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halcyone-of-the-sea · 11 months

Note

ooh im glad!!! so, expanding on that then..

how about price with a civvi wife/gf, and when they’re talking over the phone while he’s gone, she’s being kinda cagey and definitely omitting something, but he doesn’t know what. so when he gets back home she tells him she’s pregnant? really just a lot of fluff (and maybe angst? 👀 like about how his job is super dangerous and he might not come home, so he has fears about it?? bc your angst is so good it makes me sob violently /pos)

ive never sent a request before, so if this is too specific or something, feel free to whittle it down or toss it, i don’t wanna bug you lol

have a good day hal, love u!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Our Remains

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Synopsis: You disliked hiding things from John. Certainly something as big as this.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Pregnancy, allusions to breeding kink & unprotected seggsy time, morning sickness, angst, major fluff at the end

A/N: This was an adorable request, Anon!! Thanks so much for sending it in.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You disliked hiding things from John. It not only felt like a betrayal of his unlimited trust in you but also a slap in the face for what you had built with each other. The both of you were always honest to a fault when it came to your relationship—like how a bird was loyal to the sky. It was an unselfish principle; a promise of pure love and devotion that transcended touch or given gifts.

You told each other things. Everything. Down to how much you had spent on groceries that day just because it was something to talk about and share; something that made you closer to one another even when you were apart. You told the Brit what you planted in the back garden—what shirt you were wearing!

But now you hold the ringing phone in your hand and for the first time in your entire relationship, you consider lying.

Your eyes bore into the icon of John’s smiling face, head covered by a black beanie and beard tilted up softly. Affectionately, his name on the device had been changed to ‘Grumpy St. Bernard,’ but now the title made your lips go thin instead of the usual giggling reaction. No heat spreads over your cheeks; no excitement.

Just an overwhelming sense of dread.

The week had started just as the last three had. A special form of hell. At nearly six o’clock you would whip back the covers with all the fervor of a terrified rabbit being chased by a hawk; the taste of bile immediately snapping you to attention as the toilet acts as your commanding officer.

You imagined John would get a chuckle out of that comparison, but when you’re hurling up your guts in nothing more than a pair of your boyfriend’s boxers and a tank top it’s hard to think about all that. The taste of bile was still lickable from your lips as the bathroom tile digs into your knees, ringing phone still in your palm.

The idea of a pregnancy test slid into your subconscious in the first week of John’s two-month deployment, the tantalizing thought that was like a hook to a fish. You had pulled on the string, of course, and had instantly drowned in air. But you hadn’t taken one until now. Too nervous, perhaps. Hesitant.

In your other hand, opposite of the buzzing phone, you held three positive pregnancy tests in a shaking grip. Pink and white plastic mock you from the corner of your vision; two double lines.

John’s icon dims.

You press the green circle in your panic, mouth opening and closing yet no sounds escaping. Would you tell him now? Later? Was it right to tell him about this now—when he was halfway across the continent? Fear overtakes your heart for no apparent reason. You didn’t want him to act rashly, especially when John could act so stubborn when he wanted to.

He was always so concerned about you when he was away but you were concerned just the same. That man was the one who was getting shot at constantly, not you.

“Took you a while to answer. Trying to give me the slip, then, Sweetheart?” John’s gravelly voice helped slightly, making your heart still, even if for a short moment. You close your eyes and tilt your head down, lips quivering at the soft chuckle over the line.

God, you loved him so much.

Blue eyes furrowed in confusion at the silence on the line, the chilled Switzerland air sneaking inside John’s compression shirt as he stood on the hotel balcony. The sounds of gentle conversation twitch his ears from inside the room—the voices of the One-Four-One a dull mumble behind the half-closed sliding door. They had been playing cards before the Captain had easily slipped away to check up on you.

He tried to call as often as he could.

John’s hips shift, one arm crossed over his chest as the other presses the phone harder to his ear. Lips pull to a frown, beard bristles going with them, before the lines on the Brit’s forehead grow larger.

“...Love?” Naturally, a sliver of concern wedges itself into his ribs but it subsides when your calming voice spreads honey over the call. John’s shoulders fall back down.

You breathe deeply, hands dropping the tests onto the bathroom counter with a small clack of plastic.

“John,” forcing away the hitch to your words, you stare at yourself in the mirror, free hand sliding up to lightly rest over your collarbone as a soothing method. Your eyes are so filled with shock that it throws you off. “I…I wasn’t expecting a call so soon.”

“Hm, been up since 0500.” the man grunts, looking out over the city and seeing the rising sun before asking softly with a deep-set brow. There was something about your tone…lids narrow at nothing. “Did I wake you?”

“No, no,” You force a chuckle, having to take a deep breath before ripping your sights from your own reflection. The disgust was settling at you trying to avoid this. But if your own brain could barely process this right now, what gave you the right to tell John when he wasn’t here? “I’ve been up for a few hours.”

Licking your lips, you run a hand over your hair, glancing out of the ajar door into the master bedroom, pushing out bland answers for only the fact that you couldn’t think clearly right now.

Jesus, this was actually happening.

You study the thrown covers from your morning rush to the bathroom, seeing the pictures on the nightstand and feeling the delicate atmosphere that was sparking—electricity between atoms. A silent moment of realization that everything down to the bare bones of your relationship was about to change. Blinking back to the tests, you dwell in the strange fuzz that took residence in the back of your mind.

“What’s been going on?” Your voice isn’t right. Too tight. Too…nervous. Why were you nervous? “Everyone good?”

The Brit frowns stiffly, shifting his feet again and sending a look back into the hotel. Hunching forward, John’s large fingers fix the position of the phone as his voice lowers, ignoring your question entirely. He doesn't want to jump to conclusions, but there were pros and cons to his line of work.

Above all, he knew when something was up with you.

“Are you alright over there, Sweetheart?” Blue eyes rove the street below, “Feelin’ okay? You sound a bit stuffed up.”

Your heart lurches, quickly stuttering through an explanation of, “O-oh, I think I just came down with something.” The irony wasn’t lost on you. “A stomach bug,” you cringe, “I’m sorry, was it that obvious?”

The laugh that exits is less convincing than you thought it would be, but it does the trick. John sighs in relief, chuckling as he shakes his head.

“No need to apologize, Love…anything bad, then? I can bring some meds from Base when I’m back if you need me to.” He was still concerned for you, but knowing that you’d never lied or withheld the truth from him before there was really no reason to believe that anything else was going on. John trusted you to the end of the earth.

The Captain rubbed at the back of his neck, cracking his spine as he bent back. It was still early and waking up on a hotel bed without you beside him was torture. John longed for home. Longed for you.

Back at the house, your face scrunches together.

Bad? You wonder, saying absentmindedly that some medication would be lovely. Was this…bad?

John had always wanted to have a kid—or, at least, he’d told you as much when he was above you, filling you to the brim and then doing it again a second and third time. Thighs quivering and eyes fighting to stay open through layered bliss as sharp pants rung in your ears.

“Gonna get you pregnant…watch you swell up…c’mon sweet thing, you can handle another one, can’t you? Need to watch it take.”

…But was that a true feeling or just a kink? You blank and realize you’d never asked him. More than that, though, was this what you wanted?

“When do you think you’ll be home, John?” You speak softly, palm flattening over your stomach as you exit the bathroom and sit on the end of the bed, gut swirling but not in a nauseous sort of way. “I…I really miss you, y’know? It would all be better if you were home.”

The brunette blinks softly, lids peeling back in shock for a moment before a thin thread of guilt worms its way into him.

“Kate said two months, Love,” John speaks slowly, the grumble in his voice trying to convey his unease at your strange behavior, “You know that.”

He’d explained his job when you both had gotten serious, how he would be gone for long periods of time, and the somewhat uncomfortable situations you’d be put in because of it. You’d agreed and never brought it up when John would have to leave in the small hours of the morning and disappear for months on end. It shocked him, really, with how well you adjusted but that was just how you were. One of a kind.

There was no one else with whom John could see himself building a life—being buried beside in some nice meadow grave plot and turning to dust together. Growing a family with.

John cleared his throat, tilting his head down slightly before pulling himself back to the present.

“It’s bothering you that much, eh?” His brows furrow, “Are you sure you’re alright? I can call hospital and—”

“No!” You slap a hand to your mouth, halting your outburst as blue eyes go somewhat wide, jaw slackening. Taking a breath over the shocked silence over the line, you dig your fingers into your cheek before letting your limb drop. “No, John…I-I’m sorry I just…”

Your voice quivers.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…

Eyes burning and nose twitching, you breathe heavily, mouth closing shut because you knew that if you say another word you’ll explode. You were shivering with cold sweat, scared and confused, and wanting John to hold you in his arms; whispering that it would all be okay into the shell of your ear.

You force through a sob, “I’m just really scared.”

John tenses, one hand going to grasp the balcony with white knuckles. His mind goes into overdrive. “Scared?” the Brit prods, muscles going stiff and mind running, “What in the hell is going on?”

Authority leaks into his tone, serious and deep. It made him nervous that he couldn’t see you right now—couldn’t stop the sounds coming from your mouth. Why were you crying? Has something horrible happened to you? Were you in trouble but were unable to tell him? John runs over your conversation again, every word and sound, as his heart races. He was wound up like a spring.

From behind him, the conversation in the hotel room halts.

You force your eyes closed, now up on your feet and pacing. Tears lightly patter to the floor.

“John, I can’t tell you over the phone,” you admit, shaking, “that wouldn’t be…wouldn’t be fair to you.” Swiping at your eyes, you spread the salty liquid away from your lashes, sniffling; praying that he would understand. “But I really need you home as soon as you’re able. I don’t want to break up what's going on over there, it’s just really important. I don’t think I can wait two months by myself. You know I would never ask this if I didn’t need to.”

John’s jaw clenches, legs unable to stay still as your anxiety leaks to him. He’s nodding before he realizes you can’t see him, taking a deep breath to fill his lungs.

“...I’ll see what I can do, then.” The brunette runs his hand over his beard pulling at the strands aggressively. What was so crucial that you can’t tell him over the phone? It was a secure line, John always made sure it was; yet, at the same time, that fact didn’t matter at all. If you needed him home so fervently—then he was coming home. That was that. “How long can you wait for me, Love?” He spares a glance inside. “There are a few loose ends that need to be taken care of here. Might complicate things.”

You blink around the bedroom, hand wrapped around your middle and trying to run soothing circles into your skin.

“I…I don’t…” John’s face softens, closing his eyes.

“Breathe, Sweetheart,” he whispers, “I’m comin’ home to you. We’ll get whatever this is sorted, yeah? I need you to be brave for me until then.”

Listening, you let the words calm you down, sniffling one last time like a kid who had fallen off the monkey bars before you let out a chuckle. John instantly follows his own advice when that sound wafts over the line. His shoulders fall back once more, silent sigh exiting.

“You said that exact same thing to me when I ended up burning that loaf of bread I was making—two years ago, was it? ‘Breathe, Sweetheart.’” Blue glimmers with love, cheeky tone growing.

“Hm, nearly set the kitchen on fire, didn’t you? So much smoke I swore someone had set off a charge in the oven.” John doesn’t push you to answer him, though he’s more questions than anything else at this point. You’d said you would tell him when he’s home and he believes you. “Please, Love, at least promise me you didn’t burn the bloody house down, yeah?”

A laugh strikes his chest, and he’s chuckling slowly in retaliation.

“I promise, John.”

“Good.” You’re smiling for the first in what seems like ages, tears drying as the flood down your chin stops. You lick away the water stuck in the corner of your mouth when John grunts lowly, “I’ll tell the boys and inform Laswell. But I can’t say it’ll be less than two weeks.”

Nodding to yourself, you say, quietly, “Okay.” Your eyes fall to the framed picture on the nightstand—the image of John and you smiling brightly on your third anniversary. You’d gone hiking, both sweaty and dirt marks on your cheeks, but happy…always happy. Your veins pump blood faster. “I love you, John.”

The final comment is tender; the words are more silk and soft furs than vibrating vocal cords.

He blinks away the blush that lights his pale cheeks. John huffs, an infectious smile flickering over his face as his chest wells with affection. Acting like a bird preening itself, he smirks and says, “Well, you’re lucky then…I love you too, Sweetheart.” An exhalation echoes over the call as his tone drops, “Keep safe for me, eh? I’ll call to update tomorrow.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

When the phone is set down on the bed, tossed down carefully, you try to think over this situation more rationally. You wouldn’t say you were against this—building a family with John. In fact, if not him, then you don’t believe it would be anyone else.

The Brit was the only man for you. You both knew the risks of having unprotected sex and in reality, you think neither one of you cared about the consequences.

Nodding to yourself, you wonder how to explain this to him when he comes home as you get to fixing the sheets, one hand always drifting back to your stomach with a growing appreciation.

—

John jogged to his car in the underground parking garage, unlocking it with his fob as his bags are slung over his shoulders. He wastes no time chucking his belongings into the back seat, swiftly sliding into the driver's seat and slamming the door shut as the engine starts. His dog tags bounce on his chest, but he’s half convinced they move from the rate that his heart is going alone.

All through traffic his fingers are tapping against the wheel, grunting stiffly at red lights and shifting his hips.

It had been three and a half weeks of fixing loose ends.

“Fuckin’ hell, c’mon,” John huffs, one elbow on the car frame as his hand flattens over his lower jaw. The light slowly snaps back to green after a long minute.

Pressing on the gas, the vehicle moves forward and continues until the familiar home comes into view on that quiet street nearly twenty minutes later.

