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prettyflyforawhitelie · 2 months

Note

Hi I love your work so far, do you think you could do headcannons for all the different characters of the main Hazbin Hotel cast when their lover comes to them injured? Like how they would treat you and then how they would deal with the person who harmed you. I would love to see this ahhhh 😫

Ahh of course! I love this, thanks for the request! I hope you like it!

Trope: Hazbin Hotel x Injured!reader

Characters: Alastor, Charlie, Vaggie, Angeldust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Lucifer

Warnings: Physical violence, mention of death, injured reader, blood.

author's note: hey guys! this is my first time doing one of these, and I'm still getting better, so forgive me if its a bit shabby. If you have any requests, feel free to send them in! I'm in a creative buzz rn lol. Enjoy!

🦌📻Alastor📻🦌:

The day that your attacker decides to hurt you is the day that they decide to die. Messing with the Radio Demon’s plaything is about the last thing you want to do.

Alastor often sent his shadows to follow you into town when he couldnt be with you, so the second you were attacked, Alastor could sense that something was wrong.

By the time his shadows had carried you back to the hotel, your attacker had already escaped, but luckily, his shadows saw everything.

When he rushed down to see you, he seemed rather indifferent at first. He carried you up to his room, immediately conjuring several healing ointments to heal you quickly.

He laid you in his bed, in which you almost immediately fell asleep.

He hears the whispers of his shadows, and gains all of the information he needs out of them.

With a single snap of his finger, the issue was taken care of. Rumor has it that the screams of your attackers' seemingly “random” death could be heard about 3 rings down.

While waiting for you to wake, Alastor conjures two steaming bowls of his mother’s jambalaya. Placing one on the side table next to you, he sits down next to your sleeping body and lightly grazes your head, singing soothing songs until you wake up.

😈🗝️Charlie🗝️😈:

Would of course be so very angry at whoever did this, but her first priority would be healing you up and making sure that you’re absolutely 100% okay and comfortable.

Would set you up in her bed and assure that you have anything at all that would make you feel more comfortable. Tea? Yup. Ice pack? Already got it. Cuddles? Of course!

Would definitely let you cuddle with Razzle and Dazzle for as long as you needed.

She would try her best to talk to you and figure out what happened - to figure out who did this to you.

As you told her, she seemed surprisingly… calm? She simply thanked you for telling her and left the room.

Though Charlie doesn't seem like a particularly violent person… She can get protective over the people she loves. So, let's just say she got that issue taken care of real quick. How stupid to mess with the Morningstar family.

🪽⚔️Vaggie⚔️🪽:

Anybody in her vicinity needs to watch out when she hears that her love is hurt.

Like, seriously, heads will roll. But not before she checks on you to evaluate how badly she needs to fuck up the person who did this to you.

When she sees you, bruised and bloody, she can't help but hold you so tight and cry, scolding you for getting yourself into a bad situation without her there to protect you.

Vaggie knows what it feels like to be beaten and dumped on the side of the street like garbage. She could never forgive herself if she allowed that to happen to anybody else, let alone the genuine love of her life.

When she asks for the person who did this, you can only give her a vague description. That’s alright though, she will use her former exterminator skills to scan all of Hell and find the person who dared to do this to you. She will not leave this alone until she serves you justice.

🕷️💖Angeldust💖🕷️:

Coming home from the studio to find you in his room, crying and bruised, he immediately drops whatever he’s doing and comforts you in the biggest hug ever.

Angel has plenty of experience with being abused and left to fend for himself, so he doesn't immediately resort to asking questions. No, that’s not what you need right now. You just need to know that you’re loved, beautiful, and that this does nothing to affect your worth or value as a person.

He carries you from the floor to his bed, covering you in blankets and laying next to you with Fat Nuggets.

“It’s okay baby. You can cry, it's okay.” he whispers as you sob into his chest.

He allows you to initiate the conversation of what happened, not wanting to push you past your limits.

Once he finds out what happened, he knows what he has to do. He waits until you fall asleep, and heads down to the club where your attacker happens to frequent. For once, being a famous pornstar will actually serve in his favor. He tempts your attacker to follow him, and immediately beats him to an absolute pulp.

He allows the person to live, saying “I am only letting you live so you can know how it feels. You ever try this shit again, and I will find you. Except that time, you wont leave here looking so… whole.”

♥️♦️Husk♦️♥️:

Husk is used to all the residents of the hotel bitching and moaning to him about all of their issues. With Charlie coming to him and oftentimes crying about the many failures of the hotel, tears were no foreign sight to him.

But coming from the kitchen to the bar and seeing you there, looking an absolute mess, was different.

“What the-What the fuck happened?” he yells. When you flinch, he knows that something happened.

When you explain to him what happened, he immediately needs a description of the attacker. He takes possibly the largest shot you've ever seen and storms out of the hotel.

He wishes that he could do more to protect you. Back when he was an overlord, he had power beyond anybody's imagination. He could've snapped a finger and your attacker would simply disintegrate (but not before he tortured him a bit first). But now that Alastor owned his soul, his powers were limited.

You know what wasn't limited on husk, though? His pure physical strength.

He immediately finds the guy walking on the street adjacent to the hotel (dumb, right?) and absolutely obliterates him.

As the attacker is begging for his life, he just keeps hitting, blind with rage and love for you.

When he wants back into the hotel bloody and exasperated, he sits in the stool next to you and wraps you with one of his wings.

“It’s all okay now. I’m here” he says as you lean on his shoulder, so ready to go to bed.

🐍⚙️Sir Pentious⚙️🐍:

Sir Pentious always loved coming to your room to show you his many zany inventions. Normally you welcome him in with open arms, a sweet smile on your face, but today was different.

When he knocked on your door, he was met with absolute silence, which isn't normal for you. When he listened a bit closer, though, he could hear your small sniffles. He trusted his gut and slowly opened the door, fully ready to be denied entry.

Instead, you looked at him shyly, turning away and crying. He could've sworn that he saw a… black eye?

He took this opportunity to come and sit next to you on your floor, placing his arm around you and letting you lean your head on his shoulder.

When he noticed that you were calming down a bit, he asked you what was wrong.

You explained that while you were engaged in a turf war, some ruffian beat you up, and badly. The girl you had momentarily teamed up with had left you behind, and you were left to trek back to the hotel on your own, barely able to walk.

You could see something change in his eyes.

He curled his tail around you, his cool skin calming your nerves. He assured you that he was here now, and nothing like this would ever happen to you again. He then swiftly called his egg bois to entertain and comfort you while he prepared his airship. The idiot that did this to you was going to pay, and not just in turf.

😈🐣Lucifer🐣😈:

Bursting into Lucifer’s room, the only thing you could mutter is “Help” as you fell into his arms.

He frantically carried you to a chair and tried to assess your injuries. Man, someone fucked you up, and badly. Too bad he would kill them before they could brag about their success.

He rushed to find ANYTHING that could help you. Bandages, ice, your favorite food, a rubber duck, ANYTHING.

When he finds you absolutely passed out asleep in the chair, he gently moves you to his bed and tries his best not to stir you.

As he sits watching you, thinking of your beautiful smile (and how he’ll brutally kill the person who did this to you), he observes your features with great detail.

When you wake up, you smile. Lucifer must have gone, but sitting on your table is a bowl of soup and… is that a rubber duck that looks like you?

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #Charlie Morningstar xreader #charlie x reader #vaggie x reader #lucifer x reader #sir pentious x reader #husk x reader #angel dust x reader #alastor x reader #helluva boss #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel oneshots #injured reader

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seonghwaddict · 8 days

Text

the best of the best — jeong yunho

in which yunho didn’t expect his tiring shift to end with fucking the prettiest girl who’s ever walked into the clinic.

ripperdoc!jeong yunho x fem!reader. genre. smut. cyberpunk 2077 au. warnings. non-sexual use of daddy, explicit sexual content mdni, big dick!yunho but what else is new, fingering, BACKSHOTS, yunho is a tease, implied voice kink, creampie, he gets a little rough, nicknames (pretty, baby, princess). wc. 2.5k. rating. mature.

lilo’s notes. this is really REALLY rushed because i was hit with inspiration and started writing without actually stopping so like sorry if it’s ass lol. her cyberware is based on this.

DEFINITIONS. ripperdoc; medical practitioners that can install cybernetic prostheses, called cyberware // eddies; game currency. feel free to ask for any clarifications.

listening to. cyberpunk, ateez (duh).

masterlist.

yunho sighed as he threw a bloodied towel into the sink, hands finally clean after having installed some new cyberware on a customer. his day was spent operating edgerunners, never quite seeming to catch a break. but what else could he do as the best ripperdoc in the district, let alone this shithole of a clinic? besides, he somewhat liked his job and the pay was well, his way with words getting customers to give him a few more eddies than they were obliged to.

but, alas, it was finally closing time and he’d no longer have to deal with people until the next day. or at least that’s what he hoped.

the familiar sound of the clinic’s door rang through the lobby, singaling someone had entered before he could lock up and making his sigh in exasperation. he pinched the bride of his nose, calling out over his shoulder from the backroom, knowing whoever it was would still be able to hear him. “we’re closed, come back tomorrow!”

“please, it’s an emergency!” the person replied and he froze.

a desperate, feminine plea. yunho can’t say he’s used to hearing that tone in the clinic. with furrowed brows, he emerged from the backroom to the lobby, right behind the counter as he laid his eyes on you. he was obviously much taller than you, looking up at him with round doe eyes and softly flushed cheeks. you wore a short black skirt and a loose sweater; not a sight he was used to here either, not that he was complaining as his eyes momentarily flickered to the sliver of cleavage exposed by the low neckline. maybe he could make an exception… no. he wanted nothing more than to go home, and a pretty little thing like you couldn’t just magically change his mood.

“my ‘ware has been acting up and i heard this is the best clinic in the area,” you walked closer to the counter, one of the steps looking particularly painful as you winced mid-sentence and stumbled before continuing, “please, sir, i promise i’ll pay you well.”

he down at you with a raised eyebrow, letting a beat of silence wash over you before he finally answered with a sigh, “fine. go through that curtain and wait on the table. the metal one.”

you followed his hand to see him pointing at a curtain much like the ones separating beds in hospitals. with a quiet nod, you shuffled over as he ducked through the door he previously came out of. there was a small space behind the curtain and it reeked of hand sanitiser as you sat down, the table cold against your thighs. you smoothed your skirt down as he walked through the curtain and set down a tray of tools on a desk pushed against the wall.

“so, where’s the problem?” he asked, crossing his arms and giving you a once-over that had you feeling a little nervous.

“my back,” you muttered, looking down at your hands shyly as they played with the hem of your sweater, “i’ll have to take this off, if that’s okay.”

“oh, um…” he blinked before nodding and clearing his throat, moving to stand behind you. “yeah, it’s fine, go ahead.”

after a moment of hesitation, your body stretched lightly as you pulled the shirt over your head, his jaw nearly dropping at the sight. an intricately designed thin silver chrome spine merged with your skin and extending from between your shoulderblades down to just above your ass. instinctively, he reached out and brushed his fingers down the length of it, biting his bottom lip as he caught the way your back arched slightly.

“god, you’re a masterpiece.” he couldn’t help but sigh out as he let his fingertips explore the metal and the skin surrounding it. the clasp of your bra covered up just a little bit of it, but there was plenty more to see. after a moment, he caught a glimpse of a little spark in the metal on the small of your back, humming. “i see the problem… must be some sloppy wiring. i’ll take care of you, baby, just relax and stay still. you can do that for me, can’t you?”

“y-yeah.” you practically squeaked out, mentally slapping yourself for making it obvious how his words and touches made you feel.

he grinned but didn’t say anything, reaching for his tools and beginning to work. as he did, he deliberately brushed his fingertips or his wrist against your skin, against anywhere he could reach while fixing the wiring between the blades of the metal spine, just because he enjoyed messing wiht you. your waist seemed to get the most reactions out of you, unable to hold back your hitched breaths and your thighs pressing together. you were so sensitive and sweet, trying to hold back all your sounds as he riled you up with teasingly calculated touches.

“how’d you pay for this, anyway? a mod like this must’ve cost a fortune.”

“my daddy paid for it,” you explained with a shrug, “i’ve been wanting something like this for forever, so he let me get it done on my 18th birthday.”

he raised his eyebrows in surprise, nodding with a soft smile. “well, baby, you must be daddy’s pride and joy if he’s willing to drop so much on an implant like this that does nothing but make you look that much more appealing.”

“appealing?” you echoed his description of you, glancing back at him over your shoulder, “you think so?”

“of course, i’m not blind,” he roles his eyes playfully, licking eyes with you before going back to work, “in fact, i’m jealous i wasn’t the one to install all this ‘ware.”

it didn’t help that as he talked, his breath fanned over the back of your neck since he adjusted the table to raise you higher for him to work more comfortably. you learned each other’s names as he talked you through the procedure, trying to distract you from the occasional prods of a needle and sparks of the wires. he also liked to watch goosebumps form on your skin and the way your back arched just a little more as he responded to your words with low hums or muttered acknowledgments.

his hands feel a little colder than your skin as he barely runs them down your back, eyes trained on the gleaming metal. the tips of his fingers momentarily dipped below the back of your bra before slipping out again.

“does anything hurt?” he asked quietly, in a tone he noticed always made you stutter a little.

“n-no.” you shook your head before holding your breath, feeling his hands covers your waist and move down slowly, holding your hips lightly.

“good.” he hummed, nodding and removing his hands before stepping away from you completely.

the loss of his hands made your brows furrow as you looked at him, stepping into your line of vision with his back turned to you as he put away his tools.

“did you need something, princess?” he tilted his head at the sight of the pout you were trying so hard to hide, voice taking on a mocking tone.

your cheeks warmed and your brain short-circuited as he took a step toward the metal table he sat you on, standing a breath away from your knees and leaning down to your eye level. his hands braced on the table of either sides of your hips. if he wanted to, he could lean forward just a few inches and his lips would finally press against yours.

“you.” you blurted out without thinking, unable to process any thoughts in the flustered state he put you in.

“me, huh?” yunho chuckled, silky and low, fingertips brushing against the hem of your skirt as he pulled himself up to his full height and looked down at you. “a ripperdoc like me who works in heywood fixing cyberware? you need me, baby?”

flustered and a little speechless, you could only nod, lips parted as you left out soft breaths and looked up at him with eyes that begged him to kiss you. his hands left your skirt but found you again quickly, one on your waist and the other cupping the side of your face, half of his hand buried in your hair as he leaned down and finally pressed his lips against yours.

a whimper made it past you as his tongue swiped along your bottom lip before slipping into your mouth, mingling with yours and exploring. you felt him smile against your lips as you let out that sound, his fingers in your hair holding you a little tighter as his hand on your waist slid down your thigh. you, however, didn’t feel that hand moving until his fingers pressed against your soaked panties, somehow easily finding your clit through the fabric and eliciting a whine as he pulled his lips away from you.

“so wet and i’ve barely done anything.” he whispered, kissing you again as he nudged the fabric aside to run two digits through your folds, quiet squelching sounds mixing with your little moans and whimpers as he circled your clit excruciatingly slowly.

not expecting his hands to feel so good, you couldn’t stop your hips from squirming, unable to kiss back very skilfully. he circled your clit with just the right speed and pressure, keeping you restless as your pussy clenched around nothing and click slowly dripped out to smear against the table and inner thighs.

yunho gave your swollen nub a sudden pinch and you winced, your hands on his biceps clenching as he pulled away from you with a click of his tongue. “didn’t i tell you to stay still, princess?”

you parted your lips to respond but could only moan languidly as his fingers easily pushed themselves into you, crooking and perfectly prodding against your sweet spot.

“do my fingers feel too good? is it too much for you, pretty?” he mocked with a fake pout, drawing his fingers out before pushing back in. you felt his hand drop from your hair to reach for something and with a push of a button, the table lowered itself smoothly.

moments later you were on your knees, facing away from him, hips pulled up and chest pushed down. some time while he moved you to this position, he managed to remove your skirt and bra. your nipples brushed against the cold surface of the table, shuddering at the feeling combined with one of his hands kneading your ass intently while the other ran down the length of your spine. as he got to the small of your back, he pushed down a little harder, making your back arch.

“hm, so pretty and perfect,” he hummed as his clothes and very much erected cock pressed against your flushed core. you let out a broken whine, burying your face into your forearm comfortably, his fingers sliding through your folds again and spreading them apart. he groaned at the sight, your wetness glistening in the neon lighting of the clinic, spread between your thighs messily, needy hole fluttering.

when he finally pressed his tip into you and eased his way in, your breath hitched followed by a moan of his name, hands clenching as you pushed back against him. he steadied your hips with his hands, eyes rolling back from your tightness as he bottomed out and stilled to revel in the feeling if you wrapped around him for a moment.

butterflies roared in your stomach as he leaned down and kissed the top of your spine sloppily, pulling out before rolling his hips against yours. you weren’t used to this angle, especially not with someone as huge as him, but your embarrassing amount of arousal made it easy for him to move. you cursed softly, a string of whines and moans falling from your swollen lips as his fingers dug into your hips and his teeth explored your upper back, licking and sucking and biting marks into your skin.

“f-fuck, you feel s-so good.” he moaned, forehead dropped between your shoulder blades for a moment before he straightened up again, pulling your hips against his harshly as he thrusted into you, teeth sunk in his bottom lip.

not long after that you felt a knot quickly tightening in your abdomen, feeling your breath knocked out of your lungs with each snap of his hips. one of his arms wrapped around your waist before venturing lowers so he could rub at your clit quickly, the knot drawing tighter and tighter until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“y-yunho- i’m g-gonna-“

“let go, baby. go on, be a good girl and cum for me,” he cut you off, voice gentle despite his rough movements, snapping the waistband of your panties against you, “you’ll cum for me, won’t you? i’m making you– fuck, i’m making you feel so good, right? p-please cum, baby, just let go.”

his words egged you on and soon enough you did as he said, shuddering and clenching and squealing as you came all over his cock, your juices drooling down his length as he continued pounding into you. his hand left your clit to grab your hips tightly, chasing his own high now that you finished. knowing what he needed, you clenched around him rhythmically, whimpering softly because you knew he liked the sound.

without warning, he spilled himself inside you, filling you up with his hot release. your combined panting and shivers filled the area as he emptied himself. once he collected himself, he pulled out slowly, shuddering as he did so before tucking your panties back into place before his cum could seep out of you. he flipped you around easily and found your lips.

you kissed each other lazily for a while, mind foggy after your orgasms. you gasped against his lips softly as you felt his fingers press right on the fabric covering your hole.

“if you can keep everything in while i close up, i’ll take you to my place for another round… or maybe a few more,” he kissed your cheek, reaching to the side and giving you your clothes before tucking himself back into his pants, “if you’re up for it, of course.”

you giggled, also kissing his cheek in return. “i’d like that, actually. you have a really good dick.”

“is that so? good thing a pretty girl like you only deserves the best.”

networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet @cultofdionysusnet @pirateeznet @atzhouse

permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd @coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf

#cromernet #wonderlandnet #cultofdionysusnet #pirateeznet #atzhouse #ateez x reader #yunho smut #yunho x reader #yunho reactions #jeong yunho smut #yunho imagines #yunho fluff #yunho angst #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez reactions #ateez smut

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planete777 · 8 months

Text

NO IDEA・⁠｡♪ LN4

( lando norris x fem!reader )

IN WHICH. y/n and lando can't get enough of each other, even when another person is present (based on this ask)

WARNINGS. 18+, MINORS DNI!, starring max fewtrell, y/n and lando get too horny for him so he dips lol, pwp, lil bit of smoke play??, unprotected p in v sex, doggy style, riding, missionary, lil dirty talk, smoking while fucking, guys this is just filth pt. 2

NOTE. so uhm.. im lowkey shitting out fics,,, two works in one day??? WOW. this is what the summer holidays does to me lolll. i wasn't supposed to be writing this BUT anon slipped into my inbox with this ask and my brain couldn't hold back (i mean... it is high!lando) so enjoy lmao <33 also, once again, dividers are not mine, credit to the rightful owners

the smoke alone that painted the room a misty white was in intense abundance. y/n could barely see more than a foot ahead of her, where max lay, body completely at the mercy of the heavens and sprawled like a dead man upon the couch. lando, sticky, hot body beside her, is just as faded, breaths so evened out, it's almost as if he's subject to a comatosed state.

y/n never knew max smoked, fucking weed for that matter. always seems to be the unsuspecting ones that let themselves undulate upon the highs of drugs, mouth puffing out smoke like that's all it can do. it was peculiar, and a slight bit awkward, when he had asked her to toss a joint, but she did so without questioning.

now, here they were, all three of them, polluting the air more than any manual vehicle could and filling their lungs with the acrid stench of weed that dragged a nip of addiction that none of them bothered to care about.

"man, i could do this everyday," max says, examining the spliff in his hand as if it was something so wonderful. y/n laughs and shakes her head, "nah, it may be good and all, but set limits for yourself."

he hums back, most likely too dazed to care about her cautions, and goes in for another drag. lando drags out a sigh as the smoke trickles out of his mouth like white silk.

