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#not the first time he’s showed up with a head wound! but this one looks nasty
reiding-writing · 1 day
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Congrats on 1000 followers! That's such a huge milestone! For the climacteric event, could you do a continuation of 'Takedown'? Maybe a role reversal, where cold!reader witnesses a badass moment from Spencer (whether his 'takedown' is physical or verbal is up to you) and gets flustered about it? I love your cold!reader series so much, it's such a great character dynamic with the rest of the cast!! Congrats again!
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TAKEDOWN [CLIMACTERIC]
/ˈteɪkˌdaʊn/ /part one/
Spencer might be a know-it-all, but at least he actually knows the things that he talks about.
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WARNINGS: fem!reader, just some guy being really obnoxious and annoying, mild mansplaining
spencer reid x cold!reader || fluff || 2.4k || event masterlist!!
a/n: we’re gonna ignore i uploaded this prematurely and just focus on the fic thanks 😭🫶
main masterlist!! ⋆。°✩ cold!reader masterlist!!
this is a continuation of my original ’takedown’ fic for cold!reader with a role reversal!
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Spencer wouldn’t say that he liked to ‘show off’.
He knew he was smarter than most people, and his teammates knew he was smarter than most people, and that meant that when he displayed his intelligence to provide important details about a case, the team would take his word for it.
It saved a lot of time in explanations for where he got his information from and allowed for profiles to be built at twice the speed.
But sometimes asking someone to quote a source was necessary.
Case in point, a police detective from Indiana who just would not leave the BAU team alone as they tried to curate a profile for the serial killer they were hunting.
Some of his muses, most definitely flukes in knowledge, actually did have a productive outcome.
“A majority of stabbing cases have an underlying sexual motive, so I’ve taken the liberty of looking into the sex-offences registry for anyone who could be our killer,”
And some…
“Have we considered the possibility that our killer is actually killers, I mean if you look at the stab patterns across the victims, there’s a clear dominant and submissive personality no?”
…were the exact opposite.
“What you’re seeing is a progression of the unsub’s confidence,” Spencer shook his head slightly at the detectives attempt at an explanation. “The slashes are only jagged and uncertain in the two first victims, with all of the victims after that displaying much more confident wounds, which clearly shows the evolution of one individual, not multiple,”
He didn’t like having to shut other people’s trains of thought down, it was something that he’d gone through enough to not want to put anyone else through it, but when they were the complete opposite of productive, sometimes it was for the best.
It was remarkably easy to tell when somebody had read something on the internet rather than actually going through the training required to be competent in a certain specialty. Especially when it came to the forensic side of things.
Throwing in key words like dominant and submissive personalities didn’t mean that he knew what he was on about. It just meant that he’d read a few case articles on a certain subject and then passed that off as a rounded understanding of whatever concept he was trying to explain.
And it was really frustrating.
“What’s wrong with you today?” You enter the put aside meeting room with narrowed eyes, a cup of takeout coffee in your hand that serves as a relic of you being able to escape from the hellhole that Spencer was inherently trapped in.
“It’s nothing, i’m alright,” He presses his lips into that awkward smile of his, but it lacks any of the genuity that it’s usually accompanied by, merely a shell of a smile that Spencer knows you’re not buying.
A quirk of your eyebrow is the only push needed for his façade to break immediately.
“It’s just—” Spencer exhales heavily through his nose, biting the inside of his mouth in a will for him to keep himself together. “I’m just frustrated.”
You gesture with your head for him to continue, and it’s like you’ve blown a hole in a dam with how fast everything comes tumbling out.
“Officer Harrison keeps interrupting the investigation and talking about absolute nonsense under the guise of it being objective fact and I’ve spent so long correcting him that I haven’t actually managed to do anything,” He gets it all out in a single breath, and it’s honestly quite impressive to watch until he’s caught at the end with barely any air left in his lungs and has to take a moment to catch it up.
“I just wish he would leave me alone,”
You haven’t met Officer Harrison, too busy with the coroner and taking interviews, but if you had to make an educated guess you’d say Spencer’s apparent frustration was well founded.
He wasn’t one to exaggerate things.
“Tell him to then,” You shrug out your answer like it’s easy, leaning your lower back against the table to sip at your coffee.
“I’m not like you,” Spencer sighs exasperatedly, his shoulders in a slump alongside his mind. “I can’t just— scare people off,”
You give a small quirk of your eyebrow at his assessment of your personality, and Spencer can see the small traces of amusement in the corners of your mouth. “You have the authority Reid, you outrank him tenfold,”
“I know, I just—” Spencer shrugs, defeated. “I don’t know, I just can’t,” He uncaps his marker to return to the barren whiteboard to try and actually get some decent headway on the profile with a solemn expression, submitting himself to the inevitability of having to do two jobs at once.
“Do you want me to talk to him?” Your offer sounds almost like an assassination proposal, monotonous and almost too serious.
“No,” Spencer shakes his head lightly. “No it’s alright, it’s not your problem, I’ll be okay,”
“You’e sure?”
“Yeah,” He gives you a small nod over his shoulder, lips pressed into a line as a grateful but dismissive smile. “Thanks anyway,”
You push yourself from the table with a sigh, joining Spencer at his side to pull the marker from his hand.
“Wh—“
“Go make yourself a coffee Reid.” You cap the marker with a knowing tilt of your head, putting it away in your back pocket so he can’t try and take it back from you. “You need to take five and calm down, you aren’t going to get anything done like this,”
You can see the want to turn your idea down, to say that he’s fine and not affected by the officer in his expression, but you both know it’s not something to be acted on, and so gives you a small nod with an exasperated exhale as he drags himself out of the meeting room to do as you’d asked.
He’s grateful for it really, the warm ceramic under his hands serving as a grounding point and sickly sweetness of the drink as it reaches his taste-buds a welcome distraction from the rampant frustration inhabiting his prefrontal cortex, but that small voice in the back of his head continues to torment him about the inevitability of having to deal with the officer again and all of th
He knows he should at least try to let it go over his head. If he stepped back into the meeting room like he was you probably wouldn’t even let him get one foot in the door before sending him on a longer break, but he didn’t want a break, he wanted to work, to crack this profile open and actually make some real headway.
He just needed to take a second to breathe.
When he does return to the meeting room, you’re not alone anymore, and Spencer can practically feel the amount of will power you’re using to keep your mouth shut as Officer Harrison rambles on about something he’s not quite close enough to hear yet.
“…very unlikely for that to actually happen,” The officer points to a section of scrawl you’d added to the whiteboard after Spencer’s departure, something about brief episodes of mania as a possible reason behind the unsub’s violent attacks.
“That’s not actually true, it’s been disproved dozens of times over,” You shake off his attempt at over-explaining your own theory to you with a full tone and a shake of your head, a clear indication for him to leave you alone.
He doesn’t of course, and Spencer swears he sees your eye twitch as Officer Harrison continues to talk aimlessly.
“I’m just saying, there’s research to support the idea that serial killers make their crimes more gruesome than they need to post-mortem so they can plead insanity in court if they’re caught,” He raises his hands in mock surrender, and you quirk your eyebrow at his explanation.
“And where did you get that information from?”
“A doctorate thesis paper from Stanford,” Officer Harrison crosses his arms like he’s secured a victory over you in knowing something that an expert doesn’t. “You’ve probably never read it, it was an investigation into the differences between legal and clinical insanity, and it concluded that serial murderers over gruesomise their kills to plead legal insanity in court despite being completely sound of mind,” He points back at your scribbling with his index finger, knocking his knuckle against the board. “So this theory isn’t worth looking into sweetheart, trust me,”
The use of the placeholder ‘pet’ name makes your eyebrows furrow until there’s a prominent frown line between them. “I have read that paper, for your information,” You spin the whiteboard marker between the fingers of your left hand, likely a way to expel some of the tension in your muscles as you grow increasingly frustrated with the man.
“You don’t have to lie sweetheart, it’s alright, no one’s expecting you to have read an 85,000 word paper from almost a decade ago, I just like to educate myself in my free time,” He shrugs with a nonchalant expression, but there are traces of what’s almost condescendion in his tone and Spencer decides it’s time to stop this little debate before Officer Harrison ends up with a broken nose and you end up getting a very long talk from Hotch.
“She wrote it,” Spencer presses his lips into a tight line as he walks around the table to join you at the whiteboard.
“Excuse me?” The officer blinks at Spencer blankly, eyebrows knitting together in a mix of confusion and a slight amount of irritation at Spencer’s intrusion.
“The thesis paper you’re talking about? She was the one who wrote it,” He nods his head in your direction, and he can physically see the way the officer’s air of intellectual superiority drains from his face.
“And I’m not actually convinced that you’ve read the whole thing yourself, everything you mentioned was part of the paper’s abstract, which at an average reading speed of 238 words per minute, should have only taken you a minute and 24 seconds to read, rather than the 5 hours and 54 minutes to read the whole thing,” Spencer feels a little guilty for how good the drop in Officer Harrison’s face makes him feel, but it’s easily overrun by inherent relief at getting the frustration off his chest.
“Can you name anything important from that paper apart from what you just mentioned? Anything at all?” The frustration underlying Spencer’s tone was obvious, and it was almost gratifying for you to watch him take a stand in his own beliefs for once.
There’s a few moments where he pauses, giving Officer Harrison the very slim opportunity to redeem himself and prove he had actually read through the whole document.
Neither of you needed to watch him try and stumble through his answer to know that he didn’t.
“Maybe if you had read it you’d know that the ‘fact’ you just mentioned, was proportional to the percentage of serial murderers that weren’t diagnosed with any mental illness prior to their arrest, which was only 63% of the total sample that was analysed. 114 of the murderers were actually diagnosed with some form of clinical psychosis, which is still entirely probable for the unsub that we’re looking for,” There’s a lingering trace of snark dousing Spencer’s tone, joined by an elevated sense of conviction as he narrows his eyes towards Officer Harrison. “Or maybe you’d at least remember that it was actually 97,502 words long, not 85,000,”
The fact that Spencer recalled such specific details of your thesis shouldn’t be a shock to you, his eidetic memory was practically a staple of his character after all, but considering you weren’t even aware he’d read it in the first place until five minutes ago made that revelation hit you just a little harder than it probably should.
“If you want to act like an expert in something, become an expert in something,” Spencer crosses his arms and it may as well have been a done deal. “Don’t pass off surface level, incorrect information as objective fact, all you’re doing is slowing the real experts down,”
The assertiveness in his tone, whilst occasionally used when arguing his point for a specific topic, was much more present as he shut down the Officer, and it was almost a little too gratifying to watch the wind get knocked out of his sails at Spencer’s reprimand.
“Now if you’d please excuse us, we have a profile to work on,” He gestures to the whiteboard with his head, and Officer Harrison is off like a whippet, retreating out of the room with his tail between his legs and a traffic light red coating his face from the embarrassment.
You give a dragged out whistle as the door closes. “Congratulations on telling him to leave you alone,”
Spencer laughs almost pathetically. Was he really so socially inept that he had to be congratulated on standing up for himself?
“Thanks,” He presses his lips into that typical Spencer smile as he fiddles aimlessly with the button on the cuff of his right sleeve. “And uh, thanks for letting me handle it on my own,”
You shrug nonchalantly. “You asked me to,”
“I know, I just— thank you,”
“It’s nothing to thank me for Reid,” You shake your head dismissively, but Spencer knows you’ve accepted his thanks through the slight quirk in the corners of your mouth that break the ever-present scowl that cements itself on your face. “I didn’t know you read my thesis,”
Spencer blinks for a moment before giving you a small and enthusiastic nod. “Three times actually, it’s extremely well written from a logical perspective, and the transcripts from the interviews you held were very interesting,”
And there’s the Spencer you knew.
“You’re an incredible psychologist, it’s no wonder you skipped your bachelors,” He emphasises his words with exaggerated head movements that make the curls of his hair bounce against his forehead.
“Thank you, Reid, that’s very sweet,” There’s a fondness to your voice that you’d deny if he pointed out, but you’re trying much less to hide it from Spencer than you would from anyone else in your team.
Spencer Reid had read your thesis three times. You wouldn’t be surprised if he knew it better than you did. You’re almost certain he knew it better than you did. He could probably recite the whole thing word for word where chunks of it had already been forgotten in your mind.
It wasn’t exactly something revolutionary, but it may as well have been.
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dominicfikue · 3 days
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https://www.tumblr.com/dominicfikue/749862083198320641/boxermatt-i-need
wait pls write a lil blurb on this pls pls pls
— come home. ft. exbf!boxer!matt sturniolo!⠀ׁ⠀ㅤ © ㅤ dominicfikue.
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this was starting to become a weekly routine for you two— matt banging on your door in the middle of the night, bloody and hunched over as he practically pleads for you to open the door.
you’d put up a fight every time, crossing your arms over your silk robe & telling him to find someone who gives a fuck ( knowing you care.. maybe a little too much ). eventually, you accept defeat and mutter to yourself, stepping to the side to let him in.
“just go wait in the bathroom.” you groan, closing the door behind him before walking into your bedroom to a first aid kit. a pained laugh & smile comes from the brunette who leans against the wall, dirty jokes already brewing in his knocked up head. he doesn’t get a chance to voice them though, the stinging from his injuries catching his tongue. when you come back to see him still in the same spot, you close your eyes & pray to a higher power to give you the strength.
“y’know i have work in the morning, matt. you can’t keep doin’ whatever this is.” you scold as you help him limp to the restroom. a sigh of relief leaves his lips when he takes a seat on the closed toilet. you kneel in front of him, opening the kit and grabbing what you need. “this is the the only way i get you to see me. when i call or text, no answer… so.” he breathes out, sliding out of his jacket & white t-shirt.
suddenly, the air is thick and any saliva that resided in your mouth, now gone. his words had such an effect on you, the smallest phrases reeling you back in like a fish. not to mention, he was half naked in your bathroom! you clear your throat as you press a alcohol pad atop one of many wounds, a hiss coming from the boy.
“jesus fucki— fuck!” matt curses, squirming as his eyes snap shut. you narrow your eyes at him as you remove the wipe, placing gauze and a bandage over the cut. “okay.. stop moving! it’ll be over faster if you just sit still.” you sigh, sitting up on your knees.
“mhm. whatever.. just hurry. this shit hurts.” he whimpers.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 🐇
you place the last bandage on his lower stomach, giving it a light tap to gain his attention. “all done.” you tell him, picking all the paper and pads up from around you. he stands up slowly, his frame making it’s way to lean up against the sink. matt’s gaze lands on you as you throw the paper away, standing up too. “yeah.. um thank you.. for this. you didn’t have to.” he swallows, time around him seemingly slowing down.
“i know i didn’t. i should’ve just let you knock.” you mumble with a shake of your head, your body slowly moving closer to his. matt’s eyebrows furrow, not sure how to feel about what you’re saying.
“so why didn’t you?” he asks, his index lifting your chin, making you look at him. you knew why. everyone around you knew why. even though it had been months, you still loved him. that soft spot you had for him never disappeared so when he shows up, injured and begging for you, why wouldn’t you help?