John barely parks the car before he hops out, leaving his bags in the back, and rushes to the door. Taking the key from under the doormat, his mind is focused on only you. He had been unable to stop his worry about you and your unnamed fear, watching the phone with every free instance he could. It had only grown as the days got longer, and no matter how much you assured him that you would be okay until he got back, deep-seated apprehension grew. He didn’t like living under a shroud, especially when it came to your health.

The key in his hand was inserted with a firm wrist and twisted, shoving open the door with a heavy shoulder like there was a cloud over his head.

“Love?!” He calls, not bothering to shuck off his boots before looking around the visible living room and foyer. “Where are you?”

Long legs move swiftly as an utterance calls from the kitchen, barely taking the time to close the door behind him in his anxiety, “John?”

The Brit immediately backtracks, skidding to a stop and turning with blinking eyes. His ears twitch at the sounds of dishes being dropped back into water, as his heart steadily slows at the sound of your beautiful voice calling his name.

He rushes around the doorframe, feet stomping and hand catching the wall as you come into view, staring wide-eyed.

Your digits are around the fabric of a dish towel, fingers dripping as John finally presents himself to you. You hadn’t heard him until he had called out, too preoccupied with your own thoughts to hear the lock click.

But now it was like every worry you had was wiped clean at the sight of that gruff face; the hitch in his large chest. A smile slashes your lips after a moment of shocked silence.

“John!” You laugh, rushing forward, and the man lets his face soften—bringing you close to him as you draw near and trapping you in his arms.

His breath spread out over the top of your head in a great sigh, grumbled chuckles accented by the way John’s great hands wrap around your shoulders. Fingers press you into a solid chest, digging through hair to let your ear twitch at the sound of his heartbeat.

John doesn't speak until he has held you in his arms for at least three minutes, just pressing his face into your scalp and feeling your warmth against him. You don’t pull away either, breathing in his musk as it instinctually leads to your muscles loosening.

Minutes later, the Brit pulls back slowly, gripping you by the shoulders and looking down into your eyes. His gaze filters over yours, taking you in before his lips meet yours in a brief yet deep kiss. You melt into it, hands going to grip his cheeks and spread throughout his beard hair, soft strands leaving you shivering when John’s thumbs rub circles into your flesh.

He pulls back and you fight the tears in your eyes as he connects his forehead with yours. His optics shine with love, bleeding out like trapped stars; silver flecks of devotion and a blue the color of sea storms.

“What’s going on, Love?” John whispers, concern alight and raving as his grip goes to your waist, squeezing comfortingly. “I’m here. Tell me.”

You blink slowly, lips going thin with tight brows. Swallowing through a tight throat, you nod.

“Can you go sit in the living room, please?” Speaking carefully, you tilt your head and watch John get confused—his nose scrunching and moving his lips together. You run your thumbs over his cheeks and smile slightly, obviously nervous again. “Trust me.”

Though it wasn’t a question, John replies under his breath, “Always.”

But still, he holds you, studying your expression and the whites of your eyes with stiff lungs. You were making him fear that something horrible was coming—something he couldn’t control. His heart begins to hurt, but he backs away from you, brows tight as he exits the kitchen and disappears into the living room.

Taking down a swift breath when he’s out of sight, you fiddle with your fingers above your abdomen, looking down at your still-flat stomach. You knew it was stupid to worry, but how could you not? It wasn’t every day you just told your Lover you were pregnant with his child…

“John loves me,” you mutter to yourself, nodding and getting ready to go through with the plan you’d formed over the three weeks you’d been alone. “And he’ll love the both of us. I know he will.”

Hand flattening over your stomach, you open a drawer with the other, pulling out a small cardboard box no bigger than a book. Fingers shaking, you lick your lips and feel the slight pull of a nervous, yet giddy, smile. Turning, you exit the kitchen and see John sitting with his nose resting above the clench of his fists, foot tapping. His head immediately snaps over when you come into view, hands falling to hang off his legs as the couch under him dips from his weight.

You steel yourself and raise the box.

“Here.” Placing it on the coffee table, you sit across from John in an armchair.

He blinks slowly, eyes going small with curiosity. The man sends you glances through his lashes as he stares down at the object but he says nothing. Rubbing his beard with one hand, he reaches and grabs it carefully.

Testing the weight, John is genuinely confused, clenching his jaw and feeling the material in his palm.

“...What’s this, then?” He asks lowly, glancing at you with a raised brow and lines on his forehead.

You put your intertwined hands in your lap, prompting with a tilt of your shoulders.

“Open it.” Off put by your cryptic answers, John nods firmly, grasping the top of the box and pulling lightly, careful not to disturb the contents. It was strange to think, but he was honestly quite perturbed.

What exactly was inside this box, and why had he been called home for it? He loved being here, no doubt, but the circumstances….

Blue eyes glimmer. You didn’t look overly afraid as you shifted in your seat, just plain timid—like the inside object would change something fundamental about his and yours relationship.

John pops the top off and looks as you start talking before your throat threatens to shut you up. “I…I know it’s not a life-threatening thing to call you home for,” the man stills as if he was made of stone; a statue as non-breathing and pulse-less as anything, “But I didn’t want to tell you over the phone because that seemed so—!”

Your voice is drowned out as John’s shaking fingers delve into the box, ears ringing. His fingers flinch off of three positive pregnancy tests and the soft fabric of the plain army green baby onesie that surrounds them; skimming slowly.

“I found out the day you called and I said I had come down with something.” Your laugh is strained when it exits you, and you stare at the Brit hard, seeing his features utterly halt all expression. Thumbs digging into your skin, your tone drops, speaking slowly, “...John? A-are you okay? Say something to me, Love.”

It’s only in that long minute of nothingness that you really start to get an all-consuming tenseness to your bones like a rabbit.

Why isn’t he saying anything?

John clears his stiff throat, blinking rapidly as he brings out one of the tests, dropping the box lightly to the coffee table with a dull thump. The twin red lines are ingrained into the softness of his retinas as the sun would be if you were to stare directly at it.

Pregnant.

His heart swells to an almost painful degree, blue eyes moving to look at you across the table and then dipping to your stomach. The Brit stands up slowly.

Your lungs are tight, lids moving quickly with wetness growing in your tear ducts.

“Please, John, what are you thinking—?” Large hands capture your arms, bringing you up as lips meet yours in a passionate and heart-stopping kiss.

John’s limbs wrap around your hips, bringing you up into the air as gently as a bird, face parting from yours with a series of loud and genuine laughs. You snap your arms around his neck, shocked but not at all complaining as he holds you up with ease, twirling you around in a firm but ever-gentle hold.

“You’re pregnant?” His whispers meet you, airy and deep with awe. It was like he was in his teens again, running around Herefordshire with his mates—his eyes shone with happiness; pure unabashed love. “Oh, truly, Sweetheart?”

Tears dribble down your cheeks at the sight of him glowing, beard peeled back in a large smile with wet eyes. Hiccuped giggles leave your lips as you nuzzle your face into his neck, the sight of him like this overwhelming. All stress leaves you in a millisecond when your feet hit the ground again.

“Yes, John,” you sob, overjoyed, pulling back so you both can stare into each other's teary eyes as the Brits’ fingers go to shakily wipe the waterworks from your under eyes. His orbs flicker quickly, looking you over in an entirely different light. “You’re going to be a father.”

He fights through a scratchy voice, “Me?” The tone is amused, but he can’t articulate how exalted he feels to hear that. A father…him? It was more than he could have ever asked for, and, even better—John whispers out, “You’re going to be a mum.”

You kiss him, multiple quick pecks that he returns through shared joyous chuckles.

“I didn’t want to tell you over the phone,” the confession meets the air as one of John’s hands travels to cup your flat abdomen, fingers flinching over the fabric of your shirt to sneak under. You laugh and shiver at his calluses, as his blue eyes are so soft they could be compared to butter. “And I couldn’t wait two months.”

“Christ, Love,” John lays a kiss on your forehead, needing to be as close to you as possible. You can feel his heart through his chest, and you know yours isn’t any better. This was far more than you could have hoped for. He mutters against your skin, “I’m so glad you didn’t. This is bloody amazing news—I want to be here for all of it.”

Sea storms lock onto your face with a grunt, “You’re so lovely. Perfect, yeah?”

His warm hand still rests under your shirt, and you doubt it’s going to leave anytime soon.

You feel your cheeks heat and you smile bashfully, heart about to explode.

“You are.” John reiterates. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect, Sweetheart. I’m so happy.”

The air is ripe with tenderness, a soft state of being that just keeps getting better. John had silent tears dripping down his face, blinking to clear them and not letting you leave his hold for a second.

“Oh, John,” you whisper, digging your fingers into the back of his shirt, looking up. “Me too, Love.”

While the glee is nearly physical enough to grab, there is a moment of hesitancy in the Brit. He was gone more times than not for work; put into situations that could leave him going through bodily harm. You didn’t deserve that stress—didn’t deserve to sit at home with a swelling stomach just watching the door and wondering if you’d have to become a single mother. You had a child in your womb. His child. Both of yours’ child.

A family that you both had made.

John swallows and says to you seriously, without an ounce of hesitation in his blood, “I’m telling Laswell to pull me out,” you blink up and listen, letting him continue as his press on your flesh gets even more prominent, nodding to you, “I’m not missing this—not putting you through that worry. Two years, then I’ll head back in. We have enough saved, I give you my word you’ll want for nothing.”

Blue eyes flicker down, and a small mumble so tiny it nearly disappears hits your ears. You almost start sobbing again. “This is more important. You both are more important.”

There were few moments in your life that you think you’ll remember when you are old, weathered and wrinkled, but this you tell yourself is one that you will carry to your grave. John and yours’ grave.

What remains behind, you ask? Simple.

White bones entangled with an eternity of deathless worship, and the generations that will come to lay flowers on the headstone.

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confused-wanderer · 1 year

Text

I know we all talk about Jason finding out Dick killed the Joker from Tim or one of the other batfam members, but what if:

One day he’s searching for blackmail material on a member just for fun and knows Damian keeps a list of all of them so he backs into the files and realised the folder with the heaviest inscription to unlock is one labelled “Contingencies”.

He opens it to find every single person in their family is on there and starts surfing through them. When he sees Tim’s he freezes, mentally filing away some horrific details for checking up on him later, Jason’s list is impressive but not much he didn’t expect…still concerned how he got the evidence though.

His fingers hesitate over Batman’s, and after thinking screw it what the hell clicks on it just to realise most of them are psychological, and had to do with Jason. One video showed Bruce as Jason remembered him from his robin days. He was pacing furiously in the Manor, tugging on his pocket square which for him was a high level of distress, before he went upstairs - to Jason’s room when he stayed there - and looked in. The change was sudden, Bruce’s shoulders sagged and his face grew into one of fondness, one he’d rarely seen before.

“I cant help it Alfred.. Scarecrow’s toxin.. I KNOW it isn’t real but.. I can’t stop thinking about it. What if -“ and Jason can’t really believe his ears, that was a fucking quiver in his voice- “What if one day it comes true?” “What was your worst fear Master Bruce?”.

“Jason..” and Jason flinches. “I.. I saw him die, and I was powerless. I cant lose him Alfred. I just cant.”

The recording ends, and it takes a while for Jason to realise he can’t breathe. He sends the file to himself and laughs bitterly, remembering what the fear toxin had shown him. Lucifer. It had shown him falling from Bruce’s grace, being his greatest disappointment. “Guess we both failed each other didnt we old man?”

After what feels like forever, when he can feel his fingers stop shaking his eyes drift over to Dicks.

Damian sure does adore him, wonder what the brats got in store for him.

Most of them were things he was sure Dick could handle, until a glitched file appeared which read “for EXTREME situations only.”

When he heard Joker laugh, Jason could’ve sworn he was in the cave. “Hello there old friend! Aww why the long face?”

Dick wasn’t facing the camera, but the sheer aura of destruction radiating off of him was enough for Jason to know Joker was in danger. Judging by his outfit and well- hair- this must’ve been years ago.

“Didn’t you like my..ah.. gift? It was quite the blast I hear!”

Dicks fists clenched. His usual smile was gone, replaced by a hatred so vile it could’ve rivalled batman’s glare. It was so odd.. seeing him so pissed.

“Well that’s what happens.. when birds get hit. They never see what’s right in front of them and then BAM!”

As his laughter rang out Jason heard Dick whisper something. It was so soft, quieter than he’d ever heard him and he found himself leaning forward.

“What’s that? How long he lasted? Well I counted everytime he screamed when I broke his bones so-“

“SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP!”

Jason stumbled back, nearly falling to the floor himself. Dicks voice was thundering, echoing across the cave.

What the hell had happened? Why was Dick so mad? Why wasn’t he smiling?

“You..killed him.”

And that’s when it hit Jason. Oh. This was after he’d died.

The joker was trying to say something, but Jason couldn’t hear him. All he could focus on was how Dick was behaving, how he was walking upto Joker. Jason had seen that before.

The intent to kill.

SLAM

The fight was brutal, and blood flew everywhere, mixed with the laughter and cries of the Joker while Dick yelled, YELLED so loudly he could’ve sworn the cave was shaking before the sound of a wet snap ricocheted and Dick went limp.

No.. no no no no.

He watched in horror as Dick stood up, drenched in blood and heaving. Dick had gone- no BEATEN- the joker for Jason.

But the longer he looked, the more he felt the Lazarus pit burning inside him.

The joker wasn’t moving.

Dick walked away, and in the shadows, with bloody fists and face of hatred could not see him as the Dick he knew.