"you good baby?"

lando nods, reaching a hand out to rest it on y/n's thigh, "yeah i just," it slides further up, with a trail of heat following as he leans into her ear and whispers lewdly, "wanna fuck you so bad."

she giggles and takes a long, burning drag of her own, blowing the vapour into lando's face.

thing is, lando is horny high. there's never a time where they smoke together and not fuck, but she doesn't ever complain because it's hot, sweaty sex that leaves them buzzing with satiation and wrapped in thick air of smoke mixed with the smell of what they'd done just seconds before.

y/n thought that lando had set aside that urge for the night, considering the additional presence with them, but he just doesn't give two fucks, and that alone makes her skin crawl with need.

his lips are licking sloppy kisses into her neck, targeting where he knows she'll let go, and her mouth opens limply, leaking with moans and sighs.

"fucking hell, mate— while i'm here?" max's incredulous voice punches out, and he swings his legs off the couch.

"you can leave, max," lando remarks dismissively, dick growing too hard, too fast. he slots the spliff into his mouth, inhaling so much that his eyes roll back, before dragging y/n into a messy, heated kiss. it's more of clashing tongues and teeth, smoke weaving through their skins.

the door slamming completely detonates lando, pushing y/n unto her back before stripping her leggings off, panties and all. a wisp of coolness breezes past her bare pussy, and she moans lightly, sucking in her spliff and letting go into the air.

"such a pretty pussy for me," lando slurs, grinning loopily as his eyes hang low and red. his thumb presses into her clit, forcing her back to arch as he rubs it hard and slow.

"fuck lando, keep going."

she can hear how her cunt squelches with his tamed movements, making her pussy throb, practically beckoning him closer. he leans in, blowing a puff of smoke unto her clit before completely attaching his mouth and sucking like he's fucking pussy drunk.

y/n brings a hand to his head, pressing and grinding into his mouth, swivelling her hips with desperation. it feels like heaven, paired with the warm electricity that thrums through her joints from the weed, and she just wants more and more and more.

lando's going feral at her pussy, pushing so deep into her that his nose pokes at her clit and stimulates it beautifully. his hands, spliff still between his fingers and spilling out threads of smoke, push her thighs up to her chest, bulging out her cunt more as it drips like a watering mouth.

"i could eat your pussy forever," he speaks into her pussy as she moans loudly, barely able to bring the joint up to her mouth.

he stops abruptly, evoking a whine from the lips of his girlfriend as he wedges the spliff in his mouth and unties the knot of his shorts, dragging it down. his dick immediately slaps against his abdomen, pulsating and flushed deep red, and he slowly jerks it off from the base all the way to the swollen tip.

"just fuck me, lan'," y/n exasperates, and he relents, pushing all the way in. their mouths drop as they release sighs of relief. y/n relishes in the way her pussy throbs with his dick, clenching and unclenching around him, causing lando to hiss.

"don't do that y/n, i don't wanna cum yet."

he wraps a leg around his waist before pulling back and completely drilling back into her cunt. his cock rakes against the muscles delicious, and y/n can feel every ridge and dip of his dick. her toes curl, eyes rolling as she inhales another drag, blowing out punctuated puffs of smoke as a result of lando's hips slapping against hers.

it's agonisingly snail-paced, but so deep that it compensates greatly for it and all she can do is lay there, all pretty, and take his cock.

lando attaches his lips unto her glimmering collar bones, riding her shirt up with his hands before latching unto her nipple. his tongue slurps and flicks at the skin, making y/n moan and squirm drunkenly.

then lando suddenly flips her unto her hands and knees and stops.

"hold your pussy open for me baby," he pants out, "need a couple drags."

her hands go behind her to spread her pussy apart, swollen, wet and gaping open for lando. he doesn't waste anymore time to slide his dick inside, thrusts just like before, but even deeper, and the girl is completely thoughtless. he smokes with much efficiency now, pushing and pulling his hips alone as his fingers work the spliff between his lips. pleasure from sex and being high sits heavily and perfectly in his limbs, head thrown back as he gradually lets y/n meet his thrusts.

"you're fucking yourself on my cock so well baby," lando moans, slapping a hand against her buttcheek as both their movements grow stuttered.

"i'm gonna cum, lan'— shit."

he feels her walls tighten before she lets go, mouth dribbling with airy sighs and groans as her hands fall to the sofa. lando is still on high, eager to feel y/n for longer and so he's switching their positions, the girl sitting on his thighs as his back rests against the sofa.

"ride me y/n."

"lan'," she goes to protest but doesn't, crawling up unto his dick and sinking down so smoothly and warmly, that lando loses all feeling in his legs.

he watches her bounce and grind on his cock, blowing smoke up into her face as she smiles and revels in the warm air. she looks so filthily unreal, high but so fucking horny for his dick, and he looks at her for so long without blinking that his eyes begin to burn.

"lan' i can't, i'm gonna cum," her thighs are shaking, siphoning trembles through his skin. he grins, slaps her ass teasingly, and tells her to let it go.

liquid trickles down his dick as he shoots his cum into her cunt, high pitched moans tumbling out of her as she's consumed by the high before flopping down unto lando.

"you did so well, baby."

#‧₊˚✩彡 planete.thinks: high!lando #lando norris #lando norris fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #f1 fic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #formula one x reader #formula one x y/n #formula one x you #lando norris x y/n #f1 romance #f1 smut #f1 fanfic

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gay-dorito-dust · 3 months

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OKAY hear me out

Soft!Jason with a very touchy S/O, like we all know Jay alr has SO much trauma and he needs to constantly be touching them, making sure they're still with him, and the S/O, they're more than happy about this (LOVE LANG IS PHYSICAL CONTACT), constantly holding hands, little shoulder bumps, snuggling, forehead touches (!!!), bascially giving a Nick/Charlie vibe here but STILL

lol sorry about the long rant this thots just stuck in my head

(also can i be 🐺anon?)

Yes you may be 🐺 anon. :)

Jason wouldn’t consider himself to be a touchy person or someone who’s primary way of showing appreciation and love through physical touch like you. And yet after everything he’s been through and done, Jason finds himself extending out a hand and wordlessly intertwining your fingers together, letting out a deep sigh of relief as everything became okay again. All just because he was holding onto you.

You made everything okay for Jason.

So you knew when it was really bad whenever Jason was practically clinging onto you with no intentions of letting go. His grip was like a vice that would tighten at any signs of movement as he thought you were trying to pull away, when in actuality you were just trying to adjust yourself to a more comfortable position, and his breathing was uneven and ragged like he had just ran a marathon without any breaks. He’d go even further by burying his face deep into your chest just so he could feel that you were alive and still with him.

It hurt you to see him like this, it truly did, and so you’d respond to his need for touch in kind by running your hand up and down his back and resting your forehead against his head, pressing kisses into it every now and then whenever you heard the sound of pitiful, soft whimpering coming from the back of his throat as you cooed softly at him gentle reminders that you weren’t going anywhere without him.

‘I’m here. I’m right here Jason, you can feel me breathing can’t you?’

‘Yeah.’ He murmurs and you press a kiss against head.

‘Then that should be more than enough proof to know that I’m not leaving you, not now, not ever and I’ll prove it everyday if I have to.’ You tell him and you truly meant what you said as the following days you would do a plethora of things to set Jason’s mind at ease and quite any and every inner demon he had that tried to make him think otherwise.

In the mornings you would snuggle yourself further into Jason. Making sure that your forehead was pressed against his, rubbing your noses together and kissing his eyelids until they flutter open to reveal his beautiful eyes, making sure that you were the first thing Jason saw and welcoming him into the morning with a soft smile and a series of kisses scattered to his cheeks, jaw and lips.

‘Good morning handsome.’ You greeted him.

‘It’s always a good morning when you’re the first thing I see angel.’ He greeted you back in kind, voice low and raspy as his hands on your lower back kept you within close proximity.

‘It looks like someone’s been reading too much Jane Austen as of late to be this romantic first thing in the morning.’ You teased, smiling more at his words as he shrugs. ‘Guilty as charged but I don’t need Jane Austen to be romantic when it comes naturally whenever I’m with you.’ You smother him in more kisses after that because you were unable to come up with anything that could compare that to.

In the evening when you and Jason were starting to settle down after an eventful day, you could often be found sat next to him on the couch as he read his book while holding onto your thigh with his free hand, his thumb would trace patterns into your skin; Whereas you would go through your phone and occasionally pressing you knee against his. It was a relaxing moment the two of you often found yourselves in that it might as well have become somewhat of a tradition; sitting in comfortable silence with one another doing your own things in tandem.

However Jason -whenever he felt you weren’t close enough to his liking- would press his shoulder against yours and lean in to press a kiss to your temple before going back to reading his book. ‘I feel like I’m rubbing off on you with how much more touchy you’ve been lately.’ You told him after a while and Jason bookmarks his place in the story and puts the book down on the table infront of you before looking over at you.

‘Does it bother you when I do that?’ He asks, feeling a little vulnerable.

‘No.’ You said without hesitation and grabbed his hand, intertwining your fingers together and kissing each and every one of his knuckles before resting your conjoined hands on your lap. ‘I love that you feel comfortable enough to reach out to me for physical comfort. It means a lot and I’d never want to undermine that.’ You continued and you could see Jason visibly relax as a smile graced his lips.

‘You almost scared me half to death there sweetheart.’ He says in relief. ‘And the reason why I reach out for you for comfort is because you bring me comfort and bring my mind some semblance of peace.’ He admits and you couldn’t help but squeeze his hand as a silent way to echo his sentiment that he too brought you comfort. Jason smiled and brought your hand to his lips, mimicking you by pressing kisses to each and every one of your knuckles while maintaining eye contact with you; It was a simple enough action to make anyone flustered at the intensity of his seemingly never ending devotion.

‘I love you Jaybirdie and thank you for choosing me to be your safe place.’ You said softly.

‘I love you too sweetheart and thank you for being my safe place.’ Jason replied, pulling you in by your joined hands, caging you against his warm chest, as he shifted his position to lay down on the couch where you both took a well deserved nap.

No nightmares or night terrors greeted Jason that night as he help you in his arms, dreaming of nothing but you and only you and your smile. His safe place.

#jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagines #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #dc x y/n #dc x you #dc comics x reader #dc x reader #dc imagine #dc fic #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction

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beesmygod · 10 months

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we can all look back on and laugh at this when im wrong, but it seems like social media in its current incarnation is dying an undignified and overdue death. it turns out throwing all of humanity into one room and expecting everyone to develop a single ethos was beyond insane conceptually and the artists who built their following on social media are probably in a tail spin right now. people jumping to bluesky are insane lol. did you forget jack dorsey is the idiot who got us into this mess in the first place. why would you choose to subject yourself to this shit again. for what purpose?

the stock answer i got was that "for discoverability/audience" and if that's true thats a problem. i've been hollerin about this to anyone who would listen prior to this but the customer base of twitter (and all social media) is its advertisers. they have not been shy from the start about that fact because its the only way they generate income, as far as i know. YOU (the user) are the product. YOU (still the user) are also what draws people to the site. there is not a social media website on earth that has figured out that making a good website (which would require hiring and paying for quality labor over an extended period of time) is more likely to result in economic success than exclusively courting the businesses whose interest is in making the website worse to use with ads. at no point were our interests ever a factor.

in fact, imo, the number of people following you is not an accurate representational sample of your audience. the reasonable assumption you should make is that the vast majority of numbers involved with any website (esp those with a vested interest in showing off big numbers to VC investors or advertising execs) are inflated or just outright fake. the numbers exist solely to drive you insane and make awful people happy. the numbers cause you and everyone around you to start spontaneously spawning myths about a beast called "the algorithm" that possesses the incredible traits of being both something you can game for success or blame for your failures. it coerces you into enacting out nonsense superstitions to try to counteract or appease it in the hopes of, let's be honest, breaking it big and going viral. this way, you, the creator, do not have to do the hard work of building up a rapport with an audience. none of this goes anything but adds more numbers for the ceos to look at and nod approvingly or disapprovingly at.

the people running the world today are, without exaggeration, cartoon villains. they are deeply stupid, devoid of empathy, and open about their intent to do deeply evil acts in order to further their economic interests. trying to derive some kind of financial benefit from the creations of these unapologetic losers was always bound to be a wasted effort. the best thing i can say about twitter, a website i was banned from countless times and returned to out of stubborn desire, was that i got to make some great jokes with friends and cause some chaos lol. letting people know i have a web comic was always a secondary function once the realization of what social media was turning out to be set in like 7 years ago. any artist who insists that you have to do this or that on this or that social media site is trying to drag you down into the quagmire of online numbers poisoning.

run away!!! children heed my advice!!! the joy of creation does not lie on a path that encourages you to cater to the lowest common denominators while casting your net. just fucking have fun with it. if its not fun then it wont even be fun to do financially anyway. and isnt that, like. the point.

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mypoisonedvine · 4 months

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you could do a drabble about Jonathan Crane...a continuation about a drabble that he helps his patient with his sexual health problems, but now instead of observing he participates 👀 and Reader doesn't want to but does want to 🫠 I love your content, I'm so happy you're back.💜

seems like a perfect continuation to this c: HOW did it turn out so long lmaoooo 18+ ONLY OF COURSE

length: nearly 2k

warnings: noncon/heavy dubcon, abuse of power/manipulation, medical kink, praise kink, pain kink (at least on his part lol)

"How will I know when I'm ready?" you asked hesitantly. "For... sex?"

He smiled, very very slightly, and did that annoying therapist thing where he answered your question with a question. "What do you think are signs that you're ready for that step?"

You sighed, noticing how he'd flipped it back on you (he explained before why he did that-- because his job was to guide you to personal growth rather than just tell you what to do-- but you still wished sometimes it could be more simple) and tried to think about how to answer his question. "I guess... desire, would be a good sign."

"It would certainly help," he laughed lightly. "It's hard to feel much pleasure during something that feels like a chore. Have you?"

"Hm?"

"Have you experienced any desire for or interest in sex lately?" he asked.

Suddenly feeling a bit flushed, you looked away from him and rubbed the back of your neck. "O-oh, uh... I-- I guess that depends on what you consider--"

"So you have," he interrupted, smirking a bit, and you glanced at him before looking down at the floor with a nervous laugh. "I suspected as much."

"Because I brought it up today?" you assumed.

"No, for quite some time," he responded. "Weeks ago."

You blinked quickly, wondering how he could've noticed something like that. "Oh, did I... say something?"

"It's what you don't say," he explained, looking at you with a bit more darkness in his eyes. "It's what goes without saying."

You knew that he knew, but you weren't strong enough to admit it yet. "Wh-what do you mean, Dr. Crane?" you asked, playing dumb and hoping helplessly that it would work.

He sighed and shut his notebook, setting it aside and tilting his head a bit as he looked at you. "What do you think I'm referring to?" he asked.

You scoffed, seeing an opportunity to change the subject. "You know I can't stand it when you do that... you should just answer my questions," you decided.

"Yes, I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?" he smirked. "Simply being told what to do."

You shuddered at the way his voice changed... and his stare, too, it seemed to rake over you. Even though you weren't sure if he was really asking, you found yourself nodding.

"Say it, out loud," he insisted.

"I want you to... to tell me what to do..." you mumbled nervously, "Dr. Crane..."

He smiled, wider than probably you'd ever seen on him and your gaze followed him as he stood up. "I'm glad you've finally admitted it," he said softly, stepping closer to you until his form towered over you as you sat on the couch-- your heart beat faster as you arched your neck to look up at him, swallowing thickly. "Dilated eyes, elevated heartrate, tightly crossed legs-- yes, I noticed all the signs of desire in you. You want me to help you with your aversion, yes?"

"Well, of course, but--"

He leaned down and held your chin softly in his hand, making your words fail into a whimper. "I think you'll experience much faster progress this way," he explained. "You'll do as you're told?"

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your ears, but you nodded slightly; you couldn't exactly say 'no' now, could you?

And he wasn't wrong-- you'd thought about this, with him. But not literally this. You just thought he was attractive, and though he was the one who told you to touch yourself daily at home to desensitize your mind and increase your libido, you never admitted in your self-reports that you were usually thinking about him.

But you weren't thinking about him as your doctor. You were thinking about him as some other person, who just happened to look like that. And though, in your mind, he always took charge... this felt strange in all the wrong ways.

He didn't quite force you down, he just guided you-- but it wasn't gentle, either. It ended up with you laying back on his couch, the decorative throw pillows supporting your back and keeping you half-upright as Dr. Crane slotted himself between your legs, running his hands over your body through your clothes.

He hummed a little, staring down at you in this greedy, voracious way that was totally unfamiliar. You whimpered a little when his hands groped your breasts through your shirt. "Don't worry," he offered, as if it were that simple. "I told you to stimulate yourself like this each night... did you?"

"Yes," you breathed, "but, um... not so... not exactly like that."

"Show me, then."

Your hands were shaking as they took the place of his, and you thoughtlessly bit your lip as you squeezed yourself a little slower, a little gentler-- you both sighed when your fingers pinched your nipples slightly through your clothes.

He reached down to your waist, sliding his hands up under your shirt. His touch on your bare skin was... unexpected, to say the least. His hands were warm, which was a relief, but you still felt shivers run all over you as his fingers delicately moved up your sides. Under your shirt and bra, he cupped your breasts as your own hands fell away. "Like this?" he mimicked your touches, only without the barriers; and even though it made your stomach flip, you couldn't deny that what he was doing felt better than it ever had when you did it to yourself.

Not wanting to admit that to him, though, you just bit your lip harder and nodded.

Just when you started to get somewhat comfortable with-- or at least used to-- what he was doing, he pushed up your clothes to your collarbones, exposing your chest to his lascivious gaze.

"O-oh," you blurted out at the rush of cool air, at the way he stared down at you with an open, hungry mouth-- which he then suddenly latched onto one of your hardened nipples. "Oh!" you whimpered, hips rocking up against him unintentionally when he suckled hard at the sensitive bud.

He wasn't subtle about it, or all that gentle, but it wasn't too much. Thought it was certainly much more intense than you expected.

He hummed against your skin, and you continued to shake uncontrollably beneath him; it was a raw and aggressive sort of pleasure, his tongue and teeth constantly stimulating you, each movement making your pussy clench inside. He'd always told you to be slow and careful with yourself, to even tease and edge yourself if you could... apparently he didn't practice what he preached.

Apparently he didn't need to. You could tell that you were soaking your panties already. Your head was spinning; how the fuck was this actually happening?!

His mouth moved to your other nipple, his fingers tweaking the one still slick from his thorough treatment. He tilted his head, and you regretted glancing down to look at him latched into you like that. This was your doctor, your psychiatrist... you knew it was wrong, you weren't that naive. But you were apparently too stupid to figure out how to stop this.

When he broke away, he grinned up at you. "You're so sensitive here," he purred, "what other places have you found, hm? Those little spots that make your toes curl?"

It must have been a rhetorical question, because he was already pushing your skirt up to your waist. You shivered, feeling that familiar anxiety swell in your chest, but you tried to keep it down. Even if this wasn't at all how you imagined it, you did want to be done with this, to finally say you were able to move past your fear. Maybe this was just as good as any other way-- to just get it over with.

But you had to take a deep, shaky breath when his fingers hooked into your panties... gently pulling them down your thighs-- or in this case, up your thighs, since your legs were forced up and apart by his body between them.

He purred at the sight of you-- or maybe just when he saw how wet you were, but he got the feeling he already knew.

"Very good," he praised, and you sucked in a sharp breath. "You look ready."

Your eyes went wide as he sat himself back a bit, his hands hastily working on his belt and fly; you didn't want to watch him do this, but you couldn't seem to look away.

If your eyes were already wide, then they must have nearly popped out when he opened his trousers and pulled his cock out.

"I-it's too--" you blurted out instantly, scooting back on the couch a bit, recoiling away. "Dr. Crane, you're too--"

"What?" he asked innocently, though it was terribly unconvincing.

"It's too big," you whispered, and he laughed lowly.

"Don't worry about that," he sighed as he leaned down over you again, sliding himself between your slick lips with a groan. "You-- fuck-- you won't have any trouble. My god, you're soaking me already..."

He seemed pretty distracted, and wholly unbothered with your hesitance. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, but you couldn't seem to soothe-- especially not when he guided his head right up to your entrance. "W-wait," you stammered suddenly, moving your hips back, "I'm not-- I'm not ready."

"I think it's time for me to make that decision for you," he said firmly. "If you never challenge yourself, you'll never overcome this."

"But I'm not--!" you began, cut off by his hand covering your mouth. There was a ferocity in his glare as he watched your face, studying the changes in your expression carefully as he penetrated you.

As you had feared, his size was an issue. Even dripping wet, you had to stretch to accommodate him... it had been years since you took anything bigger than your own two fingers. He'd had you buy a relatively thin, 'ergonomic' (as the packaging stated) vibrator to insert in yourself at home, but you'd gotten too nervous and couldn't get it in past the first inch. He told you it was all in the mind, and you thought he was right at the time, but this felt physically impossible. And it just kept going.

You whined, nearly screamed, behind his hand, and he groaned in your ear with hot and heavy breaths.