“felt like being a good samaritan tonight.” you shrug, the eye contact between you two never faltering. a smile and a hum comes from the boy, his hand moving slowly towards your throat. “every good samaritan deserves a reward, don’t you think?” he questions, his head dipping down slightly. your faces are only inches apart, your lips brushing against each other teasingly. “depends on what the reward is.” you whisper, your fingers reaching up to weave through his hair.
“maybe something like this….” he trails off, catching your lips in a passionate kiss. his hand around your throat squeezes the flesh, earning a low moan from you. your lips move in sync, all that time apart and every single emotion bubbles up, causing the kiss to get more & more heated.
he was home & so were you.
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a/n: FINALLY DONE FFFFFUCK! this might not be my best work but i’m too lazy to rewrite sooooooo here ya go 😭😭😭. enjoy!
taglist. @fawnchives @prettyvyll @trickywritters @breeloveschris @lorarri @vickyzloserz @gnxosblog @firexovni @tylerstacobell @ivonchetooo1239 @bernardsgf @dracoflaco @strniolo @paibey @hearts4chriss @sturniololol @rootbeerworshiper @tillies33ssss @katluckybear @realuvrrr @junnniiieee07 @imsosillygoofylol @dazednmatthews @lanasturn @st7rnioioss
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heizours · 2 days
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CHARACTER BANNERS
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summary. when you do not plan to pull for their character banner
tags. gn! reader, grammatical mistakes may occur
cw. one mention of 'die' (dottore), petty and sulky genshin men (all of them i may say)
feat. xiao, itto, dottore, venti, scaramouche
note. the head picture is how i imagine their reaction ☠️
< back to event m.list
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INTRO.
Recently, you've been saving up primogems for an upcoming new character banner that Hoyoverse is planning to release in the next version of the game.
Gosh you were so excited!
It's not like you wanted to pull for the character just because she was attractive. Definitely not.
Even if it takes a lot of time to earn those gems, you were willing to go through it as long as the system better give you that character you are pulling for.
"I can't wait to pull for Navia!"
You squealed in excitement, logging in the game as her banner awaits for you, ignorant of a certain chatacter just eavesdropping around the system.
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XIAO.
Xiao's banner was having a rerun along with the release of Navia's, and while he may not brag it out loud, he had some silent expectations that you were going to pull for him again.
After all, he is proud to be your first five star chatacter, and ever since then he has been on your team and never removed.
To hear you say that you're going to pull for Navia instead of him made him grunt quietly as he let out a quiet huff behind the screen.
"...Well, she is a good character" he admitted while grumbling under his breath, crossing his arms by now as he watched you pull and pull for Navia's banner, only getting the four stars but no sign of a five star yet.
Is he...sulking? oh yes, Xiao believes so as there was a tiny slight pout on his as he looked away, trying his best to not be affected by the fact that Navia might show up at your screen anytime now.
So while you're at it, better save some primos to pull for his rerun banner too, you wouldn't want a sulking Xiao, right?
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ITTO.
After pulling a few strings and fails in the wishing system, Itto was celebrating his victory after ensuring that his banner would have a rerun.
However, that satisfaction immediately crumbled down the moment he heard you saying that you are pulling for Navia instead for him again.
What makes it even worse, is he felt confident that you were going to pick him, and now...he doesn't know if he should throw a tantrum about it or blame the system that he had a rerun the same time with a new character.
"What?! Hey, what about me?" He yelled out from behind the screen, which of course you couldn't hear, as Itto let out a dramatic gasp by the revelation.
Is he making this a big deal? Yes, Itto is making this a big deal, because after all Navia is also a geo character, of course he would somehow feel intimidated that she would take his place in your team.
Best believe that when you are finish with your pulls, don't be surprised that he would not budge leaving your team— trying to replace him with Navia, even if you are already clicking the remove button!
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DOTTORE.
The doctor was confident that you were saving up those primogems for him considering that his banner hasn't been released yet, nor the gaming system haven't made any announcement about his builds, constellation, marketing drip, etc.
Imagine his reaction when he overheard that you were pulling for Navia, and those primogems for her and not his. He could not hide the disbelief that crossed over his face.
He'll recover shortly after, and just laughed it off strainly as we watched you spending every gem you had saved on Navia's banner, no sign of the blondie woman yet showing up on your screen.
"And here, I thought I was what you are waiting for" He mumbled under his breath, gritting his teeth slightly in the process, keeping a forced smile on his face.
He would rather die than admit it, but this revelation had left a big wound on his pride, and he is a millisecond away of just straight up disrupting the system's controls if it means you get to play him.
Of course that would take some time, but he hopes that you're just as amused as him if he keeps joining you on doing your quests out of nowhere that doesn't even involve him in the first place ;)
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VENTI.
It took so long for Venti to finally have this moment again, and he was more than glad to show up on your screen, on your first pull, on his rerun banner.
One second he was smiling and all giddy, but as you dropped the statement that you are pulling for Navia like a bomb, his smile freezed, his whole body freezed as he sweatdropped.
Not just freezed, you know those kind of special effects in an anime series when a character messes something up, does something awkward or expected something but gets embarass instead, and suddenly they turn into a whole block of ice? Yeah, something like that.
"..Oh, right her! I've heard a lot about her!" He stated, trying to keep up with his cheerful-go-to persona, as Venti awkwardly scratched the side of his neck while watching you spend those gems on her banner, still no luck of the five star geo character.
He failed to continue showing jolly facade, because now he is sulking at the corner as if it is the end of the world, almost as if a big tub of water was dunk upon him.
Please forgive him if he'll be out of character and maybe acting a little petty on your end for the next few hours or days while playing the game. It's not his fault you didn't also pulled on his rerun!
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SCARAMOUCHE/WANDERER.
Scaramouche carries himself with such confidence and prides himself being a part of your team after you pulled on his first banner.
He was smirking with boldness, and eyes closed in satisfaction as he awaits and is all ready for you to pull on his rerun this time. That is until his mouth twitched downward, as he opens his eyes in suspicion right after he heard that you were pulling instead for Navia.
He could not hide the displeased expression painted on his face, as he continues to watch you behind the screen, spend all the primogems you saved up only for her, and like an open book— he doesn't even realized that he is scowling. So far, you're only getting the four stars.
"What about me?" He mumbled under his breath, as he scoffed lightly and by now instead of continuing to frown, there was a slight pout forming on his lips, as he huffed and turned his head away, facing a corner refusing to watch further your pulls on the geo character.
He rejects to believe that he is mopping about as something as this, but his actions says otherwise. He doesn't even know why is so affected by this.
Whether you get Navia or not, make sure you also give him the attention he seeks! We wouldn't want a petty Wanderer disrupting your team's gameplay, no?
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riniworld · 1 day
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heart stealer
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yandere! crown prince x maid! reader
warning|| mention of an injury+blood, humiliating(not to reader),i guess that's it?
reference|| you,she/her,y/n(one time),maid.
a/n|| i planed on making it longer but i lost motivation to complete it (╯︵╰,)
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you've been raised in this castle,your parents were servants under the royal family,your father was the head butler but your mother was an ordinary maid.
and you inherited this from them,at age 18,after a year from the death of the emperor and his wife,you became a maid working along side with your mother.
month after month you have been chosen by the court to become the personal maid of the crown prince himself.
you don't know if you should be excited or anxious,you've never meet the crown prince but you did hear a few things about him and it wasn't pleasing at all.
plus,it will be more work for you by this time as the royal coronation ceremony is close.
standing nervously outside the crown prince's room,you inhale a deep breath as you knock on the door,after two minute a "come in" was heard from the inside,you step inside and stand by the door waiting for him to notice you.
he was sitting on the edge of the window,his sword in his lap as he wip the blade, he glanced at you for a brief moment.
"who are you?" he asked as he return his attention to the sword.
you bow " I will be your personal maid from now on,your royal highness, i would try my very best to please you."
taron hummed in acknowledge "very well," he walked up to you and threw the sword at you "Clean it well."
"oh...ah! as you wish your highness!." you bow and run to clean it.
the next few days went the same, weird requests, trying to please him, and on above of all of that is the preparation for the royal coronation ceremony.
he wasn't interested in anything of it, not the choice of the clothes nor the food that has to be served, the food problem can easily be solved but the clothes, the accessories that all have to be his choice and you,as his personal maid, need to help him with these things but if you can't see him how can you help him??
you know he spend most of his time on the training ground, but it's forbidden for servants to go to this ground so you can't do anything but wait.
one day you stayed in his room after the work hours, you were determined to make him do what he has to.
but to your surprise he returns with an injury, you couldn't see how serious it is but you rush to his side, it was involuntary reaction (i don't know if that's true)
"your highness!,what happened?." you stops close to him but you don't dare to touch him.
taron glares at you clearly pissed "what the heck are you doing here until now?" you can hear the tireness in his voice.
"your highness,let me patch i-" "i do not like to repeat myself."
"i-i was waiting for you to return..." you back away a little in obedience.
taron heads to the bed with a groan and sits on the edge "you can go now then."
"let me patch your wound first."
"what did i say?."
"i know, but your highness...you are bleeding and it is my duty to help you.." you mumble the last part.
taron sighed "how annoying." he say under his breath.
you took this as an approval and take a closer steps to him, you sit down beside him and looks at him asking for approval to touch him, he turn to his side.
you couldn't help the faint smile that plays on your lips when he shows that side of him, he was always putting the tough face but in the few hours you got to spend with him through the days you've worked in under him you've come to know that he has a soft spot but he doesn't show it.
you hesitantly lift his clothes off and takes it to his bathroom and searched for few things that could help him until a doctor comes to him tomorrow.
finally you found alcohol and a white rag that you think it's clean. you return to him quickly putting the alcohol on the rag.
"This might sting,your highness, tell me if i hurt you."
taron scoff "you think something like that is going to hurt me?"
"oh-uh i did not mean to offense you in any way,your hi-!."
"just do your job."
you shut your mouth and begin wrapping the rag around his wound carefully, it was pretty awkward, taron didn't move nor talked, he was just looking in the space in front of him.
you couldn't help stealing glances from time to time, his body isn't that muscular, but his skill in sword is incredible, or that what you've heard.
you were lost in thought that you didn't notice your hand still laying on taron's body when you've finished.
taron moved your hands away jolting you out of your thoughts "are you done?"
your face redned in embarrassment and you stand up quickly taking a step away "i-yes, i wish you a quick recovery, now if you will excuse me, your highness."
taron nodded and you get out the room heading to the servants' suite. taron groan and lay down on the bed, putting his hand where was yours, the only thing he didn't get as an soon-to-be-emperor is affection wich you gave just now, and it's a foreign feelings to him.
the next day you make your day to the crown prince to check on him and to call a doctor, but when you entre the room you see at least eight of nurses and a doctor around him, you hurry to his side asking one of the nurses.
"what happening? is his highness okay?"
"oh miss, who are you?"
"I'm-..I'm his personal maid."
"ah very well you might give information....when did his highness get injured?."
"yesterday he came covered in blood, and i, myself,treated his injury."
"....oh no miss, so you are the one who bandaged it with this rag?" the nurse holded the rag to you.
"i am, it was clean, as i saw it."
"well, it was not, and his injury got effected."
"what?! is he okay now?!"
"i do not know what will happen after, but for now he has a high fever."
you gasped in horror, what if something happened to him?? then you'll be the killer of the only royal blood, your life will end there.
the next three days, taron didn't wake up, and you didn't leave him, yes there was always a nurse beside him, but you couldn't bring yourself to leave him, one because you need to make sure he'll stay alive for your life, and second there's just this feeling that toging you to stay by his side, so you stayed either working in the room or taking the nurse's place while they rest.
he sometimes would call names, like his brother's or some foreign names to you, but he never called his parents name,weird, is it a sin that you wanted to be one of these names?
rumors spreaded quickly within the castle, and everyone was talking about 'how the soon-to-be-emperor maid tried to kill him' you couldn't walk comfortably in the castle, everyone was giving you the nasty star and worse sometimes they talk shit to you or even hurt you, and what are you going to do to stop all that? everything scream that you tried to kill taron.
the forth day, exactly at noon, you were cleaning the desks when you heard a groan from taron, you hurried to his side thinking he got worse or uncomfortable, but when you got to his side, his eyes were opening, you didn't waste a time to call for the nurse as they were eating.
"thank god you woke up, your highness, we do not know what we would have done if you did not wake up." the nurse says as she checks on his temperature
"how many days have i been asleep?" taron asks, he closed his eyes from the sun, and you run to close the curtain.
"for three and a half now, your highness."
you can hear taron curses under his breath when he hear that, he turn his head and looked at you, raising his eyebrow as 'what are you doing here?'.
the nurse cleared their throat, and you knew where was that going to, you looked down in shame.
"your highness, this maid is the reason you are in this state, her dumb mistake to bandage your injury with a rag put you in danger." the nurse explained with a harsh tone
you started to tear up, you don't want to die nor you want taron to think bad of you, "your highness, i-i was too worried i wanted to stop the bleeding quickly i did not know it would....get to this." your voice cracked at the last sentence as you looked in taron's eyes, you know this is not an enough excuse, but how can you defend yourself in any other way? telling the truth is the only thing you can do.
taron stared intensely at you for a moment before a smile cracked his face, why is he smiling? have you said something funny?
"that's just an unbelie-"
"enough" taron cut the nurse off in annoyance,turning his his head to the selling "your yapping make my head hurt get out." you didn't quite know who he was talking to, but it was obvious wasn't it?
"well? what are you waiting for?" the nurse shouted at you.
"not her, you." taron point at the nurse
"...m-me? as you wish your highness." the nurse bow and left.
you start getting anxious, wondering why did he kept you here, are you in a problem? what a stupid question of course you are, taron isn't a forgiving person that for sure.
taron tried to sit up with a groan and you rush to his side to help him, after his sit comfortably he speak "trying to kill me, are we?." he joked.
"i swear i did not mean to,your highness!" you said quickly in fear.
taron only giggled softly, his dimple showing up, you stared mesmeraisedly at him, it was rare to see him smile or laugh that what you learned from the old servants, but to see this sight it was worth everything, "i know you would not dare do it." taron say.
"really? you believe me, your highness?!" you asked in relief.
"of course, a weak coward and naive maid like you would not even kill a fly."
"oh-at least you could have said it more kindly.." you thought. "i appreciate that you believe me, your highness." you say in happiness, after all if the soon-to-be-emperor believes you that's enough.
taron's smile fades away, did he lost himself with a mere maid? he can't believe what he's doing, you're really starting to get to him. he laid down back and cover his head with the blanket "close the curtain and get out." he ordered.
you did what he told you, despite his tone, nothing can change your mood now, before you can set your foot outside the room taron speaks again "and come tomorrow by the evening to complete the preparation for the ceremony.", your face lit up "gladly!" you say a bit loud.
"she is adorable." taron thought as you made your way out
you were heading to your mother to tell her that you've finally made the heir prince do what he has to.
the next morning you were too excited to prepare for the ceremony with taron that no one could change your happy mood not even the shitty talk around and about you.
you were heading to taron's room holding breakfast for him when suddenly a maid stopped you, she looks old.