“Dead.”

He looked up to hear Dick whisper to the thundering sky outside.

“I killed him Jason. The joker is dead. Rest in peace little wing.”

Jason’s feet gave out under him, and he crashed to the ground gasping for breath.

Never in his wildest dreams had he thought he had been avenged.

Never did he even think that Dick had only killed once… and only for him.

Part two of related series where Jason finds out Bruce nearly killed the Joker:

#headcanons #batfam #dick grayson angst #dick grayson #jason todd #jason todd robin #jason todd angst #tim drake #red robin #batfamily headcanons #batman #batman angst #alfred penyworth #damian wayne #batman and robin

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mo0nfairy · 9 months

Text

ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ UNCHAINED MELODY, PART FOUR !

summary :: surviving raccoon city together, you catch the affections of leon kennedy, ada wong, jill valentine, and carlos oliveira. six years later, you reunite with them and realize their obsession with you has increased tenfold.

chapters :: the masterlist.

word count :: 19.5k (oops)

content warnings :: mdni! yandere!jill, yandere!carlos, smut, gender neutral reader, dom!jill, sub!carlos, switch!reader, nudity, noncon, penetrative s3x, unprotected s3x, oral s3x, masturb4tion, f1ngering, overst1mulation, edging, spitting, physical restraint, love triangle, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, mild force-feeding, violence, death, manipulation, drugging, blood/gore, weapons, unhealthy religious themes, & just lots of creepy shit.

──── Five months; 153 days. That is how long Jill and Carlos have spent in the clouds of heaven with their one and only, Y/N L/N. So much has changed in such little time. Drastically, but all too invigorating in the same breath.

The two people who have claimed to be your lovers tell you tales of what horrors are rooted in the place you once called home. How they lathered your brain in their lies and how they thread through your veins with manipulation — five months have passed and you still cannot believe it to be true. They provided you shelter, comfort, and love; they lent you a rope to climb when you were left for dead at rock bottom.

Even with the clutter of Jill's studies she shows to you as proof, the way she clenches her jaw when you speak of them makes you regret ever mentioning the subject. Even with the scars Carlos shows you from when he had worked for the corporation, the vein that bulges above his brow when you speak of them makes you recoil with apprehension.

Your days and nights have been spent pondering what lies outside of these walls. This sudden contrast in your life doesn't fog your judgment entirely, though. With every day the rain falls, you have come to learn several new things.

Oh, how Jill Valentine loves the taste of Y/N L/N.

It is evident throughout every day, where fragments of her obsession are sprinkled into every moment you spend together.

When dawn arises and the birds begin to fill the air with their melodies, Jill awakes and you are the first thing she sees. And the precious imagery alone causes all higher brain function to abandon her. Being here with you, the only reason she continues to live on is breathtaking. To wake up and find the star of her dreams beside her while the presence of her nightmares fade away — there is no high quite like it.

With a lanky arm wrapped firmly around your waist, the other treads across your flesh. The stripe of your jaw, the expanse of your eyelid, the apple of your cheek. To touch you, never has Jill been so happy. A hum of laughter vibrates in her chest when she takes notice of the string of drool leaking from your mouth. Too damn cute. She restrains herself from cooing and instead, focuses on the way her sweatpants grow tighter when her mind wanders.

Jill drags her calloused fingers among the wet surface of your parted lips and collects the excess saliva, all without a hint of guilt or hesitance. Fervently, like some sort of starved beast, she shoves the digits into her mouth and ensnares her wriggling tongue around them. The constriction is almost suffocating; the flare of heat inside her is almost overwhelming.

Jill could stay here forever, relishing in the absolute euphoria only you are capable of bringing her. However, the day calls out for the two of you (as well as a man who is just as needy as she is for your attention).

With leisure efforts, she pulls the expensive comforters off of your warm body. She gently nudges your arm and purrs out your name. Five months later, there is still nothing that has her heart melting quite like the groggy, all-too-adorable look of lethargy on your expression. The way you rub the sleepiness out of your eyes and groan for "five more minutes," it takes Jill all the strength within her to not lock the door and spend the day drowning you in her love. Sometimes, she waves a white flag to her desires and does such, despite the grizzly bear banging on the door and demanding she let him see you.

Rainfall hastens as light envelops the land. You and Jill arrive at the kitchen where you find Carlos at the stove, laboriously working on something mouthwatering.

Upon your entrance, Carlos beams and risks the fate of burning the food in favor of greeting you. An embrace, one that rivals two lovers who haven't seen each other in decades, is what you're met with. A kiss on your forehead and an affectionate tap to your chin follow, as well as a promise that "breakfast will be ready soon, honey-bee."

Jill averts her gaze from the lovesick man. The sight may convince her to snatch an impromptu weapon from the knife block and slice his throat. Despite the elation of having you at her side, the possessive roots within her will always reside, unfortunately.

Two plates are soon set before you and Jill. For a number of times you cannot possibly fathom, Carlos sits beside you. Shoulders pressed to yours, he wastes no time in scooping a mouthful of delectable food and pressing it to your mouth. You thank him, as you always do, and he gushes about how much of a sweet thing you are. Meanwhile, Jill remains silent and scarfs down the meal with no regard to the effort he put into crafting it (there is much less effort in her dish than there is in yours, but not that she acknowledges).

Carlos refused to cook for her before, claiming that she can "get her own damn food." Though, your kind heart offered some of your breakfast to her and Jill resorted to feeding you with that irritatingly-smug look on her face. From here on out, he'd always leave an extra plate out for her. Carlos would prepare Jill an entire buffet if it meant he'd still possess his role of being your personal fork-holder. Nobody else.

After a night spent in cold sheets, Carlos proceeds to hog you as a child would with their favorite toy. The sleeping schedule you three have fluctuates every other night, to where you'll spend the evening with one of them and the next with the other. The two bedrooms within the home are assigned to Jill and Carlos, where they get to spend the precious time indulging in the joy of finally being alone with you. Evenings with Jill often fuel the gnawing need this man has to have you close. The similar way it does the other way around, as well.

With the rainfall now intensely heavy and engulfing the green atmosphere, you had deemed yourself fully satiated with love. Managing to slip out of the house for some fresh air after Carlos had so greedily taken yours, you stumble into the garage. From there, you find Jill, whose clothes and skin are adorned with stains of grease.

Wrench in hand, she works tirelessly on her motorcycle. She makes some flirtatious introduction that makes your face hot, as she was always skilled in getting under your skin with her provocative attitude. And for the next several hours (and an inconspicuous task given to Carlos so you'll receive a few seconds of time away from him), you aid Jill in her efforts to patch up her bike. Apparently, an animal had squeezed through some cranny and claimed Jill's baby (besides you, of course) as its dinner. With how deliberately it seemed that the vehicle was unable to function, you wonder what actually occurred during the night.

Never once in your life could you have ever considered fixing a motorcycle to be quite a fun process. And never could you have considered being covered in motor oil to be something so intimate, the inside jokes and coquettish comments from Jill adding to the romance, too.

Absorbed in patching up the complex structure of the fuel system, you don't realize how the hem of your sweater falls from your shoulder. Jill notices, however — oh, how she notices. If you hadn't been so engrossed in the activity your hands were occupied with, you'd see how her eyes latch to your naked skin and the way her mouth waters at the sight.

"Done!" Reaching your hand over, your sleeve treads lower when you set the pliers down upon the rusted tray beside you, exposing even more of your skin. You subconsciously pull the garment to shield your shoulder from the gusts of wind permeating the room (or the hungry eyes that crave to see everything torn from your body).

With a lack of knowledge about motorcycles in general, considering you have never been on one in your life, you make a quirky remark about "testing the new ride!" and sit down on the leather-threaded seat. Though, you sit entirely backward on the vehicle without a spark of false nature in your expression. Do you really think that's how you're supposed to ride a motorcycle? God, just when Jill thought you couldn't get even more adorable, you draw a new line in the sand.

“You tryna' turn me on?" Her voice drops to a low husk, a tone she has never presented but has always been reserved for you, anyway.

"What?" You furrow your brows and quirk your head like a puppy dog. And the sight does not aid the mayhem within the pit of her stomach.

She stands from the rolling stool and slowly treads to the back of the motorcycle, now standing right in front of you. The way you look up at her makes her absolutely exasperated with desire.

"'Too damn good at getting my attention. 'Got me all wrapped around that lil' finger of yours, huh?”

"I... I don't know what you're talking about...?"

"Really now? Sittin' reverse cowgirl and you expect me to not want to tear you apart?"

You flush in response to her insinuations, babbling jumbled nonsense in an attempt to explain your honest mistake. Jill leans closer to you, mere inches of space between you now. Resting her hand against the seat to support her weight, the other toys with the hem of that damned shirt in the way of what she wants most. She can practically feel the warmth radiating off your cheeks, and God, does it make her feral.

The expanse between you two hastens with less and less room, to where you lean backward in response. It isn't until you are entirely draped among the bike does she finally halt and hovers over you, practically bathing in how you blush from the intimacy.

"... Jill...?" You exhale breathlessly, your flustered state adding fuel to the fiery state of her inflated ego.

Despite the fantasies she's had of this moment, the scene she constructed won't be brought to light today. All the teasing, toying, and images where she'd force you to beg for her touch — she has dirtied her brain in the most pleasurable way possible. But, she's far too greedy; way too impatient. There is no possible reality in which she could restrain herself at this moment unless she was somehow physically tied down. Still, she'd find a way to wrangle herself out of any barrier if it meant you'd be lying beneath her like this. So inviting, gorgeous, and ready for her.

The kiss she pulls you into is suffocating.

The fervent, honeyed look trapped in your eyes, how could you expect her to resist? To control herself? Jill indulges herself in the taste of you and places a gentle hand against your waist. Despite being stuck in a cloud of dizzying enrapturement, she is still wary of pushing your boundaries.

Always so eager, however, mere seconds have gone by before Jill converts the intimate kiss to practically shoving her tongue down your throat. She lathes the appendage over the grooves of your teeth, the plush surface of your delectable tongue, and just everywhere she can possibly reach. Almost as if she were a dog, she's lapping every bit of you she can garner from your mouth.

You're dazed with lust, as well. Every little whimper for more is muffled against her greedy mouth but still succeeds in pushing Jill further into a sort of monster-like ravaging. What finally drives her over the edge of becoming an absolute beast is when you grasp hold of her free hand and guide it under your shirt, gasping when her frigid fingers make contact with your nipple.

She doesn't acknowledge how your desire looks like a mere breadcrumb in comparison to her own colossal need for you. Jill is too caught up in reveling in your reciprocation and her own burning hunger to pay the thought any mind.

For the first time in what feels like an eternity, she parts from your mouth, a string of saliva connecting you to one another.

You're not given a moment to catch your breath, not when a sudden gasp escapes your mouth as Jill begins to tear your clothes from your form. You're gasping her name, using your limbs to shield your naked skin while she continues to rapidly undress you. Every single part of you is now on display for Jill to watch and indulge in. Before you can express your shock at the fucking animal she has abruptly become, she locks a hand around your jaw and forces your gaze on her.

"Open." The authority in her tone doesn't grant you a second to even consider disobeying her. Without words, it is clear as day that Jill Valentine is the one in control.

Letting your tongue loll out of your mouth, you await her next actions with anticipation. She spits a glob of saliva onto the muscle and her supercilious laughter fans against your face. How precious it is the way your eyes perceptibly glisten from her actions. A sharp demand of "swallow" and you obey once more, never ridding her of the intense eye contact she has trapped you in.

Her index and middle finger prod at the flesh of your lips, where you eagerly invite them into your mouth. She sighs out a curse at the feeling of your tongue wrapping itself around her fingers and how you slurp the digits like a goddamn popsicle.

"Dirty fuckin' thing, aren't you?" Jill's fingers delve deeper, losing herself in the way you gag around her and whine out a muffled "mm-hmm!" as a reply.

Pulling her fingers from your mouth with an animated pop!, Jill's eyes never leave the ocean of passion in your eyes as she treads her hand lower.

With teasing efforts that her greedy self doesn't indulge in for too long, her fingers soon nudge against your sex. The contact causes a gasp to flee from your mouth. Circling around your entrance, you're only able to squeeze in several pleas for more before she's forcefully shoving her fingers inside of you.

While you throw your head back with a sharp moan, Jill's jaw drops as she realizes how she is finally able to feel every sliver of you. Inside and out. The spongy expanse of your walls; the silk of your essence mixing with the saliva you left upon her fingers. The garage is painted in the lewd sounds of your whimpers and the squelching induced by her fingers. Everything is perfect.

“Jesus Christ, baby... I could fuck you like this for days.” Her voice causes you to squeeze around her as if you were trying to physically cling to the mind-numbing sensations she's giving you.

Within seconds, Jill finds your sweet spot and begins to torture the love-button. Her calloused digits penetrate deep against it and the stimulation shifts your moans up an octave. With a "yeah? feelin' good?", you can only nod and succumb to the sounds that fall from your mouth.

With how paradisiacal the vehemence her fingers bring, you aren't able to ponder over how this woman is able to magically know your every weak spot, every sensitive bud, and the exact rhythms you prefer without ever informing her. Almost as if she's seen you do the same to yourself.

Soon, however, the heat becomes too much for you to handle and you begin to squirm in her grasp. Even when you whine pathetically about how it's too much, Jill doesn't falter her efforts in the slightest.