"You can take it," he assured, sliding in deeper, "you can take my cock. It's going to fit... one way or another."

You sighed with relief when his hips were flush with yours; you were shaking, a thin layer of cold sweat all over you like you'd gone through some awful thing. But it wasn't over-- it had only just begun.

"Fuck," he grunted, starting to pull back and push into you all over again. "I know it hurts now... but you'll get used to it."

At first, you thought he meant just now-- that your body would relax and adjust, which it did eventually. But that wasn't what he meant, exactly. He meant something much more long-term, if not permanent; he meant that soon enough, you would be all too comfortable being his to use.

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut

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jingsyuans · 1 year

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hi! i loved your jing yuan post about him helping you out because you noticed someone following you! do you think you could please write a part 2 for it? i came across your blog and just fell super in love with your writing and how you wrote him 😊💜

a/n: ok. I did it. The reason I don’t write two parters is because most often times, people don’t enjoy the second part I’ve cooked up. It’s usually better played off in your imagination, but I’ve gotten enough requests for it, so I’m putting myself out of my comfort zone for y’all lol. I hope it’s worth it.

first part

wordcount: 3.7k

･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*. Jing Yuan ; from one tea lover to another

The tea pours gently without splatter, making something in you thrum happily as you fill the cup.

You’ve been making tea more often than usual ever since you got your new set. If you allow yourself to be honest, the Meissen that the general gifted to you was now one of your prized possessions. Just looking at it makes you feel a little happy- and you didn’t want the gift to go to waste. You’re making sure the pot and cups are well loved with use, always washing the surface of everything carefully once you’re done. A Meissen is simply too well crafted (and expensive) to excuse you merely using it as a showcase item.

It wasn’t as if you’d even be able to showcase it, you never had many visitors at home.

So you make your tea, usually once every morning before you set off for work and then another pot once you’re home to relax. You won’t lie to yourself- whenever you use the set, you think of Jing Yuan and what he did for you that day. The way he looked at you, the way his hand felt in yours.

Of course, the details like the weight and warmth of his hand have long been forgotten, it was impossible to really remember those kinds of things. But his eyes… yes, you remembered his eyes. His smile.

It’s been a month since then, time flowing smoothly on the Luofu as always and little events such as yours are simply eaten up in the grand scheme of things. You doubt the general thinks about it like you do- he’s a busy man, after all. But that’s okay.

When all is said and done, you’re glad that he gave you a good memory instead of a negative one, just as he planned.

So your life continues as normal, besides the addition of indulging in your tea hobby a bit more than you used to. The only reason you know about different unique sets and you’re able to discern them by eye is the fact you come from a family of tea-makers. No, your family didn’t make the sets- rather you grew the herbs and harvested them, making them into fine grade tea to sell to the markets. You grew up getting your hands dirty as you helped plant seeds and nurtured the crops. But you longed for a broader horizon, which landed you here on the Luofu, universes away from where your family continued their work without you.

It’s a little lonely. You think about them constantly, and as a meager way to try and support them when you left them behind, you always buy your family’s brand of tea. It’s expensive- your family wasn’t humble by any means, and through hard work, the family name had become one of the more royal brands that elites would seek out for personal use. But even if it’s expensive, it’s just not the same if you were to try and drink anything else.

That’s where your problem arises today. The store where you usually buy your family brand was simply… all sold out.

“But how is that possible?” You ask the merchant behind the counter, eyebrows furrowed. Your tone isn’t unkind, simply confused. “That’s never happened before. Did someone come in and buy it all?”

The merchant, who you were familiar with at this point from your frequent visits, looked at you with a guilty look in his eye. Which wasn’t necessary, it wasn’t his fault. “That’s exactly it,” he told you. “One of those fancy counselors came in and bought out everything we had. She didn’t exactly look happy about it herself, but she had her orders.”

Your confusion only deepens. “If someone wanted to order stock, they’d know to contact the sellers directly, not sell out shops on the Luofu,” you thought aloud. “So whoever bought it is either extremely arrogant or extremely impatient.”

“Well, you know the general. He’s a lazy one, isn’t he?”

“The general?” Your train of thought stops completely, eyes widening as you stare at the merchant. “The general stationed here? Jing Yuan?”

The man scratches the side of his face, looking at you with a lost expression. “Er… yeah, unless they got a new one down here recently. That’s the one.”

Not wanting to trouble the poor man any further, you just shake your head. You’ll think about it later. “I see,” you say. “Alright. Then… when is your next shipment?”

He sighs. That guilty look returns. “Well, see… we just got a new shipment, and he bought out the whole thing. I’m getting in contact with them now, but it’s possible we won’t have any of this brand for at least a month, maybe two.”

Your jaw nearly drops. But you can’t change the facts as they are, so you merely leave the store, befuddled and a little irritated, if you’re honest with yourself.

Jing Yuan is a smart man. What was he really trying to gain by taking all the stock from a poor old merchant? It’s extremely arrogant, and selfish! But those aren’t words you would use to describe the general on a normal day. He must be trying to get someone’s attention. But who on the Luofu would take notice of this specific brand of tea selling out for a little while…?

There’s no way that he’s trying to get your attention. That just doesn’t make any sense.

But you can’t think of anything else that would make more sense than that. Jing Yuan is trying to send you some sort of message, one that you don’t have the mind to decipher at the moment. All you can do is head home for now, empty handed. When you return home, you look in your cupboards for your own stock of tea. The reason you went shopping for some more wasn’t because you’ve run out, but you were going through your own stock quicker than normal now that you own the Meissen. When you look in the jars, there’s just a few servings of each different kind you own left.

So that settles it. Tomorrow, you’ll head to the Exalting Sanctum and see what Jing Yuan could possibly want. And maybe once all is said and done, he’ll give you some of the tea he suddenly decided to hoard for himself.

—

When you set off the next day, you were expecting it to be a little difficult to get to the Seat of Divine Foresight. You were even expecting to be disappointed and turned away, because who are you to request time with the General of the Luofu, the Divine Foresight himself? You're nobody on this ship.

And yet, when you ask the Cloud Knight for permission to head to the Divine Foresight, he asks no questions after you give him your name. You hardly have to wait at all before you’re on the jetty and then in front of the grand doors. When you enter, no one turns their heads to you or questions your presence. They go about work like normal.

You’re exceptionally small in this huge room that’s bristling with importance. With the way your heart is thudding in your chest, you feel like you’ve overestimated yourself and you should head home. But then you remember your nearly-empty jars of tea at home- and while tea isn’t everything to you, the connection you have to it is exceptionally personal. So you brave forward and take a few steps deeper in the large hall.

As quickly as your confidence comes, it wavers. There’s a lion. There’s a lion laying right in the middle of a rather large holographic game set, the animal seemingly waking up from its nap as it stretches its horribly large paws, showing you its sharp claws and dangerous teeth when it yawns. The sound sends subtle waves of terror through your whole body.

Nevermind, you think. You want nothing to do with Jing Yuan or that lion. For all you know, it might think you’re a trespasser or something and tear you to shreds before you can even attempt to explain yourself! You quickly turn on your heel and head back for the doors, skirting by everybody as fast as you can.

You’re too late. By the time you’ve made it to the door, you feel something tug on your bag from behind. When you turn around, the lion is right there, your bag between its teeth.

Oh, no. Oh no. Oh Aeons. No no no.

You manage to hold your scream in, but your whole body feels like it’s been shot as you suddenly lose feeling in your legs. You practically fall against the large door you were trying to exit, using it to keep yourself upright as you shake horribly. Do you look it in the eye? Do you keep your head down? You know nothing about this animal and you don’t know what it would register as a threat or not!!

The large lion stares at you while you practically fall apart into a million pieces in front of it, its eyes a stark blue. It’s actually kind of pretty when you put aside the fact it can split your head in two. Maybe even split you in half with the sheer strength of it.

“H- hey. Hey- help…” you finally muster the courage to use your voice, eyes darting from the lion to the Knights standing nearby and looking unbothered. “H- um…”

The lion drops your bag rather suddenly, making your attention snap right back to it. Then, as if your terror was it’s favorite toy, it opens its large jaw and roars.

This time you cannot hold back your scream. It tears out of you pathetically, a shriek more than anything else. You throw your whole body against the door, realizing that all your strength has disappeared from your terror as you desperately squirm and try to open it to run free. “Oh my Aeons oh my Aeons oh my Aeons-” you feel like crying, not even bothering to register all the people staring at you, “I'm going to die for real it doesn’t matter if I’m immortal if a lion tears me apart, I’ll die for real-”

“Mimi, bad kitty. You know better than to play with people.”

Mimi? Kitty?

You don’t have the courage to look behind you. The lion is still there and you just know that it wants to eat you, and who has the bravery to face that head on? Not you! It’s only when you feel a hand on your shoulder that you stop your scrambling against the door, which was apparently impossible to open, no matter how hard you pushed against it.

“You have to pull on it,” the voice says, filled with a gentle sort of amusement that could only belong to one person. Looking back, you see that of course it’s him. Of course it’s Jing Yuan, smiling at you with a cunning too similar to the lion, as if your terror was his toy, too. “Hello again. I apologize for my cat, I didn’t realize you’d be coming today.”

Like hell he didn’t. Like hell he didn’t. Like hell he didn’t!! His smile says otherwise!

“Lion,” you choke out, looking down at where it sat from behind Jing Yuan, looking rather bored. “Not a cat.”

Jing Yuan just chuckles, his hands moving to your arms to gently coax you away from the door. “You’re right. But you don’t need to worry, she won’t harm you. We’re a bit too bony for her tastes.”

You shoot him a horrified look and Jing Yuan smiles again, looking a little guilty.

“Sorry. What I mean to say is that she’s completely harmless. Will you give me your hand?”

Despite his teasing, Jing Yuan doesn’t force you. He waits patiently with his hand out, his body hovering close to you as if to offer you some sort of protection from the animal. You appreciate it a little. Eyes flickering from his hand and the lion, you visibly hesitate. But you’re here now, and Jing Yuan doesn’t look scared at all. You take his hand.

You’d forgotten how warm it was the last time you were with him. Strong, yet surprisingly uncalloused. He doesn’t battle nearly as much as he used to.

Your thoughts are caught up as Jing Yuan gently leads you forward, guiding your hand down to the lion - Mimi, he had said before. You’re still scared, your whole body growing stiff as Mimi sniffs at your hand. Jing Yuan remains warm and sturdy from behind you, keeping you from pulling away. Only a few seconds tick by before Mimi huffs hot air against your hand, pressing her head forward so your hand makes contact with her muzzle. The touch doesn’t last long before she pulls away, surprising you as her long tongue slobbers across your palm.

“Mimi,” Jing Yuan brings your hand away from her, his voice stern. “Why would you do that?”

The lion makes a certain sound akin to a guffaw before it’s turning away from the both of you, back to the large board set and letting her heavy body fall on the floor, lounging carelessly just like before. When you look up at Jing Yuan, he’s rolling his eyes. “What a sassy animal,” he mutters before he directs his attention to you and your dripping hand. “Let’s go up to my desk. I’ll wipe you off.”

You aren’t given much of a choice, Jing Yuan leading you deeper into the Divine Foresight and across the holographic board. You can tell that people are staring at you, making you nervously stare down at the ground to try and ignore it while you’re led by the arm. The general’s touch is gentle and yet insistent, just as you had remembered it.

He doesn’t make you wait. Once you’re standing by his desk, Jing Yuan gathers a towel that must be here for this exact purpose as he wipes the lion’s sticky saliva off your skin. Thankfully, she wasn’t too slobbery and didn’t get anything on your clothes. “There,” he says, his grip finally leaving your arm. You watch him owlishly as he makes himself comfortable on the grand seat behind his desk, his legs crossing with that familiar smile on his lips. “I really am sorry that she scared you so deeply. If I had known, I would have kept her home today.” His head tilts with a thoughtful look. “Of course, you could have let me know you were planning to come.”

You don’t have the courage to be completely impatient with him, but you dare to sigh. “You say that like I have your contact information and you’re not a renowned general and I’m just a visitor on the Luofu.”

“Just a visitor?” You’ve piqued his interest, Jing Yuan’s eyebrow raising up as he leans back in his seat, hands laced together in his lap. “That’s an interesting thing to call yourself considering how long you’ve been on board and living here. I think you’re more like a resident at this point.”

“And you know how long I’ve lived here?”

“Well, once I realized who you were after our encounter, I may have done some investigating. It’s dreadfully boring here sometimes, so the mind wanders.”

You try to wrap your head around it, as impossible as it sounds. You convinced yourself that Jing Yuan wouldn’t think twice about the day he helped you, but he’s denying that possibility outright. Indirectly telling you that he’s thought of you just as you’ve thought of him as the time has passed.

While it’s a little flattering, it is also undeniably an invasion of privacy, so it’s hard to convince yourself how you should be feeling right now.

“I’m not really anybody, general,” you say after some time spent letting it sink in. Your eyebrows furrow and your lips purse as you look at him. “All that sticks with me is the family name and not much else. So why would you buy out the only tea available on the Luofu that’s owned by my family just to get my attention?”

Jing Yuan hums, long and thoughtful as he leans forward toward his desk, elbow up as he props his chin to rest in his hand. “I wonder…” he says. His eyes boring into you. “Well, like I said, it does get dreadfully boring here sometimes. I worry I’m becoming a boring person myself because of it. Life is mundane when it’s strictly all paperwork and meetings.”

You don’t believe that he did all this just because he was bored. There had to be more to it than that, because there’s a thousand other ways to entertain yourself before coming to this.

“I looked into your history. I suppose we have something in common, so I was intrigued.” His eyes slowly drift away from you with a pondering look before he chuckles. His head turned in the direction of the empty space next to him. “Come here, sit down. There’s plenty of room.”

You give him a strange look, clearly questioning him, and Jing Yuan merely smiles. Waiting patiently. So with not much of a choice or reason not to, you round the desk and delicately sit on the edge of the long seat, trying to put as much space between the two of you as possible. You can hear the laugh that leaves his nose, but he doesn’t say anything to convince you closer before he continues to speak.

“Have you heard the gossip about my past? How my family is originally from the Realm-Keeing division?” He judges by the look on your face that you haven’t. “Well, it’s true. So, how on earth did I become general if that’s where I’m from?” Again, you have no answer. “I did much as you did. I left.”

“You left?” You repeat aimlessly, not realizing how you sink into your seat a little more comfortably. Jing Yuan nods.

“I know I may not look it now, but I was a very ambitious, and frankly, overconfident little thing. I was determined to be part of the Knights. The rest is unimportant.” His head tilts in his hand, eyes closing with his sigh. “I know what it’s like to leave family. To miss family.”

You watch him carefully. He isn’t exactly giving off a somber presence- you have a feeling that any guilt or doubt has rubbed off him a long while ago. His words are surprisingly sincere all the same. “I think we all know what it’s like, general,” you say softly. “A lot of us have been ripped from family due to the war.”

“But not you,” he says, turning his head to look directly at you- that same look from the last time the two of you met that sends a shiver up your spine from the terror and pleasure of his direct attention. “And not I. We both left of our own volition.”

There’s not much you have to say in response to that. He’s said a lot, but he still hasn’t told you why. Hasn’t given you any answers as to his motive.

As if he’s read your mind, Jing Yuan sits upright again and flawlessly changes the subject. “I figured since we have some similarities, maybe we can work together. See, I would like to learn something new, and I think you can help. You owe me a favor, after all.”

You practically choke, balking at him. A favor? Is that how he saw it?

Before your thoughts can spiral any further, Jing Yuan laughs, visibly amused by your reaction. “I’m only joking, of course! You don’t owe me anything. Really, I’m only reaching out for my own agenda, so there’s no need to help me.”

You sigh, realizing that Jing Yuan is practically impossible to pin down. You’d hate him and his smug look if it weren’t for how attractive he looked while he was messing with you, and the flutter in your stomach from the fact he was so comfortable around you. You have no idea why he is, but he is.

“What do you need my help with?”

“So you’re thinking about it?” The general smiles. “Good. What I want from you is… well, to put it simply… tea.”

You can’t help what you say next, despite who he is and the rank he holds as you deadpan.

“You already bought several dozens of it. Why do you need more.”

“I don’t!” He agrees and shakes his head. “And I don’t want to hoard your family's tea, mind you. I’ve tasted it, and the flavour is wonderful. And I’m aware of how your family grows all its own herbs and spices, which is why it’s so unique. So what I’d like from you is… to teach me how.”

Oh. Realization slowly dawns on you as you look at him curiously. “You want me to teach you how to garden? To grow herbs for tea?”

Jing Yuan nods.

“Well… there’s a lot more to it than that. I’d be teaching you a lot. You have to grow them under the right conditions for a better flavor profile, and then there’s the process of rolling the leaves, crushing them, drying them… making sure they get the right amount of oxygen.” These are just some of the steps it takes to make your own brew by hand. “You would want to learn all that?”

The general doesn’t look deterred at all. He’s still smiling at you, his expression relaxing as he stares at you all throughout your clarification. You won’t deny the way it makes your face feel warm, but you're adamant on ignoring it, pretending like it’s not there.

“Will you teach me?” He asks.

You take a breath, realizing something then and there. His question was never really a question at all, not really. How could it be when there was only one answer?

“Of course I will,” you say, watching as his grin grows impossibly wide. “But… are you still going to keep all that tea you bought?”

“Well, I’ll give you whatever you’d like, but I would like to keep the rest. I’ve already distributed it among the commissions and knights to use at work.”

So giving it back was never really in the cards.

#jing yuan #jingyuan #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan reader insert #hsr x reader #hsr reader insert #reader insert #x reader #hsr jing yuan #honkai star rail #honkai x reader

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iheartlegolas · 1 year

Text

𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ pairing: legolas x fem!reader

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ warnings: alcohol consumption, smut (MDNI pls), very light breathplay/choking

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ word count: 2.9k

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ synopsis: there's no better place to be than in the bedchambers of the elven prince, as he eagerly yearns to give you a night you'll ask him to relive

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫note: it's time ! my first smut to ever be written & shared, thank u all for ur patience, please accept my apologies for posting the preview and then dipping without a trace…lol i largely underestimated my ability to write smut so i truly hope that you enjoy (and that it’s readable) ok ily bye enjoy!

The chill of the autumnal night establishes itself upon your skin, its reluctant air depriving you of warmth as you stifle a shiver that forces its way to your spine. You stand, leaning onto a tree carved into a grand pillar, concealed from the crowd's gaze with a clear view of the crisp sky in front of you. Your head turns to the elves glittering about in the grand hall, their hands holding glasses filled with wine. Elven wine. A sheepish smile finds you, the gilded rim of the glasses delivering memories of your first time of having made the soon to be realised mistake; the consumption of the potent liquid.

Your head snaps back to the stars as recollection inches closer, taste buds reminded of its lightness and sweet taste of berries which proved to be a mere facade. Ignoring the gentle warnings Legolas whispered to you as you were handed a drink, playfully brushing them off as you welcomed the wine into your mouth. The faces of bewilderment and suppressed laughs as you drunkenly clung to the Prince all evening, plastering his neck and face with kisses, speaking incoherent nonsense into his ear, his arms catching you every time with an all too familiar ease as you tripped on air over and over again.

Your eyes are struck by the face of the moon, feeling a shudder come over you. The moon being the only other witness to the night that followed as the Prince ended your attendance to the party prematurely—the moment you began tugging at his tunic, your whispers becoming coherent and too indiscreet for any ear not belonging to him to hear. His hands claimed you once your eager pleas were out of the average Elf's range of sight and sound, his mouth beckoning you to be quiet with his kiss. The warmth of the summer air and its moonlight draping your nude form as you laid atop his discarded tunic, a makeshift bed on the forest floor.

You tighten the grip on your chalice filled with non alcoholic drink, the aching heat in your core daring to consume you as you recall the way his head dipped in between your thighs, his tongue softer than the moss you clutched. You sigh at his absence, pulling away from the moon's trance as an unavoidable wave of longing claims you, staring into the liquid of your drink. You bring it to your mouth, the brim of the chalice is cool on your lips as you force a swallow and your insides cringe at its lack of something stronger. Then, drinking more as your attempts to not think of him fail, your mind on the tips of his fingers grazing across your back, his eyes resting as his arms held you against his chest, his calmed heartbeat lulling you to sleep. You swallow the final sip, setting the chalice down. Thirst crawls its way back to your mouth.

The overwhelming sensation of sobriety prods at you with the sharpness of a blade.

Your memory becomes clouded with interruption as a gentle pair of arms envelop you from behind. A smile eases onto your lips as his chin rests on your shoulder, smelling traces of wine in his breath. Your shoulders relax as they lean into his embrace, "At last, the Prince has graced me with his presence." You speak with words drenched in playful sarcasm, drawing out a deep chuckle.

"I have been searching for you."

You turn to face him, your eyes failing to resist the temptation to become distracted by the moonlight that comfortably rests upon his porcelain skin. Seconds pass and you finally allow yourself to blink, your lips pursing with accusation, "And it appears you got lost in a wine cellar."