"is that for his royal highness?" she asks firmly.
you nod "it is."
"get it back to the kitchen, no one can trust what you have put in it." she demanded like she's your boss.
"what? are you implying that i poisoned it?" you start to get angry, that's starting to get too much.
"you are not trustworthy, i do not know why the curt kept you untill now."
"that just prove that they see me more trusting than anyone here, even than the old ones!" you raised your voice a bit.
"you already tried to get rid of his royal highness once."
"that-! i did not-..." your voice trail on the end, what will you say? no one will believe you.
"now take it back to the kitchen if you may." she said coldly
you lower your head and went back to the kitchen putting the breakfast on the table frustrating, you've had enough of all of this, should you tell taron about that? maybe he'll help you...
other maids has cooked a new break and escort you to taron's room so they'll make sure your wouldn't "put something in it".
taron noticed your fallen face when you put his breakfast, you usually have a smile on your face whenever you're around him, you start rambling around in the room, getting outfits ready or organizing things in the room, taron couldn't help glancing in your direction ever so often, you just seemed...off?.
"what got into you? why do you even care? focus taron! " taron thought with himself,his eyes darting to you again "....there is no wrong in asking though, i have the right to do."
with that he grabbed your wrist when you walked closer to his reach "what is with you?" he sounded angry rather than concerning "i did not want it to sound like that! "
you hesitated to tell him about what happened earlier "no it is noth-" you cut yourself off, why would you cover their act up? if the crown prince himself is asking what is wrong, you should take this to your advantage "...your highness...the servants and the maids are treating me badly, they call me...names, and earlier before i bring the breakfast to you, one of the old maid stopped me and she forced me to go throw the food that i made.." you explained.
taron didn't say a thing but you could feel his grip on your wrist tighten, a second later taron was dragging you along with him heading to the hall, he stopped by your father, the head butler and told him to announce that he want every single servant and maid to come to the main hall, your father looked at you worriedly, you shrugged mouthing "i don not know" he seems to relax a bit when he sees that you're not scared or seem in trouble, your father bow in respect and went to do what taron told him.
taron dragged you to the main hall, where the throne was he climbed near it, and tugged on you to get up there with him, but you refused you couldn't just go near the throne could you?
"your highness, i do not think this is a proper thing to do!"
"you are going to teach me what is proper and what is not?" he says a bit mockingly.
"no..that is not what i meant.." you mutter.
taron sigh and roll his eyes before he pulls you over to him, you stumble into him and he wrap his hand around your shoulders, you tried to get away a little bit but taron squeezed your shoulder when he felt you slip, for a moment he only star at you before he exhale sharply and say something under his breath that you couldn't quite catch then he let go of you and sit on his throne.
before you can ask anything the room start to be filled with the servants, you catch your mother eyes looking at you worriedly, you smile at her in reassure.
taron clear his throat to get everyone's attention.
"..I have heard...there is someone who have been harassing my maid." he pauseed for a second, "do you all have a problem with her?" he suddenly took your hand and put it near his lips as he looked at you "Because from my side, I don't mind if she is the one who wants to kill me." you were so in shock to respond or do anything, taron then looked at the crowd without letting your hand "do you have something to say?" when no one said anything taron continue "If I hear that anyone bothered her again, they will meet the blade of my sword....everyone may leave now but the maids that on the kitchen."
the crowd start to leave,leaving the ones who work in the kitchen and the woman tha- "tell me who bothered you earlier." taron demanded
"...your highness it is not necessary anymore-" "did i stutter? tell me who is she."
you pointed hesitantly at the woman and she looked at you with wide eyes filled with fear, the next thing you knew, taron made her apologize on her knees in front of you.
what have you got yourself into?
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have a nice day/night♡
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sarawritestories · 13 hours
Text
You're On Your Own Kid, You Always Have Been
Cassian X Fem Reader
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Summary: Starting off your relationship when you were young, you and Cassian lived for centuries, in a happy, loving, relationship, that is until Nesta Archeron swept the General off his feet and left you abandoned his friends you thought were yours, following the new mated couple. You were utterly alone with nothing but a shattered heart to show for it.
Dedicated to @thelov3lybookworm, who encouraged me to write this! Buckle up! You're in for a treat!
Content Warning: Disordered eating, the IC being absolutely terrible, abandonment, feelings of worthlessness, feeling alone and lost, no happy ending for mentioned pairing. Let me know if I missed any.
If you see mistakes... no you didn't.
ACOTAR MASTERLIST
🖤🖤🖤
You looked at your reflection for the first time in months. You barely recognized yourself anymore. Your cheeks and eyes were sunken, your ribs were protruding, and your skin held an ashy undertone that wasn't there before.
This is what abandonment looked like.
Longing stares never returned, his hand adjusting to evade your touch. A bed is left cold on one side. Friends who once joined you in joyous laughter barely acknowledge you at dinner. You had become a disease that no one knew how to handle but would be relieved if you disappeared.
It hadn't always been this way.
Warm calloused hands holding you close the scent of leather and sandalwood surrounding you. Cassian nibbling your ear, or stealing you away during meetings to steal a kiss, maybe two. Dinners at the rainbow, watching a storm roll through Velaris in the comfort of your balcony and his arms.
The early days of your relationship consisted of stolen kisses, discussions of hopes and dreams, that as centuries went by, morphed into talks of building a future a family. He was your person, and you were his, and life seemed bright.
Until you weren't.
Nesta Archeron was not a female to compete with. And how could you? She was elegant and sharp, and she was beautiful. She also challenged Cassian, fighting back with that quick, sharp tongue of hers, ways you never did. Then you felt it before he did, the shift, the snap. He had found his mate.
It wasn't you.
And the heartbreak of that fact would have been fine had Cassian consoled you in any way. When you needed his comfort and touch most. He was gone. He first stopped coming to bed, and when he did, he turned and faced away from you. The action alone made you feel like he was doing it as a chore, not because he found comfort in your warmth. Maybe he even thought he was being kind. It just deepened the wound festering in your soul.
Next was his things, books went missing, then his weapons. It was when you walked in on the Illyrian packing his things that he confronted you. "She needs me, sweetheart. I can not abandon my mate."
But I can abandon you.
A hand on your shoulder was the only comfort you received. His face held no remorse for the pain he was putting you through. You cried in your bathroom it wasn't until the next morning when you were in the same position the cool tile kissing your skin that you realized you had fallen asleep. You didn't leave your room for days, and no one came in to check on you. Not a single knock. Turns out you were only worth loving so long as Cassian did.
And he didn't. He had Nesta.
You had no one.
You were beginning to sink to a dark, inky place, the wound in your heart growing with infection, and your heartbreak was turning into rage. The feeling scared you. You ran to the one person you thought would be able to help you.
The High Lord of the Night Court.
You knocked lightly on his door. "Come in." His tone short. You walked in, not letting yourself think too hard about how busy he must be. He didn't even raise his head when he said, "I've been wondering when you would come visit." He leaned back in his chair, violet eyes, meeting yours. "Please sit."
You sat at the seat in front of him and took a deep breath. "So you know why I'm here?"
"Cassian and Nesta?" He quirked a brow, and you nodded he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. As if you were a hindrance in his life. Kind, loving, Rhysand, even found your presence as an inconvenience. "What would you like me to say, Darling? They are mates they are allowed to be together."
You dug your nails into your palms, trying to reign in the rage. "So you're okay with him not even saying two words to me since they met?" Your voice began to rise in volume, "He tried packing his things in times I wouldn't be home so he could avoid talking to me." Your rose from your seat and Rhysand stilled as lights flickered around you that you failed to notice. "You all act like I'm not apart of this family anymore. I could dissappear tomorrow and no one would care if you even noticed at all."
"So leave." The lights snuffed out completely. You thought it was Rhysand's power never once, considering it might be your own that had laid dormant for centuries. Or that said power stirred something deep in the realm where a manor resides on a lake. You could only focus on Rhysand's words and the cold tone he said them.
He was no longer your friend. He was your High Lord. Nothing more.
"Well. I won't stay where I'm not wanted. I would have thought a relationship that had lasted centuries deserved him, at least telling me he wanted to try with Nesta." Tears were falling and you didn't stop them, "I wouldn't have fucking stopped him. I would have been happy for him. He didn't say a word. He took the cowards way out. You all did."
"I'm sorry, Darling." Rhysand didn't mean it. The smirk on his face said it all.
You turned and walked away, pausing at the door. "No. You're not. But one day you will be." And you stormed out. Not bothering to grab your belongings, you didn't need the reminder of the court of dreamers casting you aside as if you were their personal nightmare. Not interested in speaking with anyone. They weren't interested in stopping you from leaving.
You. Were. Done.
🖤🖤🖤
You walked for hours, your feet were sore, back drenched in sweat the most you had done in months, since Cassian didn't care if you had shown up for training or not. Needing rest, you found a tree to lean against. The sun began to set, and you were ready to give up. Let the beast of the forest consume you whole. If you died, then maybe the ache in your chest would cease and you could be free again. Whole again.
You again.
You sipped from your canteen when you heard humming. Your pointed ears perked as a hunched over woman approached you. You recognized her from Rhysand, projecting Nesta's memories into your head. For extra torture, he had "accidentally sent a memory of Cassian pleasuring Nesta," You had sobbed profusely that night. "Briallyn." You whispered.
The crone stopped in her tracks. She turned to you, your eyes locked on one another, and you couldn't help but relate to her. She wanted a better life for herself, only to be thrown in the cauldron and spat back out. Both of you former shells of what you used to be. "My my, you look positively dreadful."
You snorted, "So do you."
She laughed, "What brings you out here alone? That brute finally get sick of you?"
You sharply inhaled a breath at the question. "He did, actually. I am doomed to wander these lands courtless," If you even lasted the night.
Briallyn waved her hand in dismissal, her now aged hand grabbing your too frail hand. "Not all who wander are lost, dear. I was asked by a friend to retrieve you."
"Who is your friend?"
"Someone who has a special interest in you my dear." And the Human Queen turned Crone led you from the forest further from the town you once called home and the only thing on your mind?
It was nice to be holding someone's hand.
🖤🖤🖤
The throne room was dark and cold, as if death itself resided here. The only vibrant color here was the Phoenix that was in her cage, pulling to break free.
Vassa was here.
Briallyn squeezed your hand, and you felt comfort by the warmth of her touch. As you approached the male on the dais. He looked young, and you gasped as his beauty was beyond compare. The most beautiful male you have ever seen. And then he grinned, and your heart fluttered. The General of the Night Court long forgotten as you stared in the males cold eyes. Briallyn bowed, tugging your hand as you made to do so too.
"No, need to bow, Pet." You paused, straightening your posture once more. "Do you know who I am?"
You swallowed the sudden lump in your throat. "You go by many names. Old god, death lord, most call you Koschei." Your voice held a tremor as you were in the presence of a powerful being. A being whose brother once went toe to toe with the Lord of Bloodshed and almost killed him.
Koschei nodded, "Come closer, let me take a look at you." You looked to the former Human Queen in panic, afraid to lose her touch. "I promise I don't bite." You approached the dais and couldn't help the trembling convulsing through your body. The death of the Lord's dark eyes roamed your body. He rubbed his angular jaw, and your eyes met his lips as he tucked the lower one behind his teeth.
Beautiful, he was absolutely breathtaking.
His voice broke you from the trance like state. "My dear, someone has hurt you? What did they do to you?" He leaned forward, grabbing your hand and placing a light kiss on your knuckles. Tears brimmed your eyes. When was the last time someone harbored any affection toward you. "Tell me, sweet girl." Another kiss and your composure broke. You fell to your knees, and a matter of hours went into painstaking detail of how the Night Court had abandoned you. When you finished, there was a lightness in your chest.
Maybe there was hope.
"Oh, you poor thing." Koschei cooed, tilting your chin to meet his cold eyes, "If I had you, I wouldn't let you go so easily." He wiped the stray tears from your face. "Be mine, and never feel that pain again."
You lip wobbled as the cries of the Phoenix caged beside the old god broke your attention, the shrieks louder than before. Koschei gripped your chin and had you facing him once more, his face inching forward. His lips pressed yours, gentle and promised warmth, love, power. You felt as though he was breathing life back into you, and you relished in his lips touching yours. He pulled away, "What do you say, Little One?" A voice in the back of your mind screamed:
Right
Right
Right
You smiled for the first time in well over a year,"I want to be yours, Koschei." Magic thrummed around you as his smile turned sinister, gold chains clamping to your wrist, a collar latched around your neck. Scantily clad in a black sheer tip, only covering your breast and a skirt that barely covered your ass.
Koschei smirked as he gripped your waist and placed you on his lap. "What a formidable pair we shall be, my pet." Making a onyx crown and a matching ring appear, he gently placed the crown atop of your head, sliding the ring on your finger. You admired the ring, a small smile on your face, and something pulled at your chest at the thought:
He was claiming you. And you loved it.
Looking at the beautiful face of death and pressing your lips to his, ignoring the rattling of the former human queen beside you. You adjusted yourself, so you were straddling his lap. You opened your mouth for him, and he accepted. His hand gripped your ass as your kisses became tongues and teeth clashing. You forgot what this felt like. To be held to be kissed with such passion.
To simply be wanted.
"My Queen of Darkness." He murmured, threading his fingers through your hair, "You don't even know how powerful you are." He yanked your hair, and you moaned. "I'll show you." He bit down on the tender flesh connecting your collar bone to your neck, and you moan as his hand gripped your breast. "You magnificent creature." You smiled at the sky.
This is what being worshipped felt like.
Snap
Koschei paused, removing his hand from your pert nipple he slide his hand to the back of your neck. Love and adoration in his eyes, lips swollen, "Tell me, as you are to me my bride. What gift shall I get you for our ceremony?"
What did you want?
You smiled Koschei, noticing the mischievous glint in your eye. "The General of the Night Court's Armies and his Little Lady of Death here chained like the dogs they are."
Koschei brought your face down to his. His mouth lingering over yours, "Anything for my Cruel, Beautiful, Mate." The gold thread wrapped around your heart tying you to him as he crashed your lips onto him.
Not even caring that Vassa had broken free from her cage and soared to the Human Realms.
To be continued?
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loonsloon · 3 days
Text
@rosekillermicrofic may 9 – blood – 722 words cw: blood and injuries, but nothing explicit
It was their usual Friday night.
Barty is standing in front of the mirror in their dingy, dimly lit bathroom. The only source of light—being the yellow lightbulb that keeps flickering above his head every few seconds—is making his beaten-up face seem worse than it already is. Creating a shadow across what he's pretty sure is his broken nose. There is also a bruise forming high on his left cheekbone, which hurts a bit to the touch, and a gash on his other one. It's not that deep, but Barty's all hot and sweaty, causing it to bleed a bit more than it should.
The blood is dripping all over the floor, and the sink is filled with bloody cotton balls and tissues—a visual representation of Barty's failed attempt to stop the bleeding.
From the corner of his eye, he can see Evan leaning across the doorframe, watching him with a scowl.
''Are you just going to stand there looking all pretty, or are you going to give me some help?'' Barty asks, tossing yet another cotton ball into the sink.
