip back into the cake. He brings them back to your lips and you take him in willingly. “Now, I don’t want to hear another word out of that pretty little mouth, until I tell you to speak. Understand?”

You look at him with affirmation. He spanks you again.

Your body jolts, spit and cream drooling out of your mouth as you moan, trying not to utter a comprehensive word. The vibrations from the impact sends waves of pleasure dancing across your clenching heat. He hasn’t even really touched your sex, and yet, you feel the coils of an approaching orgasm winding up in the pit of your stomach.

The sixth and seventh spank has tears falling down your cheeks. The heat is too much to bear and you can feel sweat sliding down your back. You want to warn him—to request that he takes a break, because the oncoming shame that’s making your toes tingle and your heart race might be a little more humiliating than having him torture you for the entire night. But you say nothing, your curiosity besting your dignity. The next spank does you in. Your body shakes as you wail, your coils breaking while you pool out, thighs sheened with your arousal. There’s absolutely no hiding yourself, and Bakugou is going to be all too smug about this. You simply cannot believe yourself.

“No way,” Bakugou husks, fingers leaving your mouth. You’re panting again when he brings his fingers to your fluttering pussy. He pushes them in and all you can offer is a sigh when he’s up to his digits in you.

“Aww...oh no.” You can’t tell if his concern is genuine or not, but it doesn’t matter to you. You’re ashamed, embarrassed, and defeated. He’s never going to let you live this down. You can already hear his future taunts buzzing around in your head. ‘You can’t pretend like you don’t like me when I’ve made you cum just by spanking your perfect little ass.’

God-fucking-damn it.

He has all the merit to tease you for it now, and you’re expecting him to—hell, you’re practically bracing yourself for it, but instead, he pulls his fingers back and pushes your bottom over, so you face him.

“Ah~Ow!” You wince when your butt hits the table.

“Ah. C’mere.” He frowns and pulls you up by the belt at your wrist. You don’t stop yourself from falling into his embrace. He might be the source of all of your dread, but he’s also your only means of comfort. You let your tears roll onto his chest, muffling your sobs into his shirt. He hushes you, nails tickling your back as he kisses your hair. “S’okay, princess. You’re okay. I’m here.”

“I’m s-sorry,” you cry, and though your wrists are still bound, you manage to clutch onto his shirt. You pull him into you, shamelessly reveling in the familiarity of his scent.

“Hmm?” He lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “What for?”

Your lips tremble and you shake your head, unable to voice exactly what you’re sorry for. Climaxing? Telling him that you hate him? Treating him so poorly when all he does is take care of you? You shake your head again when the actualization of your situation sets into the forefront of your mind. There’s practically a river of tears streaming down your face now and you wish for nothing more than to do disappear, because you’re a stupid girl, there’s cake in your hair, and Stockholm syndrome is bullshit!

“What is it?” He insists, he is tone low, caring.

Dumb. You’re so dumb. Your brain is screaming at you to not say anything, but your skin still buzzes from the thrill of your orgasm. Despite loathing yourself more than ever, you’re practically high, both from catharsis and euphoria.

“I don’t...hate you.” It’s small but it’s there—your voice. There’s a lot to decode from your confession, and by the way Bakugou’s eyes soften just the tiniest bit, you know that he knows what you will not say..

His thumb brushes across the corner of your mouth, wiping away at some residual frosting, then brings it up to where your lips part.

“I know,” he says as you take him in again, swirling your tongue around his thumb, now enjoying the taste of the cake. “Of course I know.”

Your heart swells when he doesn’t laugh at you. He doesn’t even look all that proud of himself. He simply gazes at you with adoration and amazement—and, of course, lust because you have your lips wrapped around something. Prick.

“That was very hot, babe,” he says before kissing your forehead. “I really didn’t think that you could be so responsive to me.” He chuckles darkly, but it lacks his familiar malicious undertone. “Don’t really feel like I earned it, either.”

His thumb leaves your mouth, slides against your bottom lip, and is abruptly replaced with a kiss. Bakugou’s tongue teases your mouth open, then caresses yours with his. “Mmm,” he hums, the reverberations of his voice sending sensational buzzes down your neck. He nips at your bottom lip, then smirks against you. “Tastes good.”

He kisses you again, molding his lips perfectly to yours, and you feel his arousal poke at your bound hands. Not quite lucid enough to think it through, but feeling a bit mischievous yourself, you cup his girth through his trousers, rubbing his hard length up and down. You run your tongue against his, wanting to taste the power he has over you.

“You want me, baby?” Bakugou asks, pressing himself more firmly into your hands. “You wanna feel me slide inside that wet pussy of yours?”

Still not willing to give him a verbal confirmation, you squeeze his cock, legs wrapping around his torso to pull him closer to you. He growls when you have him grinding against your heat, a dark stain appearing on the prominent bulge he rubs against you. When he pulls away, you see that his pupils are blown, barely a sliver of his crimson iris to be seen. He looks moonstruck, predatory, and beautiful.

“Naughty girl,” he scolds, a tick in his jaw. He pushes you lightly, easing so that your back is on the table, your legs spread out for him. He groans when he runs a finger up your damp, clothed slit.

“I asked you a question,” he continues, playing with your core. He gets a dreamy look in his eye when he pulls your panties to the side, and feels exactly how wet you are for him. Then, he shoots a scathing glower your way. “Do. You. Want. Me. To. Fuck. You?”

“Yes,” you say with a nod. “I want you to fuck me, Katsuki.”

“That’s really too bad.” He snickers arrogantly and your heart falls into your stomach. Didn’t you just have a soft moment?! “Only good girls get fucked, pretty baby. You can’t confess your undying love for me and expect that gets you out of your punishment.”

“I did not!” You argue which earns you a dangerous look.

“You and I both know what the hell you meant,” he says with a threateningly sexy lilt. “You can’t take something like that back at the drop of a hat.”

”I think you’ve punished me enough already,” you bite out defensively, quick to change the subject, because you‘re bitterly aware that he’s right.

“And who are you to decide that?” He smirks, brushing a thumb across your pubic bone. “Thought you were my prisoner.”

“I didn’t mean that!”

“No?” Bakugou gets down to his knees, leveling his face with your center. “Actions speak louder than words, angelface.” He kisses your clit, making the same noise he does when he’s trying to bother you while eating, only when he does it on your cunt, all of your nerve endings catch flame and you’re spiraling back to needy senselessness. “Prove to me that you’ve earned my cock by riding my tongue.”

He’s nothing if not altruistic when he’s between your legs. He’s always been generous and dedicated to getting you off, but there’s something different about how he’s moving now. He uses the flat of his tongue and draws languid strokes up your entrance, taking his time while he swirls around your clit. He groans into you, and if the vibrations of his voice weren’t enough to finish you off then and there, his fingers sure as hell do it for you. He pushes them into you, reveling in the feel of your spongy walls hugging him tightly. He traces intricate patterns across your skin, mapping out the places that make you moan the loudest, just to be keen on teasing you for harrowing minutes. He’s going about this agonizing slow, but there’s something about him taking his time, rather than completely ravaging you to prove just how good he is at eating you out, that already has your walls clamping down around his fingers, your back arching, whimpers and pleas tumbling out of your mouth.

It hits you like a brisk wave crashing against the oceanic shoreline. First it was one liquescent sensation, then a pandemonium of your nerves roaring to life. Your thighs close against his head, locking him into place while your fingers twine with his hair. He moans into you, multiplying the excruciating thrill tenfold. You rock against his tongue, savoring this magnificently prolonged ecstatic escapade.

When your nerves cool down and you’re no longer twitching too much, Bakugou offers you a wry grin before licking his lips.

“Look at what a mess you’ve become,” he coos , kissing your shaking thighs, eyes locked on yours. “Was that all because of me, princess.”

“I...don’t think I’ve come so hard in my life.” You breathe, disoriented by the fact. “Oh my god.”

“That so?” He asks as his tongue travels up your thigh.

Bakugou fervently laps up your post-orgasmic juices all the way back up to your drenched cunt. He groans dramatically while his tongue dives back into you. You’re far too sensitive now, and he doesn’t stop—he likes having you squirm around, bucking your hips this was and that, all attempts at finding an escape for his erotic torture futile. Soon he has you spasming out of control for the third time this night, and he rides the waves of your grudging pleasure with delight.

“K-katsukiiii, pleeease!” You’re breathless, hot, and irrational. He has a large hand gripped tightly on your side while three fingers continue to curl inside of you. “I can’t t-take it anymore! It’s t-too much!”

“What? You don’t think you’ve got another one in you?” He keeps your eyes locked on his as his hands push your thighs farther apart, his tongue slowly gliding across your throbbing clit.

You shake your head, practically sputtering your pleas. “I will do whatever you want, so please-“

‘’S that right?” Bakugou grins up at you, smug and triumphant. He pushes you farther up on the table and climbs over you, one hand at the side of your head, holding him up—the other reaching out to grab a coin-sized piece of cake. He presses it against your mouth as he prompts you with an, “ahh.”

“Ah,” you mimic and he pushes the cake into your mouth. The moment you swallow is the moment his lips latch onto yours. You taste your headiness mixing in with the creamy texture of the cake and you can’t help but moan openly into his mouth.

Bakugou ends the kiss too soon, catching you out of breath and wanting more.

“You can be a good girl, can’t you?” His voice is raspy, thick with need, and you know he’s close to falling apart. You want him to. You need him to. He’s broken you, so it’s only just that he breaks sometimes too.

You nod, cautious to see what he’ll be doing next. He’s certainly not taking off his pants, which was the only thing he should be doing.

He moves your arms over his shoulders and leans down low, breath hot on your ear. “You’ll do anything for my cock?”

“Yes,” you sigh and wish more than anything for your hands to be free so tear his shirt off.

“Because you don’t hate me at all. In fact, you fuckin’ love me. You love everything I do to you, but you’re too stubborn to admit it. That right?”

You scowl ahead, teeth clenched. “Yes.”

He draws a line with his tongue against the most sensitive part of your neck, making you shudder, and asks, “yes, what, princess?”

You narrow your eyes. “Yes, I am stubborn.”

With a “teh!” Bakugou kisses your cheek and leads you up so that you’re sitting straight, and guides you both carefully off the table, sweeping you up to carry you so that you don’t step in any of the food you’ve tossed around. He cradles you in his arms, you half-naked, him fully dressed, and smiles sardonically.

“I’m not gonna make you say it, because it is your birthday, but I will have you know that your punishment is not over.”

“You’re kidding me!” You bark back, leaning away to look him in the eyes to see if he’s serious.

“Sorry, baby.” He laughs. “But I had a romantic evening planned out for the two of us and you just had to throw your little bratty tantrums.”

“What do I have to do—?”

“—to get me to fuck you?”

“Yes!”

“You’re going to take a shower, put on that fuckin’ dress, then we’re gonna do this whole dinner thing over again. If you can behave, then maybe—maybe you’ll get my cock. If not—well princess, history tends to repeat itself, but I was hoping we could act like a normal couple just for one night. Thought maybe you’d be into it too, but that’s not what you want at all, is it?”

“I...want to be a normal couple,” you say unenthusiastically. You’re not sure if you meant you wanted to be a normal couple with Bakugou or if you wanted to be free and normal with somebody else entirely.

Bakugou snickers, as if you said something childish. “No you don’t.”

“Because you think I don’t want to be with you.”

“Nah...I know you want to be with me. But you don’t want to be a normal couple. You want this, babe. You want what we have. You want the chaos. You revel in it.”

“Well, I—“ you begin, desperate to find an argument point that doesn’t make you sound dumb. Is he right? Do you enjoy this? Everyday is like a game with him, and it drives you up the fucking wall, but what would you be without it?

“I hope you can keep your self-control,” you retort flippantly, abandoning the argument. “Hope your dick didn’t burst your buttons, Katsuki.” Your gaze drops down to the tent in his pants, then snaps pointedly back at his face.

He’s absolutely unfazed. In fact, he’s more chipper than you’ve ever seen him—like he’s the cat who caught the mouse. “Just for that, I’m gonna join you in the shower. Keep my belt around those wrists and have you watch me wash myself—see all that you’re missing out on.”

You groan, head falling into his chest as he begins walking towards the stairs. “I really do fucking hate you.”

“Keep tellin’ yourself that, sweetheart,” he says back, a smile in his voice. “Just as long as you know that you’re not the only person here that knows how to play keep away.”

#bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #mha x reader #yandere!bakugou #yandere!bakugou x reader #yandere bnha #yandere male #bnha yandere #yandere au #bnha au #bnha imagines #bnha reader insert #reader insert #tw yandere #katsuki x reader

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obsessive-ego · 3 years

Text

Just go with it

Musical beetlejuice x reader

Lewd mentions

Beetlejuice needs you to pretend to be his fiance or he's in trouble

"Babes?"

...

"Babes, wake up"

....?

"Y/n wake up"

What?

Was your first thought as you are shaken awake by the ghost who has made your home his, you mumble out something unintelligible as you grope around for your phone, you cringe as the bright light of the screen blinds you, as your eyes adjust to the light you groan, 4am.