"Can't stop, baby... 'Clenching 'round me too tight, got me stuck in here." Her condescending tone and sultry smirk make you cry out in heavenly misery. God, it's only two lanky fingers and you feel more stuffed than a Thanksgiving turkey.

Her digits soon accelerate in speed, your body jolting from the force and legs beginning to quiver. A fire pervades in your core with how forcefully she massages your sweet spot and you let out pornographic "ah!"'s with every thrust she forces into you. The smirk on her face vanishes when you bring your forearm to your mouth in an attempt to muffle the unruly noises tumbling out. She swats your arms away, never ceasing her endeavors to bring you the most Earth-shattering pleasure you could ever know.

"Car-Carlos... He'll hear..." You manage to squeak out. And the sudden shift in her expression makes a surge of fear course through you.

"Carlos? 'Fuck you thinking bout' him for?"

Roughly, Jill pulls one leg of yours to your chest and is able to drive her fingers in deeper. You didn't even think it was possible, hence the shock and sucker-punched look on your face. She sharply reminds you of how it is only you and her together. Not in an attempt to comfort, but to emphasize the territory she has marked. And you can barely hear her possessive tangent through the sound of your own heart racing and the wet, sucking sound of your walls latching onto her. The mewls escaping your mouth have increased in volume and intensity, Carlos now nothing but a distant memory in your foggy brain.

"Y'know I once caught him sniffing your sweater like some sort of depraved junkie? Hand stuffed in his pants like a fuckin' pervert?" You can barely hear the woman speak, not when she's simultaneously turning you into nothing but a pile of mush.

“Bet he’s biting his damn fists thinking about me fuckin' you like this. 'Crying like a bitch knowing you're getting the best fuck of your life out here.” Once again, you're too dumb with pleasure to remind Jill you are also biting your fists and crying fat tears, but for different reasons than the vision she painted of Carlos.

“All mine, all fuckin' mine, baby. No one can fuck you like me, no one...” Her free hand finds its way to your nipple. The pulling and tugging earn her a loud cry from your throat that she practically revels in.

That familiar, but now incredibly stifling and heart-stopping, pool of heat begins to build in your tummy. With a slack jaw and incoherent ramblings, you attempt to find your voice and express the inevitable incoming through your incessant wailing.

"Jill, I-... I'm gonna- Fuck- I'm gonna...!" Jill quirks a brow in response.

"Gonna cum, baby? Hmm?" She exhaled with a quick chuckle, fully splitting you open with her fingers at this point. "All your fault, all your fault for being this fuckin' pretty. Can't fuckin' resist.”

“No, I-... I can’t help it when your fingers are just- just fucking stretching me out.” You throw your head back once more. The way the motorcycle juts uncomfortably at your skull fails to overpower the sheer fervor you're feeling.

Jill merely laughs in response. “Yeah? 'Gonna get all messy on my fingers? Get your fuckin' cum all over my bike?” The heat within you builds and builds until it becomes suffocating for your sweaty body to contain.

"C'mon, pretty thing. Cum f'me..."

With that, the damn breaks and it's as if you had released an entire tsunami the way you spurt around Jill.

Her mouth latches to yours during your peak, tongues mashing against one another. Chest pressed against yours, all your senses know are Jill, Jill, Jill. It is practically agonizing, how gut-wrenchingly pleasurable the orgasm is.

And Jill, all she can do is coo, tease, and watch in absolute wonder at how perfect this was. How perfect you are. When your peak is finally pacified into calm waves, your body goes limp against the bike and your essense leaks onto the clean leather. The entire room seems to melt away while you're brain is still scrambling to garner any brain cells Jill had managed to fuck out of you.

She removes her fingers from your heavenly heat and just stares at the way your slick paints her digits. Standing, Jill uses her heel to kick the rolling stool behind her. Her slender figure is finally able to rest as she sits down, heavy gaze still locked on the captivating sight of you all over her fingers. She brings them to her lips, eyes watering when she is able to catch a whiff, but stops herself before they can reach past and show her tongue what heaven is.

An idea, albeit a bad one (something Jill is notorious for), sprouts in her mind. The part of your body she has so kindly destroyed is sitting right before her, like a grand meal crafted by the most talented chef, just for her. Surely, a meal better than anything Carlos has ever made (which she knows he would certainly agree with, but she digresses).

With a kick to the cement floor, the stool slides across the room. Hastily grabbing a few random cable ties, Jill then swerves back to you. A gentle hand on your cheek, she presses yet another kiss to your whimpering mouth. It is soft and sweet, but it is easy to notice the dominating tendencies that lie beneath the surface. You reciprocate the affections, albeit clumsily, due to your dazed state.

While your tongues practically cuddle with one another, adorning the other in heaps of saliva, you can barely feel how Jill grasps hold of your wrist. She then presses it against the motorcycle handlebar. With her mouth latched to yours like a leech, she uses the cable tie to restrain your wrist to the handle. The other wrist is tied to the adjacent bar swiftly, to where you are now entirely restrained to the bike.

What she plans to do will be far too much for your exhausted body to handle. So, she must ensure that you stay pliant and accept even more heaps of the torturous zeal she intends for you to endure.

Fortunately, you don't seem to mind one bit. Your poor brain still hasn't processed that you will soon go through that same overwhelming, almost-painful pleasure once more. Scooting closer to you, Jill's heavy breaths fan against your sex and earns her a faint gasp from the light stimulation. Mere inches away, the scent of you floods her senses and further envelops her into whatever magic spell you put her under.

Six years. Six whole years.

Through the depraved loneliness of being without the one she loves most, there was always a curious desire that prodded at her brain.

How would you take her? Would you like it rough and intense or soft and tender? What sounds would you make? Would you be shamelessly loud or try to restrain your cute whines? How much stamina would you have? Could she make you weak with mere minutes of intimate contact or would you challenge her to hours of bringing you venereal satisfaction?

The mere idea always sends her hands downstairs, vowing that she'll find you and make you feel even half the sheer euphoria you gift her. And as if the heavens had heard her prayers, despite her irreverent mentality, you have finally returned to her.

With that, Jill lets her jaw drop and tongue fall. Greedily, yet savorly, she drags the muscle from the bottom of your sex to the top.

And the ecstatic delirium that floods her body rivals any drug she could ever pump into her system.

You yank against your restraints and cry from the sudden sensation, her hot breath against your most sensitive parts only adding to the overstimulation. A pleasured groan absconds from Jill's muffled mouth. She has teased this idea numerous times, but the fantasies she's had where she wondered how your essence would sit on her tongue, none of it compared to the real thing.

Better than the most arduous whiskey, better than the ripest fruits, better than water after an eternity spent in a desert. She'd give anything to spend the rest of her life down here.

"Jesus- fuck, baby." Her curses are muted due to the close contact, but with a licentious squelch, she casts her gaze to your face. "If I was on death row, I'd choose this as my last meal... Oh, I'd die a fuckin' saint."

The lewd noises and dirty talk only make you flush more. With your arms restrained, there's no shyly covering your face or hushing your salacious noises. You are entirely vulnerable to whatever Jill intends to put you through.

And as quick as she pulled back to express the thoughts running through her mind, she dives right back into you. There's no gradual descent, no build-up. Just an unadulterated, hungered frenzy that Jill takes out on your poor body. Every devouring suckle has your legs squirming, which she is able to hold down with ease. Nothing can prevent Jill from indulging in the absolute nirvana leaking out of you. Nothing.

Slurping and sucking like a goddamn vampire, you whimper about how the pleasure is too much for you to handle. A hushed chuckle escapes from Jill and reverberates through your entire body, the appending commotion sending a warm tremble down your spine. She could never stop so soon, not with your candied flavor and gorgeous sounds enveloping her like a soft embrace.

Jill was never one to simply flick her tongue, either. No, she was insistent on having your juices explore every inch of her mouth, no matter if it strained her jaw or numbed her tongue. God, this woman was practically drunk on you.

“Could never be done with this pretty body, baby. Never.” Everything you are now experiencing has your brain blanking, entirely unable to process any of her words.

Even when you try to put on your best puppy-dog eyes, as it always makes her weak, she refused to abandon her desires. Your relentless pleas for mercy simply fall on deaf ears. Through all her snarky comments and cocky remarks, it's almost comical how the only way to shut her up was for you to just let her put her mouth all over you.

And everything is just so lewd, so sloppy, so rough. Crescent-moon shapes are carved into your thighs as she pins them down, allowing her greedy mouth further access. Satisfied groans escape from Jill as she just revels in how good it is to be smothered in the absolute love potion pouring into her mouth. Bony hands cling to your hips as she rolls you in a rushed rhythm, needily grinding you against her mouth. Lapping at you like a goddamn slushie, all you can do is lay back and accept the relentless torture. And God, it drives you fucking insane.

You don't even recognize yourself anymore; you've become reminiscent of a famous pornstar the way slobber leaks down your chin and how your moans bounce off the walls. And Jill is just drinking in this sight. She hopes that if she stares long enough, this image will forever be burned into her memory and imprinted behind her eyelids. An eternal porno crafted just for her.

With another flare of heat building, one far more intense than ever before, you truly begin to lose yourself in the whirlpool of soul-crushing pleasure. And every suck and churn of her tongue has your back arching uncontrollably, pushing you further and further to that edge.

Everything intensifies and before you can whimper out a warning, the mob within you releases and you practically gush onto Jill's face.

You cut off her animalistic grunts with the loudest sound you're positive you have ever made. Not even the screams of terror you let out back in Raccoon City could compare to the sheer volume that escapes your throat at this moment. Your entire body is enveloped in violent shivers, to where Jill has to cling to you to prevent the shocks from sending you to the ground. Her covetous tongue guzzles every last drop of you.

It isn't until she hears a cry framed with more pain than pleasure does she finally snap from her libido-filled daze. This doesn't prevent her from indulging in one last obnoxious slurp before finally parting from the best meal she has ever had.

From the jacket she had thrown indolently against the table, Jill reaches over and pulls out her rusted pocket knife. She scoots closer to your face, heart lurching when she sees the tears painting your cheeks. She wipes them clean with her thumb and presses a languid kiss to your sweat-ridden forehead.

Swiftly, Jill cuts the ties around your wrist while remaining ever-so careful to prevent harming your precious skin. Now free, you let out a feeble whimper and grasp hold of her shoulders, outright begging for her care. And Jill practically melts into a puddle at the sight. She encases her constricting arms around your waist and relishes in the way your wrap your arms firmly around her. God, you make her so fucking weak.

You never need to ask her for affection. She would give you absolutely anything.

"Sweet butterfly, you did so fuckin' good. 'Came so hard f'me."

You wrap your naked legs around Jill's form as a means to get even closer to her. In response, she has to keep the sudden flare of desire derived from the action at bay. She's put you through enough, after all. Someone as drop-dead gorgeous as you, anyone in their right mind would plead with the universe to feel those beautiful legs wrapped around them. However, she can't indulge in the fantasies that consisted of you latching onto her like this. Oh, another day. Another day...

When your brain is able to clear through all the dissipated fog, you find yourself in the bathroom with the woman who brought you pleasure you didn't know existed. Stifling water pours down your body, and you are locked in Jill's nude embrace.

Taking a shower with her — this was nothing out of the ordinary. For the five months you have spent here, she has always insisted on washing you with a myriad of excuses. From wishing to show you a new body wash to insisting you were too ill to do it by yourself, cleaning yourself alone is a privilege you haven't known in ages.

The scent of your favorite body wash now sits on your wet skin. Her calloused fingers massage the ambrosial suds into your body and you swear you could fall asleep from the peaceful rhythm. Pampering you, despite your assurances of how you can take care of yourself, is something she has always loved to do. With how easy it is to send you into a state of tranquility, it never fails to make her laugh. Like a sleepy puppy, she jokes to herself.

Ever so greedily, Jill grasps your jaw tenderly and ushers you to meet her gaze.

“C'mon, give me a kiss, baby. Taste how good I made you feel.”

In response, you make weary endeavors to place your lips against her chapped ones. She hums, how cute.

Taking the full initiative of effort, Jill moans as she molds her mouth against yours once again. Her tongue slithers in, allowing you to bask in the flavor she has developed a newfound addiction to. The act of affection is quick, considering how the heat of your nude body and your mouth against hers may push Jill into numbing your mind with pleasure, once more.

From here, she lets you rest your head against her shoulder and your tired body against her form. She continues to massage the fruit-scented soap into your skin, indulging in the satisfied hums she earns when she massages certain knots out of your muscles.

"Y'know, Carlos had a fuckin' field day when I took you back into the house. 'Thought I was murdering you in there, heh." You've been steered into such a meditative state, your exhausted brain fails to process any of Jill's words.

"It's a fuckin' miracle he let me be alone with you right now. 'Had to threaten him with telling you what I caught him doing with your sweater. Fuckin' idiot was so scared, he doesn't even know I already told you."

She presses an abiding kiss to your head before continuing.

"Do you remember, baby? Or were you too fucked out to use your head...? Kinda hard to listen to me when I'm fuckin' your brains out, huh?"

Other than being between your thighs, Jill could spend forever here.

Nights spent trying out facemasks with ridiculous scents, drawing hearts and your initials on the steamed shower walls, and the adoring giggle you give her when she lets you use her hair and face to make soap mohawks or soap beards. There is nothing in the universe that could equate to the ineluctable love Jill has for you. Absolutely nothing.

As every night goes, she massages fragranced lotions into your flesh and dresses you in cloud-soft pajama bottoms. This time, however, she reluctantly wraps one of Carlos' shirts around your form as compensation on his end for what she put you through.