Evan makes a show off rolling his eyes, and it takes him a few moments to peel himself off the doorframe and reach Barty in a total of three strides. With his left hand, he grips Barty's jaw and tilts it towards the light to inspect the gash.
''How many more times will I have to clean your face after you make an idiot out of yourself?''
Barty knows Evan is not really mad at him, maybe slighty annoyed. And no, it’s not the first time they’ve found themselves in the same position in which Evan tends to his wounds. It happened so many times it became a tradition at this point.
It seemed like Barty's only purpose for going out was to bring home a reminder—a souvenir if you will—that takes the form of a bruise, bloody wound or even a broken bone. Only for Evan to collect it with gentle hands and tend to it with soft kisses.
''I'm pretty sure, this will be the last time'', Barty hisses through pain as Evan just started dabbing alcohol on his cheek.
''You say this every time Barty, and yet you manage to come home in an even worse condition.''
And it's true, Barty won't deny that. It only takes a few shots of cheap tequila and a few drags of Evan's joint for Barty to push the wrong buttons of a random person that he chose to bother on that particular night out. And he feeds off of it. Making a bet with himself on how long it would take before the guy in question snaps and turns his fists on him. Somehow, he almost always loses. This time he was pretty much sure the guy won't actually indulge him, and you could say that he was taken by surprise, as he really wasn't expecting his ass to be handed to him on a silver platter.
''This time is different, I won't do it again, promise,'' Barty almost pouts, and this makes Evan tilt his head to the side with a playful glint in his eyes. A knowing smirk forming in the corners of his mouth.
''What makes it different this time?''
''I think this guy finally beat some sense into me, I mean, look at my face,'' Barty looks at himself in the mirror, and Evan follows his gaze to analyse his beaten-up features. There’s a certain expression on his face as their eyes meet, that Barty can't quite figure out.
The bleeding has finally stopped, and Evan makes a hum sound as he returns his attention to rubbing some kind of ointment on Barty's cheek.
''Well, you do look like you've been mauled by a bear, and I'm pretty sure your nose is broken,'' Evan finishes his tending and turns around to wash his hands in the sink. He doesn’t bother to throw out the blood-painted cotton balls, leaving the job for Barty.
''I know, but you should see the other guy,'' Barty smirks, and this causes Evan to lift his head from the sink to examine his own blood-free reflection. A smug look on his face is quickly replaced by a forced gasp,
"What makes you say that Barty? I look great!''
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kisses-for-you · 2 days
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Preference: You're injured
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Resident Evil Characters X Fem!Reader
Characters: Leon Kennedy, Luis Serra, Jill Valentine, Carlos Oliveira & Chris Redfield.
Requested ✅
Leon Kennedy:
Leon glances over at you, his expression tense as he assesses the situation. "Just stay close," he says. "Stick together, and watch each other's backs." He brandishes his knife, ready to fend off the Ganados.
"I don't think we'll be able to kill them all-" You're about to finish your sentence when a Ganado comes up from behind you, to which you have barely any time to react. "Y/N!" Leon calls out. You spin around just in time to see the Ganado lunging at you. Acting quickly, Leon pushes you out of harm's way and swings his knife, severing the Ganado's arm.
"Let's get out of here before more of them show up," you suggest, to which Leon nods and the two of you start to make a break for it.
After narrowly escaping the horde of Ganados, you and Leon find an abandoned building. As both of you catch your breath, you suddenly wince in pain, clutching your arm where a deep gash is bleeding profusely.
Leon notices and rushes to your side. "You're injured," Leon observes, concern evident in his voice as he gently examines your wound. Leon quickly rummages through his pack, pulling out a first aid kit. "Hold still," he instructs. You nod, grimacing against the pain.
His hands work carefully as he cleans and bandages your wound, his touch gentle yet firm. Leon's focused expression softens as he tends to your injury, his touch bringing some form of comfort to you.
"Thanks, Leon," you say, offering him a weak smile as he finishes dressing your wound. He returns the smile, albeit a bit strained. His gaze lingers on you for just a moment longer, making sure you're not injured anywhere else.
As the adrenaline begins to fade away, you feel a wave of exhaustion wash over you. Leon sees this and silently offers you a shoulder to lean on. You gratefully accept, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Are you okay?" Leon asks softly, his voice filled with genuine concern as he looks down at you. "Yeah, I think so," you reply.
____________________________
Luis Serra:
Your heart races as you find yourself surrounded by a group of snarling Ganados in the abandoned house. You fumble for your gun but the sheer number overwhelms you. Fear grips you as you realise you probably won't make it out.
But you hear a familiar voice call out, "Y/N!" Luis comes into view and with steady hands, he aims his gun and fires, each shot hitting another Ganado.
You feel relieved but that joy is short-lived because as the last Ganado collapses to the ground, it lunges at you; its claws tear through your flesh. You cry out in pain, feeling hot blood trickle down your leg.
Luis reacts swiftly, putting down the creature with one final shot. He rushes to your side, concern etched on his face as he assesses your injuries. "Cariña, are you alright?" he asks, voice filled with worry.
You nod weakly, trying to stand up. Luis gently supports you, his strong arms steadying you as you struggle to stand. "Easy now," he murmurs, his gaze soft and caring. With his support, you manage to rise to your feet. Luis keeps a close eye on you, his concern evident as he guides you out of the house to a safer spot.
As you both make your way out of the abandoned house, Luis keeps a protective arm around you. The adrenaline begins to fade, and the reality of your injuries sets in. You wince with each step, but Luis supports your weight with his body.
You find a relatively safe spot to rest, away from any potential threats. Luis carefully inspects your wound, his brow furrowing with concern as he assesses the damage. "I'm going to have to patch you up, okay?" he says, his voice firm but gentle. He starts rummaging through his pack, searching for supplies to tend to your injury.
As he begins to dress your wound, his touch is surprisingly gentle, his focus unwavering. Nothing is said between you two, but you don't feel the need to speak - it's a comfortable silence. When he finishes dressing your wound, he meets your gaze with a reassuring smile.
"Thank you," you whisper softly, your voice barely above a breath. Without a word, he pulls you into a tender embrace, his arms wrapping around you protectively. You lean in, closing the gap between you, and press your lips against his in a gentle kiss.
____________________________
Jill Valentine:
Jill instinctively steps forward, hiding your body behind hers. "Stay behind me," Jill whispers, her voice remaining steady despite the current situation.
You have no time to even respond as the B.O.W from earlier - Nemesis - lunges forward, coming right at you both. Without thinking, you push Jill to the side and you both fall to the ground - out of the creature's reach.
Jill quickly rises to her feet, grabbing your hand and pulling you up with her. "We need to find a way out of here," you say, scanning the area for any possible escape routes. Jill nods, her expression determined as she grips her weapon tightly. Together, you make a dash for the nearest alley.
When you can no longer see or hear the B.O.W, you and Jill stop to catch your breath, leaning against the wall of a building that appeared to have been some sort of restaurant before this whole mess.
"Are you alright, darling?" Jill asks, concern etched in her voice as she checks you for any injuries.
"Yeah, I'm fine," you reply, though the close encounter with Nemesis has left you quite shaken.
Jill pulls a slight face, as if not believing your words. She takes a closer look at you and as she looks at your shirt, she realises, "Y/N, you're bleeding."
"I am?" You glance down at your shirt, noticing the stain spreading across the fabric. "That thing must've got me earlier." You shrug, trying to downplay the injury but as the adrenaline fades, the pain worsens.
Jill's expression softens, her concern deepening. "Let me see," she insists, gently lifting the edge of your shirt to look at the wound.
Jill carefully inspects the wound, her brows furrowing in concern. "It's not too deep, but we need to clean and bandage it quickly," she says, her voice firm, leaving no room to argue. She reaches into her bag and pulls out a first aid kit, efficiently cleaning the wound and applying antiseptic before carefully bandaging it up.
Not long after, she's done. "Thanks, Jill," you say softly. She looks down at you, her eyes softening with a small smile. "Of course, darling," she replies.
Gently, she reaches out and cups your cheek, drawing you closer to her. And without another word, you lean in, closing the distance between you, and press your lips against hers in a lingering kiss.
____________________________
Carlos Oliveira:
In your cozy kitchen, Carlos and you are cooking together, getting ready for a fun night. You joke around as you chop some vegetables, but as you laugh at another one of Carlos' stupid jokes, you fail to pay attention to what you're supposed to be cutting.
Looking away from the vegetables for a split second, you manage to accidentally cut your palm with the knife. Pain shoots through you and you wince, dropping the knife with a clatter.
"Fuck!" you exclaim, clutching your hand to your chest as blood begins to seep from the wound. Carlos's laughter dies away instantly, replaced by a look of concern as he rushes to your side. "Hey, are you okay? Let me see."
You wince as he takes your hand in his, examining the cut with furrowed brows. "It's not too bad," he says, his voice gentle yet reassuring. "But we should clean it up so it doesn't get infected."
He gets you some paper towel to try to stop the bleeding and while you try to stem the bleeding, he goes to grab the first aid kit. With his steady hands, he cleans the wound carefully, his touch surprisingly gentle.
"Thanks, Carlos," you murmur, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief.
He smiles warmly, his brown eyes softening. "No problem, mi amor. Just be more careful next time, okay?"
____________________________
Chris Redfield:
You and Chris are on holiday in a small cabin in the middle of the woods, a place for you to get away from your busy, demanding life. This was the perfect place as it was quiet and a way for you to just relax.
Next to you, Chris is fast asleep but you find yourself restless and unable to fall asleep. With a sigh, you slip out of bed, deciding to go for a quick walk to clear your head.
After what felt like a couple minutes, you start going back towards the cabin but lost in thought, you fail to notice the tree roots in front of you. With a sudden jolt, you stumble, pain shooting from your ankle and up your leg as you crash to the ground. You struggle to stand as the pain overwhelms you.
You manage to lean against a nearby tree and start thinking about how you're going to get back now. Just as you're about to rise and start limping the rest of the way back, you see what looks like a flashlight in the distance and a familiar voice call out, "Y/N!" It's Chris.
"Here!" you call back.
You hear his pace quicken, coming in your direction. As Chris approaches, concern etched on his face, he looks at you and notices something is wrong. "What are you doing out here so late? Are you hurt?" he asks, crouching down beside you.
You wince, trying to hide the pain in your ankle. "I... I tripped over some roots," you admit sheepishly, trying to brush it off as nothing serious.
Chris's expression softens as he gently examines your ankle. "Let me take a look," he says, his voice calm and reassuring. "It's swollen," he observes, his brows furrowing slightly with concern. "Let me help you back to the cabin and then we can ice that ankle," he offers, gently lifting you up and supporting you as you hobble back. He wraps an arm around you protectively, guiding you every step of the way.
As you reach the cabin, Chris helps you settle onto the couch before disappearing into the kitchen. Moments later, he returns with a bag of ice and a makeshift wrap.
"Here, let's get this on your ankle," Chris says, kneeling beside you and carefully placing the ice pack on the injured area. His touch is gentle yet firm, comforting you despite the pain.
"Thank you, Chris," you say, to which he smiles warmly.
____________________________
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I've decided to contribute to the Miguel nation even though I was almost a year late
I present to you…. Brother's best friend! Miguel! A drabble…. (Might turn this into a full fic idk)
Cw: Brother's best friend trope, grammatical errors, fem reader, possibly OOC Miguel, this is more like a flashback really since it's focus is more on Miggy and reader's childhood, this is kinda long wth 😭
Bbf! Miguel who has been friends with your brother since middle school, would often play in your brother's room when they were younger. As typical boys do, they'd play video games. He doesn't mind when you want to join them. He finds it endearing whenever you try to put your stuffed animals on the Legos they built, claiming they're people or something like that.
Bbf! Miguel who defends little you whenever some mean kids try to bully you, is taller than the average kid, making him intimidating. When this happens, he stands behind the bullies, towering over them with a menacing glare and arms folded. All he has to do is say something like "scram" or "leave," and the kids your age run away. Then, when you're feeling sad or upset, he treats you to ice cream to cheer you up.
Bbf! Miguel who helps you pull pranks on your brother, sometimes he’d be surprised you were able to pull off a bit extreme pranks but he’d be happy to do it for shits and giggles.
Bbf! Miguel who helps patch up your wounds whenever you have a little accident in the midst of pulling a prank on your brother all while speaking to you in the gentlest of ways to calm you down. "can you get up? no? All alright I'll carry you then” Your eleven-year-old mind panics when he easily carries you.
Bbf! Miguel who defends you against your older brother, Leo, gets into an argument whenever he can, Leo’s older, and can handle himself, while you are 4 almost 5 years younger than them and therefore helps you whenever he can, it’s just not fair sometimes.
He stood by the side of Leo’s room, witnessing the fight between you and your brother, 13-year-old Leo yelling at you for breaking his model aeroplane. “I Told you not to come in here without my permission!” Leo huffed, “I’m sorry! I-I just want to look at it” You defended yourself but Leo wasn’t having it,” Well now look at it! It’s broken!” little you are almost on the brink of tears, that’s when he stepped in. “come on now, the wing is the only one that’s broken, I’m sure we can fix it,” he said, trying to cool down the argument, Your brother stormed out of his room to cool off leaving you with Miguel “Are you okay Chiquita?” he asked and you shook your head a small sniffle escaped you as you try to justify yourself “I didn’t mean it” little you murmured as you look up at him with teary eyes, he sighed as he took the broken plane and its wing “hey, it’s okay yeah? Leo just needs to cool off, with the help of a super glue I’m sure we can fix this” he reassured you with a little ruffle on your head and grabbed the super glue to fix the broken model plane with his best friend’s little sister.
Bbf! Miguel got his heart broken for the first time because the girl he’s been crushing didn’t like him back because he was “too nerdy” for her liking, Leo brought it up during dinner when your mom asked how your day went and you were saddened for him, who wouldn’t like Miguel? He’s kind, understanding, and funny, he may be too intimidating because of his more-than-average height but that’s his outside appearance! He’s really sweet on the inside… wait…. Why are you thinking like that about him? Nevermind that.
Bbf! Miguel showed up the next day at your house since he and Leo needed to finish a project that’s due tomorrow, eyes puffy and a bit dishevelled from crying, you felt bad despite your brother calling him out that he looks like shit. Miguel didn’t deserve this, so you, the ever loving little sister of his best friend decided to go buy something for him.
Bbf! Miguel who walked out of your house to head home since the project they’ve been working on is finished, “Miguel!” you called out to him with a small paper bag in hand, you catch up to him panting heavily, have you been running? You held out the small paper “Umm.... I’m sorry about what happened yesterday… Leo told me… I mean he told mom when she asked how our day went” you rumbled, you were too busy making sure the treat in your hand stayed warm that you haven’t thought about what to say to him! “… anyways theseareforyouIhopeyoufeelbetter'' you said rather too quickly and before he could say anything you ran away and inside your house too flustered to face him, he took a peek inside the bag and a small smile was painted on his lips, warm empanadas from his favourite store, oh how sweet of you…
Bbf! Miguel who's taken the rejection to heart, maybe much of a nerd after all and that needed to change, so day by day he changed himself, no longer wearing those thick-framed glasses instead he opted for contact lenses, the baggy shirt that has corny science jokes were now nowhere to be seen and he's even doing a little workout to build his tall lanky body, of course, this was never unnoticed to you, who wouldn't notice your brother's best friend slowly gaining muscle and lean body type? You're happy for him of course but a part of you hoped that he did it because he wanted to and not because he's pressured by society's views of him, you like the nerd him? he's cute!