"Beetlejuice, what-"

"Okay, babes, no time to explain but I need you to pretend to be my fiance" despite the odd statement beetlejuice sounded a tad worried.

"What?"

"Long story short I may have said a few things to some guys, and if we dont pull this off I will be dragged back to the netherworld" the ghoul whispered dragging you out if bed.

"Oh" was all you could muster is your drowsy state.

"So theres a suit from the netherworld waiting to meet you, in your living room, now" beetlejuice continued rubbing the back of his neck.

You sigh and shuffle about your room, slipping on slippers and giving your hair a quick once over, as you reach for your housecoat beetlejuice swats away your hand.

"Bee-"

Beetlejuice drops his jacket around your shoulders "this will work much better babes, we need to sell this"

You groan, you were too tired for this, thank god you didnt work in the morning, who knows how long this shit is gonna take, but as tired as you were you couldnt let whoever take your ghost back to the netherworld.

"Okay you're my fiance, I proposed a week ago, and you're head over heels for me, that last part wont be hard to fake huh doll?" The ghoul gives you a wink, you sigh.

"Wait, almost forgot" the ghoul snaps his fingers, you feel a light squeeze on you right handed middle finger.

Upon your finger appears rather tacky, pretty ring, the band was black and white, and resembled a snake, the gem was a brilliant green, you honestly felt your heart squeeze when you saw it, to be honest staring at the ring felt like a dream, maybe because you just woke up? It was beautiful, and the idea of it being for real kinda hurt knowing it was for pretend, but those feelings didnt matter right now, Beej needed you to help him avoid being dragged back to the netherworld, you can think about those depressing emotions later.

The two of you leave the bedroom, beetlejuice takes the lead as you shuffle behind.

As the two of you enter the living room you could help but pause and stare at the 'suit' beej claimed that was waiting for you.

In your little arm chair sat a fairly tall skeleton man, his bones a blueish hue, wearing a lime green suit that looked fresh off the rack, guess not all dead guys wore dirty clothes, in all honesty this was your first time seeing another dead person aside from the maitlands and beetlejuice, they were human, beej was humanish, but this guy looked like he walked out of a cartoon.

"Sorry for the wait, you know breathers, they need to sleep" beetlejuice cackled snapping you from your thoughts "well there's y/n, theres the ring, and theres the door, feel free to use it" beetlejuice snears, wanting to get this whole thing done with, yes he adored messing with you, and with different circumstances this could have been funny, but too much was on the line for him and you were an awful liar, he loved you sure, but theres no way you could pull off lying.

"Y/n I presume?" The skeleton gestures to you, completely ignoring beetlejuice, you nod "its pleasure to put a face to the name, I apologize for the rude awakening, when you've been dead for as long as I have, you tend to lose the meaning of time, my dear this wont take long, we just need to clear up some loose ends then you can get back to your rest" the skeleton gestures you to sit on the couch next to beetlejuice who has already made himself comfortable.

You gently sit down next to BJ who was quick to drape an arm over your shoulders and pull you into his side.

The skeleton pulls out a clipboard from his jacket and flips through the pages

"Lawrence B Shoggoth, y/n m/n l/n, I have requested an audience with you two to clear up some issues with Lawrence's recent updated paper work, not to mention a handful of rumours that need to be put to bed" the ghoul flips through the papers "it says here the y/n you are Lawrence's spouse, is that true?"

You nod

"You see y/n, Lawrence here cant be trusted at face value, so that is why I must converse with you on the matter, so you are his fiance correct?"

"Yes"

"I see, now how long have the two of you known each other?"

"About a year or so" you shrug

"Mmmhmm" the ghoul scribbles down something and continues "now when did he propose to you?"

"Last week" this was so anxiety inducing, for a man with no eyeballs it sure felt like he was staring into your soul.

"Now what drawn you to such a, oh how do I put this, such a man?"

You hear beetlejuice huff out as if he was insulted.

"Well, beetlejuice may be rough around the edges, and can be a dick at times, but he's great company, hes funny, witty, has great taste in movies, and he makes me smile, hes also, well, he's also good looking too" you look away from both parties, as you were clearly embarrassed over what you said, it was the truth, but it still made your face burn.

Beetlejuice leans forward, looking in your direction, eyes wide and mouth a gape, his hair now a bright pink.

"Mr Shoggoth, you look surprised at y/n's words" the ghoul grabs Beetlejuice's attention.

"Heh, you see y/n is the shy type, hearing that type a thing is rare and ALWAYS gets my attention". Beetlejuice slicks his hair back removing the pink and resetting it to its default green.

"Mmmmhmmm" was the ghoul's only response as attention was drawn back to you.

"So y/n you truly are betrothed to Lawrance, you want to be wed to him on purpose?" The skeleton's tone was almost surprised, as if beetlejuice was the most revolting creature in existence and you wanting, out of your own free will to be bound to such a thing, was the most insane thing he has ever herd.

You nod, beetlejuice gives the skeleton a smug toothy grin.

"This isnt a joke, nor is he blackmailing or threatening you?" His tone sounded desperate, as if he needed to prove beetlejuice was lying for his own good.

You only shake your head, while beetlejuice surpresses a laugh

"Ya see bone head? I'm innocent~" he chuckles, squeezing you close to his side.

"Y/n you are aware of what you're doing for Lawrence correct?" The skeleton sounded almost smug, you only stare back, waiting for him to elaborate.

"You see y/n, you are doing Lawrence here a huge favor, when the dead marry the living, they are able to walk the earth like you do, you are granting him life, something he has never had, this is why we must confirm with you, that you understand what he's doing" the skeleton gestures to beetlejuice, the demon only rolls his eyes in response.

"I know"

Attention is drawn to you

"I know all about that life giving thing, beetlejuice told me about it"

"Well you see y/n, this isnt the first time Lawrence has-"

"I know, I was told, by him and the person he tried to marry the first time, small world huh"

The skeleton pauses for a moment then coughs into his fist, as if to regain his composure after being surprised, he continues "I see, Lawrence has been honest with you, I didnt think he had it in him"

Beetlejuice snarls at the comment, tips of his hair turning red.

"Just a few more loose ends y/n then you can return to your rest" the skeleton flips through his papers "ah, Lawrence, y/n may have been couched, and since you seem so eager to speak, I do have a few things I need to clarify with you, if the two of you are in love as you say and this isnt a farce, you would know plenty about your future spouse, when was y/n born?" The skeleton snears as if hes caught you two red handed

Beetlejuice snorts out a laugh "easy *birthday day and year* hell I woke them up with some early morning birthday head"

You cover your face in embarrassment at that comment, yet you were surprised he knew the year.

"Correct, and might I saw congratulations on a LEGAL partner this time"

Beetlejuice rolls his eyes at the low blow before grumbling "it was a green card thing"

The skeleton ignores Beetlejuice's comment and continues "what drew you to this breather? And please keep it out of the gutter"

Beetlejuice huffs "spoil sport, y/n here is one of the kindest, sweetest, softest breather I ever met, they let me do whatever I want, they want me around, no stings attached, they got great taste, just look at the company they keep, and let me tell ya, the first time we met they sucker punched me in the jaw for scaring them, and I've been dreaming of that swing ever since"

You just stare at the ghoul, he remembered that? He remembered how he first met you? When lydia locked you in the basement and he jumped out at you, successfully scaring you but earning himself a fist in the jaw, wow. Your face felt hot remembering that, what a frist impression.

The night droned on and on with dull questions the suit had lined up to prove beetlejuice was lying, but every question had an appropriate answer, and the skeleton knew he could not prove anything as the night went on.

Low on patience and time he decided call it quits.

The skeleton pushes his clipboard back into his jacket and sighs "I appreciate your time y/n, thank you for your cooperation, and Lawrence, I look forward form your departure of death, a short vacation from you is the pick me up I deserve" the skeleton raises up from your chair and walks over to a wall on the other side of the room, you watch him draw a door, and knock 3 times, you're livingroom wall opens up to the netherworld. You freeze at the sight, you always felt uneasy seeing the netherworld portal open up, maybe it was a living thing? As if beetlejuice felt your discomfort he pulls you into a side hug, grounding your anxiety, you give a sigh of what feels like relief.

The skeletontirns to face the two of you "Before my departure, y/n I do have one final thing to ask you, can you kiss Lawrence for me?"

"What?" You gawk in confusion

Beetlejuice snorts out a laugh "what? You the type of guy who gets off on watching others get hot and heavy, I mean I feel ya, but if you insist, I can help a guy out" beetlejuice is quick to cup your face "give daddy some sugar~" he purrs puckering up to go in for the kiss.

"Lawrence you misunderstand me, I ask y/n, if you two are truly betrothed, shy or not, y/n shouldnt have any issues kissing their lover" the skeleton gestures to you, without eyeballs or eyebrows he sure wore a smug face, as if he found you two out.

Beej snorts out his nose, great, he's fucked, theres no way you could sell this now, the ghoul had to take the lead and try to steer this away from what this bureaucrat wants "Shy or not, my little sex pot here isnt too keen on others watching, believe me, I tired, the only thing they wont do in the bedroom-"

"Bee, it's fine" you interject, gently grabbing the demons sleeve, he looks at you mouth agape, green slowly blossoming into pink in his face and hair.

"You mind leaning down honey?" You ask softly, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, yes beetlejuice has kissed you more times then you could remember, and yes, youd be lying if you didnt enjoy them, but taking the lead? That was new, and to have someone watching? Not to mention if you dont make this look good he's gonna take beetlejuice away.

Beetlejuice on the other was practically glowing pink, and vibrating with excitment, not to mention drooling.

You gently cup the demons face, running your thumbs across his stubble, you swore you could hear the demon purring, you take a deep breath through your nose before closing the gap between the two of you.

Beetlejuice's hands find homes for themselves, on in your hair, the other on the center of your back. Your hands move from the demon's face and bury themselves in his messy hair, gently giving his head a scratch, you squeak with surprise as the ghoul lifts you up from the ground, instinct kicks in nd you wrap you legs around his waist, lips still locked with his, you feel his tongue probing at you mouth, begging for your permission to enter, you oblige, his tongue wasnt new to you, you felt it a handful of times, running up the side of your face when the ghoul was trying to get your attention mostly, but in your mouth?

It was long, and big, and kind of cold, it easily took the lead, exploring your mouth.

You push on Beetlejuice's chest to notify him you needed to breath, the two of pull your lips part from each others, a thin line of saliva still connecting the two of you.

"Oh Lawrence" you sigh

The demon now completely electric pink, still holding you up growls before asking "couch?"

You hum out "yes"

Before the ghoul flops backwards on the couch, having you sit on top of him, you give his tie a quick yank and he groans in response.

"Oh doll, you're lucky you dont work tomorrow, cuz I want you to ride me all night~"

"Ahem!"

The two of you freeze for a moment, beetlejuice snickers at your face, clearly embarrassed, you pause for a moment, swallowing your shame before addressing the ghoul who was still here

"You're still here?" Was all you manged to breath out

"I mean I'm into it, but y/n? Not so much, and they clearly arent into you watching so" beetlejuice snorts, trying to wave the skeleton off so the demon could relax.

"I see, y/n you clearly are attracted to him, and understand all the consequences of marrying the dead, I declare that Lawrence B Shoggoth was, in fact, telling the truth, this should be a holiday, such a rare occasion" the skeleton trailed off as he walked into the netherworld, you only watched as he vanished and the walls of your little apartment rearranged themselves like it never happened.

You sat top beetlejuice for a moment, sighing over dodging the bullet of losing your, very dear friend, you may or may not be head over heels for.

You're reminded of where you were sitting with a familiar pinch on your butt.

"Hey honey~" the ghoul purrs

You jerk up at recalling the situation you're in, beetlejuice groans at you movement

"Careful sweets, keep moving like that and you'll turn this semi into a boner" he snorts out a chuckle.

You're quick to get off the demon, though he did grunt in protest, before sitting back up and pulling a couch cushion over his lap, despite how crude he was, he did have SOME common courtesy.

As much fun as it would have been for the demon to tease you on your rather hot actions, he noticed how your attention wasnt on him, rather then you were staring at the wall that was once the door to the netherworld.

"So we did it?" Was all you seemed to whisper

"Yup, I got to hand it to you babes, you did quite a good job fooling that stiff"

You turn back to the demon and give him a soft smile feeling completely relieved.

"You know it's funny y/n, you're a terrible liar, and you sure as hell cant act, you got way too many tells, but yet, I didnt see a single twitch nor did I hear a single stutter, why's that?~" you knew that tone oh too well, it was the 'I know something embarrassing about you' tone, it was smug yet made your legs turn to jelly.

"I guess when it comes down to really important stuff i guess i can-" you stammer while fiddling with the hem of your shirt

"I dont think so dolly" beej was quick to interrupt "babes, you've been wearing my jacket the whole time, I've seen you keep glancing down at the ring, and fuck me, the amount of fire in that kiss, someone like you cant fake that"

You refuse to look his way, this was one hell.of a way to come clean with your feelings, a heavy silence fills the room, though you're pretty sure beetlejuice could hear your heart pounding away.