Speaking of the devil, her fingers merely hover over the lock on the bathroom door and he is already trying to force his way in. With a hushed yell of "They're sleeping, can you chill the fuck out!?" Carlos is barrelling into the room, shoving past Jill, and rushing to where your unconscious body is resting on the bathroom counter.

In an instant, his always-gentle hands are on your body, checking for injuries, and faintly whimpers out "My baby" and "What did she do to you?" Jill rolls her eyes and scoffs at how dramatic he is. She would never hurt you, he should know that by now.

Carlos then brings you into his arms as if he were cradling a baby bird, carrying you out of the ensuite and to the lavish sheets of his bed. Two sets of glares at each other, as if they were teenage girls fighting for the heart of the dashing quarterback, and Jill begrudgingly leaves the bedroom.

Locking the door behind her, Carlos wastes no time in climbing beneath the expensive covers and enveloping you in an embrace. The anger poking at his sanity is eased from the warm weight of your body as he snuggles into you. You've always had a knack for mending even the worst parts of him, after all. Still, the rage provoked by what that monster put his precious bumblebee through simmers beneath the surface.

"I should have stopped it. I should have been there..." Carlos places a hand against your chest, searching for the sound that he is wholly convinced can mend any and all turmoil. "But, she would have taken you from me if I stopped her... I'm so sorry, my bumblebee..." The familiar ba-bump! beneath your flesh rivals a genuine lullaby.

Hours passed, and your heartbeat soothes Carlos into a deep slumber. Those protective arms never once weaken from around your body.

Moonlight now paints the bedroom and frames your face; Jill thinks you were painted by Da Vinci himself as she admires you in your unconscious state. The way you so frivolously make her heart grow without lifting a finger should be considered a crime. Though, the sight of you in handcuffs may convince her to give you a lighter sentence. Several gentle nudges to your arm and your eyes flutter open. A finger is pressed to your lips when you try and inquire about her intentions.

"Wanna get outta here?" The prospect of being out of this prison cell makes a smile grow on your lips. Slowly, you remove the constricting arms of Carlos from around your waist and escape the warm expanse of blankets.

Tip-toeing through the home, hushed giggles fill the silent air as you and Jill finally arrive at the garage. Another idea, albeit a bad one (once again, something she is notorious for), had sprouted in her mind. A quick ride on her new-and-improved motorcycle and you'll be back before Carlos even notices you're gone, she assures you. To let you momentarily venture away from this humble abode like a bratty child whose time-out has ended was all you truly wanted.

She has her signature battered jeans on with her biker jacket. Meanwhile, you're stood with your fluffy pajama bottoms, t-shirt beneath a chunky sweater (since Carlos insisted you'd get cold during the night), and bumblebee slippers. The teddy-bear necklace he gifted you is adorned around your neck, as well. You always feel a strange familiarity when you catch sight of the bumblebee necklace he is never seen without. Where have you seen it before?

You'd feel like a loser in her presence if it weren't for those damned heart eyes she's giving you. Jill loves you. So, so much. Even through everything that has happened in these few months, that much is for certain.

"C'mon, wasn't it you who said you wanted to test out the new ride? Or do you not remember that, either?" She taps the seat behind her as a gesture for you to join her.

You fumble to catch the spare helmet she chucks your way and copy how she fastens hers around her head. If you had learned anything that day, motorcycle logic is something you are certainly not familiar with.

Before you are able to sit in the exact spot you had lost all rational thought in just hours ago, Jill halts your actions. She stands to her feet and begins to scrutinize the state of your helmet, all to ensure everything is secure and protecting that pretty face of yours. Despite her reckless nature, anything that could jeopardize your safety has alarms blaring all throughout her thoughts. Still, you deserve to partake in the adrenaline-inducing excitement only she can bring.

Propping down onto the seat (correctly, this time), your arms hover around Jill's waist in an awkward attempt to respect boundaries. Impatient and needy as ever, she revs the engine and the sudden, thunderous roar has you clinging to her body in startlement. The sound will surely wake Carlos, despite his deep-sleeping nature. Swiftly, before the angered grizzly bear can storm out and drag you back to safety, Jill hastens down the long driveway surrounded by empty forestry.

Making a mental note of any potential landmarks was fruitless. There is absolutely nothing that could verify where on planet Earth you were right now. Through the grapevine, or just the instances you've eavesdropped on Jill and Carlos' arguments, this home you've resided in was apparently in Spain. Where exactly in Spain do the three of you live, you haven't a clue. Any inquiries you have expressed have been neglected.

She then accelerates her speed in a teasing manner just to feel you cling harder to her, knocking the thoughts from your brain. With the few vehicles that have passed by you both, you still make effort to scrutinize their identity. All attempts were jeopardized by Jill who sped past them. As a last resort, you had considered jumping from the bike and making an abrupt dash into the woods. However, with broken bones and no ears to listen to your cries for help, that plan was abandoned as quickly as it was formed.

At least the sex is good, you shamefully muse to yourself.

It had only been a mere 20 minutes before you returned to the dirt roads leading to your "humble" abode. From the garage, you see how the golden kitchen light glimmers through the windows and you mentally prepare yourself for the hurricane swarming your way.

With how engrossed you were with your mind, you haven't processed how Carlos will react to you being out of his train of vision for more than several seconds.

Jill's boot knocks the kickstand into place, seemingly reveling in her last few moments before you'd inevitably be snatched away from her. Despite how malleable Carlos was with a few empty threats regarding you, she knows that she crossed a line and nothing will make him bend. Still, she has no regrets whatsoever. Any moment with you is absolute paradise, no matter what consequences may follow afterward.

As if you were two teenagers who snuck out past curfew, you both walk through the front door with your tails between your legs. When you had fully expected Carlos to sprint over to you, the entire opposite happens. Upon your sudden entrance, all he does is sit at the kitchen island, staring blankly into the empty counter. The clutching of his fists, the bulge above his brow, the strain of his clenched jaw — all the telltale signs show that he is absolutely enraged. And the sheer aura of his fury is enough to make you capitulate into the corner.

An arrogant remark sits right on the edge of Jill's lips, but with a wave of your hand, you stop and assure her of how you can handle whatever tantrum is imminent. Approaching slowly, as if Carlos were a feral animal ready to maul anything that moves, you tread behind the island and halt straight across from him.

"I... I wore a helmet...?" You cringe at your own attempt at reassurance.

Face sheen with enmity, Carlos merely turns his head gradually and shifts his full attention to Jill. For the very first time in five months, your presence is ignored. It is almost as if you aren't even there.

You go on a clumsy tangent about how the entire stunt was not devoid of any safety precautions. Still, Carlos' full attention remains on Jill, who stands complacent as she practically revels in his dismay. Day after day, she has always won against him. Twisting his words, pulling his strings, declaring empty threats — he yields to her time after time. How terrified he is of the capability she has to destroy what little piece of you he has.

At this moment, however, this wrath within him has boiled over like a soup left behind on a burning stove. And the way he now looks at her is terrifying. If she goes missing before dawn, you won't be surprised.

In an attempt to save you from your awkward (albeit too-fucking adorable) rambling, Jill opens her mouth to deliver an eloquent explanation. She is able to verbalize a mere syllable before Carlos slams his fist into the countertop, the surface cracking beneath the force of his strength. You cower away from the sudden shift in his energy, which he fails to notice.

Standing abruptly, he charges at Jill in three large strides. Winding his arm back, he surges his fist forward and strikes her in the nose. She grunts, stumbling in her stance from the contact. The room is overwhelmed by silence, accompanied by two sets of panting breaths. Jill spits out a large web of blood onto the hardwood floors and without flinching, she forces her nose back into place with a gut-wrenching crack.

Entirely flabbergasted, you merely stand like a dumbfounded fool while you watch the following events play out.

"That's all 'ya got, pussy? C'mon, man. Hit me!" A smile painted with blood stretches on her face and Carlos ignites with rage. He wants her fucking dead.

Another strike lands on her face once more, to where she slumps to her knees when her legs fail her. Quirking her head, she looks up to Carlos with that annoyingly-smug smirk. Coughing out a bitter chuckle, Jill can't refrain from expressing how hilarious she finds Carlos' pathetic attempt at taking you from her. The way he stands before her, so overwhelmed with farcical rage. How can expect her not to burst out laughing from the pitiful sight?

And without words, the tense gaze they share with one another expresses the same declaration. No matter how much blood is spilled, you can't take them away from me. Using the wall for stability, Jill is able to lift herself from the ground, sharp eyes still attached to Carlos' glower.

"You want a fucking piece of me!? I'll kill you right now, pack my shit, and then take Y/N somewhere you won't ever hurt them again!" The second the words fall from his mouth, that familiar, pompous expression plastered on Jill's face suffers from an abrupt shift.

The sheer audacity this man has to feel entitled to you baffles her. Especially after such undeserving kindness she has shown him. Informing him of your location in Umbrella's sanctuary, the mere act of allowing him in your presence was far more than he could ever deserve. Every day of the past six years had been spent tearing her soul to indistinguishable shreds before sculpting every piece back. And like Hell, she'd let this underdog rid her of the most important thing in her life.

A gasp is precipitously torn from you when Jill withdraws her pocket knife from her leather jacket. With a swift stab and a loud roar, Carlos manages to block her efforts. Still, he remained one second too late when she managed to slice into his arm. He squalls from the harrowing contact but is swift in his recovery.

Despite the blood rushing down his forearm, he surges another punch toward her face. Jill is able to dodge his angry fist, dropping her beloved knife, before launching a brutal blow to his jaw. The force sends Carlos tumbling to the ground with a harsh clamor. After several years of heavy lifting to relieve stress, Jill has built quite a lot of strength. Carlos, as well, but the sheer rage she now possesses could combat even the strongest of brutes.

She punts the knife across the floor and away from his reaching grasp, hereby declaring to send this man to his demise with her bare hands. Straddling him, he has no time to defend himself when she begins to send punch after punch wherever her fists can land.

"Try that shit and I'll gut you like a fuckin' fish!" Jill's newfound tone is reminiscent of an actual monster. The tone has you shuddering in your stance as you can only stare in sheer dread.

The sight of splattered blood and blooming bruises causes nausea to squirm in your stomach like an unwelcome insect. All the words and pleas you wish to scream out are seemingly trapped in the expanse of your throat. Trying to physically separate the two rabid animals may cause you to be harmed in the crossfire. You fear what infantilizing, guilt-ridden treatment you may receive upon that probability. Instead, in a quick flare of rationality, you conjure up an idea you are positive will end this sudden explosion of violence. An idea you know will make them weak.

Without a second thought, the words are spilling from your mouth in a desperate shout.

"I'M LEAVING!"

Voice cracking and laced with awkward nerves, your sudden uproar still succeeds in capturing both of their attention. And the alter in their behavior is so abrupt, it is almost as if they weren't ever at each other's throats. In seconds, they're scrambling to their feet and rushing to your aid, the bloodied knife and fallout of savagery now nonexistent.

"You've seen there's nothing out there for miles, you'd be chow for the wolves!" Jill's voice has returned to the familiar tone she has claimed for you.

Eyes now shimmering with the desperate softness you're so amicable with, it is bewildering how swift these two are to team up when they need it the most.

"Not much different than what's in here..."

If it was audible, the sound of their hearts shattering would burst your eardrums from the sheer mass. Carlos' reaction is overtly emotional, as he always is. Jill perceptibly abates from your words, the sudden sorrow enveloping her expression a shock to you. That collected nature she always acquires crumbles right before your very eyes.

Before she can cling to you and vow to give you whatever it is you want, as long as you stay, Carlos falls to his knees and grasps your full attention. With his head against the floor and his hands clinging to your legs, he proceeds to grovel for you. Warm tears cascade onto your feet and you discern how the raging storm has finally eased. All that is left now is the sound of Carlos' raucous crying and Jill's stressed suspires.

Casting his gaze upwards, Carlos' face is twisted from the sobs jutting out of his body. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so, so, so, so, sorry. Hit me, stab me, skin me, do anything! Just... Just don't leave me...”

A gentle hand to your forearm and Jill is whispering of how it's time for you to go to bed. You clench your teeth, ready to inquire if she was genuinely serious. However, the notable guilt in her manner informs you of the actual demand she asks of you. Please, end this. It is only you who can calm us.

From this revelation, you oblige by her orders and begin to stride away from this mess. To feel you move from his tenacious touch, further away from him, Carlos suddenly springs to his feet. He envelops you with his full body weight, another whimper of "don't leave me" whispered into your neck. Never weakening his grasp, you guide him out of the kitchen and you both amble together to Carlos' bedroom. Meanwhile, Jill plants her head in her bruised hands, a sigh of defeat escaping her from how disastrous she has let this day become.

Tonight, Carlos sought any inkling of solace you have. Anything to promise him you are still here with him.

Attempting to flick off the lamplight, your efforts were futile when he practically chucks you into the comforters. Despite his aggression to keep you close (and away from that barbarian), he holds you as if he were handling glass. As he always does.

With a heavy-set preference, he adores sleeping in any position that grants him the privilege of listening to your heartbeat and inhaling your wondrous scent. The combining senses serve as an enlightening reminder that you are alive and here with him. This night was certainly no different, as Carlos clambers into bed with you, albeit clumsily due to his large figure. He then nuzzles his head between the expanse of your shoulder and neck comfortably.

The human-weighted blanket resting on top of you mollifies your exhausted body. Carlos has an earthy scent, like Summer air and fresh grass right after a rainstorm. It soothes you into dreamland and this fact fills you with shame, as well. This sudden contrast in your life doesn't fog your judgment entirely, though. With every day the rain falls, you have come to learn several new things.