Bbf! Miguel who's never seen you so down in the dumps before, usually your beams and silliness can rival the sun itself but now you're gloomier than the night sky. He asked your brother about it and he didn't expect the reason for your sudden gloominess.
“Ah, she's just upset because no one gave her a Valentine's gift” your brother nonchalantly said as he played on his computer, his series of curses from losing the game was blurred out and in his peripheral vision, he only saw you, without saying any word he left your brother's room and approached you. You can hear the low vibrato of his voice as he approaches you “Hey” he greeted and sat down beside you “You okay?” he asked with his usual gentleness and you looked at him “I don't know… do I look okay?” you mumbled sassily which took him aback but sighed “I… I don't even know why I'm upset, it's just a silly day, it's not even a holiday! it's just a stupid day to have an excuse to ask your crush out or chow down chocolates��� you mumbled bitterly, really it's a childish thing to be upset about something small like this, but Miguel didn't think so, no, he’s been there and he knows how it feels, Miguel didn't say anything but pats your head gently, his way to console you.
Bbf! Miguel who had surprised you on a random Friday afternoon with a box of your favourite chocolate and a pink coloured rose “Here” he said as he handed you the gifts, your eyes widened in surprise but took them “What's with this?” you asked but he shrugged in response “For you” he didn't show but it was amusing to him (and kinda cute) to see the sparkle in your eyes shine although it was short-lived “you didn't have to do this you know?” you mumbled, as much as you appreciated his effort you didn't want him to do that out of pity, again your brother's best friend shrugged “It’s not out of pity, it's for you, pink roses for appreciation" and that got you thinking “appreciation? for what? what did I do?” you asked him genuinely curious as to why “just existing, we've known each other for years-” “but I'm not your best friend” you cut him off “who said you have to be my best friend for me to show you my appreciation?” he asked you and in turn you weren't able to say anything, too surprised to utter a single word. He called your name softly, “I appreciate you, not because you're Leo's sister, but my friend, one of the closest, as embarrassing as it sounds but I cannot deny the truth, you have a certain charm I'm drawn to, you make me smile easily, you understand me, and don't tell Leo about this but at least with you I'm slightly more comfortable” he said with a small smile.
Before you could say anything Leo called out Miguel's name and he left right after, a hand on your chest to ease the beating of your heart and butterflies on your stomach. And in that moment, you realized you had fallen for your brother's best friend.
----
Omg why is posting stuff online so anxiety inducing?! Anyways Likes and reblogs are highly appreciated! If you have feed backs I'm more than eager to hear them (just be kind please) 🩷
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stephenlangdaily · 1 year
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Stephen Lang attends the G'Day USA Arts Gala at Skirball Cultural Center on January 28, 2023 in Los Angeles, California
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sweet-as-an-angel · 4 months
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♡ Bimbo Barracks Bunny ♡
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Warnings: 18+, Smut, Rough Sex, Objectification, Dumbification, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Possessive! 141, Mean! 141, Manhandling, Slut-Shaming, Fem! Reader. ꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷
Expect a lot of objectification.
Manhandling, too.
And wolf whistling.
It’s absolutely constant when you’re with the 141 – especially considering you’re their 24/7 fuck toy.
More days than not, you’ll be subject to a rough and thorough pounding from one or more of your boyfriends, hear them tell you to “Take it, you stupid whore,” as they slam into you from behind, holding you down over the edge of a counter.
Slut-shaming is to be expected, too.
You can’t wear a single outfit in peace — especially if it’s a skirt or dress.
Someone’s sticking their hand up there on their way past and making a grab for whatever their hands can find purchase on.
Dumbification Central.
“Too fuckin’ stupid for your own good – need a big, strong man to tell you what to do, don’t you."
They’ll buy you things to make up for their roughness with you if (when) they see you limping after an encounter with them. Ghost’s the main offender in this case; for what he can’t convey through words, he does through gifts. And what scandalous gifts they can be.
He especially likes dressing you up like his doll, buying you things he knows will fit you, things that will make it so much harder for him to resist the urge to ravage you whenever you bend over or come and sit on his lap.
They call you ‘Princess’ ‘Bunny’ 'Kitty' ‘Pretty girl’, or (Price’s favourite) ‘Daddy’s girl.’
They definitely smack your backside all the time, btw. The second they see the chance, they’ll pounce on it – on you – reeling back and slapping your ass.
The yelp you make when you feel the sharp sting is just too cute to pass up, as is the wounded, wide-eyed look you give them.
They also love showing their ownership over you: marking you up for the next man to see when he tears your dress off or pushes your skirt up, only to see that someone else has ruined you first (usually with their cum still oozing out of you, too).
Price is the most extreme — he has a crippling breeding kink and it shows.
More often than not, he’ll bend you over his desk and pull your hips as close to his as humanly possible, trying to get as deep inside you as he can.
“My girl, only good for takin’ my cock and havin’ my kids – gonna make me into a real daddy, hm?”
Entertain his kink for even a second and he’ll make sure you’re not going anywhere even after he’s done with you; he has to keep you plugged up and make sure his seed takes, after all.
Ghost loves to steal you away and throw you over his shoulder when he’s needy.
He’s like a caveman in the way he throws you onto the nearest surface without ceremony and tears your clothes off, spreading your legs and pressing his clothed bulge against your cunt.
He growls, too. Makes you squeal when he grips your panties by the bridge and tears them off, leaving you exposed and ready for him to use as much he likes.
He treats you as his personal cum bucket, emptying his load into you as many times as he pleases, using you.
“Good-for-nothing slut, just beggin’ to be chased down and fucked in that tight little outfit. Did’ya think I wouldn’t notice? Practically had your arse hangin’ outta your skirt, just waitin’ to have your guts rearranged by me.”
Soap’s a menace - a cruel one - and takes his time with you, edges you, makes sure that foreplay drags on for a good hour or two before actually stuffing his girth inside you (given he has the time).
He likes to make you nice and desperate – likes to have you begging for him and eating out of his hand before he’ll entertain the idea of letting you take him.
“Think ya deserve it, lass? Think ya deserve to have me fuck whatever thoughts you’ve got rollin’ round in that empty head a’ yer’s out?”
He’ll grin down at you as you pant and plead, shutting you up by making you suck his fingers.
“Well, if ye have any thoughts in there.”
Gaz is the gentlest of the 141, but any man is subject to a power shift. Especially against someone they perceive as less intelligent than them.
And you’re no exception.
Gaz is the most likely to experience post-nut clarity, realising (and feeling immediate shame for) the way he spoke to you, the way he called you his “Fucking slut with no other purpose except to get me off,” was potentially hurtful to you.
Literally will not forgive himself – he’ll apologise, buy you things, hang his head in shame until you manage to (eventually) convince him that it’s alright, that you don’t mind, and that you actually enjoy when he turns a bit feral.
As do they all.
They’ll pimp you out to König sometimes, too. But only if they can sit in and watch supervise.
There’s something just so disgustingly satisfying about watching you get your insides visibly rearranged by the 6’10 Austrian – especially when they can see the heavy bump of his cock in your stomach, making you cry out with every slam of his tip against your cervix.
“Scheiße– where’d you find this pretty little thing, Ghost? Didn’t think you were allowed prostitutes on base,”
He’s just as – if not more – mean than the 141. Especially if you cum before he does.
Doesn’t matter if you tell him you’re overstimulated, he’s still going to get his release, whether you like it or not.
“Shut it, Brat – you’ll take my cock for as long as I want you to. Keep whining and I’ll choke you with it.”
You’ll receive no help from the 141. Not when they’re on the precipice of an orgasm, at least.
Ghost will even goad König, telling him to show you who’s boss, to shove it in deeper – wanna see her cry.
You always end up covered in cum afterwards, panting while your cunt leaks with König’s semen, the clink of the man responsible’s belt in your periphery as he sorts himself out.
You’re always very well taken care of afterwards, though. Bath, bed, and plenty of rest, with as much food as you could want. And a cuddle session, of course.
Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)
Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist
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loganlermanstanaccount · 11 months
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Show me where it hurts (part 2)
Miguel O'Hara x spiderwoman!reader
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GIF by aenhanse
(AO3 Mirror), Part 1, Main Masterlist
summary: You confront Miguel.
warnings: breeding kink, cum play, animalistic behaviour (not quite ABO), mutual masturbation, dirty talk, praise and degradation, Miguel eats ass like a fucking champ, general filth etc etc. very very 18+, minors dni (and i will b blocking!) 
a/n: thank you for all the support for part 1! I will say, all the comments about relationship building and stuff do make me laugh a little bc this part is literally just p0rn with a teensy tiny bit of feelings.. but if you follow me this should be pretty standard by now.
wc: 4k ish
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You let yourself in again, but not until after pounding on the door. 
You think he's home, the scent of something in the air. At first glance, his place is empty, but a mess : cushions ripped off the couch, kitchen ransacked of its contents, floor covered in blankets and clothes. It makes you worry: Miguel is so clean it's scary . He would never leave his place like this. You hear something from his bedroom and rush towards it.
He's there, back turned on the bed. But something's wrong. In sweats and a tank top, he's breathing heavily, clutching at the sheets. 
"You shouldn't be here." He strains. 
Eyes wide, you step closer. Is he in pain? Is he hurt? "Miguel. I just want to help. Did something happen?" 
All he does is shake his head, unable to make eye contact with you. "I c-can't let you… please, bichita. It's not safe for you."
Your heart breaks at his helplessness, you get closer, and perch on the bed next to him. He jumps at the hand you place in his shoulder. Fuck. He's drenched in sweat. 
"Miguel, please. Let me in… I'd do anything. Just let me help."
He groans with his head in his hands. "I know, bichita. That's the problem. I can't let you…"
You look at him properly now. He's writhing on the sheets, tense and unable to sit still. Guiltily, all you can think is how good he looks; pretty even when his hair sticks to the nape of his neck, when he groans lowly at your presence. Your eyes rake down his body, looking for a secret wound, or something he's hiding. When you spot it, you gasp. 
Miguel is rock hard under his sweats. And he is massive. 
It clicks. Ashamed, he makes hesitant eye contact with you. "It's not usually this bad. And it gets worse if I'm near someone I'm…" He breathes. "Someone I'm attracted to."
You can't help but laugh at the absurdity of the statement; of the situation. "I think that's just what erections do, Miggy." 
He rolls his eyes, too annoyed to be as uneasy for a moment. " No , God, I meant my DNA. There's something wrong with me, something animalistic , that makes it ten times worse. I'm going crazy. Smell, taste, touch… and it doesn't just go away. "
You hum. "And what's your hypothesis?" 
He looks at you, a little crazed, but he gets it. If you talk to him like it's one of your status reports, like it's another mission, maybe he can stop thinking about pounding you into the sheets and filling you up with his cum. 
He clears his throat. " You . Gets worse when I t-think about you, or you're near."
You've got a hand on his thigh, rubbing circles that go straight to his head. 
"What makes it feel better?" 
Deep breath. "Touching myself. But I haven't… and I won't-" 
"Why?" You smile like a Cheshire cat. Are you… enjoying this? 
"I can't. You're a friend and it's a violation of your trust."
"It hurts. You're in pain. I give you full permission to give yourself some relief. You can touch yourself, for me. I want you to feel good."
His hips buck up involuntarily. Just thinking about it is driving him crazy. " Mierda. Stop talking like that-" 
"Like what?" You bat your eyelashes. 
"Like that ." He hisses. "Like you want to get fucked."
He squeezes his eyes shut, even more guilty. "I'm sorry. That's not appropriate at all. I shouldn't have… snapped like that."
You rub your legs together: you're fucking soaked. Like this, with his senses going crazy, you don't know if he can smell it, taste it in the air. The thought makes you even wetter. 
You mumble. "Meant it, Miguel. I just want to watch."
Agonisingly slow, you sink to your knees in front of him. He watches, eyes wide, trying not to lean into it. 
"Do you want me to beg? Because I will, if it makes you feel better." 
He grabs his crotch, rocking into his palm. You're breaking him down, bit by bit. 
"I think you like punishing yourself, Miggy. You think you deserve it. How long have you been like this? Weeks, I bet. When all you needed to do was ask me. I would've helped you over the phone if you wanted it. Told you how to stroke your cock, where to put pressure, asked you if it felt good. Think about how good it would feel. The relief. "
You rock on your heel and it doesn't go unnoticed. You light him on fire, and the thought of you getting off only pushes him closer to the edge. "Can I tell you a secret?" You whisper. He nods fervently. "I've always wanted you in my mouth. Just wanted to know what it would feel like; how pretty you'd look when you cum."
It's too much. His back arches, and he groans, spilling into his sweats. Astounded, you look up. So. Much. Cum. You didn't think a person could physically produce so much, but here he is, coating the inside of his boxers with it. Miguel, however, looks embarrassed: his first orgasm in a week and it's spilling into his trousers in front of a pretty girl like a teenager. He groans, covering his flushed face. 
"Can I…?" Your eyes are wide in amazement. Shakily, he nods. 
Is it bad for you to say he looks just like you imagined? Tan, long and with a bit of girth, and under all the cum he seems well-groomed. He's still half hard, which is impressive considering the sheer amount of cum splattered everywhere. Probably, he has the prettiest cock you've ever seen. As you pull down his boxers, your very obvious glee makes him pause. 
"...you like this?" He seems genuinely confused, and it makes you giggle. You've flustered him, yet again. 
Resting a head on his thigh, you look up at him through innocent lashes. Your other hand swipes cum off his tip, making his cock jump. "Could ask you the same. You're still hard." 
"I can't believe…" He mutters. "You're gonna kill me." 
"What do you want, Miguel?" You put a hand on his length, rubbing up and down ever so slightly. "You want to get off?" 
"I want…" It makes him grunt all the same. He goes from wayward glances to looking you straight in the eyes. " You . I want you." 
"How do you want me?" Deceptively innocent, you coax his length back to full mast with your hand. 
How do you want me? There are a thousand thoughts flying through his head, and his brows tense with the weight of them. Head back, he leans into your touch. He doesn't want to scare you, with the way he's been thinking about that question long before you asked: weeks, months, years before now. You see him hesitate, and bite his lip.
Your hands still and he cries out, cursing the loss of warmth. "M'not asking again." A little softer now. "No judgement, Miggy. I just want to help." 
Deep breath. "Anyway I can. Wanna fill you up with my cum. On top. U-Underneath. Mierda. I want your mouth. I want your sweet cunt. I-" 
You silence him with a moan when you envelope his cock with your mouth. You close your eyes in bliss as you bob up and down. Just the tip, teasing , and he's already addicted. With a pop, you separate, pressing sticky kisses and kitten-licks to his shaft and torso. He can't take his eyes off of you: peeking up at him through wispy lashes, licking up his cum. 