As if the ghoul could sense your discomfort, he sighs "ya know babes, it's pretty late, and breathers need to sleep, so how bout you head back to bed and I'll finish grilling you in the morning"

Glancing back at beetlejuice you could see the flicks of purple appearing in the pink mess of his hair, you give the ghouls half hearted smile, as you go to take off the jacket he raising his hand motioning you to stop

"Its gonna be cold tonight babes, how bout you keep it warm for me?"

"Oh, alright, night Bee, glad I could help you" you wave off as you head to your bedroom to over think what just happened.

Beetlejuice groans when he hears the familiar sound of your bedroom door closing, he was so close to getting a real confession out of you, but tomorrow morning is gonna be pretty dangerous for you, he sighs removing the pillow from his lap, he had a more pressing matter to attend too, and with your taste on his tongue and the beautiful imagine of you on top of him yanking at his tie, this 'problem' wont take long to deal with.

Bonus

The next morning was quite awkward, beetlejuice wasnt kidding about grilling you in the morning, but at least what felt like an interrogation last night, now felt like childish teasing

"Bee, can I ask you something about last night?"

The ghoul beams with excitement at your question "anything you want babes"

"If we would have failed, what would have happened to you, you said you would have been dragged back to the netherworld and" you pause hoping the ghoul would fill in

"Oh, yeah, if we would have got caught I would have had to spend a week in the netherworld with my mother fixing this paperwork and just being chewed out, a nightmare babes, we dodged a bullet" he raises his hand for a high five as if to congratulate you on helping him out

"What, I'm sorry what"

Beetlejuice lowers his hand and frowns at your response

"Beetlejuice I was worried sick, I thought they were gonna take you away forever, i was terrified if i fuck up I'd never see you again, like what am i supposed to do without you?! I dont want you to leave me" you practically screamed

Beetlejuice only started at you, slowly soaking in what you said

'I dont want you to leave me'

His blank stare slowly shifts to a smile, flicks of pink appearing in his hair "dont worry sugar, you're stuck with me"

#beetlejuice x reader #muscial beetlejuice x reader

307 notes · View notes

jimlingss · 3 years

Note

Speaking of AUs and plots, OC damages someones car by accident and instead of money they want to be paid back in dates.

Anonymous said: For the request: “I can make you a deal you can’t refuse.”

↳ Auto Date Claim

2.3k || 100% Light Fluff || Kim Seokjin

Seokjin grips the steering wheel.

He blows through the yellow light even though he should’ve stopped but there’s no time to waste, not when the last thing he wants is to be late for the meeting. Everything has to be perfect.

Which is what makes this phone call the worst.

“I’m not coming.”

“What?!” Jin looks to the display screen where there’s Jisoo’s name as if he can telepathically send her his exasperated expression. “Why not?!”

“You know why. I don’t want to be a doll that’s supposed to sit there silently, Seokjin. I’m done.”

“No. Please. You know how important this meeting is to me. You can’t be doing this—”

“Oh, yes I can.”

She hangs up. Seokjin groans, the urge to slam his forehead against the steering wheel overwhelming. But he resists and when he gets to the next red light, he frantically calls Yoongi.

The dial tone rings over his car speakers and then the man picks up. Yoongi is calm by nature and there’s little that can faze him. But now, his voice pitches up every so slightly. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you on your way to meeting the Jeon’s?”

“Yeah, but Jisoo just called to tell me she’s not coming.”

“Oh shit.”

Family. Marriage. Commitment. They’re essential pillars for the Jeon’s who’ve been married for fifty years. They’re old school, the epitome of tradition. The plan was for Jin to look like a family man too, to add to his own integrity and to show that he shares the Jeon’s company values. And everything matters when it comes to the contract they’ve been trying to sign for the past year. A minuscule detail like this could tip the scales and make the Jeon’s sign with the competitor instead.

“Is Irene there?” Jin asks as he drives. “Maybe she can come instead.”

“She’s already running an errand for Hoseok. Just...make something up. Maybe you can say—”

At the exact same time, as Seokjin stops for a red light, the entire car jolts forward without warning. He nearly slams his head on the wheel — this time, unintentionally.

What the fuc—

“Yoongi, wait. I just got rear-ended.”

“What?!”

As if things couldn’t get worse today. Jin undoes his seat belt and climbs out of the car. The perpetrator of the accident also gets out and he looks at you who’s completely wide-eyed.

“I’m so sorry!” you screech in horror. “I was just singing to this new album and looking around, I’ve never driven on this street before and I wasn’t paying attention, I’m so so sorry.”

You come to look at the damage at his bumper and a gasp tears from your throat. It’s a Maserati.

You don’t know much about cars, but even you’re aware this is a luxury vehicle imported from somewhere in Europe. Germany. France. Italy. One of those fancy countries where you haven’t even dreamed of traveling to. You don’t know much but one thing’s certain — you’re so fucked.

As you’re losing your mind, Seokjin taps his foot and checks his watch.

His eyes bulge when he realizes the hour’s almost up. “Do you have your insurance information?” he blurts, interrupting your internal meltdown.

“I-Insurance?” You deflate all at once. “I don’t.”

Seokjin sighs and glances over his shoulder. The Hwagae Hotel where the meeting was taking place was so close that he could practically see the entrance door from here.

There’s no more time to waste.

“I’m heading to the Hwagae Hotel.” He points down the street. “Do you want to talk about it there?”

You nod dejectedly and get back into your car to follow him into the hotel’s parking lot before you slow down traffic any more than you already have. Getting more angry drivers on your back is the last thing you need at the moment. At the same time, your mind scrambles for solutions. But it comes up empty.

God fucking dammit. You shouldn’t have been cheap. You should’ve just gone hungry for an entire week to get the car insurance. Why on earth did you think you didn’t need it?!

By the time you get out of your car again, you’re on the verge of tears.

You eye the expensive, sleek black car. Then your eyes stray to the stranger.

“I...I don’t have much money I can give you.”

Jin glances at his watch and then at you. He finally gets a good look at you. Or rather, he notices your simple skirt and blouse ensemble. In an instant, a light bulb flickers in his brain.

“You don’t need to pay if you follow me.” His head nudges towards the hotel and your eyes become rounded at the suggestion. You gawk at the door of the hotel and back at him within seconds, entirely horrified. Seokjin quickly clarifies, “I have a business brunch inside and I need a partner to go with. You don’t need to do anything. You can just stay silent and eat.”

Seokjin watches as you look at the car and then his crisp suit before you’re slowly coming to nod. “A-Alright.”

He turns on his heel and struts into the hotel lobby without waiting for you.

Seokjin wouldn’t necessarily call himself a spontaneous person, but when push comes to shove and it’s the last moment, he’s good at coming up with fixes. He prides himself on it, having been the person who jumped in at the last second to repair things on more than one occasion.

Podium mic not working at the charity banquet? He ran to the nearby mall and bought a portable karaoke microphone at a booth. The client has a pollen allergy he didn’t know about? He threw the flowers on the table out the window when she turned around. The handouts for the shareholder meeting were forgotten? He announced they were going paperless.

The point is: Seokjin will do whatever it takes. Even if his methods are unconventional.

He enters the lavish hotel restaurant, already finding the couple by the windows. He brushes past the hostess with a sparkling smile and peeks over his shoulder to make sure you’re still following after him.

“Seokjin!”

They’re an old couple in professional garb. The man is in a gray suit while the woman is in a modest navy dress. He doesn’t miss the Louis Vuitton purse next to her wine glass filled with water.

“It’s good to see you, Mr. Jeon. You as well, Mrs. Jeon.”

He shakes their hands and at once, Mrs. Jeon looks at you with her brows raised. “And who is this?”

“This is my partner….”

“Y/N,” you fill in for him, realizing he doesn’t even know your name. You’ve been through your fair share of meetings, so you smile and shake their hands with ease.

As strange as the situation is, you’re just relieved he wasn’t lying about it. You had the impression he wasn’t, but you were ready to hightail it out of here if he brought you into a hotel room.

“I didn’t know you had a partner, Seokjin,” the older man notes, impressed and curious.

Jin laughs. “Well, I’m glad you know now.”

Everyone takes their seats and the waiter comes by to fill your glasses of water and ask if anyone wants a particular drink. Once he’s sauntered away, the woman across from you makes conversation. “What do you do, Y/N?”

So much for having to do nothing. “I’m an intern at JML.”

“Oh, I have a friend’s niece who works there. Are you looking to become an accountant then?” her husband asks.

“Hopefully.” You smile before lifting the glass of water to your lips.

“That’s so nice,” Mrs. Jeon sighs. “You young-ins should work and develop a career while you still have the chance. Heaven knows things become so much more difficult once you start a family.”

Family? It’s a foreign concept to hear considering it’s not a subject even in the realm of your concern. You manage to stiffly nod.

“How did you two meet?”

You almost spit out your water.

Seokjin reaches over to pat your back as you wheeze. “Are you alright...darling?”

You wipe your mouth with the tablecloth napkin. What was this guy’s name again? Seokho? No that wasn’t it. It had a J in it. Seok...ju? No….

“Seokjin, I’m fine.”

Mrs. Jeon watches the interaction through rose-coloured glasses and smiles knowingly. “My apologies if it’s an intrusive question. I just adore a good love story.”

“Actually, it’s a funny story.” Jin smiles as a sweat bead practically rolls down his face. “Y/N here rear-ended my car when I was on my way to a meeting and that’s how we got to know each other.”

He looks at you and starts to laugh. After a delayed moment, you join in and inwardly cringe at how awkward it sounds. Yet the old couple doesn’t notice.

“How long have you been together?” Mr. Jeon asks with a warm smile, hands threaded on the table.

You look at him and his laughter dies down. “T-Thr-Two years! Yes, two years.”

“Well isn’t that sweet,” she swoons to her husband who nods in approval. “Are you going to get married soon? It’s not good to let a young woman wait too long.”

If you didn’t choke before, you might again. This time from your own saliva.

Mr. Jeon hums. “Yes, I personally don’t think one should wait long if they know it’s the right person.”

“That’s right.”

“Well that’s good news,” Seokjin interjects before you get the chance and he suddenly blurts, “Because we’re already married.”

Your head whirls to him, neck nearly breaking from the whiplash. You gawk at his profile.

Mrs. Jeon gasps in amazement. Mr. Jeon appears intrigued.

As the proclamation leaves his lips, it’s already too late to take it back. Seokjin isn’t spontaneous. He’s just good at quick fixes, too good that they become permanent fixes.

The point is: Seokjin’s an absolute idiot sometimes.

“Really?! Where’s the ring?”

“We’re getting it fixed at the moment. Y/N lost a bit of weight so it kept slipping off her fingers.”

He turns to you and you stare at him incredulously before deadpanning, “Right.”

“When did you get married?” Mr. Jeon asks.

“Recently,” Seokjin lies without batting a single lash. It’s not hard to pitch an idea or an outlandish one at that when he used to work as a door-to-door salesman during his teenage years and then a car salesman during his college years.

Seokjin’s entire career has been built on convincing others.

“So you’re newlyweds then.”

You give him a look. Jin smiles.

“Yes. We are.”

By the end of brunch, you know more about Kim Seokjin than you ever intended to know — case in point, you’re now aware of his last name. You know he’s three years older than you are, that he’s been working at his company for four, and he’s pretty high up on the corporate ladder but is still continuing to climb it. You even know about the possible contract between his company and the Jeon’s, and the open plot of land on Hwarang avenue that would apparently be the perfect location to expand the Golden Resort and turn it into a franchise.

You’re sure he knows way more about you than he’d like to know too.

“I’ll be honest, I was unsure if I wanted to sign with your company, Seokjin. But you’ve shown me you have a lot of integrity and a strong work ethic. I think our values are compatible as well.” Mr. Jeon shakes hands with Seokjin. “You’ll get a call from my office soon and I think you’ll like what you’ll hear.”

“Thank you so much, sir.”

“You’re a lovely couple,” Mrs. Jeon adds on as she looks at the pair of you standing next to one another. “I look forward to seeing you again soon, Y/N.”

“Y-Yes…”

The two of them bid their final farewells and Mr. Jeon lifts his hand to the valet across the lot. Mrs. Jeon hangs off his arm as their Cadillac is driven up to the door. They get in soon after.

It’s silent between you and Seokjin.

“So…..we’re married, huh?”

“I’m sorry.” He turns to you with a heavy sigh. “It was a really important client I have to sign with and they really value family and relationships.”

You nod. It doesn’t really matter now — what’s important is that it’s over. But one thing isn’t. “About your car….”

The both of you walk across the lot to his vehicle and he finally has the time to get a good look at the damage.

There’s a clear dent in his back bumper and a scratch. But luckily, there doesn’t seem to be much anywhere else.

“It’s a ninety nine thousand dollar car.”

You wheeze. “Pardon?”

“I don’t know how much the damage will be, but it might cost a bit.”