His forehead inches to rest against yours, dwindling your yearning into a distant memory as he hums in response. "I've missed you." He breathes, sliding his hand from your waist to the side of your neck. You lean into his touch, his hand feeling irresistibly soft despite lifetimes of yielding his bow.

"I must insist that you disobey the King's orders the next time he dares to pull you away from me for longer than a fortnight." You brush your lips against his, exchanging breaths. Silence fills the air, freeing you of the sounds of the King's autumnal celebration, harps echoing away from your ears. Your lips meet his—the kiss you’ve been waiting for, warm, soft. An urge strikes you and you depart from him before he grasps the opportunity to light the kiss ablaze, "Unless you'd like me to beg."

A hand slips into the back of your neck, bringing you back to his mouth. You taste berries on his tongue as it enters your mouth. You moan into him, hands flying to grip his shoulders for strength against your weakening knees.

The noise of the guests pull him away, his vision scanning for a pair of eyes lurking, a wandering ear to hear your desires meant only for him. A stream of cheers and refills invades the invisible shield you created for the both of you, proving to be ineffective. You tug at the thick, velvet-like material of his tunic, feeling spoiled as his face turns to yours with concern, albeit realising as he catches your parting lips, sensing your want.

His hand reaches for yours, leading you into the dimly lit forest on a path most familiar. You trail behind him, his quickening pace and strong grip failing to pay any notice to the fallen leaves that stick to the silken material of your dress, the thorns from the bushes tearing almost too easily into the delicate cloth. The path brightens as you near a reentrance to the Elven King's halls, the forest pathway discreetly allowing the quickest way to your destination. Footfalls become more hurried as you smile with glee, a fistful of your dress clenches in your hand to prevent a fall into the moistened ground. You yelp above a tree vein with a mission to bring you to the earth's floor, "Legolas!" You laugh, eyes dashing to him as he falters. His frame towers over you, blending in with the surrounded oaks.

His hand softens into yours as he halts, placing his other onto the side of your neck, a thumb strokes your warmed cheek, "Forgive my eagerness, my starlight."

Your mouth opens in response, only allowing for a gasp to escape as his arms lift you from the ground, carrying on with haste until you are brought to his bedchambers at last. A sharp inhale penetrates you as his lips collide with yours, the shutting of the door reverberating through the room as you allow his hands to untie the cords of your dress, pulling you closer to him as it loosens against your skin. He releases himself from your lips, his kiss drifting to your ear.

His hands move to the sides of your face, "My little star," He whispers, his lips brushing against yours as you shiver, "Will you grant me my desire to please you tonight?"

His hardened length dares to distract you from his words, "Yes," you say, before your breath bids your lungs farewell as the simple act of breathing becomes a foreign concept. Your dress inches off of your shoulders under the command of his careful fingers, an eager gaze following his every move. Goosebumps rise as more of your skin is revealed to him, impatience stirring within your dampening core as he stops to plant kisses along your collarbone. "You cannot rush me into your chambers and undress me so slowly. It is torture." You whine. A deep chuckle vibrates against your neck before his hands grip your dress, pulling. The fine fabric you once adored turns to an unshapely mess as it hits the floor, and a sigh of relief waiting to be freed withdraws from your mouth. Strong arms hoist you up with the haste you crave, his mouth back on yours as he plants you onto the soft covers of the bed. Your hips raise to meet his cock, resulting in a groan and his tongue enters your mouth. His palm grips your thigh, and you watch with half lidded eyes as his mouth leaves yours to venture to your chest. His tongue caresses your breast, a gentle massage that sends your hand flying to his tresses and disturbs the neatness, moaning as his tongue swirls around your hardened nipple. His head rises, a lustful gaze searching for your eyes as they open, fondling your breast with his hand. He flashes you a smile and leaves a hot kiss on your neck, rising from his position above you to sit against the head of the bed. You prop yourself up on your elbow and look at him, unsure of why he stopped, mouth opening in question.

"Come."

You lift to your hands and knees, your gaze falling to the outline of his cock as you crawl. His hand grabs your wrist before it reaches and he turns you away from him, your back sinking into his chest. His hand is on your neck as you settle onto him. Your breath becomes uneven, watching his free hand slide down to your core and reach the hem of your undergarment. You help him remove the final piece, entirely exposed as your bare body warms against his attire.

"Tell me, my little star," He whispers into your ear as his fingers find your clit, sliding his tongue across the tip of your ear while you melt deeper into him, "Did you touch yourself while I was away?"

You shudder, feeling his fingers glide across the wetness that gathered in your core, whimpers escaping from your lips as his slickened fingers begin to circle your clit, hips lightly jolting to swallow his touches. You moan, throwing your head back into his chest. His grip tightens around your neck, fingers pressing gently to the sides to coax an answer.

You whimper, the sounds of your wetness brought to your ears, "Yes." You moan, gasping as his pace quickens.

You feel a smile against your skin, writhing against his strong hold, arching as the incomings of an orgasm begins to burn within you—then he stops. Your hand falls to the sheets, a whine forming in your throat.

“Show me.” Legolas says, his voice low, fingers rising from your cunt to rest upon your breast, “Touch yourself.”

You hum softly, turning to face him with a look of question, your cheeks burning with heat at his command. He’s serious—lips curled into a subtle smirk, his eyes exploring the expanse of your shivering body—all while his hand remains wrapped around your neck. Your hand rises, fingers grazing your abdomen, lowering slowly to your aching cunt. A deep inhale enters you as your eyes close, leaning your head back into him as you start to pleasure yourself. Heat overtakes your entire body as it burns against his, soft moans slipping out of your mouth as his words of encouragement—“good girl” “just like that, little dove” “show me how good it feels”—spill into your ear, prompting you to hasten your touches. His hand travels down to your clit in favour of replacing yours, which you gladly retract as it flies to grip the sheets, surrendering under his fingers. A wave of pleasure washes over you, gasping as an orgasm arrives. The Prince is intent on driving you mad with pleasure as he continues circling your delicate pearl, but your trembling hand seizes his wrist, whimpering with a weak effort to bring a pause to his pace, "Legolas."

His fingers settle down into a leisure pace while your heartbeat struggles to calm itself in its enclosure. "Were you not eager for me to pleasure you?" He toys in a deep tone.

"I want you inside of me." You breathe, your grip loosens on his wrist as your muscles remember how to function, the tenseness possessing your body finding relief as his fingers stop. You shift, turning to face him, cheeks heating at the sight of his face. You resist the urge to grind against his lap as you work on removing his attire, straddling him with a timidness that he finds irresistibly adorable. You avoid the wolfish smile tugging at his lips, your mouth watering as his tunic comes undone, unsteady hands reaching to explore his toned chest.

"After all the moments we shared," He inches closer, fingers raising your chin. Your eyes meet his, weakening under his gaze, "You still remain coy as though it was the first time."

Vision blurs from his face to the ceiling as he flips your body to lay against the soft covers of the bed. He rises and stands at the foot of the bed, gaze towering above your splayed form with a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. You engage in the act of watching him as he takes the role of undressing himself, staring in awe while your insides flutter as your hand awaits restlessly to feel his cock. His return to you is quick, gratefulness erupting within when his mouth devours you with a fervent kiss. A tongue caresses yours before interruption strikes him with a moan, a sensual stroke of your hand treading dangerously along the length of him. Your fingers curl around him, raising your hips to tease his cock with the wetness of your dripping pussy—but he stops you, restraint apparent on his clenched jaw as he resists the desire to sink his cock into you, dragging his lips to the expanse of your chest, then lowering as his hands stroke your thighs, parting them. You watch as he presses kisses to your inner thighs, reaching to grab hold of his hair. His mouth moves to your core, his warm breath fanning over your cunt. You throw your head back and moan as his tongue licks along your heat, tasting the remnants of your orgasm then trailing up to suckle on your clit. His hand slides up to your breast as he slips two fingers inside of you, curling in upward motions and sending you into bliss. His name releases from your mouth through soft whines, his tongue bringing trembles trickling into your thighs. Your hips roll into his mouth with delicate force, clutching the covers as you moan through the orgasm he brings you. You loosen, laying slack as you take deep breaths, the wondrous exhaustion of being sent to heaven a second time has caught hold of you. He kisses your thigh with tender touches of his hands, then rises to meet you. Your arms wrap around him in embrace, pulling him into a kiss while his cock prods at your thigh. He reaches down to align himself with your core, saturating his length with your wetness. You rock your hips against him as it slides along your slit, whimpering in desperation for him to fill you whole. The head of his cock pushes into your cunt, and a moan leaves his mouth as he buries himself into you, reaching for your hand and enclosing his fingers with yours as he pins it above you. You moan with him as his thrusts grow deeper, pulling him close. A cry escapes your lips and your walls clench around him, raking your nails across his back with quivering lips. You love the familiarity of it all—how he knows every delicate spot to drive into over and over again, the control over your body that he masterfully possesses. His thumb trails across your lower lip as his eyes drink in the sight of you beneath him, your writhing body and nipples brushing against his chest, clinging onto him with your arms while you fill the room with sounds of your pleasure as he pumps in and out of you.

Moments like this are dragged to a wish for eternity as his palm cradles your cheek, his thrusts slowing in an attempt to prolong your bliss—and all you can do is stare into those captivating hues as your vision blurs before your eyes shut. Your mouth parts, soundless save for the shaking of your breaths, a trembling hand reaches for the back of his neck as you shudder into your climax, the walls of your heat convulsing around his girth. "Fill me." A beg cries from your tongue, “Please.” You whimper, cheeks burning.

Your words bring a groan to his lips as his composure crumbles. His cock twitches inside of you, spilling his seed into you, dipping his head down to meet your lips for a kiss—messy, with broken breaths in between, pressing his forehead against yours.

The subtle tremble of your thighs remains as he finally pulls out after a tender moment with his head rested in the crook of your neck. He pulls the covers to your bodies, reaching to bring you closer. You nestle into him and sigh with contentment, cheeks stamped with heat that has finally begun to cool. His fingers graze the expanse of your back under the covers, lips pressing light kisses into your neck. Your eyes close, heavy with sleep, releasing calming breaths that mingle with his as he gazes upon the sight of your face, “Gi melin.” He says and kisses your forehead, resting his chin above your head as sleep claims you.

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ translations

elvish - english

gi melin - i love you

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ taglist: @actualnymph @celestialuna13 @silversword7000 @starbirdfinch @summerannabelle @quackquackmfs @legolaswhore @iaur @straysugzhpe @idk-whatamidoinglmao @desert-fern @suddenlyperson @zealousfartsandwich

(some usernames aren’t able to be tagged so if you joined the taglist and didn’t get tagged pls lmk)

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ did u enjoy?

♡ pls leave a like, comment, or reblog ! ↷　

#legolas x reader #legolas greenleaf #legolas smut #legolas x you #legolas x y/n #legolas #legolas fanfiction #lord of the rings #lotr x reader #the hobbit x reader #legolas thranduilion #legolas oneshot #legolas imagine

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stardustdreams-andcaffeine · 2 years

Text

In the Blink of an Eye | Bucky Barnes (Mafia AU)

mafia!bucky barnes x f!reader ✧ oneshot

Summary: With Bucky Barnes, the mafia lord of New York, as your boyfriend, you're usually safe from any and all harm. With a date night gone wrong and your boyfriend distracted, though, anything can happen in the blink of an eye.

A/N: Another one of my favorites because come on, who doesn't love mob Bucky? If you couldn't tell by now, angst is my thing lol, but I'm working on some fluffier oneshots! True to my word, this one's a reader insert for all you lovelies, enjoy and as always keep dreaming 🤍

Warnings: mafia!Bucky, violence, angst, kidnapping, drugging, language, mentions of torture, fluffy ending because I just can't help myself.

Word Count: 5,896

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦

I knew the dangers when I started. I knew the risks. I welcomed them, I embraced them. They did not scare me and they haven't even now, so many months later.

We always seem to think we know ourselves so well, that we know what we'd do in every situation. I thought I knew.

Then I fell in love.

When you're in love, well, everything changes. For the first time, there's another person that you cannot live without. For the first time, you begin to realize just how far you'd go to keep that love, to strengthen it. I used to avoid love, used to think it was worthless.

Then I met Bucky Barnes, Wolf of the North and mafia lord of New York, and I fell harder than I ever have before.

I love him more than anything else in my life, and so I took on the risks willingly. When you love someone that deeply, that ardently, nothing is a risk. Besides, I knew that he would do everything in his power to protect me. Bucky would never let anything bad happen to me.

That's where I went wrong. Not in overestimating him, but underrating what can happen in the blink of an eye.

"Bucky, I think that guy's following us"

He acts as though he's heard me, but his eyes are glued to the phone in his hand as we weave through the crowds in the New York night. He never usually ignores me like this, and even though I'm growing annoyed, I'm hurt by his lack of attention too.

"We'll be fine, even if he is he wouldn't be stupid enough to try anything" Bucky brushes off, not even looking up from his phone. I let out a small huff as we approach the front of the bar and nightclub he owns.

Before we make it to the doors, I grab his well-muscled arm and gently tug him to face me. He looks up now, his usually softened ice blue eyes plagued with business and stress.

"I thought tonight was just for us, my love" I remind. Something softens in his gaze but he ices it down and doesn't as much as touch me.

"It is, but I have some business to attend to first" his gravelly voice replies.

"Business?" I ask, lifting an eyebrow and smiling softly at him, "You can get business any night, but I-"

"Just give me ten minutes, Y/N." my boyfriend interrupts, and if it were any other day I'd say something back. Too exhausted from work to want an argument, though, I simply sigh and decide to show him patience.

"Alright, you have 10 minutes."

We walk inside, but before we do I cast one more glance back towards the man who I saw following us. My heart hits the floor when my eyes connect directly with his across the street. His mousy brown hair and disheveled brown leather jacket and white shirt set me on edge, so I quickly turn around and follow Bucky into his club.

As soon as I'm back by his side, he presses a gentle but burning hand to my back, his touch, however small, still intoxicating me after all this time. Normally, he'd lean over and whisper sweet nothings or promises of love in my ear and I'd shiver at the whisper of his voice so near, but now he barely even touches me. His mind is so preoccupied with work, I know that, but it has been all week since this weekend is his rival's gala.

But I feel ignored and unappreciated and it's killing me.

The pounding music of the club wraps around me, making it harder to keep my thoughts straight. Bucky and I walk straight to the back of the club, where his business no doubt waits. He pulls away from me without so much as a goodbye, and my heart tugs. Quickly I grab his hand, making him glance at me.

"Bucky, this guy is really freaking me out," I repeat, and I know he said I'll be fine but I need him to be here with me, "Please, stay with me."

"Doll, you're gonna be fine. Now-"

I cut him off, getting frustrated.

"No Bucky! I can fight, sure, but if he-" I interrupt, only for him to cut me right back off.

"Drop it, Y/N. Just go to the bar or something" Bucky growls, pulling out of my grip and walking into the office without a single glance back at me.

My heart cracks.

He's never like this, ever. He's usually so protective it's overbearing, and yet the one time I need that to feel secure, he refuses. I can take care of myself, but I'm not stupid. And no matter how capable and independent I may be, Bucky brings a level of safety to me that I can't describe.

And yet here he is, leaving me alone in his bar with someone following us.

I huff out a sigh and try not to look too forlorn as I traipse over to the bar. Almost as soon as I've arrived and sat at an open bar stool, the bartender who has become somewhat of a friend over the last few months approaches me.

"And how is my favorite customer?" He asks, his hands busy preparing a drink. I shrug, offering him a soft smile.

"I'm alright, Lee," I respond, playing with the edge of my sleeve, "Just a whiskey please."

"Sure thing, Y/N," Lee says, his brows furrowed as he steps away to make my drink. When the glass slides in front of me, I grab onto it with tired fingers.

"So, do you want me to ask what's really going on or do you want me to believe the lie?" The bartender asks, making me raise my gaze from the amber liquid and to my friend's face. He must see the tears gathering in my eyes because a hint of concern grows. I never break like this.

"Believe the lie, please" I nearly whisper, desperate to not have this conversation right now. Lee stares at me for a second longer before nodding.

"Let me know if you need anything else."

When he walks away to take care of another customer, I'm left feeling alone and forgotten in my boyfriend's bar. I sip on the alcohol and seconds turn to minutes, and ten minutes soon becomes twenty. I feel patience slipping and am seconds away from barging into that room and giving my boyfriend a piece of my mind when another voice pipes up beside me.

"I thought tonight was date night," The voice says, and I can't put a face to it. When I turn, the haze of alcohol clears instantly and my spine snaps straight. The music dulls into a hum. The lights grow darker. The color leeches from my body. My hand trembles around the almost empty glass.

It's him. He's got the same messy hair, the same brown jacket. The same hungry eyes.

Instantly, I clamp down hard on my rising panic. I refuse to fall into hysterics of any kind right now. This is the safest place for me to be right now, so I should have nothing to worry about. Instead, I simply shake my head and turn forward, downing the last of my second whiskey.

"You're another kind of stupid if you think anything is going to happen to me in here," I inform, my tone even and calm despite the throbbing, tearing panic within me that makes me want to sprint for Bucky.

"Oh sweetheart, I'm not going to do anything," the man responds, his tone just as even as mine.

I furrow my brows at the ease of his response, but all at once it hits me. My head begins to spin and with each second that passes, my mind begins to fog. No. No. No.

He drugged me.

How did he get it into my drink?

How did I not see it? Smell it? Taste it?

I shove out of my chair so fast that the stool screeches against the hard floor. The sound is absorbed into the mass of the club, though, and an arm snakes around my waist.

"No," I manage out, but the connection between my body and brain seems to be almost severed. The words come out sluggish and far away and when I try to pull from the stalker's hold, my body barely moves.

Instead, I'm left stumbling like I'm drunk with this man guiding me towards the exit as if he's helping me to a cab. The bouncers. Ed and Damien, they won't let him take me. They'll stop him, they'll get him away from me.

"Don't make a scene, Y/N. Your boyfriend isn't even out of his office." My kidnapper's voice slithers into my ear, making my stomach church with nausea.

My boyfriend. Bucky. Oh God, where is Bucky? Why can't I seem to remember where Bucky went? Why he's not here? Why I was alone?

"Bucky, Bucky's gonna-" I slur out, sounding absolutely wasted to the unknowing ear.

"I know, Mr. Barnes going to be so glad I got you home safely," he says suddenly, his entire body shifting tone. I furrow my brows and manage to look and see us just passing Ed and Damien at the door. Even though I can really see straight, I see the two bouncers block the exit when they see me.

"Hey man, what's going on?" I hear Ed ask.

"Nothing much to see, Boss just wanted me to take his lady home," the stalker says, his grip on me tighter than it must appear, "She had a little too much to drink."

Too much to drink? Did I? Why can't I remember what's happening? I didn't think I did but...but maybe I did. Who is this man? He said he's taking me home, maybe Bucky had to cancel date night. It was date night, right?

Both Ed and Damien furrow their brows and look to me, immediate concern drawing on their features when they see the state of me. Some lucid part of me screams to alert them of something, anything, but the thought doesn't come to fruition. It dies somewhere along a neuron and leaves me tripping over my own feet and speechless.

"I've never seen you before, man. How do we know that boss told you to take her home?" Damien asks. My escort doesn't miss a step.

"The Wolf is in states nowadays, isn't he boys?" The stalker replies, and that lucid part sparks up again in protest at the familiar words. That's the code phrase to ensure safety in moments like this.

He knows the code phrase.

They're going to let him take me.

I do what I can to struggle as Ed and Damien step aside, but it only comes across as trying to walk on my own, because the bouncers chuckle slightly.

"Relax Y/N, don't overdo it" Ed quips.

"Rest up, miss. I'll let boss know you got home safely." Damien follows up.

And the lucid part of me fades into the drug haze as my kidnapper guides me out of the safest place on earth without so much of a gun fight. The cool night air slaps me in the face and I whisper, trying to struggle again only to forget why I'm struggling in the first place. My body feels like I'm running through neck-high mud, anyways. Any sharp movements I try to make end in my hands barely moving.

"Bucky," I breathe, an urgency in that word. Beyond the haze and the forgetfulness and the confusion, there's a deep and piercing need to scream out that name. I can't figure out why, but I need him. I can't...I need...

My head's spinning, or maybe it's the world. My stomach is twisting and turning and twisting and turning and tw-

"He can't save you now. He didn't even put up a fight to protect you," that ugly, slimy voice says as a car door opens, "What a shame. A treasure like you should be guarded. But I guess finder's keeper's."

Then I'm shoved into a car and everything goes black.

||| James Buchanan Barnes

Y/N's going to actually kill me. As in my liver on a plate kill me.

The meeting that I promised would only be ten minutes has now gone for forty, and by now she's probably restless, hungry, and a little tipsy.

Great, and I pissed her off earlier so tonight is going to be so much fun.

I pull a hand through my dark hair with a slight groan as the man I was doing business with finally leaves my office. I sit for a second in the semi-quiet of my room, the pounding of music and laughter dulled by the walls. I know I shouldn't have gotten short with her earlier, but damn she wouldn't let up on me with the whole "stalker" thing.