Pretty, plump lips smack at his tip obscenely. He can't help but think about how well it suits you; mouth around his cock like something holy.  Precum pours from his slit and you lap it up, chasing his moans. Your own moans vibrate deliciously around him and he wraps a hand in your hair. Finally. You want him to enjoy this, to lean into your head-bobbing, and force your head down onto his dick. You want to feel him in the back of your throat, bullying into the warmth of your mouth and moulding you into the shape of him. 
It starts with a little pressure at the back of your neck, deceptively subtle as he rocks his hips into your face. Making eye contact, you look up and feel your pussy clench around nothing. His eyes are lidded, gorgeous, mouth slightly parted and tongue darting out to wet rosy lips. 
"You want it, hermosa ?" His voice has a different texture to it: deep and wanting and needy. 
As best you can, you nod, humming affirmations around his cock. Oh God, of course you do. You want him; anyway you can, anyway he'll let you, more than he'll ever know. 
He pushes you down, hard, cock hitting the back of your throat like a piston. You gurgle and choke around him, throat tightening in a way that makes him melt. You force yourself deeper, hot tears welling up at the corners of your eyes. Your hands claw at his thighs, nails digging so tight into the fabric you think he might bleed. Winding a hand down to your heat, you press your palm into that sweet spot at your clit and Miguel watches, hungry. 
"Oh fuck , you feel so good. I'm gonna– m-mierda – m'gonna cum."
With a final tug, he pushes you down so your nose brushes at the curly hairs leading down to his cock, spilling into you with vigour. It pours down your throat and you drink it up with pleasure. 
"All gone?" He asks, panting with exertion. In response, you open up your mouth, sticking out your pink tongue so he can inspect it. He stirs when he realises just how cock drunk you are: nary a trace of him left on your tongue.
Slowly, he brings a thumb to your mouth, and watches intently as you swirl it around, and suck on it keenly. The pressure makes him light headed, other hand reaching for your waist to pull you up. And pull you up he does, turning you around so he can take off your suit and have you seated on his lap, where you belong. 
You let him, shrugging off the top half of the suit as he pulls down your zipper. Surprisingly gentle, he traces the slope of your shoulders, and down to your bare ass. He groans. No underwear, because of course , you want to kill him. You want him to die, pussy-whipped and half-hard. He pushes you towards the wall, back pressed flush against him. He drags his fangs across your neck and whispers into the shell of your ear, making your whole body shiver. 
"Once I start," He kneads your ass, grinding his cock against you. You gasp. He's still hard. "M'not gonna be able to stop. And it's not going to be sweet, bichita . You leave now and I won't be angry . I–I'll give you space, whatever you want."
" Miguel," Head back, you moan into his touch, dragging his hand towards your slit, hoping he’ll relieve the pressure at your pussy. "I want it to hurt. I want to feel it tomorrow– fuck– f-feel it when I walk and know it was you . Need it. Need you , please-" 
He bites into your shoulder, and you moan wantonly, back arching into his length. He places your hand on the wall, palms flat. Like the chaser after a burning shot, he soothes haphazard squeezes down your back with his mouth. Hot, messy kisses, as he sinks to his knees. He forces you to hinge at the hip.  Breasts pushed against the cool wall, you gasp when you feel him spread the globes of your ass as he presses his tongue to your hole. He licks the length of your slit, and like a slut, you lean into it. 
"Prettiest cunt I've ever seen, hermosa." He brings his hand to your clit, giving you a wet slap as he watches you shudder. Again, and again, until you cry out. 
" Miguel, fuuuck." 
How has he gone his whole life without hearing you say his name like that? Yet again, he almost cums in his pants, loosely shoved over his aching length. All he can do is watch as your holes flutter and clench around nothing, mesmerised. 
"You'd look even prettier filled with my cum, hmm?" He presses a sticky kiss to your puckered asshole, before easing his tongue inside. One hand holding you open, the other comes to play with your pussy, swirling your wetness around your throbbing clit. 
He tongue-fucks you with fervour, like a man starved: only coming up for air to babble obscenities. 
"Tan bonita, bichita." Slowly, he eases his fingers into your cunt, scissoring them open and shut. He wants to break you apart with only his hands, if you'd let him. "So pretty– fuck. So soft, baby. Beautiful."
You're close and he knows it, fucking yourself on his fingers and face like a bitch in heat. Undeterred, he brings a thumb to your clit pressing down with juust the right amount of pressure. 
"Wanna feel it, hermosa . Can you cum for me? All over my fingers like a good girl, just like that, así de simple."
With the way he paws at your pussy, all you can do is clench around his fingers. He guides you through a shaking, biting orgasm, licking up your cum with a flourish. Even with shaky legs you manage to turn around and pull Miguel up, and he follows eagerly. He looks fucked out already, eyes low and lips swollen with your slick. He motions to strip, stretching his tank top across the expanse of his chest and letting his cock spring free from his sweats. When you move to help him, he stops you, moving your hand from his tank to his solid torso beneath. He wants you to touch him; to feel your soft palm run across his skin, and sink into the warmth of your body. 
One hand at your waist, he presses you against the wall, grinding his cock to your clit. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and they fit like they belong there. Close, impossibly close, and his pupils are blown, wide. It's like he can't decide what he wants to do to you, sharp red eyes darting over your lips, your neck, down to the juncture where you both meet. A paralysis of choice, and all he can do is drink you up in the low light. 
And so, you make a choice for him, lips crashing against his, hand snaking around to guide his cock into your hole. He sinks into you - finally - and you swallow his moans in the aftermath. He's slow to start, eyes screwed shut as he gets used to how tight you are around him. Slowly, he rocks into you, the heat of his palm steady at the crook of your back. 
Miguel opens his eyes, caging you in with his other arm. He's testing the waters, angling his hips to find the spot that makes you tick.
"I didn't-" He breathes. "Didn't think it would be like this." 
You look at him in your haze, brows knitted. 
"I thought that when I finally fucked you, it would be more romantic." He gives you a strained chuckle and warm smile. "This is better in some ways, though." 
"Better , Miggy?" 
"Real." Your cunt flutters around him, and his pace stutters. Not once does he break eye contact, something swirling beneath the surface. "Not in my head. God , that sounds pathetic."
You giggle into the crook of his shoulder. It shouldn't be possible, but his eyes soften even more. And then, his expression changes into something dangerous. 
"I can't do this just once, bichita. You can't give me a taste and then take it away. Es cruel, mi vida."
As if to punctuate his point, you feel his tip slam into that spongy spot in your walls. His strokes become more calculated, punishing and exact, sending waves of pleasure radiating throughout your body. 
"Miguel – fuck– that's not fair- " 
"Can't keep humping my hand como un perro , like a dumb dog, anymore." He brings both his palms to your ass, spreading you apart, and pulling you up onto his dick so your toes barely touch the floor. The slap of your ass against his thighs and heavy balls fill the room, pornographic in nature. 
"Let-" Smack. " Me-"  Smack. " Fill-" Smack. " This-" Smack. " Cunt. " Smack. 
You babble into his ears, affirmations and praise that makes his heart and cock swell. 
'So pretty, Miguel. Yours. All yours." You rake your hands through his hair, harshly tugging him closer in a way that makes him burn up. Clenching around his length, you wrap your legs around his waist. He barely falters, pulling away from the wall and slamming into you regardless. You've seen him like this before; fiery determination that flares up on a tough mission. Tunnel vision: a razor-sharp resolve that has manifested itself in a man hellbent on your pleasure. 
"Miguel. Miguel, I-" I love you, I love you, I love you, I- " -wan' you to cum with me. Deep, please."
Now, his pace gets sloppy, hips stilling to drive himself as deep as you asked; so you can feel him long after you separate. Hot, sticky cum pumps into you and his balls strain with the effort of it. You claw your hand against his back, trailing delicious marks with your nails. When you clamp around him, you swear you see his eyes roll back - lost in the bliss of your cunt. Together, you come down from the high, bare chests panting against one another. 
"Don't look at me like that." His lips graze yours, soft and plush. You stretch your chin upwards, chasing the trace of a kiss he refuses to give to you. Eventually he relents, leaning into a sweet kiss, arm wrapped around your waist. 
He pulls himself off of you with a wet smack, gently carrying you to his bed. He places you in his sheets and you look beautiful, blissful, and fucked out. Cum drips onto your thighs and he feels a pang of possessiveness. His cum. His baby.
Clambering in to spoon you, he can't help but paw at your pussy, using his fingers to stuff his cum back into you, tracing lazy circles on your thigh with his other hand. 
"I'm on birth control, Miggy. So no need to worry." You snuggle into his touch, bare skin against one another. 
"Wasn't worried." He grunts, sounding almost disappointed. You catch his tone, intrigued.
"No harm in trying," You lilt, turning around to place your palms flat on the wide span of his chest. "You wanna fuck a baby into me?" 
Nodding, he groans, head back into the pillow, and you push him onto his back. Pussy throbbing, you straddle his hips; thighs tight around his middle. You can feel him growing harder in the slick of your slit. 
You arch into him, tender hand around his throat. It's a sight he won't forget easily: you on top of him, the gloom of the night tracing the swell of your tits. An angel, all the same. You whisper something into his ear that gives him goosebumps; a full body chill that goes straight to his cock. "My turn, bichito."
~~~
"You never called." Miguel says, laying his head next to yours, after wiping you down with a clean towel. He hands you a spare shirt of his, and you put it on, self-conscious. 
The two of you had fucked well into the night, making good on your promises. His stamina was relentless, pumping load after load into you, pussy-drunk and babbling. There was an intensity there that couldn't be explained: one that made both of you crazy for one another, burning you out between the silky sheets of his bed. Something you had initially attributed to his rut, whatever he had called it, but desperately hoped it was something more. How could this be just sex? After everything you had said and done, it would crush you: to taste the forbidden fruit and have it snatched away just as easily. 
You had both laid there for a bit, afterwards, cock softening in you. Plugging up his cum, he had said, but it felt more intimate in the quiet calm of his bedroom. 
"You didn't either." You throw back at him. 
"That's not th-" 
"I know, I know. It just felt weird, s'all." You turn from him, looking up at the ceiling. Counting the mottles and marks in your head, suddenly shy. After all the filthy things you've said and done to him, he still makes you shy. "I thought I did something wrong."
His heart breaks. "No, no , it wasn't-" 
"Not just today. Last time…a-and the time before that, honestly. We see each other less. You're always busy with something. Felt like you were avoiding me." Rubbing your temples, you sigh. "S'why I cut some corners on the mission. Made mistakes. I thought if I did well, and we had something to talk about…"
"Mierda." You can't bring yourself to look at him, to see the disappointment in his scarlet eyes. But it isn't disappointment, and it’s not directed at you. 
"I wanted to call, but I didn't. Because I didn't think you would answer." Finally, you turn to see his brows knitted: swirling with shame, guilt, sadness. Quickly you add, "I mean, I know why now. I think. And it's really on me, I should've said something or-" 
"I just… I didn't know what to do with it." He takes your hand in his, squeezing tight. 
"...I don't understand."
"All this love I have for you." He says, impossibly soft. "I didn't know what to do with it."
You know him like the back of your hand and you've heard it all: angry, snarky, giddy, beautiful Miguel O'Hara. But this? Confirmation of the feelings you've held for years at this point, dismissed during late nights and pored over during lonely ones - this? 
"And I didn't think you felt the same way, how could you? You're beautiful, and smart, and you have this… way of making people burn as bright as you. So I poured myself into work. That's all I know how to do, bichita. Work. Suffocate under everything. You don't deserve it."
With the way he says it; resigned, matter-of-fact; you want to cry. Still, he hangs on to the notion that he must earn it : that his claws are too sharp and fangs too bloody for redemption. For love, for life, for good things. Miguel O'Hara; doing what needs to be done. Alone, always. 
You come closer to cup his chin, to make sure he's looking at you. There can be no ambiguity, no gray area when you say what you want to say. 
"You don't tell me what to do, O'Hara . " You press a kiss to his cheek, and another to trembling lips. "I decide what I deserve. No-one else does, not even you."
"It's not like you listen to me, anyway." He says with a shaky smile. 
Sitting up slightly on your forearms, you place your head up on his chest. Listening to the steady thump-thump of his heart. You don't need your super senses to know that he's alive, that he's here. The look in his eyes; you couldn't explain it if you wanted to. 
"Bichita." You say, out of the blue. No doubt due to your poor pronunciation, he winces. "What does it mean?" 
Clicking his tongue, he waves it off. " Very vulgar, you don't want to know. I mean, I shouldn't really-"
"Hmm." Shaking your head, you feign ignorance. "It's just that Lyla said it meant sweetheart, or little bug... terms of endearment, I think was the phrase."
"She said that?" He frowns. "Lyla's filling your head with nonsense, m'afraid. It's sarcastic. Post-ironic, metatextual… it comes across completely different in Spanish, mi vida."
"Post-ironic? That's not even the second most pretentious thing you've said today…" Giggling, you bury your head into his chest. 
"Of course not. I reserve my best stuff for you."
"Real classy, O'Hara. Bet you say that to all the poor women that end up in your bed."
"Nope." He hums. "Just the ones I've been in love with for the past two years."
He pulls you closer, smiling into light kisses on your shoulder, the fat of your stomach, your thighs, on your cheek. Kisses everywhere, anywhere he can reach.
"Just you, bichita." He breathes into your skin. "Only you ."
_
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enkvyu · 9 months
Text
“babe i messed up, we gotta go bald.”
“no!” you grab onto the electric buzzer and fight against him, holding gojo back. “wait, let’s think this through!”
“look at my hair, it’s horrible! i can’t go out like this!” your boyfriend whines and though he resists your pull, you know he isn’t putting force behind the gesture.
“you look…” you yank your eyes away from his head, suddenly struggling to look at him. “fine.”
“you paused!”
“it’s fine, gojo!”
“it’s not! if my lover can’t even look at me without laughing, what are my students going to think?” gojo checks himself out in the mirror of your apartment's bathroom, turning his head side to side to observe the lousy slash he had given himself.
“their opinion of you can’t go any lower.” you reassure him. “and it’s fine, really. just, put down that shaver, that’s it, put it down on the counter and i can fix your mess for you.”
gojo gives you a wary look but eventually relaxes his hold. you pick up the shaver and the handle is still warm from his touch. turning it on, you let the hum of the device fill the silence.
after gojo had decided to abandon his glasses for a blindfold, he realised simply letting his hair grow out in whatever direction would not cut it anymore, else he wanted to look ridiculous.
when he complained to you, you absentmindedly told him to get a haircut without thinking of the consequences of your actions. of course gojo wouldn’t just go to a barber, of course gojo would think he could style his own hair and of course gojo would pick the worst haircut, making the first move without another thought. and now, after running the shaver a few centimetres up from the nape of his neck, the both of you realised that he should never be allowed near a electric shaver ever again.
you exhale. "okay, i've got this."
gojo looks at you through the mirror. "don't stress. worst case scenario, i can just buzz everything off."
you stare at him. "i cannot love you if you're bald."