Oh my god.

Seokjin suddenly turns to you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I can make you a deal you can’t refuse. I know you don’t have the means to pay for the damage, so you won’t have to. But in exchange, accompany me to business brunches or galas. It won’t be often and it’ll be similar to what you just experienced. You won’t have to say much and you can even eat for free.”

There’s a drawn out pause. You blink at him owlishly.

“I accidentally told him you were my wife and if you weren’t there from now on, it’ll look suspicious,” Seokjin explains. “It’ll be just for a little while. Maybe half a year? I’ll figure something out after that. How does it sound?”

You know you don’t have much of a choice.

You don’t have insurance and you don’t have money to pay out of pocket. If anything, the offer is generous and Seokjin seems trustworthy — especially considering you’ve gotten to know him in the past hour.

For all those reasons, maybe that’s why you nod. “I can do that.”

He smiles and you brace yourself for a whirlwind.

#bts fanfic #jin fanfic #jin reader insert #jin fluff #bts fluff #bts scenario #jin scenario #bts drabble #jin drabble #Anonymous #Jimlings

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ellsbclls · 3 years

Text

The Fire Escape

warnings ➛ A couple of swear words here and there, mentions of death, endgame spoilers, and a dash of far from home erasure.

word count ➛ 4.7K

synopsis ➛ After the events of End Game, Peter Parker takes a break from his crime fighting persona, but when Spider-Man is called to a mission in Sokovia, he realizes that you might not be ready to handle the life of an Avenger’s girlfriend. There’s a little bit of angst, but not enough to keep you up at night.

“Y/N… Earth to Y/N.”

Peter ropes you back to reality with a light squeeze of your hand, a simple gesture that you return two-fold. On normal dates, the competition would ignite almost immediately, squeezing each other’s hands back and forth, under varying degrees of pressure, until one of you cried uncle — but this is far from a normal date.

It had started innocently enough. Peter had begged Dr.Banner to let him leave his “internship” an hour early just so he could surprise you at work. You assumed — after some superb groveling on Peter’s part — that Bruce agreed, because the end of your shift was met with a parchment wrapped dozen of blushing roses, accompanied by your equally blushing boyfriend. The two of you were able to snag one of the emptier carts on the N train, and were accompanied by a small Greek woman who sent a warm smile when you nestled your head into Peter’s shoulder. The smile disappeared as soon as he started using the poles as his personal jungle gym, but your laugh made up for its loss as he offered his hand out, begging you to join him with a Gene Kelly-esque flair. He ushered you into one of your favorite ramen places during your stroll down Ditmars, pulling out your chair when you were given a table, pretending not to notice how you snuck a noodle or two from his bowl when he wasn’t looking. Your heart felt so warm, you’re surprised it didn’t melt.

So why does everything seem so off now? You and Peter are walking side by side down 37th avenue, he’s rambling excitedly about some new enhancement he made to his web slingers, the evening breeze is kissing your cheeks as it waltzes around the autumn foliage, and somehow, you feel like you’re in the eye of a hurricane.

“Where’d you go?” Peter tries to reel you back in once more and succeeds, craning his head to meet your gaze.

“Oh, just a quick jog.” you tease. There’s a thin edge underlying your sarcasm, and you wonder if he can hear it, too. You’re only a block away from your apartment, and the tiny voice in the back of your mind rationalizes that nothing could ruin your impromptu date night if you were tucked away in your home — because you always feel safe when you’re home. Yet, with no solid evidence to confirm or deny the thought, you’re in a race with the block to dig through your purse.

“Oh, well don’t forget to warm up.” he teases back. His caramel hues, once alight with a mirthful glint, start to descend into an uneasy resolve that only confirms your suspicions, but you’re too occupied by the whereabouts of your keys to notice. “Speaking of warm up, actually, there’s something I have to ask you.”

“Shoot.” you reply offhandedly.

“Well, I- I don’t know how to say this.” The tremor in his voice is subtle, but just present enough to pull you from your search. “There’s- uh- there’s something going on in Sokovia, or at least what’s left of it. There’s a lot of feedback coming off the maps, like a… a hotplate of cosmic activity, so Captain wants the entire team there.”

There it is — that dark cloud that hung over your head this evening finally drenches you in a sharp, cold blanket of realization. Your heart stops, aches, and then crumbles to the pit of your stomach, waiting to be washed away by the waves of terror that crash upon your airways, and despite the wash cycle of emotions you’ve just endured, you feel far from clean. In fact, everything feels heavy — from the weight of your heart to your ragged breath — paralyzed by the idea that each thump, each exhale, brings you closer to the moment where Peter has to leave.

You started dating a year and a half ago, and two years have passed since half of the population was restored to its rightful plane of existence. Iron Man’s death left a massive hole in Peter’s morale, as well as a nagging doubt that he would never be able to take on the mantle he was left with. So, for the first time since he was bitten by that radioactive spider, he cowered in the face of adversity. Not only had he lost a mentor, he had lost his friend — and when Tony Stark sacrificed his life, he was under the impression that the heroes he saved would continue to protect the world, but sometimes Peter wonders if that still reigns true. If Mr.Stark knew just how easily the team had crumbled, how easily he had crumbled, would he still leave? Three and a half years later and Peter still can’t find the answer.

Meanwhile, when it seemed like the world needed him most, Spiderman slipped into obscurity. Now he only makes an appearance when the newscast is a little too bleak to ignore, and even then, he usually sticks to the rogue bank heist or back alley mugging.

You try not to pry, knowing that each time you ask about his brief hiatus is like poking an open wound, and, albeit selfishly, you relish in the fact that your boyfriend isn’t throwing himself in harm's way. However, now seems like a better time than ever for an interrogation, seeing as this is not only the first Avengers mission he’s attended in your relationship, but the first mission to ever span past the Hudson.

No obstacle prior has conjured a looming sense of dread and anxiety as palpable as the one you’re toting now. You can already feel it bubbling in your chest, like a cauldron of endless toils, expelling a hazy fog that makes your head spin.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t give out on me now.” You don’t realize that your knees buckled beneath you until Peter comes to your rescue, and you silently wish that all of his heroic excursions could be this simple. The warmth of his hand bleeds past your winter coat and business casual blouse as it settles against the small of your back, and your body betrays you as it melts into his touch. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m actually not CPR certified.”

“I- I’m sorry.” Your mouth is bone dry, and you can barely muster a laugh convincing enough to counter his attempt at humor, so you don’t. You opt on settling your gaze upon the entrance of your building, just over Peter’s shoulder, and trying to ground yourself enough to stand without his help.

Peter’s hand still lingers on your form when you shuffle away from him, moving from the small of your back to the curve of your elbow. He can tell that you’re shaken, he expected that much from the get go, so he doesn’t leave your side, encroaching on the space you so obviously seek.

“I don’t know- I don’t…” You muster just enough courage to counter his gaze, and a tiny frown creases between your brows, confusion riddling every other feature. “What exactly are you asking me?”

He pauses, searching for the answer himself. “Well, I guess- I just wanna know how you’re feeling.”

You chalk it up to your sudden sense of irritability, but his question just pisses you off. How dare he throw out a semblance of hope, a faulty impression, that you’d have any choice in this matter. You climb the three steps up to the front door, dolled up in dismay, and still try to find purchase in the illusion that you have any control in the matter. Maybe that’s what pushes you over the deep end, your once honeyed voice now curdled by venom — the hopelessness of it all. “Oh, I’m fine! I’m amazing, Peter. After the way you buttered me up all evening, how could I possibly be upset?”

“Y/N, that’s not fair-” Peter’s visibly taken aback, his features mimicking your own. You can see the cogs turning in his head, formulating some way to diffuse this situation before it really begins, but now that the gates are opened, it’s too late for you to hold anything back.

“Why not? Cause it’s the truth?” You cut him off, freshly manicured nails digging into your palms in an attempt to keep your tone even. “Let me tell you what’s not fair — You don’t even know how long you’re gonna be gone, do you?”

You’re met with a mutual silence, which confirms just how equally unaware you both are.

“Exactly.” At this point, your nerves are getting the best of you. Whether you lay all of your feelings out to him tonight or not, a sickening thought will remain — Peter is going to leave, and there’s a chance he won’t come back. So you persist, your hues boring into his own with each word. “You don’t know what it’s like to sit in our bed and wonder if you’re gonna be in it the next morning. You don’t know how terrifying it is to watch the news and pray to god that you’re not a part of it. You’re never going to be in my shoes when it comes to all of this, and I pray to god that you never have to be because I never want you to feel this way. That’s what’s not fair.” You wish your voice hadn’t grown weaker with each blow, you wish you could utter your last few thoughts with an unwavering certainty, but you know you can’t — not when a sob threatens to bubble up from the back of your throat. “That you can just decide to swing across the globe and put your life in danger while I sit at home and worry about you, and the worst part is that it only makes me love you more.”

“Y/N, do you think this is easy for me?” he’s never raised his voice at you, especially not like this, but it looks like tonight is a series of firsts for the both of you. “I haven’t been on a mission with the Avengers since high school, since —” Since Mr.Stark died. You know.

It’s not like he didn’t try to say it, he did, but the name just felt so foreign on his tongue. After years of inactivity, the threat of unearthing all those memories, all those bright eyed, bushy tailed endeavors, was almost as bad as remembering that he was gone — or even worse, not remembering them at all. But where could he retreat to now? He’s stuck between a rock and a hard place, forced to choose between the thought of losing Mr.Stark, or the thought of losing you. His thoughts are raw and earnest as he tries to placate the latter. “I don’t want to leave you. It terrifies me to think of all the things that could happen to you while I’m gone —”

“Obviously it doesn’t scare you enough, because you’re still going!” You punch the last two words, as if you’re suddenly trying to talk to him from across the street.

“I don’t have a choice, Y/N! I don’t-”

Your argument skids to a screeching halt, rivaling the groan of the metal door that guards your apartment complex, and with it appears Ms.Nunez — the single mother that lives a floor below you, whose ability to juggle her graveyard shifts at the hospital with her two rambunctious toddlers is almost as impeccable as her timing.

She appears to be in a rush as she skirts past you, but not enough to stop her from sending Peter an all too knowing look — one that screams “what did you do to that poor girl?”, with only the view of your red, puffy eyes and guarded stance to back up her assumption.

And with an opportunity so golden laying at your feet, who are you to ignore it? You catch the door before it hits the frame and slip into the yellowed entryway, barreling up the stairwell before he can question her weighted stare. You leave Peter no choice but to slip past Ms.Nunez in your pursuit, without so much as a goodbye, but a few choice words still sit on the back of his tongue, waiting to be swallowed.

Normally, the five stories of stairs leaves you winded by the third, but you chalk your superhuman stamina up to adrenaline. Luckily for you, you’re able to reach the last flight of stairs as Peter climbs up the first. Unluckily for you, you seem to forget that your boyfriend actually does have superhuman stamina, and you swear to fucking god that he’s flying up the stairwell by the time you shut the door behind you.

The door slams twice more after that, one loud bang to signal Peter’s entrance and one to punctuate it. His voice pierces through the apartment, firm and unyielding. “This conversation isn’t over, Y/N.”

He has no idea where you’ve run off to, ruling out the kitchen once he drapes his jacket over the center island. All he can hear is your voice, muffled behind one of the walls, calling out to him with little emotion to spare. “Oh, yes it is. I’m over it. It’s over.”

“Well, that’s mature.” He mutters under his breath, not expecting you to hear him, let alone respond.

“Oh, I’m so glad you think so!” You chuckle dryly, ”‘Cause your judgment of maturity is oh so rational and not at all fucking batshit.” And he thought he had enhanced hearing.

“You know what? You’re right.” He scoffs, letting the slam of the bathroom door punctuate his final words. “I’m over this, too.”

🕷 🕷 🕷

“Y/N?” Peter calls out, but to no avail. It’s on nights like these where he wishes you weren’t fighting, knowing fully well that you would command him to the bed with a downward pointing finger and the best glare you could muster. You’ve always loved the way his hair curled into soft, chestnut waves, so you didn’t mind weaving through his damp tresses before he went to sleep. You would make up some excuse about how the process helped give his curls definition, and he would always end up way too tired and relaxed to call you out on it.

You’re nowhere to be found, though. Your comforter is still as haphazard as it was this morning, and the kitchen is void of your late night snack ravaging. The only sign of your presence is found in the open window next to you bed, and way the curtains float against the evening breeze, leaving him to ponder your whereabouts at a breakneck speed.

A million visions of paranoia screen through his mind all at once, but he’s quick to dismiss them, oddly familiar with the prospect of losing someone, and all the fretting that comes with it.

And you know better than to wander the streets of the city so late at night — but with all of the venom being spewed throughout the apartment, Peter wouldn’t be surprised if you needed a small reprieve. Even for just a quick trip to the corner market. He’s well aware of the eagle eye you sport in the moonlit streets, as well as the switchblade that sits in the side pocket of your bag, but he knows better than anyone that you have to expect the unexpected in these streets.