My club is the safest place for her. I would never let anything happen to her, so for her to even think that...I sigh again, shoving it from my mind. It doesn't matter anymore. All that matters is finding my girlfriend and making all of this shit up to her. I rise from my leather chair and walk out of my office, the dulled sounds roaring into full force.

My eyes immediately shoot towards the bar to find my girl only to see an absence of her. With furrowed brows, I sweep my gaze towards the dance floor. Even crowded with people, I don't see her. I roll my eyes instantly, knowing what probably happened. She probably went home, probably's pissed as hell at me. I brush off my suit jacket and walk up to Lee at the bar, immediately garnering his attention. He smiles at me.

"Hey boss, can I get you anything?" He asks.

"No I'm good, thanks Lee," I respond, leaning on the bar with one arm and pinching the bridge of my nose, "Have you seen Y/N? I think I pissed her off."

There's a pause that makes me look over at my bartender. He's looking at me weirdly as he slides a drink to a customer and laughs slightly.

"Real funny, boss," Lee says, cleaning out a few glasses. I straighten up slightly, my brows furrowing deeper and my jaw setting.

"What's so funny, Lee? Have you seen her or not?" I ask, quickly losing my patience. I always thought he had a thing for her, always was too-

"Are you fucking with me right now?" Lee asks genuinely, cutting off my thoughts. When I don't respond, he realizes I'm not joking and his face goes grave, "So you didn't send her home twenty minutes ago?"

The world tilts around me and every ounce of anger, annoyance, and frustration leaves me in an instant. My heart drops like an anchor at sea and I don't dare to believe what Lee's words mean.

"She left twenty minutes ago," I begin slowly, trying desperately to hold myself together and not jump to a conclusion, "With someone who said I sent them to take her home."

Lee's face is slowly falling as he realizes the situation at hand. I feel so sick to my stomach that I can barely stand when Lee gives a faint nod. My world stops and then starts and then stops again.

"I never gave that order." I breathe.

"Bucky, I think that guy's following us"

I brushed her off.

"Bucky, this guy is really freaking me out. Please, stay with me."

I ignored her. I snapped at her. I prioritized work over the light of my life. I told her she'd be fine.

I left her.

Lee is saying something to me but I don't hear it as I shove away and storm over to Ed and Damien, my bouncers. My face is a painting of fury and shame and worry and panic and it's a storm that catches Ed and Damien's attention. They stop what they're doing and look to me, their brows furrowing.

"Boss, what's-"

"You let her leave?" I strangle out, my heart slamming in my chest and my fists balled by my sides, "You let a stranger take her away?"

The two share a confused glance before looking back to me.

"A stranger? Boss, the man who took Y/N home knew the code," Ed informs.

"Did you not send him?" Damien suddenly asks, his face tightening in instant panic.

He knew the code. He knew the code and he somehow got my doll, my fighter, out without so much of a warning.

And it's all my fault.

"Shut the club down, get everyone out. Call together all of our forces. Tell them-" My voice breaks, raw emotion clawing up my throat, "Tell them Y/N's been taken."

I don't wait for a response and shove out into the cold night, gasping for air like a fish out of water. I was so obsessed with the gala this week that Hydra, our arch nemesis, was putting on, that I stopped paying attention to the only part of my life that matters. I have a lot of things, all of which I could live without, but I cannot live without her.

And I left her.

I left her and now she's gone.

She tried to warn me, she tried to tell me someone was following us. She tried to get me to stay with her, to not leave her. And yet I walked away. I just walked away like she didn't even matter and I left vulnerable and alone the only person in this entire fucking universe I love. It's all my fault, and I'll spend every second of the rest of my life trying to make it up to her.

If I can even find her in time, before she-

No. I will find her and she will live. I will burn down this whole damn world if I have to, and I will not stop. Not until every person who laid a finger on my girl is dead. I will paint the world crimson with their blood until I find her, and once I do I will never, never, ignore or leave her again.

That's not a threat. It's a promise.

||| Your POV

The collar secured to my throat is too tight, the metal no doubt leaving red grooves in my skin.

It hurts worse when Alexander Pierce, the mafia lord of Hydra, tugs the matching chain leash attached to it, pulling me closer to him and almost making me stumble mid-step.

The gala is glamorous, and my gown is nothing short of it as well. Pierce even went through the trouble of having someone do my hair. What he didn't do was my makeup.

That way anyone could see the dried blood and bruises littering my skin.

It's a scare tactic, I know that. A way to signal to everyone here that he's in charge and that he can't be defied. But I think he's got a bigger reason in mind for it all, the collar and the hideous marks on my skin.

And that reason is my boyfriend.

I can practically feel people's eyes follow me as I walk as steadily as I can at the end of Pierce's leash. Despite the radiating, excruciating pain that each step incurs, I keep my body steady and my chin high. I let the policemen and officials that are on his payroll and all of the members of his mafia see my bruises and cuts. He's parading me, so I'm going to put on a damn show.

A show to hide how mind-numbingly terrified I am right now.

Behind my set jaw and my cold eyes, I'm fighting back tears. The pain is mixing with the fear of the last few days to make a perfect storm within me. I'm terrified that any moment could be my last, that more pain could await me, that Bucky might never come for me

Or worse. That he doesn't even care.

Regardless of whether or not he cares, I'm still not going to give a single detail out. Even when Pierce himself tortured me until all I knew was blood and pain and fear, I said nothing. He didn't get a single word out of me. I just sat there, strapped to an iron chair, and took it. Every blow, every slice, every shout. At times my mind spared me and allowed me to slip into the sweet nothingness of unconsciousness, but it wouldn't be long after that I awoke to my head shoved into cold water to revive me.

And here I am, now taking a seat at the Dias of his gala room beside the mafia lord of Hydra, my boyfriend's sworn rival, with a collar around my neck tied to his wrist.

The music that wafts from the live orchestra is disturbingly jovial and light, filling the air with a sense of peace that provides such a stark juxtaposition to my insides that I almost puke. I sit ever so stiffly in my chair beside Pierce, my back burning with each movement because of the new stripes across its tender flesh.

As I feel warm liquid slide down my skin, I suddenly understand why Pierce insisted my dress be a dark maroon. I thought it was as at first just a beacon to everyone to show who I was with because it was his signature color, but I know better now. It's to hide the blood that seeps from my still-healing and probably infected wounds.

"Exquisite, isn't it?" Pierce asks, and I don't even have to turn towards him to know he wears a devilish smirk. A cruel man's trademark of victory.

I stay silent.

I hear him click his tongue as he sits back in his ornate chair, "All this quality time together and all I've heard from your voice has been your screams. No matter how pretty they are, doesn't seem polite to me."

This time, I can't hold myself back.

"Neither is kidnapping another human being and treating them like a prisoner of war," I announce, my voice raw and hoarse from the screaming and shouting of the past few days, "So pardon me if I'm not feeling too polite."

It's a bold move, but I make it anyways, gambling that he wouldn't lash out in the midst of his party. A little breath of relief escapes me when he chuckles.

"And here I was under the impression you were a sweet, soft-spoken sort of woman. My sources misjudged you." Pierce responds.

Of course he's been watching me. A scheme like this doesn't happen overnight. He's been planning this for a while, now. Pierce knew exactly when Bucky would be most vulnerable, when the defenses would be the loosest. It makes me want to scream.

"You're going to die for this," I whisper, quietly but not softly. There's his laugh again.

"Oh honey," Pierce starts, his voice condescending as if I were a toddler, "Careful with blind faith. What makes you so sure Barnes will make it out of this alive?"

His words unsettle something so deep within me that if I spend more than a few seconds touching on it, I'll shatter. Instead, I turn to look at Alexander Pierce for the first time since we've sat down. My eyes are cold and harsh upon him and the shining metal of the collar that tethers us.

"What makes you so sure it will be Bucky who kills you?"

He has the good sense to look the slightest bit unnerved, and I give him a smirk of my own, "Like you said before, your men sorely misjudged me."

Before he can respond, one of the guards that stands behind us steps forward and whispers something in the mafia lord's ear. Whatever he says makes Pierce grin fiercely as he looks back to me and gives the collar a tug.

"Your White Wolf is here."

My heart jumps so hard that I forget how to function. For a moment, everything else fades and dims away, even the biting pain wrapping me like a blanket of thorns. I snap my head back forward and when I see him I swear I almost break right then and there.

Because his eyes are already on me, and they're coated with fury.

It takes every ounce of strength I have to not dissolve into tears, to not let my fear show.

He's here.

Bucky found me.

When our eyes meet, something so primal and raw ignites in his features. He looks seconds away from shattering as his chest heaves, his eyes scouring every inch of me. I feel undone before him, as if the dress doesn't hide a single thing that Pierce and his men have done to me.

"James Barnes," Pierce announces, snapping the connection between us swiftly, "I thought you'd never come. I hope you don't mind, I think I've stolen your date for the evening."

Then he wraps his palm around the chain leash and yanks it so hard that I nearly tumble out of the chair. His hand is there to stop me as it grabs my jaw in a bruising grip. Pierce hums, turning my face side to side before forcing it forward to the crowd that now watches. Bucky is painted with dark rage and looks seconds away from ending Pierce's life.

"She makes quite the pretty pet."

Bucky begins to storm forward only for two of the guests who belong to Pierce's mafia to grip onto his arms and prevent him.

"Take your fucking hand off of her, Pierce, or I swear I'll-" Bucky growls, and hearing his voice is enough to ease some of the knot that's wound in my chest these last few days.

"You'll what?" Alexander asks, releasing my chin but remaining ever so calmly in his seat beside me, "You must not care that much for my pet, after all you were the one to ignore her."

There's a bone-crushing silence and I see that same something shatter in my love's gaze.

"You shoved her off, you left her alone," Alexander cuts out, reaching out and running a hand through my hair, "You so carelessly let her slip through your fingers and here you are pretending to care."

"What I did was unforgivable, I know that," Bucky says suddenly, and I see even from here the silver lining his eyes as he speaks, "But she is a good person. She doesn't deserve this. If you need to punish someone, don't let it be her."

"You don't deserve her," Pierce says, and I want to scream that he's wrong but Bucky cuts me off. His eyes clash with mine and I fall in love all over again.

"I know," he says so softly that I almost miss it. I try to shake my head 'no', but Pierce tightens the collar, making me whimper.

Bucky shoves off the two men holding him, composing himself and standing stiffly a good ways before us.

"Let her go, Pierce," Bucky reiterates, his tone harsh once more and his stare pure murder, "I won't ask again."

Pierce clicks his tongue beside me, letting up on my leash to let me relax slightly.

"Oh Barnes, did you really waltz in here thinking you'd walk back out?"

There's a deadly silence and I swear you can hear my heart smash into the floor even though I expected this. With every second between his last words and his next, I grow more panicked.

"I have you surrounded, Barnes. You're not getting out of this," Pierce announces. Bucky doesn't look the least bit unnerved, though.

Pierce reaches you to an ear piece I didn't know was there and touches it, "Guns at attention."

From my spot next to him, all I hear is static. There's no response coming back, and the confusion becomes evident on Alexander's face at the same moment I realize what's going on. Hope like a new sunrise breaks in me and I look over at Bucky to find him smirking. He winks at me once before furrowing his brows at Pierce.

"What's wrong, can't reach your men?" Bucky taunts.

And then all Hell breaks loose.

Guns are firing and people are screaming and within seconds, Bucky's mafia that's already infiltrated the gala hall appears from the woodwork, their guns raised and keeping the few mafia members left under gun point. Bucky just stands coolly in the midst as another deadly silence blankets the room. I can practically feel the rage draining off of Alexander.

"Get him!" Pierce suddenly shouts, and what few men are left charge at Bucky. Including the personal guards around us. The gunfire begins again, and the classy event is soon painted crimson.

I take the brief moment of chaos to my advantage and shoot up from my seat. As soon as Pierce registers that I'm moving, it's too late. Despite the screaming of my body, I sprint behind Pierce's chair and brace one heeled foot at its back. Then, before he can reach for a gun, I wrap the leash he's collared me with around his neck and pull back, strangling him with the own device he subjected me under.

His hands claw desperately at the chain and I feel my exhausted muscles trembling, but I refuse to let up. I keep holding the chain tighter and snap my gaze up in Bucky's direction just in time to see him shoot a guard between the eyes.

"Bucky!" I shout, gaining his attention instantly.

I know I can't hold Pierce off much longer, so Bucky will need to help me take him down while I've got him strangled to the chair. The metal is cutting deep into his skin when Bucky begins fighting desperately to reach us. Before he can, though, Pierce gets a purchase on the chain and yanks with such force that it sends my body flying over him and the chair. I land flat on my back so hard on the tile that the air rushes out of my lungs and every cut and tear rips open.

"Y/N!" Bucky roars, and it rattles my very bones

I gasp and groan in pain simultaneously, desperately trying to get air into my lungs. The second I can breathe again, Pierce is dragging me backwards by the chain.

"No!" I shout, reaching up and gripping the chain before yanking it.

We tug back and forth as he drags me, but I manage to hook my foot around one of the overturned chairs and use the leverage to yank the chain so hard that I hear a snap followed by a shrill yell.

I just broke his wrist.

When I pull again, the chain comes free and a weight lifts from my shoulders. I scramble to my feet, about to sprint away and towards where I last saw Bucky when Pierce's hands grip my shoulders and rip me back. I don't even have time to scream when my back is slammed into a hard wall and Pierce is before me, a knife in his unmangled hand that's pressed to my cheek.

"You little bitch" he seethes.

My chest is heaving with breath and panic as I read back and spit in his face as hard as I can. He recoils slightly and I relish in it. My happiness only lasts a second, though, because his knife is pressing into my cheek. I try to squirm but his body is pressed firmly to mine and pins me to the wall.

"I so didn't want to end you this quickly," Pierce whispers, his voice slithering against my skin.

I keep trying to be strong, to be so strong, but it's getting harder to keep up. I try to not show my fear, but it's getting harder and harder to hide. I feel myself finally breaking after the hell that these last few days have been and just when I think he's going to end it all, he's gone. In a moment, he's off of me and unconscious on the ground.

And Bucky is standing before me, his chest heaving and his eyes wild.

"Bucky," I breathe, already feeling my strength slip away.

I don't have to be strong anymore.

Bucky drops the gun he just rendered Pierce unconscious with, every inch of his face softening upon my bloody, trembling form. He looks a minute away from crying when I stumble forward and crash into him, letting myself break down in his arms that already wrap around my waist and keep me upright. He keeps me so tight to himself that there is no room between us. I bury my face into his neck and let out a sob, my tears mixing with the blood on his suit. I can't tell which of us is shaking harder, but all I can tell is the warmth and security that Bucky's hands bring me.

"Oh doll," Bucky whispers, sending a shiver down my spine, "You're alive. You're alive."

I mumble some sort of affirmation, but I can barely think straight.

"I'm so sorry, doll. I'm so sorry." Bucky repeats it over and over again, "God, Y/N I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, Buck. It's alright," I whisper, but he keeps shaking his head. He pulls back far enough to meet my gaze.

"I've been shitty to you. I should've listened to you, I should never have left you. I am never leaving you again."

"It's okay, I forgive you," I repeat, brushing a bloody hand against his jaw, "Of course it's gonna cost you at least four new pairs of shoes."

At my joke, a laugh of pure relief to have me back in hands escapes his lips. I chuckle softly too, taking in every inch of his breathtaking face. A tear drops down his cheek and he leans his forehead against mine.

"I love you so much, I love you more than life." he breathes.

"I love you too. That's all that kept me breathing, loving you,"I respond, and his lips are on mine in an instant.

Even though it's only been a few days, kissing him feels like I've been in a drought and he's my water. The kiss is desperate and pleading and consuming. It steals whatever strength is left in my knees and I link my arms around his neck to support myself. When he finally pulls away, he leaves a trail of kisses to my nose and then my forehead before tugging me to himself again.

"I'm going to tear him apart for this," Bucky vows, and I know it shouldn't but I still let out a breath of relief at that.

"Is that why he's not dead yet?" I ask, chuckling softly. He does the same, kissing the top of my head.

"That's exactly why," Bucky agrees, pulling back and rubbing a finger along my cheek. He becomes serious again and I feel my heart flutter.

"When I found out you were gone, I lost myself." He says, his throat bobbing as he Cho's my face with his large hands, "Y/N, there is no me without you"

I turn to kiss his hand before leaning into it more.

"I'll always find my way back to you. You're all I have, James"

Another tear works down his cheek before he finally steps to the side. The gala is trashed, but the gunfire is over. Apparently, his men were here hours before anyone else got here. I feel my strength abandoning me, so I lean my weight onto Bucky. He feels this and immediately scoops me into his arms, holding me close to his chest.

"I'm going to kiss every one of these scars when we get back" His voice rumbles, and I smile as I lean my head further into him.

"Let's go home, my love"

And he held up his promise. He never left me again.

4K notes · View notes

queenuchiha89 · 1 month

Note

HIII! Anonn requesting the sequel for the Itachi violating little sister fic: *Clears throat*, *speaks into microphone.* YES! It could start slow but definitely happens after he finds out he got her pregnant and starts coming onto her/trynna sleep with her more. Would LOVE it if he noncons his way into making her a willing, brainless bimbo for big bro’s cock. Sasuke’s just (occasionally) watching the disaster happen but always enjoying the show and thinking FOR SURE he’ll say something NEXT time, but next time never comes lol??? Ohh and not to mention will their parents find out what’s going on etc? Will they get strict with her even just after knowing only about the pregnancy? Will they have any suspects in mind??? SO MANY POSSIBILITIES

Seeing as I just received hate for that exact piece of work... *Rafiki voice* it is time! 🔥

*** NSFW ***

*** 18+ ONLY! MINORS DNI! ***

*** TW. DARK CONTENT!! ***

Part 2.

⚠️⚠️⚠️WARNING: this story contains noncon, incest, voyeurism, forced breeding and impregnation, and other themes that may not be suitable for some readers. Viewer discretion is STRONGLY advised!! ⚠️⚠️⚠️

It had been almost 6 weeks since the vicious attack itachi delivered to his little sister Y/N, and for the most part, Itachi went about his days as though nothing ever happened. Y/N on the other hand had not been taking it well. Clearly she was traumatized. Every morning she woke up with it on her mind, and every morning it made her stomach twist, and she would find herself running to the bathroom to vomit. Itachi -while he went about his daily routine without so much as a hint as to what took place- did notice his sister's change in behavior, and began to suspect that he might have gotten his little sister pregnant. Although he thought of the real world consequences of that notion, the thought of him having gotten her knocked up with his fertile Uchiha seed made his cock stir. He had to find out for himself before anyone else noticed.

Y/N sat on her bed, studying for an upcoming test when itachi entered her room with a subtle knock on the door frame. She looked up at him, but quickly looked away not wanting her eyes to meet his gaze. "Little sister, I need to talk to you..." He said as he closed the door behind him. Y/N tensed up in nervous anticipation of what may be to come. "What is it Itachi?" She asked seeming both irritated and terrified. He sat down next to her. "I've noticed you in the morning for the last couple of weeks..." He started looking at her. She refused to make eye contact, not saying a word or making a sound, but her cheeks grew red under the weight of his words. Itachi took a small box out of his pocket and slid it toward her. "here. Take this." He said. Y/N looked blankly at the box that sat on the bed between them. "Itachi I-I.. " she stumbled over her words, deep down knowing he was right. There was a very high possibility that he had gotten her pregnant that night. "Do it... Or I'll make you." He said activating his sharingan. Her eyes widened as she saw Itachi's eyes swirl into a deep red. "Okay, okay! I'll take it just... Please Ita-" she replied, assuring him that she would do as she was told as she took the box and stood up.

Y/N entered the bathroom, her hands shaking from nervousness. She took the test and set it on the counter, following the instructions on the box. Itachi knocked and then entered the bathroom, closing the door and locking it behind them. "what did it say?" He asked curiously. "I don't know, it's not done processing yet..." She said softly. The 3 minutes had passed and she reluctantly looked over at the test. "oh my god..." She whispered as all the color drained from her face. She felt woozy. Itachi, seeing her reaction looked at the test on the counter. Positive. Seeing that positive test made a new kind of desire for her growing within him, and he stood her up. "Don't worry little sis. We'll take care of it. Okay?" He said, kissing her forehead making her cringe. "How can I NOT worry itachi?! Y-you got me pregnant!" She said crying into his chest as he held her tight. Itachi lifted her head and forced her to look at him. "Listen to me. You're mine now, understand? I'll take care of the both of you." He replied as he moved her in front of the mirror so she could see herself, and itachi, who stood behind her. He slid his hand slowly along the small pudge in her lower abdomen, feeling his cock stir as he did. "That's mine, and so are you little sis. There's nothing you can do about it now, so you might as well get used to the idea of us being together. God, you're going to look so beautiful round and pregnant with my seed..." She said, his voice heavy with lust as he reached his hand up to grope one of her supple tits. Y/N squirmed in his arms as he fondled her breasts, her nipples hardening under her top as he did. "What did I tell you, little sister? Better get used to it!" He said, his voice more demanding this time. Itachi wasted no time forcing her to bend over the counter in front of the mirror, and before she had any time to protest, his cock was inside of her warm wet pussy. Itachi clasped a hand over her mouth to keep her quiet. "Take it sis. You know you like it. Even if you deny it... Your pussy gripping around my cock suggests otherwise..." He teased, his words causing a great deal of shame to rise up from within her. She could at least TRY to stop him, but maybe he was right... Maybe part of her DID enjoy getting used by her big brother. It didn't take long before both of them were cumming together, Itachi collapsing on top of her as he caught his breath. He slowly pulled out of her, and kissed her on the cheek. "You're mine forever little sis. I love you so much." He said as she straightened himself up. "Get cleaned up and you better act normal at dinner. We don't need mother and father finding out about this. At least not yet." He said before leaving her alone to clean herself up.