"seriously?"
"what's with the look? would you love me if i was bald?"
gojo doesn't even hesitate. "yes!"
that makes you feel guilty. you don't comment on the topic any more, instead channelling your attention to the shaver in your hands and the white hair above your boyfriend's head.
“hey, don’t ignore me. you wouldn’t love me if i was bald? what’s next, you wouldn’t love me if i was a worm?”
you bite your lip to stop your face from contorting into a grimace. “i’m trying to focus here.”
“and i’m trying to make sure there’s still love in our relationship.” he turns around and looks at you. “do you love me?”
looking at him, a small smile slips through your disgusted expression. your boyfriend was regularly annoying, but there were times when his childish behaviour was more endearing than irritating. this was one of those rare times.
“yeah, i do.” you admit.
“prove it.”
“huh?”
his hand closes around yours, the one holding the buzzer. “i’m going bald.”
“no you’re not!”
“this is my hair, i get to decide what to do with it!”
“gojo!” you quickly reach over and unplug the shaver. “let’s be rational!”
he looks at you with bleary eyes. “i love you.”
“me too, which is why i can’t let you go bald.”
“you’re lying. if you loved me, it wouldn’t matter how much hair i have on my scalp.”
you sigh, rubbing a hand over your face. when you peek through your fingers, gojo is still giving you a wounded look. “okay fine, i would still love you if you went bald. it honestly doesn't matter to me, but is this what you really want?”
“and if i was a worm?”
you look away, busying yourself with tidying your already tidy sink. “are you going bald or not?”
“answer my question.” his hand wraps around yours. “you can’t leave here until you give me a response i can accept.”
you try to shake him off. “i’m not backing down on this, i will not love you if you turned into a worm.”
“i would—”
“no you wouldn’t! how would you kiss me if i was small and slimy?”
he pauses. “i don’t need to kiss you to show my love, it’s just a side benefit.”
“okay, and what about our species difference? what if i find a handsome worm and fall in love with him? he would treat me better since we’re both worms.”
“i would keep you in a cage so that you'd never meet another worm.” he says, completely serious.
“is that what love means to you?”
“i’ll fill the cage with all your favourite things!” he brings your hand up to his cheek and presses against it, littering kisses onto your palm when you don’t react. "it's also to keep you safe! you'd be completely defenseless as a worm."
"well, if you were a worm i wouldn't be able to keep you safe. you're the strongest, if you can't protect yourself then how could i?"
"that's something different. i wouldn’t be the strongest, i would be a worm."
"an unlovable one."
he drops your hand and grabs the electric shaver before you can. "i'm going bald."
you don’t stop him this time. “fine, go ahead. but when you’re hairless i am not taking the blame for this. if you even start to complain to me i will plug both my ears and walk away. that means if your students take photos of you and spread it like the plague, i won't stop them.”
“i knew it.” gojo says after a moment’s silence. “you don’t love me anymore.”
“if there was ever a time that i did.”
“when did you start falling out of love?”
this was slowly getting out of hand. “gojo.”
“when i ate your chcolate? i apologised, what else do you want from me? want me to kneel?”
“gojo!”
“is it because i used your expensive skincare? i was curious because it came in a little pipette thing and i wanted to squeeze it real bad.”
you hiss. “i knew that was you.”
“you seriously believed me when i told you it wasn’t me? we live together and we live alone, who else would it be?”
a humourless chuckle escapes your lips. perhaps gojo detects your intentions before you can act on them with his six eyes, because he freezes, backing up against the edge of your sink.
in his fear, you yank the shaver out of his hand and flick the power switch back on. the buzz fills the air.
“you’re going bald.”
“i was just kidding! i don’t want to be bald!” gojo leaps out of his chair and heads for the door. unfortunately, you grab onto his shirt and pull him back.
when gojo walks out of your bathroom a few hours later, his head is lighter than when he first entered.
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sped wrote this so i could post smth it’s so stupid i’m crying
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writing-fanics · 3 months
Text
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don’t mess with the devil
Part ii
Lucifer Morningstar x Reader
[warning: angst: mentions of death: death?]
Your movements became sluggish. The wound on your side bleeding more and more with each movement, and swing of your angelic weapon. “Can’t even hold a weapon.” Adam mocked, as she glared at him. Already tired and she looked down at her wound. “Who would’ve thought a fucking human, making a deal with the devil.”
“Was it for dick? It was for dick wasn’t it?” Adam laughed, and mocked. You let out a battle cry flying towards him.
You screamed in pain, as the yellow light shot right through your wing. Your wings started going weak, as you struggled to keep up with Adam’s attacks. He laughed and cackled, taking enjoyment in your struggle.
“Where’s your little boyfriend huh?” He mocked, as more and more yellow shots kept hitting your body. Until you could barely keep your body up, “awe, is he not coming to scared to show his fa-”a fist punched, Adam in the face. Causing him to let go of your chin, but you didn’t fall instead.
A pair of familiar arms held you, “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t be here sooner,” said Lucifer, as he nuzzled his head against his partner. Then lifted his head and glared at Adam, eyes fuming with rage.
“Sorry, for being so stubborn.” You mumbled, knowing this was the reason he didn’t want you to fight. Even though, he gave you some of his powers. You were still a human. He nuzzled, his head against yours once more. “It’s okay,” He said, as he landed on the rooftop.
He handed you off to Charlie, his daughter taking your injured body into her arms. She looked down at you worriedly, as you took shallow breaths. Your face battered cuts and bruises covered your face, and your right eye was swollen. Landing on the rooftop, walking towards Adam.
“Huh? Okay? Seriously?” Adam panted, as he stood up slowly. “How many of you freaks do I have to fight?!” He shouted, glaring at them.
Lucifer rolled up his sleeves, as he walked towards Adam. “Oh, I’m the only one that matters.” said Lucifer, as he looked up at Adam angrily.
“See, you messed with my daughter and my partner.” his eyes burning with rage. “and now I’m toning to fuck you!” he shouted, and everyone went silent as they stared at him dumbfounded.
Charlie leaned over, “It’s fuck you up dad?” Charlie whispered, and he looked confused as he raised his eyebrow, “Wait what did I say?” He said, and then Adam flew towards him sending them both into a wall. But Lucifer transformed into a white snake.
You could barely keep your eyes open, as the pain became worse. You didn’t know how much blood you were losing, but knew it was a lot. You were just a mere human, a human who fell in love with the king of hell. Him inevitably giving you some of his power in an act of love.
Your memories of how you ended up in Hell, a blur. You still figuring out a way to at least see your family again. But now that seemed to be in vain. You wondered if this was how it was going to end for you. You wondered, what would happen to you a human dying in hell?
Would you be dead forever no second life? Or would you just enter purgatory?
“So, this is what you’ve been up to since Eden?” said Lucifer, taunting him.
“Gotta say, you really let yourself go buddy.” He said, as he taunted Adam.
Adam laughs, as he grabbed Lucifer by the tail. “You judgin’ me?” He shouted angrily, as he tried to throw him. But he transformed again, this time into a duck. “You’re the most hated being in all of creation.” Adam shouted, angrily looking at him.
“Well, your first wife didn’t seem to hate what I had to offer.” said Lucifer, as he made a V shape with his fingers and dragged it downward from his mouth.
“or the second.” He said looking Adam straight in the face, “Bow-chicka-wow-wow.” He said, as he backed away making a thrusting motion with his hips. Adam lunched at him, and Lucifer transformed into a horse. Kicking him around, “I’ll fuckin’ end you!!” Adam shouted.
Your vision started to blur, as you leaned your head against the wall You didn’t want to die not like this, not without seeing your parents again. Wondering if they’re worried about their missing child, who they haven’t seen in almost a year.
You’ve been stuck in Hell for that long. Lucifer and You, still figuring out a way to get you back. But you always promised that you’d stay in Hell with him, and visit your friends and family once in a while.
Maybe this was to be your fate, dying in Hell. Where would your soul go? You couldn’t imagine the heartbreak your death would bring to both, Charlie and Lucifer. You couldn’t bear the thought of seeing them cry, you’ve grown to love them so much. Seeing Charlie as a child of your own.
Lucifer your partner. The best thing to ever come out of being trapped in Hell. He was so kind and caring, when he found out about your situation. Wanting to help you anyway he could, which led him to falling in love. How his heart swelled whenever you smiled at him, turning his cheeks red.
How seeing you cry made his heartache, knowing you missed your family and friends back on earth. How when that ‘Red Bastard’ at the Hazbin Hotel, took your hand and kissed him while staring mockingly at Lucifer. Boiled his blood.
A smiled grew across your lips, as you grew tired. You were too tired to even notice the beam of light, heading straight towards the hotel. Towards you. Everything went dark.
Y/n?
Y/n?
Y/n!
who’s calling my name?
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clandestineloki · 9 months
Text
miguel o'hara x shy crybaby housewife!reader (p3)
[based off of a request where a kind anon asked me 2 write one where he snapped at her, tweaked it a little bit so he's actually not mad at her but more concerned, it just came off in the wrong way]
tw: mentions of blood and wounds from shards, suggestive bit at the end
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miguel whos just gotten out of the nice warm bath you made for him
having put on a tight white shirt and sweatpants, drying his hair when he hears a something breaking in the kitchen followed by a scream
he rushes to the kitchen where his dimensional jump watch is on the ground in pieces, debris all over
and you're kneeling over it, trying to pick up the bigger pieces
"shit!" he yells, kneeling down and surveying the damage. "get away from that!"
"i'm sorry!" you cry, clearly shaken. "i-it was on the table and i hit it with my elbow-"
"i know- please don't- just let me-" miguel tries to gently usher you away, but you shake your head.
"it's my fault," you cut him off. "i'll clean it up-"
"I SAID GET AWAY! THIS COULD EXPLODE SO LET ME FUCKING HANDLE IT, ALRIGHT?!"
it stuns you into complete silence, making you flinch away and lean against the kitchen counter.
miguel sighs, running a hand through his hair.
"sorry." miguel says bluntly without looking up. "just- fuck- the last time this happened it broke my nose so don't touch anything-"
he pieces the parts of the watch together, brows furrowing when he sees the tiny projector panel is missing. "what? where's the-"
shaky hands place two broken pieces of the projector panel in his hands
his brows furrow when he sees there are specks of blood on your palms
and he realizes you were trying to fix it on your own :((
he looks up and you're staring up at him with tears in your eyes, your bottom lip wobbling as your breathing quickens and the tears stream down your cheeks.
"i-i'm sorry," you whisper, and his heart shatters
"amor-"
before he can react you stand up and flee to the bathroom
"oh no," miguel leaves the watch pieces right there on the floor and follows you
he finds you at the sink
running your hands through warm water as you cry quietly
miguel feels immense guilt for yelling at you
he wraps his arms around you from behind as he looks at you in the mirror
"bebita," he whispers. "let me help you..."
you're still looking down, avoiding his gaze, and he sighs, pressing a kiss to your neck.
"bebita, i'm sorry," he mumbled. "i was scared you'd get hurt, i didn't mean to yell at you..."
you sniffle, turning off the tap. "i messed up."
"we all do," he whispers. "i messed up too, you didn't deserve that, you were just trying to help."
you shake your head, turning to face him and showing him your palms filled with cuts. "yeah, n' look what happened."
"you think too lowly of yourself, cariño," he lifts you up on the counter, taking the first aid kit from the drawer and fishing out the tweezers, some cotton and some rubbing alcohol.
he presses a kiss to your lips. "i'm not mad at you for this. i want you to know that. i had no right acting like a jackass."
you laugh softly through tears, and he smiles sadly, taking your left hand and looking for your injuries
the next few minutes are completely silent as miguel picks out the tiny shards from your palms
he kisses each palm when he's done, then pours some alcohol on a cotton ball.
"bebita, this might sting a bit. take a deep breath for me."
you start sobbing, and he looks up at you.
"bebita, i haven't even put the alcohol-"
"i'm sorry," you whimper, crying harder, and his heart breaks again.
"amor," he leans in, brushing stray hair away from your face and thumbing at your tears.
"you're very pretty even when you cry, but please don't be sad..."
miguel pulls you into a hug and you let it all out while he shushes you softly, kissing your hair and whispering words of love
patiently waiting for you to come back to him, wiping away your tears and sniffling, looking up at him with a tentative expression.
miguel smiles. "there she is," he mumbles, kissing you sweetly. "nobody's mad anymore, i know you meant well, you always do."
he kisses your nose. "i love you."
"love you too," you whisper, and he smiles.
"do you want to watch a movie with me while i clean you up?"
"mhm."
"your pick, amor. anything you want, anything-"
"can we watch top gun?"
"no."
"but you said it was my choice!"
"anything but that! you know i hate top gun!"
"we watch top gun or im not cooking paella for a month"
"BEBITA POR DIOS!"
you giggle and he sighs.
"fine. you're lucky you're the love of my life... and that i dont know how to cook my own paella."
"how about this?" miguel lifts you up in a princess carry.
"i'll watch top gun with you WITHOUT complaining if you promise to never let me yell at you like that again."
you look at him in confusion. "but-"
"promise me." he whispers.
"okay," you nuzzle into his neck. "i promise."
"good. and remind me to eat you out more often im forgetting how good you taste ;)"
"MIGUEL!!"
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titan-senpai · 4 months
Text
What the hell??
A young lady who was a model lived on earth ended in a tragic way.. and ended up in hell somehow? While she cant hurt a fly..
Part 2
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I woke up on the cold streets in the middle of nowhere.. " Where am i.." Holding my head trying to stand up, taking a look around, seeing creatures everywhere. " What the.." I blinked a few times not believing my eyes. I turned my head and saw a shop with mirrors and took a look at my reflection.
shocked to see my own reflection.. White with red marks on my body.. then i turned around and asked a girl "Little girl can you tell me where i am?" The little girl just laughed. " You're new around here?" She took a drink of her milkshake. I just nodded.
" Wel.. Welcome to hell! " She laughed walking away from me " Goodluck newbie" I stood there in shock.
How did I end up here? Wat.. it was that bastard.. looking at my red spots indicating wounds. It's all his fault...I felt my knees get weak as I fell down on them next to the shop.
I don't know How many hours have passed by but out of nowhere a girl walked by me taking an interest in me. "let me guess.. your new?" She said chewing her gum looking at her phone.. she's probably addicted. I nodded.
" You've got good bone structure and a taste in fashion.." She cupped my face looking at it.. " You wanna work for me?" she let go letting me stand up. I took a look at her clothing and thought it must be an influencer or something.
" Whatcha say dear... I need a yes or no." She said firmly and I nodded without saying anything. "Follow me." As she walked away I followed her.
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Walking into a building called VoxTech? Following her into the elevator as she presses the highest button and scans the card. "Names Velvette.." She checked her phone again, typing away.
"My name is Y/N." I fidgeted my hands anxiously. The elevator door opens revealing a room filled with Photos of her and 2 other guys.
"VOX VAL! get your asses here" She yelled into her phone. Dramatic much.
Seeing a spark out of a tv turn into a guy with a tv head while the other was nowhere to be found. "VAL NO JOKES!" She yelled as smoke entered the room. Turning into a man with 4 arms.