He pulls out his phone, ready to shoot you a quick text when the bars of the fire escape let out a metallic groan. Despite your apartment’s... adequate amenities, you’d never had a problem with the fire escape. The finicky oven? Maybe, but never the fire escape.

Even without his spidey senses tingling, he has no choice but to poke his head through the window pane, and to his surprise, he ends up killing two birds with one stone.

“I didn’t know you were out here.” Peter balances on the window sill, crouching in a near feline stance as he surveys your position — bundled between the metal grates of the fire escape and your downy comforter. Your lips are parted in a tiny “o”, eyelids blanketing your hues, and with the street lights flickering to life across the seam of thirty-eighth avenue, you’re nothing short of angelic — features now outlined in a seraphic, dewy haze.

If he wasn’t feeling guilty beforehand, the sight before him guarantees he is now.

“Yeah, that was kind of the point.” you murmur. You don’t bother to open your eyes, not even when the iron beams start to squeak under Peter’s weight. “Can I help you with something? I’m pretty sure this thing has a weight limit, and this is a weighted blanket.”

You’re met with silence, and you hate to admit it, but you’d take his silent presence over your self-induced isolation any day. Despite the fact that you only moved in together four months prior, your body has grown accustomed to his presence, subconsciously weaving it into your daily routine. There were nights when you would splay out like a starfish in your childhood bedroom, waiting restlessly for the gentle wrap of his knuckles at the window pane, and that same restlessness bleeds into nights in your shared apartment, which then bleeds into now. Sure, you can trick your body into sleeping, but rest seems to be boroughs and islands away when Peter’s not there to wish you a good night.

A terse silence settles between the two of you, and you blink up at Peter, expecting him to break it since you surely wouldn’t.

“Why here?” Peter exceeds your expectations with his query. His gaze is fixed on Manhattan’s skyline — even from the tippy top of the complex, he can still make out the jagged glittering, crust of the city’s bustling core — and it’s then he finds the answer to his very own question.

“I used to sneak onto the fire escape at my parents place, too.” you reminisce, the corners of your lips curling into a bittersweet grin. “The apartment walls were thin, and whenever they would fight, or talk shit about something I did that day, I would just sit on the fire escape until I fell asleep.”

“How?” He breaks yet another lengthy pause, and you fight the urge to chuckle at his candor, settling with a lazy grin. “I mean, no offense, but Astoria isn’t exactly a library.”

“Yeah, but inside, I knew exactly what they were saying, how they were feeling — it was all in the air. At least out here everything just… blends together. It’s kind of peaceful in a way.”

Your voice is so timid and gentle as you recall your childhood, reflecting on moments that seem lifetimes away despite the handful of years in between. Peter’s gaze is transfixed on your profile, skating down the slope of your nose and skirting the curves of your lips until he realizes just how small you are. He tends to hold you on a pedestal, a habit he’s retained since the very beginning of your relationship, so sometimes it still baffles him to know that you can be anything but perfect — that you too can be human, and make human mistakes.

“How come I’ve never seen you out here before?” He feels like a little kid, question after question slipping past his lips before he even has the chance to filter them.

“‘Cause I haven’t had a reason to hide since I moved in with you.”

And just when he thought he couldn’t feel even guiltier, he’s soon overflowing with it. It kills him to know that you felt the need to escape, and you’ll never admit it after tonight, but he was the one who pushed you toward it.

“I’m sorry.” Peter blurts out, not expecting you to say —

“I’m sorry.”

You furrow your brows, cutting him off before he can even open his mouth to protest. “I’m just so used to my Peter. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that I’m sharing him with the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

“Hey, hey — look at me.” His thumb traces the spot right under your eye, using his pinky to nudge the curve of your jaw upward, toward his gaze — heavy and drenched in a type of resoluteness that leaves your mouth bone dry. “It may not always seem like it, but trust me when I tell you that you’re always going to be my top priority.”

“Peter, you’re being dramatic.” You sigh, finding it hard to believe that your life could take any precedence over the safety of mankind itself.

“No, I’m being honest.” His voice, his gaze, they leave no room for protest. You feel a little awkward being the center of their attention, and so it’s a relief when they shift to the city’s skyline once more. “Look over there, you know what that is?”

“Central Park?”

“Mhm, good girl.” Crimson blooms across the valley of your cheeks at his choice of nickname, no matter how innocently he uttered it, but your attention still remains undivided. “I figured out that I can get home quicker if I cut through it.”

You quirk a brow, and he doesn’t need to ask to know exactly what you’re thinking — So what if he hasn’t figured out which trains he needs to board in order to make a dent in his homebound commute? It’s the thought that counts.

“Sometimes like to just stop for a second and watch some of the people in the park, but not in, like, a creepy way? You know what I mean?” A subtle hint of embarrassment tinges his features, but dissolves once he notices your understanding nod. “Is there a word for that?”

“Yeah, it’s called people watching.” You snickered, trying to imagine your boyfriend and his attempts at roasting the New York natives. “MJ and I do it all the time.”

“No, but with less… shit talking.” He counters.

Ouch.

“Oh…” You’re stumped, unsure of where he’s heading and, quite frankly, a little humbled by his read. “Hmm… Carry on?”

“Well,” Peter lets his hand rest palm forward on his knee, fingers gently curled, and you’re well acquainted with the gesture. Almost instinctively, you hover your hand above his own, digits clumsily dancing with one another as he speaks, and for a fleeting second, everything is back to normal. “It’s just… mind-blowing sometimes. There’s so much life there, all at once. All of these people are just living their lives, making their way home, falling in love, falling out of love, buying overpriced hotdogs from the street vendors — The other day I saw this mom fishing her two toddlers out of that fountain on Terrace road and honestly, if they don’t end up with superpowers, I’ll be shocked.” He can tell he’s drifted wildly off track by the way you nod, slowly and unsure, as to not offend him and his train of thought. “The point is… I used to protect all of that, and it used to make me so happy.”

“You still do,” You murmur, not one to discredit the risks he does take in the name of New York. Just because his enemies aren’t held to the same caliber as, say, Thanos, doesn’t mean they aren’t worthwhile. “All that matters is that you’re doing what you can.”

You hesitantly intertwine your fingers with his, in just a delicate enough hold to let him reject it if he so chooses. Your lips softly quirk upward when he only tightens the grip.

“Thank you.” He offers a comforting smile, one that barely reaches his eyes, and you can tell that he has more to say. So, you squeeze his hand, silently urging him to continue. “Well, I just- after Mr.Stark… passed away… it was really hard to remember why I started doing all of it in the first place. Like- I hate saying this, but why do we keep protecting all of these strangers when all the people we do know just keep getting hurt?” He winces at his own words, so far removed from such bitterness that he can barely believe he once thought such selfish things. “But then- then I get to see all of the people that I’ve been protecting, and suddenly it all makes sense again. All I want to do is make sure people are safe, and happy, and hopefully… Hopefully, when we’re older, and we have kids that jump in the fountains at Central Park, someone like me will be watching… and they’ll feel the exact same way.”

When we’re older, When we have kids... Those promises of marriage, of a loving family, of a future — they bounce off your eardrums like a mantra. Soon, you can’t even imagine thinking about anything but Peter’s words, and how much you love him right now, and how you’ll love him until your heart can’t possibly take it anymore. You can read what he’s trying to portray loud and clear — He loves you, he can see a future with you, and if there’s ever a doubt in your mind that his feelings may have changed, you can look out into the world and find pieces of his heart in every passing face.

“I haven’t been doing everything I can to make sure that’s possible, though.” He breaches your lovesick trance, reminding you that there’s still a thread of discord dangling between you. One that you can see rapidly disappearing with each passing second. “I have to go on this mission, Y/N. I wanna start helping people again. I wanna do right by him.”

“I know.” You whisper, conceding to the fact that you will always want what’s best for him, even if you aren’t a fan of the circumstances. “It doesn’t make it any less sucky.”

“C’mere.” He can barely pat his thighs before you’re crawling toward him. He passes a warm hand under your thigh once you straddle his waist, scooping you further into his lap, and uses his free hand to encompass the nape of your neck. You feel like you could melt, being cradled between his strong, toned arms, and the feeling only intensifies when his lips seek out yours. His lips are soft, and warm, and taste like listerine, and you couldn’t ask for anything more perfectly suited for you.

“I love you.” He murmurs against your lips, without a trace of uncertainty. His thumb wipes the corner of your mouth, and he continues to plant a series of sweet, soft butterfly kisses over every patch of skin he can get his lips on — your cheeks, your nose, your temple.

He’s so wrapped up in his gentle ministrations that he barely hears you return the sentiment, eyes fluttering to a close as you breathe out, “I love you.”

“Please come inside,'' he whispers against your forehead, punctuating his plea with a chaste kiss.

You pretend to entertain the thought, tapping your index finger against your chin, before shaking your head with a waggish simper. Fortunately for you, it doesn’t take long for him to take the bait, and he disappears through the window. You can just barely make out the harmony of wild rustling and hushed obscenities coming from your room before Peter is returning to your makeshift bed, clad in the cheesy “The Floor is Lava!” hoodie you snagged from a street vendor during your trip to Pompeii the summer beforehand.

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Y/N,” Peter’s voice is tight, shuffling his knees across the fretted ground as he crawls into your lap. It takes him all of three seconds to make himself comfortable, collapsing between your thighs, and you seize the opportunity to weave your fingers through his soft, chestnut locks. “I don’t think I can make this a recurring thing. I can already feel the scoliosis forming.”

“You’re such a drama queen,” you scoff, only to be met with a scandalized set of caramel hues. “I think you can make it through the night without any permanent damage to your spine.” With droopy eyes, your body starts to hum with the tell-tale signs of sleep, and your voice drips with drowsiness as you murmur, “And I wanna savor as many nights with you as I can.”

“I know,” he whispers back, the aftertaste of guilt intermingling with the abashment that follows your sleepy confession. ”I know. I’m right here, babe.”

And he swore, in that very moment, that nothing would change that.

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x reader #this plot is not the same plot i started with #[tiktok vc] what happened to the original plot of the movie?#but i hope that everyone enjoys? im a little nervous since it's my first one but #please be gentle and most importantly ENJOY #dear god i hope this shows up in the tags #mine

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librarianandguardian · 3 years

Text

Just a feeling- Saul Silva x Female!Reader

Pairing : Saul Silva x Female!Reader

Word Count : ~2300

Warnings : Fluff, brief mention of drug use and burns

Music : Un homme - Jérémy Frerot

Author’s note : Getting pretty stressed because of a huge project at school, so I wrote this to blow off some steam ! I also wanted to say that I do not agree with the way some characters are written and treated in this show. I hope I did not perpetuate these errors, and that I got Silva’s personality a bit right at least. Feedback is appreciated, may it be on the story telling or even the grammar. English isn’t my first language. Flahs-backs in italics. Enjoy ! :D

GIF ‘s not mine, and I can’t find the creator.

French First World songs resonate in the Great Hall, she is dancing. Wild and free. Her loosened hairs fly through the wind. She has traded her Specialist armour for a long flowing dress. Her feet are hammering the ground in rhythm. The crowd carries her all over the dancefloor; she twirls and claps her hands following the music.

From an ignored fairy bloodline, her parents considered her a Specialist Legacy. When her mind fairies powers woke up, everything went wrong ; she was always an overwhelmed child. No one could help her everytime she lost control. Nothing but medication: earrings to contain, and pills to attenuate. It wasn't bad. She lived like that her entire life.

Silva is sitting on a plastic chair, leaning on the table by his side, his gaze lingering. She is an exceptional fighter; dance must be a piece of cake and fun judging from her large smile. To be fair, he barely remembered her from their time at Alfea. Farah told him she was three years younger than him and seemed to have a few memories.

« (Y/N) travelled a lot to the First World prior to college. Her parents were emissaries and brought back souvenirs. Rumours said that her room resembled a cave of wonders.

-Ever went there ?»

His friend chuckled.

« Once. It was full of trinkets, books, movies, postal cards too. Ben caught interest in it, especially the giant botanic encyclopaedia throning on her bookshelf. We both agreed after a while that she might be the ray of sunshine of her Specialist promotion. But I guess she was discreet, if you've never heard of her.»

It took some memory searching, but he indeed remembered one thing. A conversation between a bunch of 1st years talking about a secret party displaying famous First World movies. A few hours later, on the training field, (Y/N) battled fiercely. It caught the attention of many students, who gathered around the platform. Curiosity taking the best of him, he had followed the crowd.

« What's that First World song that I love to describe you with ?

-By the light Clairo, is it really necessary ? »

Her opponent mocked her. She rolled her eyes, wielding her sword before choosing her fight stance.

« You son of... Maneater from Nelly Furtado. Now let's fight please.

-Alright doll, eat me up. »

(Y/N) huffed in annoyance. Clairo was a good fighter, but a little bit too flirty. He launched himself at her. The young woman stayed incredibly calm. Dodging to the right, she left him to stumble before hitting his back with the wooden weapon. He fell to the ground with a grunt. A shy smile spread on her features.