In the next room, a stunned Sasuke struggles to quickly clean himself up after having jerked his cock off to the sounds of Itachi fucking his big sis in the bathroom next to his room. He felt so ashamed that something so horrible could make him cum so hard, but the sounds of his big sister's cries and whimpers awakened something primal in him every time he heard them. "next time. Next time I'll say something... I swear I will..." He said to himself, as he cleaned the cum off his hand and tried to shake his own shame as he made his way downstairs to join his family for dinner.

A.N: definitely going to keep this one running for a bit. Do I hear a... Part 3??? 👀🤷‍♀️🔥Also, shout out to the artist @Ratsuki_042 for the art! ❤️🔥

#itachi uchiha #itachi #uchiha itachi #itachi smut #tw. dark content #smut writing #tw dark thoughts #tw.noncon #itachi naruto #uchiha smut #tw.nsfw #tw.incest #tw.dark content #tw.#tw forced pregnancy #tw forced breeding #smut author #sasuke uchiha #sasuke smut

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therhythmafterthesummer · 1 year

Text

The King of the Forest (M) ~Bang Chan

Pairing: WerewolfKing!Chan x HumanPrincess!Reader Themes: Supernatural/Fantasy AU | Smut | Mild Angst | Royalty | Mediaeval Setting Word Count: ~3k | AO3 Synopsis: As a Princess, all you’d ever been deemed good for was doing what you were told and keeping to your role, something that frustrated you beyond belief. It wasn’t until you met that young wolf in the forest that you finally realised there was more out there for you. [You can find a follow-up story here]. Warnings: reader is implied to be chubby/curvy (of course, when is it not atp) · descriptive attributes of the reader are used. such as: exact age & having long hair · themes of misogyny · themes of motherhood/pregnancy · possessiveness · pet names · graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut).

Author’s Note: shout out to 🐧 anon for suggesting the idea of WerewolfKing!Chan x Princess!Reader in these two asks. at this point i’m convinced i’ll end up going through every possible iteration of werewolf!chan i can lol. it probably won’t go in the direction it was expected, but i hope some of you get to enjoy it regardless~ special thanks to @cursed-mars-bars & @straylightdream for beta-reading this.

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Smut Warnings: mentions and depictions of loss of ‘virginity’ · praising (duh) · oral (F.Rec) · unprotected penetration [piv] · probably body worship · marking · breeding · public sex? · cum eating (probably not in the way you expect)

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

This was wrong. It was so, so wrong. At least, to the standards of some.

As a princess, you’d been taught that all you’d ever be good for was marrying you off to a powerful family, to be used as an offering for political convenience and alliances, with no regard for your own wants and needs. That was, of course, as long as you maintained your virtue. Or what your mother referred to as ‘virtue’.

‘No man wants to own an already used glove’, you heard the Crown Prince say once, which sounded just so ridiculous to you. Not only because women were most certainly not pieces of clothing, but also because your dearest older brother had probably laid with dozens of men and women without being married himself.

Hypocrites, all of them.

“Your–Your Majesty…” You gasped. You could feel blood rush to your head under the devious tongue of the man between your legs. Although, you weren’t sure if man was the right word to use to describe him.

He hummed, effectively sending delicious vibrations through your body that made you whine.

“I told you, pup…” He detached himself from your centre enough to speak, temporarily replacing his mouth with his fingers to rub slow circles on that bundle of nerves between yours legs. “When we’re here, just the two of us, I want you to use my name. Hm?”

Swallowing the saliva that had collected in your mouth, you nodded.

“Say it, Your Highness. Say it with your whole chest. Relish the fact that only you get to do so”.

The movement of his fingers on your clit had your head spinning, but you needed to comply–you wanted to comply–so, after taking a deep breath, you did. “C–Chris”.

A smile formed on his lips, but it wasn’t smug, nor belittling. It was a genuine smile, one of those that always made him look his age, as if he hadn’t experienced any form of cruelty in his life, a smile that made your heart flutter in your chest. “Again”.

“Chris…” You could barely hold eye contact anymore, it was hard to do so when your brain was trying to send you into fight or flight whenever you looked into his eyes–a feeling that completely clashed with the one building in the pit of your stomach due to Chris’ movements between your legs.

“That’s it, pup. So good for me”, you felt yourself flush, not only at his praise, but also because he returned his mouth to your centre to lightly suck on your clit.

If your father knew you were here, laying on the ground, in the middle of the forest, with the Wolf King himself feasting on your cunt, he’d surely send you to a convent to repent. Not only for ‘losing your virtue’, but also for ‘losing your morals’ by giving yourself to what he believed to be a barbaric beast.

You didn’t care, though. You never did.

Your father didn’t know Chris. He didn’t know anything that wasn’t what he’d been taught by those before him, he’d never even bothered to question it. He didn’t know that, in reality, the man you had wholly–willingly–given yourself to, was heaps more civilised than he would ever be.

“Oh…” You brought a hand to Chris’ head to bury your fingers in his hair, shivering not only at the feeling of his plush lips and his wet tongue on your clit, but also at the silky feeling of his dark strands between your fingers. You needed to hold onto something, something that could keep yourself attached to reality while he quickened the pace of his tongue.

In retrospect, you figured it was only a matter of time before you ended up here with Chris. You’d known him since you were a child. The first time you saw him he was but a young pup, a fluffy canine that had found you sitting on the ground, with your back against a tree, sobbing in the middle of the forest after you’d had an argument with your mother.

You didn’t know what he was back then, you thought he was just a regular, maybe overly friendly and domesticated wolf, but after a couple of times of seeing him in the forest, he finally revealed himself to you. You would’ve honestly never expected for an animal to shift into a boy, much less a boy like Chris.

He was so…regal.

As soon as your eyes met when he was in his human form you could immediately tell he wasn’t just some boy–not only because of the obvious furry situation, but also because of the way he carried himself, because of the way he articulated his thoughts.

After a couple of times meeting as just a boy and a girl in the forest, you got to truly learn who he was. The Prince of the Forest, he’d said. His mother led the biggest clan of lycanthropes in the vast forest, a realm that would be his in due time.

Meeting Chris had changed your view on the forest, on what your people said of this place. You’d been taught it was filled with beasts that ate people, that killed people, that deceived people… But when you met Chris, a simple boy who just so happened to also be a wolf, a boy who kept you company and understood you and respected you as an equal, you realised your father and your mother and everyone around you were all just full of shit.

It was fascinating, really. Learning the hierarchical structures of the forest as an outsider… Especially when Chris clearly trusted you enough to confide in you. Which was why, in a cruel turn of fate, by the time you were sixteen, you could no longer go to the forest to meet him.

Your father had noticed you were frequently missing, and one day, while you walked the familiar paths to your usual meeting spot, you noticed someone following you. Thankfully, it all happened before you met Chris that day, but, regretfully, it also meant that you never got to say goodbye.

You often found yourself thinking about Chris after that. Not all day, but almost every day you did. At least once… When you saw your father’s hunting dogs, when you ate something you liked, and even when you started to bloom into adulthood and your dreams bled into images of greens and the feel of smooth skin and warm lips on your own.

For your twenty-fourth birthday, your father had kindly gifted you a betrothed, probably the complete opposite of anything you could’ve possibly wanted. ‘You’re getting too old, my dear. Your younger sister already has two children of her own. It’s time you finally fulfil your duty, aren’t you happy?’

You were not happy, to say the least. You were furious. You’d managed to avoid any arrangements for years, always got the other party to call off the engagement first, but this time it wasn’t working in your favour, they’d have you marry soon after you turned twenty-five. Which was why you found yourself back in the forest. Trying to escape the sombre future ahead of you.

That was how you found Chris again, that was how Chris found you again. After almost ten years. Sobbing on the forest floor with your back against a tree and your head pressed to your knees.

You honestly hadn’t expected to see him again. There was, of course, a small light of hope in you that wished you would, but you never entertained it, it just hurt way too much if you did. However, what you also hadn’t expected, was the hurt look in his eyes, nor the tremble in his voice when he asked you ‘Why did you never come back?’

So, with a tremble of your own in your voice, you told him the chain of events that led to your disappearance. ‘I just didn’t want them to find you, Your Highness. It would’ve gotten both of us in danger’.

You could still remember how Chris cradled your face in his hands that night, rubbing away the tears that had fallen down your cheeks with his thumbs, just as he muttered a very quiet, and very soft ‘Your Majesty…’

The confusion must’ve been clear on your face, because he chuckled, offering a ‘It’s Your Majesty now, Your Highness. I’m King now. A lot has happened since we last met. I can tell you all of it, if you wish to hear it, but with one condition… Right here, between us, I’m just Chris, and you’re just you. Just like before…’

Just like before, he’d said… But before you’d never been that physically close to each other. Before, you’d never kissed like you needed each other to breathe. That wasn’t what you did before, but somehow it felt just so incredibly natural, almost as if you’d spent a lifetime doing so.

You did talk a lot that night in the forest, both of you. Chris told you the events that led to his coronation, about the war amongst clans that took his mother’s life as well as many others. A war that, despite the many costs, he managed to win. Just like you told him stories of your own–much less interesting stories than his, to be honest.

You, also, lost your ‘virtue’ that very same night. You really hadn’t planned it to be that way, it just sort of happened, and you weren’t sure if it was the moonlight shining on you both, or if it was the longing accumulated during those almost ten years spent apart, but, at that moment, there was nothing more that you wanted than to feel Chris’ body against yours.

Any time his lips attached to your skin sparks of pleasure and love ignited within the deepest areas in your heart. It didn’t matter if it was on your lips, your cheeks, your chest, your tummy, your thighs, or between your legs… His kisses steadily kindled the burning flame in the pit of your stomach, making it burn bright just for him.

The pleasure you’d provided to yourself all these years had been nothing compared to how you felt with Chris. You weren’t sure if it was the fact that it was someone else that was stimulating those sacred areas of your body that no one else had ever touched, if it was the fact that you’d been in love with him practically since the day you met him in the forest over thirteen years ago, or if it was the combination of it all that had stars clouding your vision and your heart growing ten sizes in your chest…

Regardless, you knew this would be a feeling that no one else would be able to replicate, and if there was ever someone capable of it you just didn’t want them. You wanted no one else but Chris.

It wasn’t until he’d finally soiled your tummy with his release, when he had carefully cleaned it off of you and you laid in his arms that you finally told him of your engagement. Maybe it was a bit cruel, you’d admit. To drop such a bomb on him in one of his most vulnerable moments. His eyes clouded with a dangerous mix of pain and sadness and anger.

So much of it all you did get scared for a second. Until he cradled your face in his hands and very confidently said ‘Marry me’.

You were at a loss, suddenly feeling incredibly inadequate to marry a King, even more the Wolf King of the forest. You didn’t know enough of his people, you didn’t know if they’d accept you, if you’d be fit to cater to their needs. All concerns which you voiced to Chris. He’d reassured you that his people were very different from yours, more accepting, and that you were already more than capable of leading, that he’d never wanted anyone else by his side that wasn’t you.

Over the course of a year, you got close and personal with Chris’ kind. It was honestly almost insane, maddening, how these people that shifted into beasts had shown you more kindness than your own kin. It baffled you, knowing how much pain you had endured over nothing throughout your short life when you saw just how much more socially advanced they were. Although you shouldn’t have been surprised, not when these were the people from which the man you fell madly in love with was born.

So here you were, a few days after your twenty-fifth birthday, gone without leaving a trace, just a month before your marriage to Duke WhateverHisNameWas, laying on the forest floor with only a thick coat to protect your back, and a completely different man than the one you were supposed to marry between your legs–but, admittedly, the only man you’d ever wanted.

“Chris, I’m…” You could hardly speak. Tears were collecting in your eyes, you could feel your lower belly tightening further with Chris’ diligent licks and gentle sucks, with the tight grip of his hand on your soft lower belly, and the delicious drag of his four digits inside your walls hitting your most sensitive spots.

Chris hummed in response, picking up his movements, bringing you closer to that satisfying climax you were so desperate for.

Quiet moans spilled freely from your lips once that blinding pleasure consumed you whole. Your thighs trembled, your grip on his hair tightened, and you simply let the feeling overtake every single one of your senses.

When Chris finally detached himself from your sensitive warmth, your body slumped. You were gasping for air a bit, with your eyes barely open, just enough so you could catch a glimpse of the satisfied smile on your lover’s lips before he came back up to connect his mouth with yours.

You sighed, content, looping your arms around his neck as you savoured the unmistakable taste of your pleasure still lingering on his lips.

“Are you sure about this, pup?” Chris asked when he finally pulled back.

How considerate of him to worry about this now.

“I am. I don’t want to be anyone else’s. Just yours. Only yours”, you replied confidently, because if there was something you believed in right now was just how irrevocably his you were.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt his warmth between your legs, as you felt the tip of his length drag along your folds and spread the remnants of your release all over you both. Chris looked deeply into your eyes, looking at you like you mattered, like you were someone truly important, someone he cared for.

“No one else’s”, he repeated, just as he leaned in to connect his mouth to yours again, as he finally started to push himself into you.

You whimpered at the feeling. Not only because of the undeniable stretch, but also for what it represented. What it had always represented.

Chris hushed you softly, attaching his lips to your cheeks so he could press soothing kisses on your soft skin. He took his time, slowly giving you every centimetre of him he had to offer, until he was fully sheathed within your heat. It didn’t matter if you’d done this before, if you’d taken him more times than you could count, having him fully inside was always difficult for the first few minutes, but you never complained, not when you knew just how incredibly good it would soon feel.

“Can’t promise you I can remain this gentle, pup”, he mumbled against your cheek, just like he often did. He was capable of gentleness, but he was also capable of being incredibly unforgiving, so he always tried to give you a heads up–not like you didn’t know this already. Pressing one more kiss on your cheek for good measure, he pulled back to look you in the eyes. “I’m using every single drop of willpower to not let the beast consume me… But, fuck, you’re just so warm…”

You cradled his face in your hands, dragging your thumbs over his skin, unable to keep your eyes from shifting focus between his eyes, his nose, his lips, the tiny, barely perceptible freckles that littered his cheeks… “It’s okay, my love. Let it consume you if you must. I’m his, too, after all”.

Ever so slowly, Chris finally moved, starting a rhythm, letting you adjust to the movement of his thickness within your walls. With a hand buried in the hair on the back of his head and the other spread palm flat on his warm chest, right over his racing heart, you wrapped your legs around his waist. The movement shifted the angle of your hips, and moans fell from both of your mouths at just how deep inside of you he could reach like this.

“That feels… Fuck…” He increased the tempo of his hips, eliciting desperate whines and moans from your mouth once he started to fully ram into you. You could feel your breasts bounce with every harsh thrust of his hips, but even if to an outsider it might’ve seemed like he was pushing your limits, this was one of the tamest versions of himself, one that balanced his human needs along with his animal ones fairly well, one you were more than acclimated to.

“Good…” You finished the sentence he’d started, throwing your head back when his cock hit your sweet spot, effectively sending jolts of pleasure up and down your spine. “Fuck… There. Right there, love”.

“Mmm… Here?” With precise thrusts, he repeatedly stimulated those utmost sensitive areas inside your walls, making you lose your train of thought and leaving you no other option but to desperately nod to answer his question.

With a hand next to your head and the other holding on tightly to your hip, Chris kept his steady pace. The nacre moon charm that always hung from the chain around his neck continuously dragged against your chest with every thrust of his hips, the quiet tinkling it produced barely audible among the cacophony of blissed-out sounds he was coaxing out of you, and the ones you were coaxing out of him.

Chris buried himself deep inside you time and time again, until you lost track of time, gradually speeding his movements, increasing the strength in which his hips hit your soft skin.

“Close… So, so close…” He mumbled eventually, and you shivered in anticipation.

He lowered himself on his elbows, getting close enough to start leaving sloppy, open mouthed kisses on your neck.

“Do it, Chris”, you whispered in his ear, panting a bit, pressing one of your hands on his lower back. “Mark me, my King”.

Chris groaned, and before you knew it, he was sinking his teeth on the junction of your neck and your shoulder. The sting of his bite quickly shifted into a feeling of unadulterated ecstasy, a feeling of euphoria that spread all throughout your body, dragging searing heat in its wake.

A low, animalistic growl resonated from your lover once he reached his own climax and started to pump you full of him, of everything he had to give. You barely even registered it, too consumed by the pleasure still coursing through your body, by the feeling of his canines still attached to your skin and his unfaltering thrusts.

After a minute, with a grunt, he pushed his hips flush against yours, burying himself as deep as he could inside of you, and his movements finally stopped. His tongue soothed the fresh bite he’d left on your skin, and you shuddered a bit.

His mouth was once again on yours, kissing you deeply, just like he had always been meant to do.

When he pulled back from the kiss, Chris looked you in the eyes, softly caressing your cheek with his knuckles. “You’re all mine now, pup. Mine to keep, to love, to breed. Only mine”.

“Always have been”, you replied simply, regarding him with a small smile on your lips.

Chris chuckled, and he leaned down to press a brief kiss on your lips.

He finally pulled himself away from you entirely, bringing his hands to your inner thighs so he could keep you fully spread open for him. With his eyes so focused on your centre, you suddenly felt heat creep on your cheeks–a bit of an absurd reaction, considering he’d seen your modesty innumerable times, although never after stuffing you full of his seed. That was a first.

Chris dived in again, and you trembled as you felt his warm, wet tongue lapping up your sensitive folds, gently cleaning you up.

When he was done, he straightened himself, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and smiling brightly at you.

You brought your hands to your soft lower belly, just as a bashful smile settled on your lips. “You really think I could…”

You let your question trail off, and Chris chuckled as he brought his hands to your sides. Slowly, he dragged them down to your hips, where he squeezed the plump swell of them. “When I saw you again after all these years, when I saw these hips of yours, I knew you’d be just perfect to carry my pups, love”.

“We might have to give it a few tries, though”, you extended your hand, and Chris immediately took it and helped you sit down. The coat he’d placed on the ground before he laid you on it was soft against your bare skin, and you couldn’t help but appreciate his thoughtfulness.

“Then we’ll try as many times as necessary”, Chris sat with his back against a tree, and pulled you to sit on his lap.

Resting your arms on his broad shoulders, you leaned in for a kiss, and as soon as your mouths touched, he let out a satisfied hum.

“My father is a goddamn fool for thinking he could marry me off to some guy”, you said as soon as you pulled back, burying your fingers in his hair and gently dragging them over Chris’ scalp, making him chuckle.

He pushed your now undone hair off of your shoulder, exposing the mark he’d left so he could softly trace it with this thumb. The area was incredibly sensitive, and his tender touch made you shiver. “Doesn’t matter now. The second anyone so much as tries to take you away from me will be the moment they draw their last breath. You’re already my Queen, my love. All mine”.

You leaned in again, pressing a kiss to his lips. Pulling back just a bit, with your mouths barely a hair’s width apart, your lips brushed against his with every whispered word that came out of your mouth. “Yours, my King”.

Maybe if your father had taken you seriously for one second in his life, you wouldn’t have ended up here, married to the King of the forest. But as Chris held you in his arms, and as he eventually helped you re-dress so he could take you to what would now be your forever home, you figured it was best not to dwell on hypotheticals, not when you finally felt this incredibly cared for and so incredibly full of love.

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#stray kids supernatural au #stray kids fantasy AU #stray kids werewolf au #bang chan smut #bang chan fluff #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #stray kids fanfiction #bang chan fanfiction #bang chan fic #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #werewolf chan #werewolf bang chan #✨🌙✏

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fandoms-writings · 4 months

Text

Falling Concrete

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 1.2K

Summary: Based off the prompt "Don't go where I can't follow. . . I thought I lost you." requested by anon.

Warnings: angst, happy ending kinda?, that's really it lol

A/N: this is unbeta'd, all mistakes are my own. I know it's not fantastic lol but i just wanted it done

The wind from outside whipped against your face as you stood with the quinjet door open, the jet hovering over the collapsing building.

Your breath was stuck in your chest, your throat clenched tight as your watering eyes remained locked on the crumbling structure.

You'd just been in there on a mission, sent to retrieve anything of value left behind by a small HYDRA group that remained just out of your team's grasp. You had been sent in with Bucky while Natasha waited in the jet for a quick escape.

She'd recently injured herself on another mission and was on strict "flying the jet only" orders. They were really bed rest orders, but she'd convinced the higher ups to at least let her be your escort to and from missions.

You'd been in the building, about a third of the way through clearing it when a large boom set your ears ringing as the ground shook, knocking you off your feet.