" This is the girl i was talking about.. take a look at her" she walked off sitting on the couch nearby checking her phone.
" And what do we have here.." taking a look at me while he checks me out breathing smoke into my shoulders feeling his breath giving me shivers, "your a pretty one aren't you.." feeling his breath closer to me M" Doll..." walking to his desk. "And what is your talent?" The TV headed guy asked me. "i.." Speechless as I left a shaky breath shivering.
"No time for chit chat.. I'll figure her talent out, follow me me newbie" velvette said walking to the room, opening the door revealing a whole wardrobe " FIrst let's get you dressed.. Cant have them see you with us wearing normie clothes can we.." She smirked, pushing me in the room. " Pick one.. I'll be outside." I looked at the clothes, feeling fine silky clothes. None of them caught my interest.
Looking in the mirror at the end of the room touching my clothes that I currently have on. Imagining the clothes i used to wear. and suddenly my hands start to glow. and they started to make the clothes i was thinking off. and soon I was holding them.
20 Minutes passed and I heard a knock " R you done yet dear.." I opened the door walking out in baggy jeans with a Crop top with a window revealing my cleavage a bit and a Jacket with fur. White boots to match the white bag.
" You look fabulous dear.. Where did you get these? I don't have these in my small closet.." I finally let go of her phone pointing at my clothes.
" I think i figured out my talent.." showing her my hands. " Welcome to the Vees my dear.." 
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eddiesxangel · 2 months
Text
You Look Tense |Masseuse!Eddie x f!reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Cw: reader uses where/her pronouns, seduction, perv!reader, perv!eddie, dirty talk, fingering, p in v, unprotected, pull out, pet names (sweetheart, good girl) modern!eddie
wc: 2.9k
You were on a fold-out massage table in the middle of your living room. You downloaded the app to have a masseuse come to you on a whim. Your friend swore by it. You were a bit apprehensive about letting some stranger come into your home and rub you down while you were naked, but she said it was legit.
When you heard the knock on your front door, you didn’t think you would open it up to one of the hottest men you had ever seen. Leaving you staring at him with wide eyes and your jaw agape.
“You order a massage?” He smirks.
“Yea, sorry, um, come in.” You observe his dark blue scrubs as they hug his upper body.
You lead him inside to show him where to set up.
“First time?”
“What?”
“Is this your first time using the app?” he smiles. Taking off his coat, you notice his tattoos and muscular forearms.
“Oh, I’m… yeah.” You stammered because you were so distracted.
“I could tell, don’t worry. Things are strictly professional.” He explained.
Professionalism was not what you were worried about at this point. Quite the opposite, really.
After Eddie set up his things, he instructed you to lay face down, and then he left the room so you could strip and get under the white cotton sheet.
You called out that you were ready and heard his light footsteps entering the room.
“Anything specific you want me to focus on?”
“Um, my lower back and shoulders have been really hurting,” you mumble into the head pillow.
“Ok, great, let’s get started.”
-
His hands were like magic, the way he wasn’t too rough or too light. He worked your soar muscles perfectly.
“What’s got you so tense, sweetheart? Let me help you relax,” He spoke.
Relax?! How could you be relaxed with this extremely attractive man who is rubbing his hands all over your naked body in your own home!
And the voice! Oh god, his voice is so hot, you don’t want him to stop talking. It didn’t help that you were wound up in more ways than one.
“Um, uh…. Work, I guess.” You didn’t need to guess; you were drowning in the stress of your responsibilities.
“Well, don’t worry, I’m here to help with that,” he hummed as you heard the squirt of more oil fall into his large palms.
“Oh, yeah, your shoulders are so tense; that's a big knot.” You felt him shuffle, so he stood at your head. If you lifted your head up any further, you’d be face to face with his crotch.
You were trying too hard not to let out a moan as his strong fingers dug into your aching back.
“You gotta relax for me. Is the pressure too much?”
“No-no, you’re perfect- I mean, it’s perfect…”
Eddie let out a chuckle as he continued.
This was so good, too good, but he was right...You needed to relax. You tried not to focus on who was above you but on the feeling that he was giving you.
A few minutes later, you were successfully relaxing into the table.
“That’s it, very good,” he praised, and you let a moan slip out.
“Sorry,” you squeak.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. It happens all the time, and it lets me know I’m doing a good job."
Like Eddie said, he was keeping things strictly professional, but you were making it very hard, especially with that moan you let slip from your pretty lips.
Your skin was unbelievably soft, and you smelled really good. With this particular job, Eddie is used to all kinds of different clientele; he never knew what he was walking into when he got booked. So when you answered the door, he was very pleasantly surprised.
You stew in your own thoughts about how good this man’s hands feel, holding back the noises threatening to break the silence. The only sounds filling the room are Eddie’s feet shuffling, breathing, and wet, slippery skin.
“The best way to help with your shoulders is if I also rub down your neck and head. Are you okay if I get oil in your hair?” he asked again in that sexy, soothing tone.
“Yeah, that’s fine,” you sighed. Eddie smirks to himself again, knowing he is doing a good job.
“Great,” he shuffles to position himself to get the best angle. You feel as he sits beside you on the table, drapes your arm over his thigh, and uses his free hand to work at your neck.
His hand slowly works its way up, up, up until his long, thick fingers grip your hair, tugging on your scalp. His fingers dig into the perfect pressure points on your head.
You can’t help but let out another moan of pleasure; it just feels so good. You can’t stop your mind from going to an x-rated place, thinking about how good his hand feels tangled in your hair.
You couldn’t ignore your pussy any longer; there was no denying how wet you had gotten over the last half hour, and he hadn’t even made his way down to your lower back. How are you supposed to survive the rest of the time?
Your pussy was throbbing by the time Eddie made his way down to your lower back. You could feel Eddie move the sheet down lower, exposing more of your skin to him. He lightly draped it over your ass, careful not to expose it too much, trying to tuck the sheets into the band of your underwear, but to Eddie’s surprise, you weren’t wearing any.
You hear him clear his throat as he discovers that you are fully naked underneath.
“What side is, uh, bothering you?”
“Right,” you sigh. And I think I might have pulled the back of my thigh,” you suggest, hoping Eddie reads into it.
“Oh yeah, for sure,” he hums.
Eddie was in serious trouble, and the thin material of his pants did not help his situation.
Eddie had never grown hard with a client; this was not normal. He could not excuse himself until the session was over, so he hoped and prayed that his situation would defuse itself until it was time for him to leave.
It did not, you were torturing him, at this point you had to be doing this on purpose. Your moans were getting more and more sensual.
“Mmmmm, you’re so good at this,” you praise as his hands run along your lower back, creeping closer and closer to your ass muscle.
“So I’ve been told”
“Bet you’re really good with your hands in other places.”
Eddie froze. Did that really come out of your mouth, or did he hear things?
“You uh-" he cleared his throat, “-uh, said your lower back, right?”
“Yeah, but like, really low,” you hummed.
“You comfortable if I move the sheet, uh, lower?”
“Yeah,” you wiggled your hips slightly to encourage him to take things further. You cannot remember the last time you had been so turned on.
You hear Eddie’s breath hitch as you feel the fabric slip off your skin.
“Oops”
“Oh shit-”
“It’s okay; you can leave it off”
“You? Uh? Oh-okay” what was he thinking? This was not professional! It would get him fired if anyone found out… but how could they? He was in your home. You wouldn’t tell anyone? Against his better judgement, he decided to leave you exposed…
With your naked body exposed to Eddie, he continued to work on your lower back. Your oiled skin was glistening under each touch, and Eddie’s cock was growing by the second.
Eddie’s hands worked lower as he hesitantly yet excitedly explored the vast planes of your body. He hadn’t dared make a move, but you could feel his hands move closer to your inner thighs, so you partied your legs so he could have better access.
Eddie watched as your legs moved for him, your legs parted, and he had the perfect view of your glistening pussy lips.
Eddie’s eyes widened as he knew he had not even gotten close to that area of your body with the body oil.
With a deep breath, Eddie grazed his fingers closer to your upper inner thigh, right below your ass; the tops of his fingers lightly traced the outside of your lower lips to test the waters.
The last thing Eddie needed was to read your advances the wrong way and end up in jail.
“Mmmm, that’s good,” you hummed, encouraging Eddie to keep going.
“You need me to work on anything else?” Eddie asked suggestively.
“Now that I think about it, I pulled my groin the other day; I think you could really help me with that; you’re so good with your hands.”
“Sounds good, sweetheart,” Eddie hummed, shifting his weight to get the best angle. You felt him crawl up onto the table with you and straddle his legs around you.
His hands work your ass, massaging the muscles up, pulling your skin taught so he could see your swollen pussy lips.
Sucha pretty pussy
“Mmm thank you”
Shit, did Eddie say that out loud?
You let out a chaste breath as you felt his long thick fingers finally graze your wet slit.
Eddie gently massages circles onto your clit, and your hips roll into his hand.
“Mmmm, that’s it, relax f’me… this is what you needed, hmmm?”
“Uh-huh,” you sigh as your body fully relaxes into Eddie’s soft touch.
Eddie’s hand continues to work your fluttering clit before he decides to let an oiled finger slip into your hole.
“Oh, sweetheart, you are so tight, so tense. You should have told me earlier. I really need to loosen you up” he pumped his finger in and out of your pussy before curling his fingers to massage your inner walls.
“Maybe we could extend the session,” your breath hitches.
“I think that can be arranged,” he slips a second finger effortlessly.
As he continued to work your pussy he added his thumb to your clit. That familiar feeling of lust and need built up in your lower stomach as Eddie sped up his fingers.
“More,” you pleaded. You were at his mercy. You’d do anything to have him make you cum.
“I think I need to get in deeper,” he hummed.
You liked that idea; you popped up to finally see him. You watched as his pants slipped from his hips, and your mouth waters at the sight of his hard cock staring you in the face.
“Like what you see?” He smirks as he watches you checking him out while he checks you out, seeing your naked breasts for the first time.
“Yeah, like what you see?” You ask back.
“Oh yes,” he leaned in to cup your face, bringing your lips together.
Eddie’s mouth took over yours, and he ravaged you. His plush lips were so soft as his lips explored your own. His tongue slipped into your mouth as his soft hands moved up your middle to kneed your breasts.
You shuffle back so Eddie can place himself between your legs.
“Need you now,” you spoke into his mouth between kisses.
“Want you so bad” Eddie replies.
“Please,” you begged for him.
Eddie stripped the rest of his scrubs and exposed the tattoos that dawned his alabaster skin. He was covered head to toe in ink. You wanted to kiss every inch of his body, but the need to have him inside of you was more, so you widened your legs as far as they could go to expose yourself.
“Thought you said you pulled your groin” Eddie smirks
“Guess your magic hands healed me” You sank your hand between your legs so you were touching yourself, teasing Eddie as you worked your fingers in your needy clit.
“Magic hands, huh?” He replaced your hand with his.
“Mmmmhmmm,” you hum as Eddie kisses you and guides you to lie on the fold-out table.
“You think these are magic just wait and see what my cock can do.”
You gasp as Eddie slips the head of his cock across your wet lips, collecting your slick before the tip of his cock breaches your hole.
His cock was thick and long. Slowly, he stretched you out inch by inch. Sinking deeper and deeper until you enveloped him wholly.
Eddie watched as your pussy swallowed him, skin to skin, he didn’t even know you, but it didn’t matter; all that mattered was how you were making him feel and how he was making you feel.
“Oh, Eddie!” You cried as he started building up his speed, pumping into you.
“Mmmmm, I like how you scream my name.” You watch as his body pumps into you, his abs defining themselves with every thrust in. His big hands grip as best they can on your oiled skin and push your legs to your chest, folding you in half as he does.
“S’big,” you try and grab at Eddie, but he’s too far out of reach, so you ball your hands into fists and grit your teeth in frustration. You want to feel him, to touch him, to have all of him.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“Wanna kiss you” you whined.
“Shhhh, you’re okay; as long as my dick is inside of you, you’re fine.”
“Oh fuck!” He sunk deep into you, faster and faster, his hips thrust his cock deeper into your needy cunt.
“That’s it, take it like a good girl.”
God, the mouth on this man, you had no idea.
Eddie gave in and leaned over to kiss you before he unexpectedly jumped off the table and flipped you over to your hands and knees.
“The only way I’m going to get as deep as you want, baby,” you could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke.
“Just give it to me”
“Oh, asking to be fucked? Wanna be fucked by my cock, huh?”
You nod your head frantically as he aligns your hips to be at the perfect height for him to pound into you.
“Fuck look at that” he massaged your ass, spreading it apart before plunging his hard cock back into your throbbing pussy.
You let out a scream; Eddie was right; this angle was deeper, so deep you swore he was in your stomach at this point.
“That’s it, you can take it.” Eddie watched as your oiled skin bounced off his cock, and he swore he was in heaven.
Your tight pussy clenched down on him even more from the angle. The way your warm wet walls were hugging his cock, how your ass looked bouncing off his body, he could have come by now, but he wanted to hold off, savour this a little while longer.
Eddie reached round your body to massage your clit once more. His fingers were moving so meticulously while his cock was pouncing into you from behind.
“Faster” You grabbed Eddie’s wrist because his fingers were too slow; no way you would cum from them slowly circling your swollen clit.
Eddie listened to your plea and picked up the pace with his hands and his hips. Eddie was pounding into you so hard. If you were an outsider looking in, you would swear the fold-out table would have given out, but you were so cockdrunk you had no other thoughts than how Eddie was making you feel.
“You’re close, baby; I can feel the way you’re squeezing me; you’re going to cum when I say okay.”
“Can’t hold it, wanna cum, wanna cum so bad!” your upper body gives out, only making your ass arch higher for Eddie. He looks down to see the creamy ring form at the base of his cock as your orgasm threatens to take over.
“Hold on, on my count ok.”
“Mmmmmmmm” was all you managed to get out. Eddie s fingers still circling your clit, with his cock hitting your g spot. There was no way you were holding out any longer.
You wanted to cum so bad, but you also wanted to please Eddie, your friend, your hardest.
“Cum for me in…. 3….2….1, cum on my cock” he spoke between each thrust into you.
You listened and came as soon as the words left his mouth. Your body seized, and your mouth opened, but nothing came out as your silent cries were met with a wave of pleasure that washed over your whole being, soaking Eddie’s cock even more.
It could have been minutes or a few just a few thrusts later, you didn't know, but Eddie pulled out and finished, spreading his seed on your ass, which was somehow still perched in the air for him.
“Holy shit,” you hear Eddie whisper. “Definitely never done that before,” he laughed.
“Same,” you sigh, still fucked out.
Eddie picked up the discarded sheet off the floor and wiped off the remanence of his seed off of your ass and back.
“So, uh, that fix your problem?” He smirked.
“Only time will tell.” You sit back up finally with the sheet wrapped around you. “Maybe next time we will have you set up in the bedroom… You know, there is more space up there,” you smile.
“Next time?” Eddie smiles back.
“Yeah, maybe I’ll even cook you something, buy you dinner first.”
“I’d like that.”
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