Now that he thinks about it, her earring had intrigued him : an ear chain hanging from the top of the cartilage of her ear to her lobe. Each end was composed of a lavendish round lilac crystal. When she lost control recently, those crystals lit up with a blinding light and burned her skin.

« I change the earring every five year. Every year If any several big crises occurred.

-What about your burns ? How did they clean them up ? »

Her left hand ghosted over her intact lobe, while Harvey healed the bruised flesh. Her eyes stared at the floor of the greenhouse. Saul was holding her other hand.

« They... I stuffed myself with pills. Sometimes enough to sleep through an entire day. Within the Solarian force, it was the only way for them to treat me. None of their mind fairies could calm me down. I don't think you realize how much this, she lifted her intertwined hand, helps.»

The soldier chuckles at the memory. His eyes examined his fingers, remembering how she locked hers, as she found an anchor in his mind.

« My best guess ? Your training forged your head to have a certain mindset in crisis.

-Loads of Solarian troupers could have given you that.

-Yeah. I can't really explain it, she laughed shyly, maybe because you're a teacher, that two of your long time friends are fairies or just because you're good with people.»

Their gazes crossed. The air thickened. Truth to be told, (Y/N) was so lost upon why he managed to calm her down. Farah tried to guide her, but even then, nothing positive came out. Her youth as a student at Alfea only consisted in shared side glances with him in hallways. She sure as hell found the man attractive, but she had other stuff to think about.

A loud giggle snaps him back to reality. (Y/N) falls on his laps while trying to take off her high heels. Her eyes are opened wide and a little glassy. She's definitely drunk.

« Oh by the light, I'm sorry Silva. Aimed at the table ! »

The atmosphere becomes lighter. He catches her when she nearly trips off by trying to get up, one of his arms snaking around to help. Steadying herself on his laps, she catches her breath slowly, though some giggles erupt as she looks around.

« How can you still dance, uh ?»

With a guilty smile, she leans slightly against the table.

« Alcohol ! It's the only thing keeping me up, baby !»

Instant regret shoots through her veins. Some red creeps up on her cheeks, as her hands cover her mouth. The soldier chuckles, enamoured by her adorableness. One thing that strucked him when they met was her lightness. Out of all the solarian troupers out there, or even all the specialists he ever crossed paths with, she was one of the few who stayed so bright and playful. Subconsciously, his fingers dig slightly in her hips.

« It's alright, (Y/L/N).»

She giggles a bit, but thanks him. Farah watches from a far, joined by Ben. (Y/N)(Y/L/N) has been teaching at Alfea for a year now. The entire school seemed to have transformed into a much more joyous place : students got along better, the shyest opened a tad and the roughest softened. Ben's daughter Terra found a supporter of her personal projects and a confidant. Ben himself benefited from her return. Mostly in books and knowledge but that meant already so much to him. Farah gained a daughter ; (Y/N)'s powers were a mess for her advanced age, helping felt natural. But what she loved the most was how confused Saul got with the new Specialist. Their bond strengthened with time, however the first few days rocked the Headmaster all over the place.

«(Y/L/N), what did you do to our office ? Did you... Are these books classified by alphabetic order and colour ?! »

His colleague shrugged, trying to see if he was mad or just surprised. It happened a few days after her arrival. Their shared office went under few renovations.

« (Y/L/N), why dancing classes ? »

She shot up, put her hands on his desk and took twenty minutes to explain how it would make their movements more flexible, strengthen teamwork and be a tool for future mission on the job. Astonished could not describe Silva's feeling.

An admirable change that proved beneficial to the students. These two grew very fond of each other. A lot more than they thought. Words in the hallways started to spread about their growing fondness.

« Okay, I got a question for you, soldier boy.»

Saul tilted his head to the side.

« Are you having fun ?

-Of course I am.»

(Y/N) looks disappointed. Turning around, she pours some water in her cup and chugs it down.

« Really ? 'Cause the only thing I've seen you do is sit in a corner all night. »

He lowers his head, searching for the right words. How does he say that he just loves watching her run around the dancefloor ? How she bounds with students but also keeps their respect ? The fact that she's so organised that she could plan a First World themed party and keep her teacher skills to their best ? The shortest way for that would be admitting his feelings. He zones out long enough for her to talk again.

« It's okay. »

His eyes lock with hers. How did she sober up so quickly ?

« I know you have a reputation as a serious and frowny teacher to keep. And this is a graduation party, so. »

Never mind, she did not. The woman gets up, only to kneel under the tablecloth. He panics briefly.

« (Y/N), what on Earth are you doing ?»

She mumbles before appearing back outside. Her hands are holding a package. Another bright smile shines on her face. Silva knows what's coming, and he has mixed feelings about it; between fear, excitement and confusion.

« Happy Birthday Saul. »

His heart nearly stops. Few people know about his birthday, she is now a part of them. He frankly does not mind, even wished for it for a while now. His hands gently take the package to open it. Before his eyes lies a hard covered sketchbook and a wooden box full of high-quality pencils. The cover has a crow flying in a pearly sky with a red sun. The box is made of ebony and his name carved in silver. She knows an another of his secret. He tears up. The woman worries when he starts to sniffle. Much to her surprise, the soldier puts the gifts on the table before hugging her with all his might. Thank God the students are dancing or already out of the hall to smoke. (Y/N) answers his embrace, reassured.

« Thank you so much dear. »

It's her turn to have glossy eyes. She buries her face in his shoulder. This man is constantly under pressure and she has always wondered what he does during his free time : Does he train more ? He probably reads, right ? The answer came on a regular afternoon.

Silva knocked on her quarters' door. He heard shuffling before (Y/N) opened. She was wearing a bathrobe and a towel around her hair.

« Hi Saul ! Sorry hum. I woke up late and did not expect you so soon so, hum. »

The woman looked around, making her towel fall. Picking it up, she invited him in. He indulged, though a bit surprised.

« I'll be back in a jiffy, you know, putting some clothes on and all. Okay.»

She disappeared in her bathroom, leaving him to explore her room. Many watercolour paintings covered the walls, some abstract and others from the Realms of the Otherworld. However, a few landscapes felt unknown to him. On her desk lied sketches with a horde of different pencils. He discovered portraits of Farah, Ben, Terra, Sky, Riven and finally him. The lines were thin, some shadows sharp for the warriors and smoother for the fairies. A hint of jealousy took over him, quickly brushed away by shyness. The fact that she took the time to draw him was flattering. His fingers grazed over the pencils, wondering if he had time to prepare a little surprise. He puts down the file he came to discuss. A few minutes later, (Y/N) came out, dressed but her hair still wet on the edges. Silva was leaning against her desk, file in hand, a small smile on his features. She mirrored it before asking about the important matter at hand. Twenty minutes later, he left. Her eye caught a change in her drawing material : the portrait of Farah and Ben switched positions. She shuffled them, making sure everything was here, only to find an unknown piece. A cute fox was smiling, a little bubble under him stating :

« Nice Work (Y/L/N). Nice pencils too. Wish I had your talent.»

That last sentence made her wonder if he indeed had an artistic side. Needless to say that his quarters gave her answer. Same reason as his when he came, she knocked on his door one night. Though he did not fully invite her in, her eyes caught glimpses of nice sketches lying on a table, some rudimental equipment next to it.

They stay like this for a few seconds. The headmistress and Professor Harvey look at each other. No words, no need. Terra is chatting with a second year in a corner, bur her eyes catch them. She smiles, looking away shyly, but happy Sky sees the scene too, thanks to Riven who taps on his shoulder. They can't help the smile growing on their faces. Sky's father figure finding support is definitely going to be one of the highlights of their first year. (Y/N) and Saul part. One of her hands pats his arm.

« Wanna dance ? »

He closes his eyes, sighing. There is no lack of desire but the fear of what the students will say.

« I wish but... I don't know.

-I get it. But one day, you will ! That's a promise. »

With one last smile, she strolls back to the dancefloor, leaving him sheepish. He takes the sketchbook and a pencil. He might not dance tonight, but he'll make up to it.

#fate the winx saga #saul silva #saul silva x reader #sky of eraklyon #fate riven #farah dowling #ben harvey #saul silva imagine

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eyesfixedonthesun22 · 3 years

Text

You Oughta Know

Summary: Bucky helps you get over a breakup. Pairing: Bucky x Female Reader Warning(s): Smut 18+, Public Sex, Revenge Acts, Cheating (just mentioned, acts not by main characters) Word Count: 1,629 Beta Reader: @supersoldiersruined-me Notes: The petty level of reader and Bucky is fun to write about as fiction but like...don’t actually do this. It’s all inspired by the song You Oughta Know by Alanis Morissette.

“I see you started without me, killer.”

There’s a quick clink as the metal from his hand collides with the bottle of bourbon he’s snatched out from under you. Bucky slides into the stool next to you.

“Don’t take this the wrong way but you look like shit. Not the hot, probably leads a rugged lifestyle as a secret assassin, looks like shit, but the real looks like shit.”

“So I look like shit?”

“Yes!” he says, matching your mock sarcasm after taking a pull directly off the bottle.

“One, fuck you. Two, I’m also living that rugged secret assassin lifestyle just like you. Three, I have a reason to look like shit.”

“You didn’t have a mission. You and Nat don’t go back out East for another month.” He flags the bartender down. “Whatever your largest plate of tater tots is, can you double that and smother it in cheese and bacon? Think tater tot poutine and you’re on the right track. I’m willing to pay, my good man.”

On any other day you’d tease him. The bartenders here had gotten pretty used to Bucky’s odd requests and the both of you blowing off mission steam at the karaoke stage. Instead of playfully ribbing your best friend, you lay on the bar and a single long sob tears through you.

“What the fuck!?” While the words were anything but, his tone is tender and concerned. “Sweetheart, what the hell is going on. I’ve seen you cry less when you’ve taken a bullet to the leg.”

“Tom broke up with me.”

You pry your head up from the bar sticky from years of ethanol sugar spills and lord knows what else to study his face. All things considered, he keeps control. It didn’t take any of your deductive skills to know that Bucky (and the entire team) had despised the man. That should have been your first clue.

“There was another woman.”

The next couple pulls from the bottle burn a bit less and have you feeling the type of mellow you’d sought when you’d texted Bucky for a night out. Your good feeling is interrupted by him plopping what looks to be at least six different guns on the bar, eight knives, and perhaps two frag grenades.

“Where’s his apartment, doll. I’ll be ready in two.”

“Dude, what the fuck!” The plate full of cheesy potatoes nearly slides off the bar as the bartender stares wide eyed at Bucky’s splayed arsenal. “We’ve talked about this, man.”

“Special circumstances, my friend. Slide me the ketchup, please.” You study your friend with a raised brow while he continues to appraise his ammo levels and take stock. “I’ll be ready in five. I didn’t account for the poutine.”

***

You’d managed, with great difficulty, to talk Bucky down from murder as he shoveled the poutine in his face.

“He can’t just get away with treating you like this?!”

You shrug a shoulder before waiving for another drink. You knew Bucky was right. Tom shouldn’t get to treat you like this. You’d been nothing but a supportive partner to him. He’s the one who has a laundry list of issues.

Your fingers play with the delicate blade of one of Bucky’s knives still strewn about the bartop; flipping it expertly through your favorite routine.

You’re unsure who can claim credit for dissuading Bucky from murdering Tom. It was likely a healthy mix of a carb coma, the two bottles of whiskey he’d knocked back himself (no doubt spiked with something Asguardian, and the unyielding pull towards the karaoke stage. Regardless, the night of laughter and drinks with your best friend seemed to be exactly what you needed to take your mind off things. You nearly threw a tantrum when you heard the bartender yell last call.

“Let’s go home and keep this party going, darling?”

“You read my mind, Buck.”

***

In traditional drunk fashion, the two of you get sidetracked stumbling and giggling on your way back to the compound. You’re certainly not alone on the ever busy city streets, but then again Bucky had a way of making you feel better than you thought possible.

“Hold on!” you slur mildly. “I’m gonna call that motherfucker and give him a piece of my mind.”

Normally Bucky would have been the voice of reason but he too was firmly intoxicated and more than willing to cuss your ex out. Without hesitation he smooshes himself behind you into the phonebooth you had already jumped into.

“Hey Tom, ya fuckface. I want you to know that I am happy for you, I wish nothing but the best for you both. Looks like you finally have someone who deserves you...another piece of shit human. I saw her picture, Tom. Do you not realize she’s just an older version of me. Does she speak eloquently? What the fuck did she do that I-”

The line clicks open and you freeze.

“Hello?” Tom asks into the phone. Bucky can see the pure terror in your eyes, slicing through the drunken bold stupor. “How are you doing?”

Your throat feels as though someone made you swallow sandpaper. You were ready to rant to an answering machine, but somehow hearing his voice made you feel stone cold sober. Before you can formulate a complete thought, the phone is yanked from your hands.

“You don’t get to ask how she’s doing. 'Cause the love that she gave, that you two made wasn't enough for you. And every time you speak her name I hope you’re filled with a feeling of immense regret because you’re never getting her back.”