Oh, how Carlos Oliveira loves the scent of Y/N L/N.

It is evident throughout every day, where fragments of his obsession are sprinkled into every moment you spend together.

Taking a deep inhale, the serenity that courses through his bones causes his eyes to roll back into his skull. How absolutely serene it is to feel your fingers combing through his thick hair, arms adorned around his brawny figure, and tender lips pressed to his forehead. His cries, now reduced to soft whimpers, tickle against your skin.

No matter the circumstances, being enveloped in your embrace as the day comes to an end will always make his heart swell. To climb into bed and find the most beautiful, breathtaking sight at the edge of his fingertips — there is no bliss quite like it.

The aroma that sent him to heaven six years ago, how he had searched high and low for anything reminiscent of it. A multitude of soaps, air fresheners, perfumes, laundry detergent, and just anything that contained a similar scent to you encircled his home. Despairingly, he has tried to recreate this and pretended it was your fragrance pervading from your warm, lively body. Nevertheless, his efforts were futile.

The scent you possessed was evocatively ambrosial, but it was utterly human. It was so unique, he felt like a fool for believing something as mere as a lit candle or a stick of deodorant could ever replicate that perfection.

At this moment, however, Carlos inhales your scent from your body as if he couldn't breathe. And he is positive there is nothing in the world that could rival the sheer euphoria it gives him. Within minutes, the man using you as his personal mattress begins to snore like a lawn mower. Soon, you fall asleep within his tenacious embrace, as well.

Once morning draws and you blink into consciousness, you find yourself entirely by your lonesome. No clinging Carlos, no amorous Jill. Just sheer, unadulterated solitude. You hadn't realized how familiar the prospect of waking up with company had become, especially after years of early-morning seclusion. The rain still falls; the birds still sing. And for the first time in months, you are alone.

This revelation is short-lived when the man who had clung to you for the entire night soon enters the bedroom. The wound on his arm has since been tended to, the bruises left behind are now affixed to his skin, and his face is puffy from the tears that cascaded just hours before. Through all of this, an almost-manic smile is planted on his face. All as if nothing had ever happened.

A delectable scent follows his presence when he brings a serving cart into the room. On the cart, he had perfected a myriad of dishes for you to enjoy. A stack of French toast, a steaming frittata, scattering scones, multiple parfaits, and numerous other gourmet dishes you can't even dream of pronouncing the names of. All of this for three people, you fear that Carlos will make you devour every last crumb and the ongoing effects it will have on your poor stomach. The way he normally does to ensure you aren't left hungry, as every morning consisted of something along these themes.

In this case, however, the belligerent display of affection and the lingering shadow of last night's events differ immensely from what you had adapted to.

Gleefully, Carlos sits at the edge of the bed beside you and drapes a bed tray upon your lap. A mug painted in your favorite color is full of tea and sits on an neighboring coaster, while he sits and waits anxiously for you to pick your first dish of the day.

When you notice the single set of cutlery, reserved for just you and him to share, you furrow your brows. Where is Jill's set? And why hasn't she prevented him from cooking such an obnoxious amount of food?

Carlos' body goes rigid the instant you speak her name. With an alarmingly flat tone, he claims that she is gone for "work purposes," and despite your hesitance to believe him, he speaks of nothing but the truth.

After such a vicious outburst, Jill had humbly concluded that her relentless torture against Carlos must falter. Not for his sake, but for yours. Now, she will gift him a single day (nothing more) to entirely immerse himself in your healing presence, the same way a child needs to snuggle their teddy bear after a nightmare. While she is away, however, you and your well-being are stamped in her mind and prevent her from completing any work. It makes her sick with worry.

The event affected all three of you, physically and mentally. The several seconds spent with Carlos informed you entirely of his current state, but Jill remained a mystery.

And when Carlos had first entered the bedroom, the sight of your bleary eyes and drooping eye bags almost made him burst into tears right then and there. Unfortunately, he had broken down several times during his tireless efforts to make you an entire buffet for breakfast. However, with what little strength he was able to muster, Carlos is able to dry his tears in your presence. Still, he cannot ponder how you may have feared him in that moment or he might just collapse into a mental breakdown on the floor.

His hands, slower and softer than ever before, find their way to your face. Cupping your cheeks, you find a tornado of swirling emotions within his eyes. Devastation, regret, devotion, guilt, obsession. It is bewildering and terrifying in the same vein.

"You know, last night, I..." The featheriness within his voice is a major contrast to the infuriated uproar you witnessed last night. "I thought you were gone. For good. Still, I… I should have controlled myself. I should have stopped Jill from taking you away, I mean you could've-..."

When those all-too-familiar tears prick at his eyes and threaten to fall, you know his strength has been worn thin. "I just- I-I don't know what I would do if you-"

Carlos cuts himself off with a cracked sob. A wobbly "I'm sorry" is whispered before he excuses himself and abruptly leaves the bedroom. The sounds of his unruly sobs follow him in his footsteps.

After such an intense evening, the consequences of the aftermath haven't truly settled in for you until this moment. Enveloped in silence, you ponder over how one sentence of yours had led to such a disastrous outcome. You contemplate how you had merely met these two in a random city and set them on a lifelong quest to make you forever theirs. At this moment, you question just how much you are capable of.

Plucking a random plate from the tray, you grasp hold of the cutlery and dig into the succulent dish. You eat alone for the first time in five months. You don't know what you have done, but you know you have to clean this mess. Might as well have some fun before it depreciates...

Caring for you, it is certainly no secret how much Carlos enjoys the act. With every assurance you are not some impotent child, all efforts fall on deaf ears. Though, you realize you may be able to mold this to your benefit.

Tending to your every need, it is not done out of upholding a burden. You can take care of yourself, but you do not have to. The look of gratitude you give Carlos when you thank him is reward enough.

This leaves him in Jill's ensuite bathroom, where a hamper overwhelmed with dirty clothes resides in the corner. Being your devoted house-husband practically makes him giddy, so the sight is never onerous in the slightest. Jill, being the slob at heart, did leave a few articles of clothing on the ground, despite the hamper being mere feet away. As irritating as this was, Carlos merely decorates his brain with delusions of the two of you living alone together. This phenomenon has aided him through his efforts in enduring her presence, living in his imagination where you and he live happily ever after. Far, far away.

The sole reason Carlos was not glued to your side at this exact moment was due to how he had just put you in bed for your afternoon nap. Your insistent remarks of how you do not need to sleep in the middle of the day, once again, fall on deaf ears. You have no choice but to rest while he tends to every burden of yours; all responsibilities you possess have now become his. And he could not possibly be happier.

At first, you had stubbornly stood by your exclamation that it would be impossible for you to fall asleep. However, with closed curtains enveloping the room in darkness, peaceful incense pervading the air, soft lullabies harmonizing from speakers, and comforters that could rival lambswool snuggled around you, it didn't take long for you to succumb.

With you now fast asleep, Carlos works hastily, yet thoroughly, around the house so he can return to the love den where you lie. Rubbing circles into your back that soothe you further into sleep, it never fails to make him beam with happiness. And despite his tireless efforts, the disgusting scent of Jill reeking from her clothes protrudes into his beloved fantasy.

A sneer forms on his lips as he pinches the garments with his fingers, touching as little of them as he could, before chucking them into the hamper. The force of the launch sends the entire hamper tumbling over, to where the mess of dirty laundry scatters amongst the clean tiles. He grumbles, once again using minimum effort to collect Jill's clothing while cooing upon holding every crumbled attire that belongs to you.

As he returns the laundry to its respectful place within the hamper, Carlos gleefully grasps hold of one of your henley shirts. What lies beneath causes him to freeze, however.

Shamefully, he salivates at the sight of your underwear.

Several times, this offer has tempted him. To revel in how your essence wafts from the garb, any sane human would want to breathe in that scent forever. But he is not like others; he is stronger than them. For you, he will tie his immense cravings to a leash and restrain them, however long and tight you seem fit.

Due to recent events, however, the structured guard he built brick-by-brick has suffered numerous blows. All at the hands of Jill Valentine. There is not a place in the universe where you could be a burden to him, but her? She is the only reason why anger still makes a home within him.

Carlos needs you. He selfishly needs every last sliver of you, everything Jill had robbed him of the previous day. The self-control he prided himself on has seemingly abandoned him. Then again, how could he control himself when this opportunity has fallen from the hands of God and directly into the palm of his hands? How could he control himself when the purest form of you sits right there, practically calling out his name in the sound of your voice?

With that, he rips the bandaid off. Faster than the speed of light, he yanks your underwear into his hands and practically shoves them into his nostrils. And Carlos moans, so loud and blatant, as the fragrance of you invades every sense in his body.

Familiar, but suddenly overwhelmingly sweltering, a tightness forms within his pants. His vision goes black as his eyes roll into the back of his skull, a sudden flash of light then enveloping his eyesight; his knees resort to jelly, to where he has to cling to the edge of the bathroom counter to maintain his balance. The other hand still clenches your underwear protectively and dependently, as if he were an Art Conservator and he was holding the beautiful Mona Lisa. Oh, it is absolute heaven.

"Is that my...?"

As quick as he had practically inhaled the garment entirely, Carlos had rid his body of the pleasure induced by your scent when your dulcet voice filled the bathroom. Tossing the clothing with the others in the hamper, he pretends to lean against the counter with a rushed "what?" coming out in a quiet squeak. He stands with a hot face provoked by utter humiliation. How did he not hear the door open?

However, there is no loathing or repugnance in your expression, like he had originally anticipated. There's a look of hubris that washes over you when your brain scrutinizes just what you had stumbled upon. An unfamiliar glint sparks in your eyes that he is unable to read. It intrigues him, still.

Mere seconds feel like an agonizing eternity as he stands in the depths of his selfish libido. Instead of cursing Carlos out for his perverted nature, as he, once again, had originally anticipated, you do the very last thing he expected. Your fingers grasp the hem of your shirt before you pull the garb from off your form. And the preposterous gasp that is exuded from him in response almost forces a boisterous laugh out of you.

Your pants follow after, the soft whomp of the clothing hitting the ground remaining the loudest sound in the silent, reticent room. Lastly, you slowly strip yourself of your underwear, the very last thing protecting you from exposure. And you don't have to shift your gaze to know this man's wide eyes are glued to every inch of your naked skin.

"If you like my clothes that much, all you had to do was ask! I have so much already, take as much as you'd like..." The feigned generosity seeping from your tone does not mend the disorder within Carlos' pants.

Hooking your finger around your undergarments, you stride toward the man who is left entirely flabbergasted by your actions.

Chest-to-chest, you speak to him in a low whisper. "Wouldn't you rather have something fresh, anyways?"

You use your free hand to toy with the edge of his shirt, admiring the way his strong physique juts against the fabric. When your finger makes contact with the raw flesh of his abdomen, Carlos heaves out an uneven, stuttered breath. Almost as if he had run a marathon, your mere touch sends him tripping face-first into oblivion. The firm hand he placed upon the counter surface hastens into a desperate gasp to keep his balance, once again.

Just when Carlos had thought he had stumbled upon the gates of heaven, you purr out praises that make his eyes roll back into his head for the nth time. How strong he was when he defended your life back in Raccoon City to how he always managed to carry the groceries with one hand. Your candied words provoke a dreamy sigh out of him.

The silence on his end is bridging on the cusp of awkward. His gaze is hazy and drooping as Carlos stares into your eyes, nowhere else.

"S-Sleep..." You could hear a pin drop before you could discern his nervous tone. "You should... You-You should be sl- sleeping..."

"Alone? Or... Would you rather I sleep with you?" Another gasp flees from Carlos. His entire body breaks out into a shiver from your implications.

As much as his brain practically pleads him not to, he shifts his gaze away from you and to the boring ceiling in a weak attempt at maintaining courtesy. The single act is more difficult than any obstacle he has faced in his entire life.

As shameful as it is, however, Carlos has thought of this scene plenty of times. How he fantasized about enhancing the flavor of his food by mixing your delectable juices with the dish. How he winced listening to every pained whimper Jill pulled from you, but how his active imagination was contaminated with visions of gratifying you more than she ever could. You deserve every inkling of happiness the world has to offer and Carlos vows on doing everything within his power to grant you such.

The garment once in your hand is now long forgotten on the bathroom floor. Your pretty fingers barely hover over the expanse of his happy trail, adorned in thick heaps of jet-black hair. And he goes lightheaded from the faint contact alone.

You've already taken notice of the way his member protrudes through his jeans, but it is now clear as day how desperate Carlos wishes for you to choose him instead of your afternoon nap. Fortunately for him, you venture further, further, and further into his pants until your hand cups around his cock, nothing but the thin layer of his underwear separating you two. Carlos is never one to swear around you, (except for last night, but that is irrelevant) claiming you deserve tender praises instead of such violent language. Though, when you touch him, he growls out the most guttural "fuck!" you've ever heard part from someone's lips.

Perceiving how something wet leaks through his underwear, you furrow your brows as the revelation settles. Did you bring this man to orgasm just from being naked? No wonder it is always Jill who washes you...

This should have been evident in the sudden acceleration of his breathing, the dreamy, lust-stained glimmer engulfing his eyes, or the way his body trembles as if had been stuck in a mid-Winter storm. He practically chucks his head back and rests against the bathroom mirror; his chopped fingernails could tear the counter in two with how firm he clenches onto the surface.