Coming to the conclusion that the building had been rigged to self destruct, you and Bucky had bolted back the way you entered, racing against time as it began to fall apart.

He must've seen it before you, the chunk of concrete wall that was bound to block the way out. You remembered hands colliding with your back. Hands who'd never shown you anything but gentle kindness, shoving you so hard the air had been knocked from your lungs, leaving you stunned as you fell out of the building and rolled along the dirt.

It took only a second for you to whip your head back around to see the doorway blocked and you crawled your way over and up back to your feet as you called for Bucky on your ear piece, only getting static in return.

Nat's worried voice filled your ear, asking what happened, that she'd felt the shaking and was headed your way, but you ignored her. Your eyes were scanning the surface of the building as fast as they could, searching for any crack in that building to see through. To try and see Bucky.

You eventually saw what looked like movement through the smallest crack in the wall and you rushed to it, again calling his name.

It was only a moment, but it felt like eons as you waited to hear a response. But suddenly, the timbre of his voice flowed from the crack.

"Are you okay?" He asked, as if he wasn't the one stuck.

"I'm fine, but don't you ever do that again." You'd demanded. "We need to get you out, and fast."

"I know the layout, I studied the schematics of the facility before we got here," His voice called, "There's another exit around the southwest end of the structure. I can make it."

A dark sense of dread wrapped around your heart and you wanted to argue with him, but there was no other choice and no time. The building was unstable, and he needed to get moving. Now.

"Go," You ordered, "I'll get Nat over there with the jet, we'll meet you there."

You heard him shuffle, as if he was hesitating, before the scuffle of his feet grew quieter and you relayed the information to Natasha who met you at the southwest exit Bucky had mentioned.

That's where you now waited, every second passing feeding that sense of dread in your chest until all you could do was think about it.

Ever since you two had been paired together on your first mission with SHIELD, you'd never been separated. You stuck by each other's sides, never leaving the room without the other, back to back even in certain situations. There wasn't one mission where you split up.

Until now. And it didn't feel right. Something was wrong.

You would go back in, scour the place until you either found Bucky or died trying, but there was a reason that Natasha kept the jet in the air. She knew you too well. So you watched in agonizing silence as you waited.

And waited.

The last of the building was falling, quickly racing for that door and you swear your heart stopped as your grip on the hand hold tightened until your knuckles were white and your hand went numb.

Suddenly, the door burst open, a familiar form clad in black tumbling out, rolling back on his feet and running from the building. Only when he was far enough from the building to have absolutely no chance of being injured did your body allow you to breathe.

Nat brought the jet to him, hovering over the ground as he jumped in before she took off back towards New York.

He laid on the ground at your feet, your wide eyes locked on him as he heaved, his brow shining in sweat.

"Told you I could make it," he panted with a half smile. You heard Nat mutter his name, and watched as his head tilted up to see her. The grin was instantly wiped from his face as his attention turned back to you.

His brows furrowed as he sat up, reaching for your hand that hung limp at your side.

"Hey," he whispered, "Talk to me, what's wrong?" His eyes did a quick scan of your rigid stance before returning to your eyes, "Are you hurt?"

You felt the warmth of tears sliding down your cheeks, your hand aching as you continued to grip the hand hold, even though the door was closed now - it was the only thing holding you up. You noticed the panic rise in Bucky as he moved to kneel in front of you, his eyes darting around your face.

"Hey, hey, hey," He rushed, "Smartie, what's wrong?"

The nickname was your doom, all the air rushed from your lungs in a wet sob and your hand gave out, your knees hitting the floor as he did his best to catch you.

You'd been so close to never hearing him call you that again. To never touching him or hearing him or smelling him. To never seeing him. The weight of all of it crushed your chest as your hands pushed and gripped his shoulders, your own body not knowing whether to hold him close or push him away.

"What were you thinking?" You wetly demanded, your vision blurry from your tears, but he was clear. He always would be. "Why would you do that?"

Of course he knew what you were talking about as his eyes softened. Hell, he probably expected you to bring it up later, but not so soon. "You were going to get crushed. I had to make sure you got out."

"Not at the expense of you," You ground out through gritted teeth, "Never at the expense of you."

His eyes softened before he pulled you in, folding your fighting arms against his chest and tucking your head under his chin.

Your fingers gripped his kevlar suit, gripping it tight as you muttered to him, "Don't you ever go where I can't follow." You pulled back, looking up at him and seeing his eyes welling with tears, "I thought I lost you."

"You didn't lose me," He whispered, "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

As always, thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are all very much appreciated.

If you'd like to be notified when I post a new story, follow my library blog @remis-library and turn on notifications <3

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#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #avenger!bucky x avenger!reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x fem!reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes angst #bucky fanfic #marvel fanfic #fandoms-writings #remisneonparty

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yelena-bellova · 1 month

Text

Twenty Years Later: Joel Miller x F!Reader - One Shot #4

One Shot #4: The Artist Formerly Known As Joel Miller

Plot: Joel gets another little piece of himself back in the form of music.

Word Count: 700+

Warnings: none (for once lol)

A/N: A little bit of well deserved fluff. I feel like I haven’t written anything for TYL that isn’t tainted with sadness but this is a rare dose of pure serotonin for y’all. Hope you like it!

—————

It was a truth long denied; Joel Miller needed music.

His long held dream of singing and strumming for a living was put to rest when Sarah was a blip on an ultrasound. There was no way to support a family on bar gigs. He hadn’t minded all that much, knowing the million to one odds he’d make it. Still, Joel wasn’t 100% Joel without a song.

In the three months that he’d been settled in Jackson, there’d been shockingly little rest. First there was fixing up the house. Nothing major, adjusting the furniture to his and Y/n’s liking and general cleaning. Then there were the emotional adjustments. Ellie and Y/n took a long while to ease out of the fear Silver Lake had left them with. Not to mention the new life the three of them had been given and how wildly different it was from the one they were used to. Joel and Y/n got set up with the work rotation of the town and Ellie started to (with great hesitation) socialize with the other kids.

It wasn’t until three months in that Joel allowed himself to think about the little things.

He’d been in conversation with a neighbor on patrol one day. An older guy who’d miraculously managed to live into his 70s in a post-Cordyceps world. They were talking about something and somehow it came up that Joel used to play guitar. The man mentioned that there was an old Taylor sitting in his spare bedroom. He’d never been any good and was too old to get any better so it was up for grabs.

Joel immediately accepted.

He beamed as he strode back home with the instrument clutched in one hand. Sailing through the front door, he let go of it only long enough to leave his snow coated boots at the door and remove his gloves.

“Rose,” he called out.

“Kitchen,” his wife called back. He could hear the sink running.

Joel moved through the house to where Y/n stood at the counter doing dishes. Sensing his presence before she even heard him, she looked over her shoulder and her face lit up. First upon seeing her husband, then at what he was carrying.

“Oh my gosh.”

Joel didn’t even try to temper his joy. “I know,” he smiled.

Y/n flicked the faucet off, her attention fully focused somewhere else. “Where?”

“Bud down the street,” Joel nodded in the general direction of their neighbor, “Said I could have it since no one was using it.”

There were only two things Y/n wanted for their patch-worked family: happiness and health. Music was directly correlated to a percentage of Joel’s happiness, making the guitar a gift from God himself.

She threw her hands out expectantly, “Well?”

Joel left the doorway and headed towards the living room, Y/n grabbing a towel to dry her hands and following suit. They perched themselves on opposite ends of the couch.

Joel adjusted the guitar on his knee before pausing, “It’s been so long.”

“It’s musical bike riding,” Y/n washed away his hesitation, “Play me something, cowboy.”

He chuckled under his breath, waiting just another few seconds before pressing down on the strings and forming a cord. The callouses needed weren’t a problem due to years of manual labor. Y/n and him both grimaced in anticipation of what twenty year old strings might sound like. Surprisingly, they were decent as Joel strummed once.

“Not bad,” he commented, “Little out of tune.”

But Y/n didn’t hear the imperfection. Nothing touched her. She was too struck by the sight in front of her. Joel, back in his element, plucking the strings. The way his hunched frame hanging over the guitar’s body was relaxed as ever. How his fingers found their way as naturally across the fretboard as if they’d touched the wood every day since Texas.

Joel was transported with each note. Back to some spiritual space where he had no fears and no worries. Nothing could break through his front door and destroy his life. No one could hurt him. The world didn’t cease to exist, it reframed itself. For every strum, every pick, every change of chord, the world held itself together without his help. He could just be.

However many minutes passed, neither one of them were sure. Y/n pulled herself back to reality enough to remember she had to finish cleaning before grabbing dinner from the mess hall. She swiped the tears beginning to form and got off the couch. Joel didn’t move, still transfixed.

Smiling, she leaned over her husband and kissed the top of his head. The guitar’s song sang sweetly for the rest of their evening.

——————

TYL Taglist: @bachiracore @stolenxkissess @kayleezra @the-wistful-reader @allthesesonsofbitches @goth-detectives365 @trippovert @rh1nestonecowg1rl @emiliaserpe @khaleesihavilliard @frietiemeloen @gracie7209 @dorck26 @thegirlnextdoorssister @alanis-altair @mariwinns16 @whosscruffylooking @endofthexline @alexiaricciardo @eonnyx @pedrosmexicangf @scarlettequinn @ao-sleepy @toinfinityandbeyonce2 @deanlovescassie @turmoil-ash @sorrowjunky @kpopslur @xxlilyxx90 @midgetpottermills @presidential-facts @scoopsnini @tubble-wubble @jamesdeerest @burninggracesandbridges @star-wars-lover @lucyhotchner @cococola-cocaine @witheringhqarts @fall-writes @alwaysdjarin @xxmoonn @emilia-the-artist @wand-erer5 @boneyarrd @lizard-zombie @themultifandomofmadness @cassidylea123 @paleepeaches @mxltifxnd0m @kettlekatie @ultimate-cinephile @gloryekaterina @caramelkatsukis-bitch @whovianayesha @memeorydotcom @deadunicorn159 @get0ut0fmyr00m @siriuslymooned @emmyeed @superbreadsoul @hellu-people1 @ourautumn86 @inas-thing @noraapple05 @givemylovetoall @luvwanda (tags cont. in comments ❤️)

#joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us imagine #twenty years later

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toomuchracket · 4 months

Note

Mads I have this concept in my mind. I see it with d word Matty. I think beginning of the relationship, maybe Matty is supposed to be away for a couple of days so girlie is having a self maintenance night. I imagine her with her hair up to have heat less curl, self tan, maybe some pimple patches. And then Matty surprises her by coming back early, maybe she's waiting for her food, she opens the door and it's Matty. She's super embarrassed/self conscious but of course he's super chill about all of it.

this inspired me to write a lil fic! seeing it as set after candlelight, but before any d words or l words were used lol. enjoy! <3

i've been dying to meet you (d word matty x reader fluff)

the doorbell rings just as you're applying your under-eye patches. you don't rush to get it, though - the drivers know to just leave your food order at the door to your flat once you've buzzed them up. god forbid anyone sees you like this, after all, in the midst of your thursday night routine; you probably look insane, wandering around in your dressing gown and slippers, hair wrapped around a pair of tights and clipped up, face covered in sheet mask and pimple patches, respectively.

but you feel good. and you'll look good tomorrow. which is imperative, given that you’ll see your boyfriend (it still feels weird being able to say that, honestly) for the first time in 20 days.

the thought of that has you slightly giddy. humming happily, you dance through the flat towards the door, only pausing in the living room to click play on the next episode of sex and the city and have a sip of your wine. the mouthwatering scent of your dinner seeps into the hallway, growing stronger as you near the door - it's never quite been so potent before, but then again, you’re fucking starving.

still humming tunelessly, you open the door to grab your food, and come face to face with matty.

your breath catches in your throat in horror - he can't see you like this, so soon into the relationship! - but your heart swells at the sight of your boyfriend in his hoodie and sweats, your (open!) takeaway in his hands. he grins when he sees you, eyes lighting up as he takes in your appearance; you tense up in preparation of him taking the piss out of it.

he doesn't, though. “hi, baby,” matty says softly. “stole one of your prawn crackers - hope you don't mind.”

you blink. “how- how did you get up here? you didn't buzz.”

“offered to hold the door for the delivery guy and just came in after him. and then i offered to bring this up when i asked if it was for your flat and he said yeah. felt like i was 22 again, honestly, in my old job,” your boyfriend smiles. “although i can safely say i never ever delivered a takeaway to someone as hot as you back then.”

“don't make fun,” you groan, stepping to the side to let him into the flat - he kisses your temple as he passes you - and kicking the door shut. “nobody was meant to see me tonight. s'why i asked them to ring the doorbell and just leave the food without me answering.”

“i did wonder why it took you so long to get to the door, darling,” matty calls over his shoulder as he wanders into your kitchen. he furrows his brow when you walk straight past and continue into your bedroom, laying the food on the counter and following you - well, until the door closes before him. “babe? are you… annoyed at me?”

“no, i'm just putting underwear on,” comes your muffled reply, followed by the sound of a drawer opening and closing.

“don't feel you need to do that on my account, sweetheart, i insist. actually, i'm more than happy to also get naked, if you prefer.”

despite your lingering shock at seeing him, you giggle at your boyfriend’s eager tone. “no, it's alright, matty.”

“you're sure? i've already got my shirt off.”

the speed with which you open your bedroom door at that phrase is almost embarrassing. matty - shirtless, as promised - smirks when you do. “i can't believe you had no pants on when you answered the door.”

you frown, flicking him on the stomach; he just laughs and follows you into the kitchen. “shut up, i couldn't put clothes on, i had just moisturised.”

“what, your arse and all?”

“mhmm.”

“interesting,” matty smirks again. “wouldn't mind seeing that process, to be honest.”

“for fuck's sake, matthew.”

“sorry, darling, couldn't resist,” your boyfriend grins. his face softens into a more tender smile. “just missed you, s'all. hope you don't mind that i came over early and interrupted your pamper night - couldn't settle at home, knowing you were only a few miles away for the first time in weeks.”

the sweetness of his revelation goes straight to your knees; you wrap your arms around his neck to hold yourself up, and press your lips to his in a tender kiss. it deepens when matty runs his tongue across your lips, slipping it into your mouth when they open, but that's as passionate as it gets - the overwhelming emotion behind the kiss is just sheer affection.

“i missed you too,” you kiss matty's nose when you pull away. “and you're not interrupting anything, really, s'just my usual thursday night routine,” you pull the little containers of food from the bag and turn to get a plate from the cupboard. “d'you want to split this with me? i ordered too much.”

matty nods, taking the plates from you and grabbing a fork from the drawer to dish the food up. “thanks, sweetheart. so, tell me more about this thursday night thing. you do this every week?”

“yeah, whenever i'm home, just to prep for the weekend. haven't you ever noticed i always look better at work on fridays?” you grin, pouring your boyfriend a glass of wine.

“not really. i think you look beautiful every day,” matty smiles, kissing your hand after you pass him the wine. “although i have noticed your hair is usually really curly during friday meetings. i like it.”

you point to your head. “blame this.”

“serious? i thought you were going to get a blow dry after work or something.”

“nah,” you giggle. “i just go to sleep with this in. feels a bit weird, but i like the end result.”

“so do i,” matty smiles. “you're so pretty, baby.”

your cheeks burn, and you smile bashfully at the floor. “well, when i take all these weird stickers off my face, maybe.”

“no, even now,” matty gently tilts your chin up so he can look you in the eye. “you’re beautiful. my perfect girl!”

he leans down to kiss you again; you giggle as he pulls away afterwards. “oh, you're down bad bad for me, aren't you? still thinking i'm pretty even when i've got pimple patches on.”

“well, yeah, i have eyes.”

“pretty ones, at that,” you rest your hand on his jaw, and he turns to kiss it. “i'm glad you came to see me tonight. would you like to stay over?”

“if i say yes, do i get to be pampered a little bit?” matty giggles.

“oh, i'll take care of you, don’t you worry, baby.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #d word matty #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #matty x reader #mads answers asks #matty asks #fluff asks

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siilvan · 8 months

Text

bloodsport – III

prologue | part one | part two | next

characters: vladimir makarov

summary: after a successful escape, you try to convince yourself that the prison and makarov are behind you. things just never seem to go to plan, though.

genre: angst, slowburn, enemies to ?, fem!reader (callsign: petra, no desc.)

warnings: not proofread, cursing, canon-typical violence, poorly written combat, allusions to trauma and stress, mentions of typical murderous behavior from makarov (∶__∶), OG mak's backstory bc we don't know shit about the reboot lol

word count: 5.9k

note: my birthday's on the 3rd, so pls take this as a gift from me to you :) the support on this series has also been insane 😭 you guys are so sweet!! <33

also big shoutout to @roosterr bc i completely copied the way she writes texts in fics LMAO i hope it's okay with you bestie ilysm

"anyone else would be dead already."

what the hell does that mean?

you're lying on your back, absently staring up at the ceiling, those words replaying in your mind over and over again. yet another week has passed since "the incident," as the guards in the corridor so kindly put it.

clearly makarov had given his men a new order after you killed the younger doctor. not only did they avoid touching you, but they hardly even looked in your direction outside of required monitoring. doctor tarkovsky was singlehandedly providing your medical care, as well. the next time you saw the doctor - the morning after the incident - proved to be an interesting experience. while treating you, he made a comment about "the commander seeming angry."

you add it to your ever-growing list of questions.

blaring alarms interrupt your somewhat peaceful pondering. you shoot up, instinctively reaching for your belt to grab your gun, only to be reminded that you're unarmed. the guards in the hall are shouting at each other, appearing just as surprised as you are.

carefully, you rise from the bed and cross the room, trying to listen to what they're saying. if there was one benefit to your captivity, it was the small bit of russian that you've picked up on. amongst the frantic chatter, you can make out a few words:

attack. small team. breached. combat. prisoner.

your chest tightens as you step back from the door. the base is under attack, and whomever is leading the charge is enough of a threat to raise the alarms. a small team could never hope to contend with an entire ultranationalist stronghold, though. there's only one man, one team, that could succeed despite being so heavily outnumbered.

the one-four-one.

it has to be them. they're the only ones bold enough to stage an attack, and the only ones capable of pulling it off.

even if it's someone else, they're your ally now, and your only hope of making it out of here alive.

you can see the guards scrambling outside your cell, frantically following whatever orders were being barked at them through their radios. for now, they seem to disregard your presence in favor of organizing their forces to combat the threat, but you know it won't last. contrary to the size of the prison, you're the only captive being held here; any mention of "prisoner" is referring to you.

the area quiets down as most of the men rush to aid their fellow soldiers, leaving only the alarm to keep you company. you mentally curse as you consider your very limited options. without a set of keys to escape this cell, you're stuck here.

a purposeful set of footsteps rapidly approaching makes the decision for you. quickly, you dive just out of sight of the door, pressing your back to the wall. the person stops just outside and grumbles to himself as you hear the sound of keys jingling in the lock. the iron door swings open, and you bite down on your bottom lip to keep quiet as he stares into the empty space, confusion evident in the grunt that leaves him.

a second passes before he steps into the room, scanning the far side of it. your eyes fall to the knife on his belt, easily removable if you're fast enough, and you dive for it before he can turn around.

you tear the blade from its sheath and swiftly plunge it into the side of his neck, ripping a strangled cry from the soldier as he reacts too slowly to save himself. you pull him to the ground and lay his body flat, releasing a sharp breath once you confirm the kill. temporary relief floods your system, hastening your movements as you collect as much of his gear as you can.

immediately after you secure the last strap of the armor vest, you hear voices calling out from somewhere close by. searching for the guy you just killed, you assume. with one final gear check, you move to the same spot against the wall and wait for the group to get closer.

the first of the bunch steps into the room and freezes at the sight of the other man, and you take the opportunity to drop him with the rifle you had collected. the remaining members, two or three men, are quick to respond once the gunshots ring out. you peek around the corner as they rush forward with their guns drawn, electing to start the gunfight yourself.

you manage to shoot one down before the others notice you. a bullet whizzes past your head as you aim down the barrel and shoot another, forcing you to duck back into cover.

"you're cornered. come out and i'll let you live." the final soldier says, frustration lacing his command. you sit still, lying in wait until his impatience overpowers his better judgement. a tense silence fills the air between you, only broken by the soldier groaning and coming to you instead.

he circles the corner, weapon at the ready, but scans the room in too wide an arc. you finish him off and peek out into the hall again, finding it completely vacant.

the radios on the soldiers bodies suddenly come to life, and you hear a familiar voice on the other end. you pick one of them up and attempt to decipher the question to no avail. however, there is one word that you understand. prisoner.