“Oh please, like I want that heartless bitch back.”

“I'm here, to remind you of the mess you left when you went away. It's not fair to deny her of the cross she bears. YOU gave it to her. You oughta know.”

***

You’re hungover. The movie theater in the compound is a welcome refuge of darkness and quiet. So much so that by the second scene you’re softly snoring away in the seat next to Bucky.

Perfect.

He shimmys (not without difficulty) onto the floor in front of you on his knees and begins to pull the soft sweatpants down from the curve of your hips. So engrossed in his work he doesn’t notice your eyes flutter open until the cold steel of your glock is against his temple.

“What the fuck are you doing, Barnes?!”

“We talked about this, doll! Last night.” His limbs are perfectly still, hands resting on the soft warm skin in the small of your back.

***

You struggle to think back to the fuzzy details of last night after the horrific events in the phone booth. Bucky had held you close as you sobbed once more on the walk back home. You’d collapsed into bed without regard to your usual routine. You vaguely remembered Bucky saying “Don’t ya know babe, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone new.”

“Honestly I just need someone to eat me out like it’s their last meal on earth.”

The entire exchange had made you snort laugh just before dozing off.

***

“I remember. You said someone should do this for me.”

“I’m a someone.” Only the sounds of the movie play in the background otherwise he could swear he would be able to hear you think. He risks a glance at your face and there is the expression he’d been waiting for. Pleading. Curiosity. Permission. “I want to do this for you. You deserve it, sweetheart.”

With the gun no longer aimed, but rather scraping against his scalp while your hands fumble, he dives into the uncharted water with his best friend. He knows your stubborn resignation refuses to let you just drop the weapon all together. You need to think that you’re not one hundred percent as curious as he is. Inching your pants and panties the rest of the way down, he kisses each new inch of exposed skin.

You clench your nondominant hand in his hair, dominant hand still holding the glock. The occasional tap of the cool metal against Bucky’s skin should annoy him, piss him off, make him stop or tell you to set it down but he doesn't. It makes him laugh somewhere deep down that his best friend and secret agent is getting devoured in a movie theatre and can’t form a complete enough thought to set down her weapon. The other part of him is straining against his jeans knowing that at any moment you can kick his ass and press that back up against his temple. Your strength has always terrified him and turned him on a little and he would never want it any different.

You feel as though someone has turned you inside out and every nerve ending is exposed and vulnerable. Your brain is no longer focused on the terrifying fact that your best friend is seeing you on display. Instead all you can feel are the sparks of pleasure from each lick, suck, and swirl. When he enters two digits deep and presses steady rhythmic pressure you explode. It’s a good thing the theatre was empty besides the two of you. There was no way you would have been able to stifle the deep primal sounds escaping from your lips.

You throw your arms off to the side as you recover. “Holy fuck, Barnes.”

“Told you.”

“Yeah but if anyone finds out, I’ll actually have to use this on you,” you gesture to your gun still hanging limply in your hand.

Taking advantage of your still jelly-boned state, Bucky easily disarms you. With a devilish grin and chuckle he drags the gun down your still exposed core making you shudder. “You sure about that, doll?”

#Bucky x reader #Bucky x female reader #Bucky barnes #my writing #my fics #you oughta know

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angel-letters · 3 years

Text

snow days

PAIRING: levi ackerman x gender netural reader (can be taken as platonic or romantic)

DISCLAIMER: while not directly stated this story does deal with depression, and i understand that sometimes reading stories such as this one can make your own depression worse, so please feel no obligation to read it. your own mental health should be your priority. it is also important that if you are not feeling well that you reach out those around you, you’re not alone in your battle. there are also curse words, because apparently i can’t go without cursing.

WORD COUNT: 3551

DOLL’S NOTE: did i project onto this because my own therapy session was cancelled because of the snow and maybe the fact that i just hate the snow in general because it makes me feel crappy? maybe possibly, but what can you expect when i’m supposed to get 4-8 inches when normally we get less than an inch? also, before i got the chance to finish writing this i had to go work and while i was working i was reading the web comic the maid and the vampire, so as i was writing the last part of this i kept thinking of millard, like the feelings i have for that man, oh my. also, once again, a thank you to @setenuma for helping me edit this garbage.

The Writing Room!

You hated the snow. You hated the way the cold of it seemed to seep deep into your bones, how it made your limbs feel like lead, and turned your fingers blue. But most of all you hated the burden of memories and feelings that flooded into your mind with each new snow fall.

You still kept up with your duties, completing training drills and paperwork the way you had always done. Appearing perfectly fine and normal to those in the regiment that did not know you as well, but to those that did they noticed plenty the sloppiness that took place during training, noticing how you seemed to not care if you put yourself in a position that on an expedition would have gotten you killed. There was also the new found sense of heaviness in the air around you, like you were Atlas, carrying the world on your shoulders.

Slowly as the days turned colder and colder you found yourself distancing yourself from your comrades even more, opting to spend all your free time in your office alone completing paperwork instead of staying in the dining hall with the other high ranking officers and squad leaders, drinking tea and listening to Hange ramble for hours about new experiments and discussing new training exercises.

Most still tried to interact with you, trying to cheer you up, Hange would come and try and drag you off to help with an experiment, Mike would try and hold idle chit-chat with you, and Erwin would ask for your opinions on new formations in hopes of distracting you. However in the end all of them decided that it was best to leave you be and let you come to them when you were readly. Well everyone except one person.

Levi Ackerman.

The man refused to allow you a minute of solitude. Always finding you wherever you hid, two cups of tea in his hands and a stack of paperwork under his arm. Even if no words were spoken between the two of you, for you, however, it was the most calming part of your day, when it seemed that the bombardment of memories and feelings finally slowed down.

You and Levi had always had a special sort of bond, perhaps that’s why being in his presence had such a calming feeling for you. A bond that had developed when you yelled at Flagen for being much too harsh to them and consistently offered all three of the newcomers help whenever they needed it. Helping Isabel learn to tack up her horse, answering all of Furlan’s questions about the world above, and even sneaking a tin of tea leaves to Levi after hearing about his liking of tea from Isabel. Then when Furlan and Isabel were killed you were the one that took their wings of freedom from their jackets to give Levi. It was a small gesture but it’s one that led to you being the closest person to Levi other than Erwin.

It was another one of those days where you had hidden yourself away in your office, busy signing and filling out paperwork when your door was opened, not bothering to look up as a familiar voice rang out into the room.

“Get your ass up brat, Erwins called an emergency meeting for some shitty reason,” the raven haired man grumbled, arms crossed as he leaned his back and right foot up against the door frame, staring across the room at you with steely grey eyes.

He was worried about you, yes, though he would never admit it out loud. Throughout all his time as a scout you had been one of the most consistent people he had ever met. You weren’t the cheeriest person around, but then again not many people in the scouts were (though it wasn’t without reason), but you had a kind soul and a warm smile that helped calm down even the most distressed soldier. The only problem with you was that you were secretive when it came to your own feelings. You would offer an ear and advice to any soldier that asked, but never did you let yourself show vulnerability, instead you hide yourself away until you can put a brave face on and Levi hated it. After everything that the two of you had gone through he felt like you knew more about him then he did you and he had tried everything to get you to open up to him. Asking Erwin to move your squad closer to his in the formations so that two of you could ride together, mixing most of your training exercise together, preparing tea for the two of you during late nights. He had placed himself within nearly every part of your schedule and you in his, but no matter how many inside jokes and late nights it still felt like you had a wall up that you refused to let down, even around him.

Placing the paper you had just finished on a stack to your right you placed the pen in your hand down as you stood up from your desk, and silently joined the shorter man at the door. A feeling like a knife went through Levi’s heart as you said nothing when before you would have come up with some sort of snarky remark to his jab. Instead of saying anything however he pushed himself off of the door frame and started down the hall, with you by his side, to Erwin’s office.

You sat at a large wooden table with the other senior officers. Erwin, as the commander, sat at the head of the table discussing the plans for the latest expedition outside of the walls, Mike sat to your left, Hange to your right (being loud as always), and Levi was directly across from you staring at you once again with those steely grey eyes of his. Normally you would have returned his gaze with one of your own, raising a brow and maybe throwing in a wink to make him roll his eyes and turn his gaze back to Erwin, but today you opted to turn your gaze downwards. Glancing at the papers in front of you attempted to read them, though you knew it was pointless, no matter how many times you read them over you never retained any of the information, similar to know matter how hard you tried to listen to what was being said you never seemed to be able to properly comprehend what was being said. It was frustrating to say the least.

“According to the weather experiments that Hange has been performing it appears that there will be a massive storm arriving within the next couple of days. That is why, after careful consideration, it has been decided that should a storm take place that all troops will be given the day, and following days off as it will be near impossible for any training to take place,” It was the last of Erwin’s announcements and though the blond spoke like he doubted the storm would take place, everyone knew that while often extravagant, Hange’s experiments often worked, with their weather experiments becoming fairly accurate in predicting the weather. So with the idea of maybe getting a little more sleep, and being able to escape your mind just a little, in a couple days you left the room with the others, returning to your office.

The storm that Hange had predicted did happen, starting with low howls of wind late in the night, as clouds burden with snow covered the sky, sending large flakes of snow down onto the earth. By the time that the sun had risen the next morning, though the winds had not calmed by much and the snow was still falling, large drifts of snow had formed around the scouts headquarters. With the lower ranked soldiers being informed of the day off, most stayed in the mesh hall, playing games of chess and idly chatting, while senior officers went to their offices, attempting to catch up with overdue paperwork now that they had a day not filled with training drills. You however were a different story.

You had woken up just as the sun was rising to be greeted with frosted window panes, and a chill that seemed to speed in from the outside, numbing your body even with the fire that was still going in the fireplace. The fatigue that was filling your mind also did not help the chill that had crept into your body, making you want nothing more than to sleep, and perhaps you could. Erwin had said that when the storm blows in they would all be given the day off, so perhaps, just once, you could give into your mind and just sleep. Yes a part of you screamed that no matter how bad you feel, no matter how hard it is to bury everything you’re feeling, you need to get up, go and eat breakfast and do your work. But the thought of food had your stomach in a knot and the thought of paperwork brought back the image of fog whenever you had been working the past days. So before you could tell yourself no you sank back into your bed and pulled the blanket up and over your head and went back to sleep.

Levi was in a panicked mood to say the least, though it did not appear so if anyone were to comment. He had waited for over an hour for you to appear in the mesh hall, and when you hadn’t he had merely shrugged it off as a day that you weren’t hungry (he’ll bring some bread alongside the tea he normally brings later), but slowly as the day went on and as he continually went back and forth between all of the places you went to be alone and his own office, you were nowhere to be found. He had checked the library, Mike, Hange, and Erwin’s offices, the storage closet on the east wing, he had even braved the cold weather and checked the stables. So now with just one place left, if he didn’t find you he was going to raise a high alarm, after all it was already late into the afternoon and not one person had seen you all day, if that wasn’t a reason to worry or panic then he didn’t know what was.

Arriving in front of the room that had you shared with Hange (though it was more of just your room as they tended to sleep in their lab), he tried the handle, finding it unlocked (thankfully he didn’t have to kick the damn thing down, he let himself into the room. Shivering slightly as he walked in, automatically noticing the dying fire in the fireplace, however he quickly turned his gaze to the bundle of blankets on the bed. Pushing the door shut with his hand he quickly turned the lock before he walked slowly towards the bed. Reaching his hand out to grab the blanket, he hesitated, was this the right thing to do? Should he bother you like this? But before he could decide to leave (he doubted that in that state you were that you had even noticed him) he remembered something, a promise the two of you had made.

The night sky had shone so bright that night, if felt like it was mocking him, with each night since their passing not even a cloud crossed the night sky. He may have chosen not to regret anything that happened, chosen to follow the man he had been sent to kill, but that didn’t mean grief did not find its way into his heart. As his mind clouded, silent tears falling down his cheeks, the sound of a cup being placed next to him startled him. Jumping to his feet, his hand reaching for the knife in his pocket, he was surprised to find you there, laughing softly as you held a cup out to him. Eyeing you suspiciously he glanced between the cup and you.

“It’s not poisoned if that’s what you’re thinking, I would drink it to prove it to you, but as much of a clean freak you are I don’t think you would appreciate that now would you?” Rolling his eyes he sat back down, (in the same spot he had sat every night he had come up here with Furlan and Isabel) taking the cup gratefully, though still eyeing you as you rested you arms on the way, now holding your own up between your hands, eyes aimed towards the sky.

He couldn’t help but wonder why you went through all the trouble, why you’ve gone out of your way since he first arrived, to try and befriend him (if that’s what you were trying). Even after knowing he had joined the scouts to kill one of your own friends, you had still cared enough to hand him the bloody wings of freedom that had belonged to Furlan and Isabel, and every day you made sure to greet him when passing by, or even dragging him off to train with your squad, because (and he could quote it), ‘Flagen’s an ass and you won’t learn anything from him’. Now even, you had sought him out in the middle of the night, when he was at his lowest, to offer him a cup of tea. Why, what were you gaining from this? Most everyone else still treated him like an outsider, so why were you so kind?