More gasps and soft whines escape his slack jaw, obviously abstaining from screaming how good you make him feel. And every pant of your name escaping his breathless self causes flares of heat to imbue your body.

More assembles of pre-cum amalgamate with the previous mass of still-warm seed and bleed through the fabric. You lift his shirt a mere inch to allow you easier access. But, Carlos is swift to obey what he assumed to be your command and he eagerly tears his shirt over his head.

A heavy set of mouthwatering abs sheen with sweat, a display of disheveled chest hair, and two pairs of beefy, scar-ridden arms is what you are met with. You do not put any effort into masking your obvious gawking of Carlos' build. And he is elated to have your eyes on him.

When he had assumed Jill took you from him the day before, never to be seen again, this heavy dread has sat cozy in his gut since. Today, to have your full attention on him as he presents how every inch of his skin is for you to own, the pressure lightens and flutters away like a Monarch Butterfly.

“Oh, my g- my goddd" Carlos whines out after one particular harsh thrust of your palm.

He begins to twitch in your grasp when your efforts accelerate; his eyebrows curl upwards beneath the canopy of his mop-head hair. Carlos hasn't dared to shift his eyes down to you. Out of reason of deference, as you deserve. Though, he knows as a genuine fact that a single glance at your naked body, intense gaze, and the sight of your hands all over him would thrust him like a football into an earth-bending finish.

Restraining himself was an absolute pipedream, however. Your voice, your touch, and your scent pervade and overwhelm all senses within him. When your nimble fingers ghost over the sensitive expanse of his balls, he almost keels over and can't obstruct the words that bubble in his throat.

“You're gonna- You're gonna make me cum again...!” Promptly, you then yank your hand from the warm depths of Carlos' pants, practically roistering in the way he genuinely cries from the loss of contact.

When you expect him to initiate a swarm of stuttering beseeches to please continue, please make him feel good, please send him to the absolute nirvana only you can give him, you are met with the opposite, instead. Much to your surprise, he begins to thank you profusely, over and over and over again.

To beg you for anything would go against all of Carlos' morals, as every breath out of your mouth is pure gospel. And he'd be damned if he were to ever let himself be selfish with you, hence why he drowns you in gratitude for ever-so kindly giving him even just a speck of pleasure. He does not deserve more of you; it should be him on his knees at this moment, worshiping all of you.

The facade you had painted with confidence begins to crack when you become genuinely concerned for his well-being. You had only fondled him for less than a minute, had you broken him already?

The way he's heaving and gasping ushers you to believe he may blackout on the countertop. You wonder what Jill would think if she came home to found Carlos shirtless and unconscious on her bathroom counter, while you stand entirely naked with cum caked onto your hand. The thought is snatched from your mind when he begins to speak, almost as if he had magically sensed your attention reverting to her.

"Y/N... My-My honey, I can't stand just sitting here..." His adam's apple bobs when he swallows the salivation foaming in his mouth.

"Please let- Please let me make you feel good... Ask anything of me and it’ll be yours. There is nothing in this world I would ever deny you..." Carlos' tangent appeared like a bolt out of the blue.

Although your veneer had minor fractures due to your own shock, you still upheld your smug guise. With his eyes shut, still not daring to bask his undeserving gaze on your saintly body, you answer him with the same tone that never fails to make his knees weak.

"Take me to the bedroom."

Peeling his eyes open and casting his gaze on you, Carlos searches your expression for any sign of falter in truth. Another tremble reverberates through his body when he blesses his vision with the sight of you. After all, no matter how far he has fallen into the depths of enrapturement, any demand you throw his way will immediately be met.

He then clumsily stands to his feet. Fully expecting to walk there together, you take a single step away before a sudden yelp is pulled from you. With pure ease, you are suddenly scooped into Carlos' strong arms. When you encase your arms around his neck, the clammy state of his skin catches you off guard. Without a single speck of sweat on your entire body, you're perplexed he had been driven to such an exerted physical state from your trivial palm.

With how exhausted every fraction of Carlos seemed to be because of you, your heart caves. You shuffle from your spot in his arms and attempt to usher him down to the bed, where you would sit atop his body. This demand, despite his winning strike with following all, was rejected. His tender hands halt you from your efforts and hoist you back into his hold, once more.

"I'm sorry, honey-bee, but I-I can't let you work. Please- Please lay back and let me do everything I can to make you feel good... It's what you deserve; it's what I need." Even if you had turned his brain would mush, his relentless obligation to serve you could conquer through anything.

Arriving at your shared bed, Carlos drapes you among the silken sheets and is just in sheer awe of you. The atmosphere is uncomfortable as he hovers over you and just leers into the abyss of your soul. You then resort to pulling him against you by the back of his neck and enveloping him in an aggressive kiss.

The way Carlos kisses you has always been overwhelmed with reverent fervor. Now, however, there's a perceptible undertone of intense avidity in the way he molds his mouth against yours. And in the absolute best way possible, your scent overwhelms him like Summer sunlight beating against his skin.

Carlos has teased this idea numerous times, but the fantasies he's had where he wondered how your scent would sit in his nostrils, none of it compared to the real thing. Better than a crisp breeze in a mountaintop meadow, better than garden-fresh flowers, better than air after an eternity spent beneath the water. He'd give anything to spend the rest of his life with you.

Pulling away to allow your tight lungs the privilege of oxygen, Carlos immediately begins to fill the air with feverish, puddle-brained chatter. “Honey... Y/N... M’gonna take such good care of you, 'gonna do everything I can to make you happy. Won’t let anything happen to you, won’t let anything or anyone upset you... 'Gonna make you so happy.”

A tug to his belt loop and Carlos obeys quicker than you could ever verbalize your desire. He tears his jeans off as if the garb had been on fire, exposing his toned legs adorned with dark hair.

Reaching your hand out just an inch, he seems to have read your mind and carries out your unspoken demand, once again. He strips himself of his underwear, to where he now towers over your form entirely naked. And you have to restrain yourself from physically expressing your astonishment at the sight. When you had thought you had drawn an accurate picture of him while your hand was exploring downstairs, you hadn't prepared yourself for how everything would sit before your eyes.

The most perceivable sight was how much girth Carlos possessed and the slight tinge of fear you felt for what it may do to your body. With a rough estimation of nine inches, his sticky tip blares an annoyed red, the same hue as his desperation. His happy trail had led to even more heaps of bushy hair. A prominent vein runs diagonally down his curved shaft. The thickness grows in width from the base to the very tip of his cock. A set of heavy balls, the same expanse of sensitive skin that had him shaking beneath you, sit beneath.

“You deserve everything, Y/N. You- you deserve it all. Please... Please tell me everything... Tell me what I can give you, I-I'll give it all to you...” The lack of vocal indications on your end has taken quite a toll on him. No verbal commands sent his way and he's on the verge of tears.

Your words, your body, your scent — everything about you has Carlos stumbling to another early finish. His lips seem glued to yours, as well. Tongues cemented together as his hands caress all over your perfect body.

With his heartbeat skyrocketing, his figure tense with shock, and the way his chest rises and falls with heaving breaths, it was crystal clear just how hard he was resisting the urge to give in and fuck you into the next week. But, you're his sweet bumblebee, his darling deity. To be so selfish with you would make him deserving of a punishment worse than death.

“Carlos..." He nods in response to you so eagerly, you wonder if the force had sent his brain slamming against the walls of his skull. "... I want you to fuck me and fill me up over and over again until there’s no possible way I can escape the happiness you bring me.”

The growl that erupts in response to your filthy words was something akin to an animal. His hands, now propped against the side of your head to prop himself up, now clench the bedsheets with enough force to rip them.

Eyes practically burning holes into his, you grasp hold of his dick and revel in the way he trembles in response, before aligning him with your entrance. Appallingly, a tube of scentless lube had been hidden in the bedside drawer for the entire five months you've been here. Just waiting for this moment.

Now entirely slick with lube and pre-cum (you wouldn't be surprised if Carlos' tears were in that mix, as well), you playfully nudge his bulbous head against the edge of your hole. For the second time that day, your free hand finds the back of his neck and pulls him into another burning kiss. With a deep inhale of preparation, you slide him into you with steady effort.

And the way Carlos whimpers against your mouth makes you inadvertently clench around him.

With the mere tip inside of you, his voice raises several octaves and his eyebrows furrow from the sensations flooding his body. The kiss is broken by Carlos involuntarily, to where his open mouth moans against yours shamelessly. His mind is plagued by every inch of euphoria he didn't think was humanly possible to conjure, to a point where any rational thought had been robbed.

The further your silken walls adjust to his girth, the more you guide him inside. Every whine, every moan, every breathless tangent about you're perfection in all of its glory — it has you hazy with salacious desire. His hands continue to fondle you passionately and his lips still plant love all over your face and neck. You never thought someone could treat you with such doting care, especially after Jill's rough tactics from the day prior.

When he is entirely buried within you, it ejects an abrupt sound out of both of you. A gasp escapes your throat from how full you are at this moment. Two lanky fingers had nothing on the sheer girth of this cock sitting inside of you. Carlos practically yelps at the feeling of being swathed in your heavenly heat. The revelation of what is happening finally settles and he can hardly contain the sheer exhilaration that seeps from his body.

The tears that had been bridging in his eyes release and cascade down his cheeks, another physical representation of how devastatingly devoted he is to you. The number of curses and pornographic moans he releases into your ear seem almost exaggerated, but if Carlos is anything, he is surely not a liar. To lie to you, of all people, would be pure sin.

“I can’t lose you to her...” He babbles mindlessly yet honestly, “I’m so fucking obsessed with you, I-... I really can’t lose you, baby-bee... You’re taking me too fucking good. God, please!”

"Aww, you poor thing..." You mockingly coo to him. "Are you 'gonna cum already? You said you'd take care of me, but here you are saying all this dumb gibberish just from having your dick inside of me."

Unbeknownst to you, the 'dumb gibberish' you assumed to be the product of a sex-drunk mind was the unadulterated truth.

You thought of his state as pitiful, but if you had known how every plead of his was genuine, you surely would not poke the bear. Meanwhile, every gentle thrust has Carlos whimpering and crying as the sheer love he has for you devastates his entire being. You could degrade him, insult him, beat him to within an inch of his life and he would still come back to you again and again. All as if he was born for the sole reason of making love to you. As if God crafted his mind, his body, and his soul for the sole purpose of bringing you pleasure.

And as endearing as the slow, sensual motions were, you have now fully adjusted to his size and you were craving more of what his body is capable of giving you.

"You said you'd do anything for me, yeah?" His reserved attention escapes from your body the second your voice pervades, to where he nods avidly without hesitation.

"Then fuck me like you mean it."

A hand against his tailbone, you usher him to accelerate his speed. And to call his rhythm messy would be generous.

Riddled with gut-wrenching pleasure, Carlos can hardly keep the pace he had used for the one-night stands he had years ago. Every random bar hopper or coworker he had in his sheets was nothing short of utterly boring. Still, he enjoyed the inflation they gave to his ego when they moaned in annoying tones about how he was the "best fuck of their life." With you beneath him, all finesse and skill had been fogged by the sheer eroticism he possesses for you.

Since you had waltzed into his life, those random hookups dulled so obnoxiously in comparison to you, not a single soul could get his blood pumping the way you do. Not that he ever attempted, however. Any attempt at buying him a drink or fluttering their lashes would be met with an unforeseen roar of fury. To interrupt the time he spent with you in his head was a death wish, after all.

In present time, more importantly, Carlos begins to plunge into you with religious fervor. Those muscles you could never grow tired of admiring become taut as they strive to send his dick as deep as it can go. His strong, dominant physique does not match the noises tumbling from his mouth, however. Labored praises and desperate wails pant against your face before he delves into another frenzied kiss of millions.

With what little knowledge that managed to survive the muddled storm reigning havoc within his brain, Carlos uses his free hand to stimulate your sex. You throw your head back against the cushioned pillows from the new, sudden flare of pleasure. Instead of the boost it gave to his self-esteem, the way it did with others, it feels as though someone had clenched his heart with their fist. To know he is making you feel good has no difference with absolute heaven.

The sensation of his cock twitching within the expanse of your walls has you giggling from how ephemeral he lasts.

"Are you gonna fill me to the fucking brim? Have me walk around the house with your hot cum leaking down my thighs? Let Jill see how fucking good you make me feel?"

“Fucking-" The way Carlos growls is almost monstrous. A grunt follows at the prospect of claiming you from Jill.

"Yeah? You like that idea?"

“God-fucking-damn, you know how much I fucking love that idea." The voice that had grown high-pitched had suffered from a sudden descent, his tone was now entirely guttural. Despite this, his hands always remain tender and those whimpers still sit on his tongue.

Carlos pulls his body upwards, grasping hold of your legs and setting them on his shoulders. Now in a mating press, your nipples and sweaty skin are practically snuggled into the hairy expanse of his chest. He cages his forearms around your head, hastening his sporadic assault inside of you.

The sudden force has your eyes crossing and your head dizzy with jubilation; the lavish bed frame squeals with every thrust sent into your body. That smug facade you had crafted for this event begins to melt into the sheets. From the bliss claiming your body and how overwhelmingly loved you feel, that familiar heat inside your gut intensifies. Feeling the absolute paradise of your walls begin to flutter around him, Carlos is completely lost in empyrean ecstasy at the sight of you so overwhelmed with happiness. Still, you deserve more. You deserve happiness that even he cannot give you, but he is more than willing to hunt down every sliver.

I can't let you go, Carlos thinks to himself, If anything tried to take you from me, I'm scared of who I'd become...