"you should've sent a bigger group," you speak into the radio, feeling your lips twitch into a smile at the way makarov stops short.

he merely chuckles, though, and the smile drops. "you continue to impress me, lieutenant. let's see if you can escape." he replies, relaxed as ever. he switches channels, and the radio goes silent.

you travel down the path you took the first day, when makarov was accompanying you. there's little resistance beyond a few stragglers that you dispatch with ease. most of the forces are focused on the invaders, too busy to properly deal with you as you attack from behind. the number of enemies ahead of you increases the further you go - a sign that you're heading in the right direction.

eventually, you reach an exterior door and push it open.

to say the situation is chaotic would be an understatement. soldiers are hurrying across fields, arming themselves and their allies, shouting out various commands and information. you duck low and stick to the shadows, doing your best to avoid a firefight now that the enemy solidly has the advantage.

you make some distance and perk up at the sounds of gunfire. you've stumbled across the main battle. with a renewed sense of hope to push you forward, you go towards it, ending up crouched next to an APC as you search through the chaos for any friendly faces.

one of the nearby vehicles erupts into flames moments later, catching you off-guard and stealing your attention from the fight. scrambling to your feet, you stiffen as something smooth and cold is pressed against the back of your skull. the barrel of a gun. you raise your hands in surrender and pray that the person holding the weapon can be reasoned with.

"wait," a deep voice, husky and all too familiar, speaks from behind you. "petra? 's that you?" the man, captain price, lowers his gun, allowing you to spin around and look at him.

you're almost ready to shed tears upon seeing his face, equal parts concern and relief etched into his hard expression. he grabs ahold of your shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze as you nod, silently answering his question. a dark figure emerges from behind one of the vehicles at price's back and catches your eye.

the stark white skull mask instantly gives away his identity: ghost. he stops at your side, eyes crinkling behind the mask, and you can tell that he's giving you a happy look.

your eyes leave the pair and scan the area, hunting for the last two members of the team. there's no movement aside from the fighting and chaos in the distance. your gaze flits back to price as a lump begins to form in your throat and every scenario that you've cooked up during your captivity floods into your mind.

"where's soap and gaz?" you ask, voice sounding meek compared to the way you spoke earlier. price, clearly sensing the deeper meaning behind your words, pats your shoulder in a comforting gesture before withdrawing his hand.

"they're here, no need to worry," he starts, motioning for you to follow him. "the sergeants are protecting our backsides, making sure the chopper has a clear path. we're gonna meet 'em at the southside of the prison and exfil from there."

you fall in line with the two, muscle memory all but taking over as you repeat your prior strategy; keep to the shadows and only engage the enemy if absolutely necessary. the location that price described isn't terribly far and shouldn't be difficult to reach, so long as you don't get caught up in too many fights.

ghost contacts the sergeants as you move, updating them on your position. you learn through the conversation that the team came for you, and only you - makarov isn't a concern of theirs, even once you inform price of his presence. we'll slot the bastard once you're back on your feet, he says.

"we're gettin' close, it's just up here." ghost mutters lowly. you tighten your grip on your gun, anticipation steadily building inside of you the closer you get to the rendezvous point. you're this close to freedom, this close to putting this hellish place in the past and reuniting with your team. al-mazrah, the missile, your capture, makarov– all of them would sequester themselves to nothing more than memories.

a black hawk flies overhead before touching down at the designated spot. one of the back doors swing open just as it lands, revealing gaz's smiling face. he steps aside to allow the three of you to board, giving you an eager side-hug as you shuffle past him.

"petra, happy to see you in one piece!" soap's exclamation startles you as much as it overjoys you to hear, and you're suddenly swept up into a bone-crushing hug by the scotsman upon passing gaz.

"soap–! johnny, you're squeezing me too hard–!" you gasp out, still attempting to hug the man back despite your bones being turned to mush from the pressure. he releases you almost as quickly as he scooped you up and mutters an apology. said apology barely registers in your head due to the sight he greets you with, though.

there's a nasty scar over his left eye, jagged and obviously still in the process of healing. soap hardly seems to care about it, instead grinning at you like you were revived from the dead. you tap the area below your own eye to signal to him, brows furrowing in confusion. his hand mirrors your action and his face lights up, an audible "oh" falling from his lips.

"got it in al-mazrah," he says, waving off your worried look. "makes me look pretty cool, right?" he adds with a glance around the cabin, earning an affirmative hum from price and a shrug from ghost.

gaz snorts, slumping down on one of the seats and giving him a thumbs-up. "looks wicked, mate."

you collapse into another seat with a breezy laugh. "i'm just thankful that you're alive, all of you. i was starting to doubt whether you'd come." you confess, sharing a somber look with the rest of them.

ghost breaks the mood with a shake of his head. "'course we came. we're a team, no man left behind." he keeps his gaze locked on you as he talks, bringing an appreciative smile to your lips. your attention shifts to the window at your side, watching the stronghold fade away as the helicopter lifts off the ground and departs. you refuse to tear your eyes away until it disappears over the horizon, allowing you to take a deep breath for the first time in weeks.

⋆⋆⋆

upon arriving in safe territory, you're almost instantly pulled into a brief, but strong hug by laswell, who was waiting on the airstrip as the team landed. you're ushered into the base's medical wing by her and price for a proper checkup, which, thankfully, goes by swiftly. you've had enough of doctors and medicine to last you a lifetime.

"you're sending me home?" you ask, practically jumping up from the examination table you were sitting on. your gaze darts back and forth between price and laswell, irritation boiling under your skin as they try to placate you.

"y'need to rest, petra. you've just been through two weeks of hell." price responds, putting his hand on your shoulder and urging you to sit back down. you shrug it off and shake your head.

"captain, i was given a clean bill of health!" you argue while waving your arms in front of yourself. your wounds from the missile had mostly healed, reduced to minor marks on your skin and a raised scar on your side that was gradually fading. "i just want to get back in the field– i've been out of commission for weeks!"

laswell steps toward you, meeting your gaze with a sympathetic look. "it's protocol, lieutenant. you may be fine enough to work for now, but we can't put you or the team at risk." she counters, crossing her arms over her chest. "you need to recover." she adds a second later, earning a frustrated huff from you.

you know you'd be saying the same thing in their position. if it was price, ghost, soap, gaz– if any of them were captured, you'd be forcing them to take time off, too. you can't shake everything that's happened, though. you don't have much to show in the way of torture-related injuries, but the isolation alone was enough to make your head spin. you never felt safe, always waiting and anticipating makarov's next move. the longer you went without seeing or hearing about him, the more your suspicions grew.

a break would give you the chance to collect your thoughts and break yourself out of the doubt that's been stewing in your head ever since that first meeting. in the field, you need to be confident and decisive. there's no room for hesitation and self-doubt.

"we'll keep you updated," price starts, regarding you with a reassuring smile. "and, this won't be forever. just long enough for you to get your head on straight, yeah?"

you deliberate on it, eyes falling to the floor, and nod slowly. he's right. you're not reliable in this state.

"okay." you concede, focus shifting back to the two.

you're heading out again by the evening, saying your goodbyes to the squad on the very same airstrip that you landed on earlier in the day. soap nearly crushes you in another hug, forcing price to yank him off before you suffocate, gaz reminds you about ten different times to call if you need anything, and ghost runs down a lengthy list of relaxation techniques whilst loading your bags in the helicopter.

it's nigh-impossible to be upset about the situation when it's made clear that they don't want you to go, either. after two weeks of constant stress, everyone just wants to be together again.

you get so caught up in your impromptu partings that you fail to notice the unidentified soldier watching you from across the field. even the ever-attentive captain price misses the soldier dialing a number on his phone, his eyes narrowing as the chopper lifts off with you inside.

⋆⋆⋆

you step foot in your flat well after the sun's gone down. it's silent, save for the soft padding of your socks against the floor after you kick off your boots. your bags are abandoned at the end of your bed, something you'll unpack later, and you shed your jacket before tossing it on top of the pile.

makarov... what's his story?

with a low sigh, you rub at your tired eyes with the heels of your palms and try to erase the question that's been plaguing you for longer than you'd like to admit. between laswell's intel and the stories price has told, you can paint a picture of who the man is.

a person ruled by his ambition, you've determined. while price's stories were more focused on his own experiences with makarov and his allies, what laswell provided was concrete: he massacred civilians like it was nothing. what could possibly drive a man to that point?

the trip back home proved fruitless, with most results online simply listing information deemed "safe" for the public. you need to know more about him - you need a source that isn't going to sugarcoat or hide the ugly truth. most importantly, you need someone who can get you personal details.

you fish your phone out of your pocket and scroll through your contacts list. laswell is an option, but she's not likely to give you anything while you're supposed to be taking time off work.

a name - or rather, a codename - pops up in the list. your thumb hovers over the contact, debating on whether or not to call.

you give in and click the "call" button after a moment's consideration. the line rings until a cheerful voice greets you.

"ah, lieutenant!" nikolai beams, sounding far too energized at this hour. "price told me about the successful prison break, congrats on surviving the ultranationalists."

"thanks, nik." you chuckle at his enthusiasm. "is there any chance i could ask you for a favor? i need information, stuff that i think only you can get." you nervously shift your weight while asking the question, worried that you might be hitting a dead end.

"information? about what?"

"makarov."

nikolai goes quiet, and you think he's going to deny your request. but, just as you open your mouth to justify it, he speaks.

"you want private informaton, yes?" he mutters, causing you to let out a deep breath. "price hasn't told you everything, and you want to research the man that captured you. that is to be expected."

"give me a little time, i'll send you whatever i can find." he continues. you can hear typing in the background after, signaling that he was following through with it. you tell him goodbye with a small "thanks" and hang up, an immense weight lifting off your fatigued shoulders.

a hot shower would be nice right now. you haven't had one in weeks, and nikolai said that gathering everything would take a while. you might as well use the break instead of sitting around and twiddling your thumbs while waiting for him.

you trudge to the bathroom and turn the water on, stripping out of your clothes and leaving your phone on the counter. you hop in the shower and feel your aching muscles relax as soon as the warm water washes over them, soothing weeks of pain and discomfort. when you get out and wrap a towel around yourself, you finally feel relatively at ease for the first time since your escape.

your phone buzzes from nearby, and you blink at the screen after picking it up. a message from nikolai stares back at you.

sent what i have, hope it helps 22:43 pm

thanks, appreciate it! 22:43 pm

i'll let you know if i find anything else 22:44 pm

you quickly dry off and get dressed in more comfortable clothes, grabbing your laptop as you stroll into the living room and get settled on the couch. it only takes a couple minutes to access the files that nikolai sent, and upon seeing a page of folders to look through, you're left shocked at the sheer amount of information he gave.

it's overwhelming, just how much makarov has done in his career - if you can even call international terrorism a "career." you decide to begin at the top of the list, shaking off the uneasy feeling that settles in the pit of your stomach.

the contents of the folder go from typical, almost expected, crimes from someone like him, to acts that make you understand why price is wary of him. you sift through each file, studying the contents as if you're going to be quizzed on them, each word acting as another nail ripped out of your coffin.

the list of crimes seems endless. kidnapping, torture, trafficking, bombings, assassinations, mass murder... not only are you lucky to be uninjured, you're lucky to be alive. the privilege of being a "special" target, you presume. if not for your position in the task force, you'd be lying dead in a ditch or tortured to the brink of insanity. your stomach churns at the thought.

eventually, you reach a folder named "personal." it lives up to its name, as when you access it, the files are all details about the man himself. some of the basic information is known to you already, but most of it is entirely new - stuff you're sure was intentionally hidden away from curious eyes.

what you can find of his life before he began his reign of terror both answers your questions and adds more to the list. he was a paratrooper, a captain in the spetsnaz, regarded as a master in the field despite the list of complaints on his file. many of the men under his command considered him a natural leader; charismatic, cunning, but harsh in his methods. he received several comments from the higher-ups about his alarming behaviors, but it all came to a head when he was investigated for war crimes. he left the military to avoid the charges.

somehow, the crimes that got him discharged seem mild compared to what he's done since. you can't wrap your brain around why makarov treated you so... kindly, given everything you've read. he should have ended your life or made it a living hell, but instead, you got regular medical treatment, decent conditions, and mostly left alone during your imprisonment.

you sit back from the screen, sluggishly running a hand down your face. makarov didn't fight to keep you captured. if anything, he was happy to let you escape. it doesn't make sense. he went through the effort of capturing you alive and gained nothing from it. for a man that favors the zero-sum game, he's not playing it well.

unless this is his gain. getting in your head, confusing you, forcing you to think about him when you should be focusing on recovering. he's bogging you down, preventing you from being reliable for your teammates.

or, maybe you're looking into things too deeply. overestimating just how clever one man can be.

your phone buzzes from its spot on the cushion, and you blink at the bright screen, squinting to read the notification. it's a text message from an unknown number. a few different people flash through your mind, potential allies that could have changed their numbers recently, but no one stands out. you exhale and click the notification to open up the message fully.

feeling well? 12:35 am

you stare at the message for a minute. it can’t be price or any of the boys, you already have their phone numbers. you highly doubt that laswell changed hers without updating you, and nikolai probably hasn’t change his in the two hours since your last conversation. just as you go to type a response, two more messages pop up.

recovering at home is preferable, isn't it? 12:36 am

much more comfortable than a medical wing. 12:36 am

who is this? 12:37 am

take a guess - m 12:37 am

a chill creeps up your spine as the realization dawns on you. it's makarov; not only does he have your phone number, but he knows you're not at base. he's managed to track your location in less than six hours.

you drop your phone on the coffee table and shoot a wary glance around the room before checking to make sure your front door is locked. once you're sure of it, you start to pace around the room, wringing your hands together. the smart decision would be to call someone - price, laswell, one of the boys, someone that can get here quickly or send a person in their place.

you're not defenseless by any means, but there's no telling what makarov knows. he could be halfway across the world or in the very same city, and you have no way of finding out without putting yourself at risk. you may have gotten lucky in al-mazrah, but you can't rely on luck.

your phone lights up again, and from your position a few feet away, you can just barely make out what the screen says.

let's talk, lieutenant. 12:40 am

no fucking way. you're not entertaining the madman that you just escaped.

you need to get out; take a walk, clear your head. makarov knows where you are, but that doesn't mean he's actually here. for all you know, it could be a lucky guess. you throw on a jacket and slip on a pair of shoes before shoving your phone in your pocket, hastily stumbling out the door. the crisp night air hits you the second you step out, making you draw your jacket tighter around yourself as you start down the sidewalk.

your brisk - practically panicked - walk does little to calm your nerves initially. you have to force yourself to slow down, strolling along at a more leisurely pace. after a couple minutes, your shoulders droop and the panic begins to dissipate.

the late hour means that you're the only person out right now. all you have for company is the occasional breeze that sweeps past, and you think that you prefer it this way.

until your phone buzzes. you stop dead in your tracks and pick it up, letting out a relieved breath at soap's name flashing on the screen. you answer the call with an easy smile.

"hey! i didn't expect you to pick up," soap laughs on the other end. "realized how late it was after dialin' your number." he adds, pulling a chuckle from you.

"haven't been able to sleep, so i figured i'd take a walk." you shrug, as if he can see you.

"ah, figured you'd pass out the second you landed." he concedes while you absentmindedly toe at the ground, eyeing your surroundings. "just wanted to check in– make sure everything is going okay with you."

for a moment, you debate on mentioning the messages from makarov. logically, it's the right thing to do; your team needs to know about any potential threats. however, there's a little part of you that hesitates to say anything. you feel the urge to keep it a secret, to wait and see what happens. makarov's given you useful intel before, maybe you can get more out of him.

"yeah, i'm doing all right," you mutter, reassuring soap. "just want to get back to work as soon as i can. i miss you guys."

soap gives you an appreciative hum. "y'just gotta heal up quick, l.t.! we're all missing you here. ghost and price are meaner than you are."

"they're not 'mean,' they just don't tolerate as much nonsense from you and gaz as i do." you counter with a playful laugh, pulling a groan from soap.

"it's not nonsense, it's– what?" soap suddenly stops talking, and you hear a voice in the background of the call. he says something to the person before exhaling dramatically and speaking into the phone again. "sorry 'bout that, it was price. apparently we've got somethin' to handle– a wrecked shadow company transport, i think. i'll send a message after we're done, yeah?"

you wave your hand while talking, again, as if he can see you. "don't worry about it, just stay safe out there. let me know how it goes."

the two of you exchange quick goodbyes and you end the call with a smile still plastered on your face. your brows furrow as you immediately receive another call, though. the number that flashes across the screen makes you grip the phone tighter, your knuckles turning white from the strain.

makarov, of course. you decline the call with an irritated sigh and spin on your heel, heading back to your apartment. another one comes through seconds later, which you choose to simply ignore this time. you speed up the short walk to your front door and slam it closed behind you, locking it just as quickly.

"you are surprisingly difficult to get ahold of, petra."

you whip around and press your back to the door, locking eyes with the man you tried so desperately to avoid. makarov stands in the middle of the room, a smug grin on his face, his arms loosely crossed over his chest as he stares you down.

"how the hell did you find me so fast?" you sneer at him, hand tightening around the set of keys in your palm. he's wearing a thick vest and armor plates - they won't save you, but the keys might buy you enough time to reach the gun in your bedroom.

"i have my ways," he tilts his head to the side, moving to lean against the back of your couch. "i needed to speak with you, and you weren't answering the phone. this was my only option."

you scoff at the claim, briefly loosening your grip. "no, you also have the option of leaving me alone." you argue, stepping further into the room. "besides killing you, we don't have any business to discuss."

"is that so?" makarov chuckles, glancing over his shoulder. you follow his gaze and land on your laptop. it's turned on again, with one of the pages detailing his personal history displayed on the screen. "you'll be very interested in what i have to say, lieutenant."

you bite your tongue, shifting your weight and dragging your focus back to him. "fine. tell me, then."

makarov straightens, his gaze flitting back to you. the edges of the keys dig into the skin of your palm, the bite of the cold metal keeping you grounded as he stalks toward you, like a predator approaching a prey animal. those alarm bells start going off in your head again, every instinct screaming at you to preemptively strike or run.

when he's a few feet away, you lunge. jabbing your keys forward, you try to hit one of the weak spots of his vest, aiming for the one of the gaps near the straps.

the training he underwent years ago is made readily apparent as makarov easily grabs your wrist and twists it, disarming you in one smooth motion. you try to use your other hand to break free, only to end up with both hands in his iron grip. you're spun around and shoved against the wall with your hands behind your back, trapped between your bodies.

you struggle, but that only encourages him to tighten his grip, firmly pinning your hands. he presses forward, using his own body weight to prevent you from fighting him off.

"you're predictable, petra," he mutters, the comment making you thrash against him. "you can't see past yourself– i am freely offering you information that your allies would die to gather themselves. take advantage of this generosity."

"i hate you," you seethe, writhing and trying to break free of his hold. he doesn't budge even a little, chuckling softly next to your ear as he leans in closer.

"good. i like that." makarov murmurs, his voice low and controlled, warm breath fanning over your skin. heat floods through your veins when he speaks, which you attribute to anger towards him.

until he nudges you again, his upper body falling almost perfectly in line with the curve of your back, his hands loosening slightly and providing your red-marked wrists with some relief. it just now occurs to you how close he is, the steady rise and fall of his chest against your spine forcing your own staggering breathing to calm itself and match his. his cropped hair tickles the side of your ear as he hovers next to you, his side profile visible in the edge of your vision.

you bite your tongue again, though for a different reason than earlier. holding any feelings but hatred and contempt for your enemy - you might as well mark yourself as a traitor if that happens. you can't allow yourself to fall for the games that he's definitely playing with you. the task force needs you, and they need whatever intel makarov can provide you with right now.

"i can be civil," you concede, barely above a whisper. "i won't attack if you don't." you add a moment later, pursing your lips.

you can see the edge of his lips twitch from the corner of your eye. makarov releases your wrists after a beat and steps back, giving you enough space to turn around and face him, pressing your back flat against the wall.

"do you trust the commander of shadow company?" he asks, bluntly. you narrow your gaze, huffing at the thought.

"graves? not by a longshot. i can trust him enough to shoot your guys before he shoots me, but that's it." you reply in an equally blunt tone.

"do you believe he is attached to the general's plans?" he says, and you deliberate before shaking your head. it wouldn't make sense, given graves' recent allyship with urzikstan. makarov continues, appearing satisfied with your answer. "you're correct. the shadow is not aware of shepherd's plans any more than your team is."

"how does this help me?"

"you will need him to cooperate in order to take down general shepherd," makarov asserts. you tilt your head curiously, urging him to elaborate. "which means, unfortunately, that you will have to work with him. my men can handle the general's lap dogs, but commander graves is the only person that can locate the general himself."

of course. your catalogue of enemies that you have no choice but to work with just keeps expanding.

"i see." you mumble, fingers twitching at the prospect of working with graves. tolerating his soldiers is one issue, but the commander is a whole other ballpark. "i still don't understand– why are you giving me all of this?"

makarov finally tears his gaze from yours for the first time since you separated. he walks over to the front door, right next to your spot against the wall, and unlocks it with a small twist of the lock. he turns toward you, though his eyes do not lift to yours again.

"the enemy of my enemy is my friend," he utters, swinging the door open. "we'll be in touch. do not ignore me next time i contact you."

you nearly miss his eyes flicking up to your face, the action so short that it feels like a trick of the light. he walks out of your apartment, closing the door behind him with a soft thud, stopping you from watching him as he disappears into the night. you don't think you want to know where he goes, but one thing that you can say for certain is that it won't be the last you see of him.

you'll be seeing him even sooner than you can imagine.

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