“You’re wondering why aren’t you? Why am I so kind to you?” you mused softly, speaking his thoughts out loud for him. Looking his way, you met eyes briefly before he turned his gaze away, silently answering your own questions. Another small laugh escaped you as he avoided your gaze.

“There’s no reason, if you must know, no reason other than I don’t think that you should be alone after everything that happened.” He scoffed at that, causing you to laugh once more, humans were selfish creatures, that much was true, so you had to have a reason, something that you wanted, but for the time being he would indulge you, you were rather calming to be around (and not just his curiosity getting the better of him). So he sat silently, occasionally speaking up, as you talked about random things to fill the silence. The two of you stayed like that for several hours into the night, and it wasn’t until you both were finally heading to bed to get the few hours of sleep that you could before you would be required to be up and training, did he ask what the both of you knew had been on his mind all night long.

“What do you get out of this, what do you want in return? And don’t say nothing, everyone wants something.” You smiled softly nodding as you thought carefully.

“I really do want nothing, but if it satisfies you, I’m doing what I would want someone to do for me if I were in your shoes, so why don’t we say that what I want in return is for someone to kick me in the ass if I ever appear to lose hope in everything, okay? Does that work as an answer for you?”

Though shock coursed through his body, he rolled his eyes, letting out yet another scoff among thousands that he had made during the night, muttering, “I suppose that works.”

“Great, then it's a deal. I keep annoying you and in return if I ever get mopey and depressed I expect you to kick me in my ass and tell me to get over it,” you said, laughing all the while.

‘If I ever get mopey and depressed I expect you to kick me in my ass and tell me to get over it.’ That was what you said, so while you may end up being momentarily pissed at him for what he was about to do, you could only blame yourself, after all you were the one who said he could do it.

Grabbing the blanket with both hands he gave a hard tug as he pulled it off of you, shaking you awake. As the sudden cold hit your body and light flooded your face, blinding you, you blinked your eyes quickly, trying to adjust to the sudden light while giving Levi a look of, ‘what the hell are you doing?’

“You look like shit,” Levi said once you met his eyes, and it was true. Your hair was a mess, your eyes bloodshot and swollen, tear streaks running down your face, your skin looked duller than normal, but those were not the things that shocked Levi. The look of absolute defeat, of brokenness shook him to his core, never had he seen you look so small and helpless, causing him to yell at himself mentally for not realizing how badly your mental health had become.

“Yeah, yeah, now what do you want,” you eyed the blanket that he had ripped away from you longingly, but made no move to try and take it back, your arms felt too heavy to move, pushing yourself to sit was hard enough.

“I’m here to get your lazy ass up, seeing as you decided to sleep all day.” You raised your eyebrows, glancing to look at the window, to see that long shadows had started creeping across the land outside of your window, the sun would be setting soon.

Sighing, Levi draped the blanket over the headboard, reaching a hand out to gently grasp your chin to turn your gaze back to him, “What’s wrong brat?”

“Nothings wrong, I just decided to sleep all day. What's wrong with that.” While you still denied it, one look, however, he could tell it was a lie. From the way your eyes watered and refused to look at any part of him, knowing that you would cave if you looked directly at him and not wanting to burden him with your own memories and feelings, he already dealt with more than his fair share.

“Don’t lie to me. And if I must remind you, you gave me special permission to beat your ass if you ever got like this.”

“I-,” you finally met his eyes, seeing for the first time the amount of worry that shone behind them, “fine,” you mumbled, slipping out of his grasp and resting your back against the wall, staring at your hands as you gathered you thoughts, trying to find a place to start. Slipping his boots off Levi joined you on the bed, resting against the headboard, arms crossed as he waited patiently.

Once your thoughts had been gathered you started speaking, telling the story of all the people you could never save. Your fellow cadets that had graduated from the same cadet corps as you, joining you as a scout (there had only been five of you who had joined that year), all of whom had died during their first expedition, leaving you alone. Of fellow squad mates that were killed saving you, fresh new cadets that you were given to train that never made it through their first expedition. The guilt you felt from not being there to save Furlan and Isabel. The screams of mothers when told that their child was dead and never returning home. Then finally, as your voice became shaky and tears had filled your eyes until you could no longer see clearly, you told him of your siblings. Of the snowstorm that rolled through your hometown, of the argument you had with your parents, how you had left right before the storm had it, leaving for a friends house, and how your younger siblings had gone out in the storm to search for you only to not be seen again until spring, about the blame your parents had placed on you, and the blame you placed on yourself. You told him everything as he sat silent, watching as your highest wall crumbled and fell to the ground.

He had known you were a kind soul, but he had never realized just how kind you were, how much you cared for people, and how much you blame yourself for not saving people who could not be saved. Stepping out of his comfort zone you reached his arms out, wrapping tightly around your torso as he pulled to his chest, whispering soft affirmations, and speaking of all the lives you had saved. And as he held you in his arms, speaking to you and rubbing calming circles on you back as you fell apart before him and sobbed your heart out, you realized something. You weren’t in this alone in any of this pain, there were others all around you who felt the same, friends, strangers, so many people in your own life who had also lost others and shared in the same grief and pain as you. You realized that as long as you reached out to those you cared, you would never be alone.

Wrapping your arms around the dark haired man, between your sobs, you whispered out a small thank you, for caring, and for reaching out.

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cm-top-10 · 3 years

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C.M. Top 10: Most Dark & Gore Scenes &/or Characters in Cartoon Series

Warning: The following top ten may contain possible spoilers for those who haven't seen newer series. This post may also contain forms of graphic violence & some gore scenes that maybe too much for you to witness. So for your safety & others do not look unless it's at your own risk.

You've been warned...

We all discover at some point in time that not everything you know is allover the rainbow. Most times we see things we can't unsee or learn dark secrets of someone you thought you knew your whole life. & sometimes we learn things the hard way. Or the messed up dark way...

So for this 1st dark Top 10 features the most characters with a dark histories, secrets or just straight up dark/gore scenes. Which character did you not expect to have a dark side? Sadly you be the judge...

1. Invincible - Omni Man beating his son to a pulp.

After learning the dark truth that was revealed to Mark about his father's true intentions. Nolan tells his son the truth about why he was sent to Earth & why he killed the Guardians.

Telling him the reasons why he's here was so he could eliminate any potential threat to the Viltrum Empire. & that he was raising his son not out of responsibility or heroics, but to have him as a bred soldier of the Empire to kill anyone who stood in their way.

& he wanted Mark to join their cause with him.

After Mark angrily refused to help him conquer the planet. Nolan nearly beats the life out of his own son & yells to the top of his lungs saying how pointless it is to protect his home world. While killing millions of innocent people in the process of their brutal fight.

However before he could finish him off, Nolan suddenly realized what he did to his own child & fled the Earth in machspeed, shedding a tear.

They say fatherhood is complicated, but not like this...

2. Castlevania Lords of Shadow - Gabriel's dark fate

While on his journey to slay all three of the Lords of Shadow. Gabriel slowly learned they were the founders of the Order & told him the truth of his order's true intention from each Shadow Lord who too were being used by the Brotherhood of Light. Then when he finally reached the final Lord of Shadow, he learned about his wife's death & fell into dark despair.

Over time his heart grew darkened. & knew nothing but bitterness & sorrow...

But after defeating the three Lords, Laura appears to tell Gabriel that he awakened another ancient evil known as the Forgotten One. Who had plans to destroy all creation & they had to venture to the Brotherhood's fortress to find the entrance to where he was imprisoned.

However only dark begins can enter the realm. & the only way he can bypass it's effects & to defeat this ancient evil, was to become one himself...

So Laura asked him to drink her blood & free her of her torment. Hesitant at first he did what was asked of her & dranked every last drop of her blood, until she died.

He then defeated the Forgotten One & saved mankind. But at a cost of his soul & happiness.

Thus becoming a vampire.

A vampire the world would soon know & fear as Dracul the Dragon.

But that is another story...

3. Baki the Grappler - Yujiro Hanma

As most know Yujiro is the world's most unstoppable & cruelest warrior in the history of fighters. Not even the U.S. Military dares to go near him. Yes Yujiro the Orge has struck fear into many people, even military personnel of different countries. & he did it with no weapons & has turned the U.S. into his personal playground for death & battles.

But the most cruelest thing he's done was ripping the face of one of China's most respected Kaioh masters while facing him in battle, testing his worthiness. The reason Yujiro did this challenge was not to prove his worth but to show all of China & their leaders that they are worthless to him. & showed them all that he doesn't care about their hatred towards Japan noir their worthiness.

& he struck that fear into all who witnessed Ryu Kaioh getting defaced & brutally defeated. Yes this is one man who's definitely going to hell & is going to smile about it.

Because Satan himself would be pissing his buttflap in his sights in fear. While Yujiro fucks his succubus wife in front of his face knowing how little fucks he gives about his "sins."

4. Primal - Sauropod Massacre

After being infected by the Zombie Virus. The infected sauropod becomes a mad rouge & slaughters it's own herd in a bloody rage & massacre.

It left no survivors, ripped them apart & destroyed many of the herds' eggs leaving nothing remaining...

Truly whatever zombie virus this was it drove this poor creature mad & didn't stop until everything wasn't breathing.

Luckily Spear & Fang were able to run it into a dormant volcano. Where the infected dinosaur burnt to ash.

Hopefully now the poor beast is at peace...

5. Star Wars Rebels - Master Luminara's remains

In the search for Luminara to replace Kanan to be Ezra's new master. They soon learned too late that her remains were being used to lure any surviving Jedi out of hiding. So that any Sith Hunters like the Grand Inquisitor would slay them on the spot.

Sadly no one knows whatever happened to her corpse after they escaped. Or if the Empire even still has her.

Rest in peace Luminara wherever you are...

6. Legend of Tarzan - Death of Clayton

While battling in the trees, Tarzan defeated Clayton by tangling him into the jungle vines. But during his blind rage he angrily swiped vine after vine, until one wrapped his neck. Tarzan tried his best to warn him, but in his rage Claton cuts the vine that he was holding on to.

Then after it broke they both plummet to the ground. Tarzan landed safely, Clayton however was hung from above by one of the vines wrapped around his neck after it snapped it straight out from the fall.

There truly are things worse than fate...

7. RWBY - the Death of Adam Taurus

After weeks of stalking Blake & her group. Blake had no choice but to confront Adam for the last time with the help of Yang. The battle was harsh, but in the end they managed to out-think him by stabbing him from different sides. One in his chest & one in the back.

He then fell to his death over a huge waterfall after hitting his head over a ledge before plummeting into the water. Hopefully they've finally seen the last of Adam Taurus.

But let's also hope he doesn't pull a Cinder...

8. TFP Beast Hunters - Predaking beats the scrap out of Ratchet

After using Ratchet to wipe out mankind. The Decepticons threw him into the frails of a vengeful Predaking. Predaking then beats & claws Ratchet, throwing him around like a rag-doll. Until he was ready to finish him off, luckily Ratchet convinced him to hear him out. & told Predaking the truth about what had happened to his Predacon army.

After he told Predaking that it was Megatron who ordered his race's extermination. He asks why he did so & Ratchet replys--

Ratchet: Being on the receiving end of your might. One theory springs to mind, Megatron fears you & any like you.

In his blind rage Predaking stormed his way to Megatron, wiping out anyone who stood in his way.

Which led to his own demise, but that is a story for another time...

9. JoJo's Bizarre Adventure - Stealy Joe gets his ass beat by Jotaro

Now this slimy bastard got what he deserves. Not only did he try to humiliate & blackmail Jotaro into doing his bidding. This cocky motherfucker goes & threatens a random little girl out of the blue. If Jotaro didn't face him like a man & does what he says.

With him up to here with the man's assholeness, our boi Jotaro decided enough is enough & beats the ever loving shit out of this guy. & after punching him multiple times, he literally sends him flying into a wall & throws him his receipt.

Rest in Hell, Joe you worthless bastard!

10. The Falcon Captain America & The Winter Soldier - Captain America U.S. Agent gets his arm broken.

John Walker the former Captain America was given a mantle he wasn't worthy of. Don't get me wrong as much as I had my doubts of him, I was willing to give him a benefit of a doubt. That is until he soiled Steve's good name by using his shield to kill a man in cold blood.

During his blind rage of vengeance, he chased down one of the Flag Smashers & constantly beats him over-&-over with the shield. & then kills him with a fatal blow to the chest area in front of tons of people.

After he murdered one of the perps, Falcon & Bucky tried to ask him to hand over the shield peacefully...

You can take a wild guess what Walker's answer was. He then attacked them with rage & ego, losing his shit. However that ego died as soon as Falcon & Buck breaks his arm to get the shield back. He was then discharged by the U.S. government & was relieved of his duties as Captain America.

Not only that but he then found his way into a dark path he may not be able to uncross.

But that part is another story for another time.

Either way he got dealt some shitty karma.

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