"Please, honey... Please cum for me. Need to- Need you to feel good. Need you to cum around me. I don't care about me, I only care about you. Please, I-I'm begging you... Please..." It seems as though the heavy set of balls slapping against your ass weren't begging to release inside of you. Everything and anything is for you, after all.

In spite of your egoistic nature being squished with every thrust, a fraction of it remained.

"I'll cum if..." You teasingly bring your finger to your chin as if you were deep in thought, while Carlos anticipates your response. "I'll cum if you can tell me the first tooth I lost and how old I was..."

I've got him there, you muse to yourself. You entertain what kind of mindless delirium he'll plead out for you when it's impossible for him to guess the answer.

"Second premolar. Five years old."

The five words are said within a single breath.

And you don't have much of a chance to delve into how the fuck he knew that, not when his cock is sending you to cloud nine.

You retort with another demand, pretending you had never tried to make such a senseless joke in the first place.

"I... I'll only cum if you cum, too. 'Wanna feel your load inside me, 'wanna have proof of how good you treat me."

Carlos practically explodes into you from the words you whimpered out.

There is no build-up; your mere words control his body like a puppeteer and have him spilling out into your guts. A pleasured bleat, one that would emulate even the most expensive worker at a high-end brothel, escapes from him. Like some sort of slut he doesn't recognize, he wails out incoherent, babbling words of devotion.

Thick, sticky, warm seed paints your walls and oozes onto the fancy sheets below. Still, the sheer power of his thrusts does not waver in the slightest. Even with the fatigue settling into his body, Carlos' cock hardens instantaneously in response to your heat swathing around him.

“Finding me in RC that night was the worst mistake of your life.” Even in the face of the absolute mess you have turned him into, Carlos' voice still contains that deep, husky tone that sends chills down your body. “You’ll never be rid of me now. Wherever you go, I will follow. You will never escape my love; you will never escape my worship..."

You're practically crying at this point. From the satiating pleasure overwhelming your body, but also the terror-inducing undertones that stain all of Carlos' words.

You will never escape this pleasure, you now realize.

And he is fully convinced you are God, how you tighten and moan for him. You had leaped down from the clouds, left behind an army of angels and devoted followers, and fallen right into his arms. All for him to dedicate his life to glorifying.

Toes curling and fingers clenching the sheets, the orgasm that soon hits you is adorned with love but is unbelievably severe in the same breath. A shriek of pure delectation sprouts from your throat and envelops the air. Meanwhile, the sight of you in the peaks of exhilaration pushes Carlos over that edge, once again.

“Fuuuuck. Give it to me, honey. Give it to me. F-Fuck…!”

Carlos' stomach sucks in, suffocating him entirely and confining around his gut like a tight knot. Another deafening curse follows when that string is cut and another load of seed is spilled into your body.

With his mind now past any barrier of chivalry, he has fully granted himself permission to subsume every inch of you. The sheer sight of all your skin is so impeccably paradisiacal, his body can't refrain from reacting.

In the height of his pleasure, he ponders over how if you were a religion, he’d live in the attic of your church and bathe in holy water every day. His knees would become numb from the hours spent praying at your altar; his eyes would become dry from the hours spent reading through the bible and analyzing every detail. Any syllable out of your mouth would be met with immediate agreement and any treacherous remarks others make adhering to you would be met with the barrel of his gun. Carlos is your most devoted follower, your most loyal servant. Always and forever, he is for you to use to your liking.

Languid and muzzy compliments kissed upon your skin tell you of how you have left Carlos entirely brain-dead. For a moment, you think you may have fucked all obsession out of him when his peak simmers down (although this prospect is impossible). With the sweat, lube, cum, and god-knows-what else is on your body, all you crave at this moment is a bubble bath. Then, you'll abide by the rules set out for you and indulge in an afternoon nap.

With that, you take advantage of his nearly-unconscious state and muster enough strength within you to shove his limp body off. A bereft whimper escapes his throat in response but is quickly overpowered by the sheer euphoria flooding his body. Soon, Carlos returns to mumbling nonsense about the perfection you possess and other incoherent babbles of captivation.

Standing, albeit wobbling slightly due to your woozy brain, you tread to the ensuite bathroom where this mess had first begun. You ignore the mess of dirty clothes scattered around in favor of cleaning your lethargic body.

A swift churn to the valve and lukewarm water begins to spread throughout the sumptuous bathtub. Several spurts of your favorite soap into the running faucet, the pleasant scent soon spreads throughout the room. Five months and the simple act of enjoying a bath in solitude was almost unfamiliar to you. Since then, you had forgotten just how meditative it was to let your body melt into the relaxing, warm water without any wandering hands. Massaging your muscles and scrubbing every mess from your smooth skin, it felt amazing and empowering to have control of yourself for once.

For the hour spent soaking in sheer tranquility, you then unclog the drain and watch as the water drains. Drying your body with an expensive towel you can't fathom the price of, you cast your gaze through the large window.

Outside, the only thing accompanying this house was trees. More heaps of rain scatter the area enveloped in late-night hues, accompanying the heavy fog that sat upon the forest floors. If it was merely that easy, you'd launch your body through that glass right now and dash for your freedom. But, you know your efforts would never be brought to fruition. Instead, you apply a set of perfumed lotion to your skin and dress yourself in a fresh set of clean pajamas. Again, something you had rarely been given the advantage to do yourself.

When you leave the ensuite, however, you are thrown into a loop when you witness what now lies within the bedroom.

Candles and incense scatter the dark room, illuminating the array of rose petals adorning the floors. The bed was now completely clean with a fresh set of sheets, pillows, and comforters. A tray table is set upon the blankets. Sat on top of it, you find a mug of your favorite tea and a glass of water with cucumber and lemon slices for him (it has always been his favorite, after all). Two plates of spaghetti with one fork accompany them, as well. In addition to this, a charcuterie board enriched with all sorts of delicious snacks was rested by the delicious meal.

The most unforgettable part about this sudden scene, however, was Carlos. In the hour you had spent alone, not only had managed to cook a variety of dishes for you, but he had also managed to shower in Jill's ensuite, style his hair, patch up his stubble, and dress himself in a tailored suit.

All you can do is stand on the threshold and question how in the fuck was he able to do all of this within a single hour? You are so flabbergasted in fact, you ponder if the bathtub behind you was actually a portal to an alternate reality. Additionally, you can't refrain from laughing to yourself over how he is surely the only man on Earth to set all of this up after sex.

With pure ease, once again, Carlos trudges over to you and scoops you up into his arms. Even with wet hair, pajamas, and tired eyes, it shocks you how this man still looks at you like you're a model fresh off the runway. Or more accurately, an angel that had descended from the clouds and into this bedroom.

"You know you didn't have to do all of this for me, right?" For the umpteenth time that day, Carlos sets you upon the fresh set of bedsheets, tucking the high-quality comforter around your legs.

"There is no line that I wouldn't cross for you..." A smile quirks on his lips. The horror-stricken connotations reside beneath the dreamy sheen of his gaze.

From here on out, Carlos sits on the edge of the bed and oscillates between feeding you and himself spaghetti. And the way he crafts the dish is easily the most delectable piece you have ever tasted, which is never a surprise when it comes to his culinary skills.

During the process, it seems as though everything has returned to normal and the events that had taken place on this exact bed had never happened. It isn't ignored out of embarrassment or regret, though. Instead, it is from absolute disbelief that such an amazing thing had happened to someone like him. He can hardly contain the gratitude and heart-stopping rapture coursing through his body, hence the dramatic measures he took to express these feelings.

With an onslaught of cheesy jokes and praises that would put Romeo and Juliet's love to shame, that smile you give Carlos makes everything he has ever done absolutely worth it. There is no greater happiness he can feel than when he is witnessing your own.

When you attempt to pluck a grape from the grape cluster rested upon the board, though, Carlos is brought out of his haze and he halts your actions. He grasps the cluster for himself, tilting your head back with a gentle tap to your chin, and proceeds to feed you grapes as if you were some divine being. And in his eyes, you are all that and more. It is evident in just how blissful he feels from feeding you, the act of worship far better than any drug.

When the cluster of ripe fruit was reduced to nothing but lone twigs, the disappointment within Carlos' expression was almost palpable. The sorrow is short-lived, however, when he resorts to feeding you more heaps of spaghetti.

If you were honest, you have lost count of how many times you have eaten this exact dish for dinner. At first, you were confused as to why you were all eating spaghetti almost every night. That is until you realized Carlos was attempting to reenact the adorable scene from Lady and the Tramp. It would have been romantic if it weren't for the third party practically glaring daggers into his soul every time he strived for this outcome. Without Jill here, you swallow your pride and indulge him in what he has been craving for months.

You bite down on the edge of the spaghetti string and hold the other end with the fork, ushering him into the act of affection. And God, Carlos lights up like a kid on Christmas morning when he finally computes your intentions.

Eagerly taking the string into his mouth, he does not savor the moment in the slightest. Before you can garner even an inch of the delicious capellini, Carlos is practically slurping the strand down his throat as he hastens closer to you. There's a wild glimmer that twinkles in his eye as he continues to accelerate.

A deep, shaky exhale is released from him when your lips finally meet. He tastes of his normal tang of mint and lemon but with the added flavor of his homemade marinara recipe. Using your teeth to cut the spaghetti string in two, your attempts at establishing how the romantic scene was over were never acknowledged. Large hands cling to your face and indulge in any last sliver of you he can hoard.

"I love you, honey-bee, I love you so much. You've saved my life over and over and over again and I will do everything in my power to show you how grateful I am..." Carlos' words are sweet and ridden with unhealthy amounts of ceaseless worship. Meanwhile, you chase your breath when he finally releases your mouth from his relentless, loving torture.

Soon, every crumb from all plates has vanished within your stomach, despite your assurances you have been fully satiated.

A tinge of guilt eats away at you when you realize just how much this man has done for you. The trance he is lost in whenever he tends to you has seemingly gone unbeknownst to you, even after all these months. You offer to take care of the dishes, but the way he tenses in response makes you recoil. It had been two months since it happened, but Carlos remembers it like it was a mere second ago.

When you had tended to the mess left after breakfast, your butterfingers had dropped a glass, causing it to shatter against the tiled floors. Fortunately, you had managed to lift yourself onto the counter in a swift attempt at protecting yourself. Despite these efforts, one minor, practically microscopic, cat scratch had been left on your shin. And Carlos lost his mind.

Since then, you have been banned from partaking in any house chores. This rule had stood before this incident, but with the new underlying fear, he was far more strict with this order. After all, you could clear your throat and he'd convince himself you were having an asthma attack.

Now, however, he reminds you of how you are still on bed rest from the night prior, before leaving a prolonged kiss on your forehead and leaving with the dishes.

The door closes and you immediately escape the restricting sheets surrounding you. Venturing onto the balcony, you rest against the ledge and admire how the stars scatter among the night sky. The bright moon complements them and dazzles you. All those nights in the sanctuary spent looking at the same sky, you wonder what your friends were occupied with right now.

Are you still considered missing or have you been presumed dead by now? Did they all know you'd be taken away or are they still trying to search for you after you mysteriously vanished?

Carlos returns in record time and you are swift in wiping away the evidence of tears brimming in your eyes. He informs you of how you should be in bed and attempts to sound strict, but the permanent, loving tint in his expression jeopardizes his efforts. With a face like yours, how could he ever be mad?

When you ask to stay, he hesitates. But, when you give him those puppy-dog eyes that never fail to make him weak, he caves in. With an assurance of how you could stargaze on the porch swing together, as well as an additional remark of how he is more comfortable than the bed, his cheeks grow warm and all rules he had set are thrown out the window.

Sitting in the exact seat you had suggested, Carlos pulls you into his lap. Another stupid joke of millions is made by him before he blows a raspberry into the side of your face. The burst of laughter and heart-wrenching giggles he earns makes him feel weightless. A trail of kisses are left down your right arm, an act of affection he had always initiated in regards to the injury you faced six years ago. And by giving him a compliment about his suit and a nickname of "teddy bear" (his favorite), you have now melted this man into a puddle of sugary words and dazed devotion.

With the swinging of the chair, the tender caresses to your body, and the soft breeze from the late-night air, you soon drift off in his arms. In 24 hours, Carlos has concluded that he may forgive Jill for what she did to you if this is the product of all her wrongdoings.

Once more, with every day the rain falls, you have come to learn several new things.

Oh, how Jill Valentine and Carlos Oliveira love Y/N L/N.

It is evident throughout every day, where fragments of their adoration are sprinkled into every moment you spend together.

Life with these two is mellow, but intense in the same breath. You're treated like royalty, never allowed to lift a single finger. However, never once in your life have you been indulged in such intense displays of devotion. You'll be worshiped like a deity, soon to be smothered beneath their suffocating embrace without any room for dispute. You are never alone; if you're not with one, you are certainly with the other. Whether this is rooted in their overprotective nature or the simple desire to be with you at all times (or possibly even both) will forever remain a mystery to you.

Jill is overwhelmingly possessive and never refrains from proving how easily she can claim you. Displaying her strength throughout the day, expressing the barriers she's overcome to save you, and bragging about the fights she's won. You would be fearful of her violent tangents if it weren't for the swirling adoration in her hazy, blue eyes.

There is no need to take that cutthroat, bad-cop exterior to heart, either. Not when the box hidden beneath the floorboards tells an entirely different story. Just don’t be surprised if your nail clippings and underwear suddenly vanish out of thin air.

Carlos has a warm heart reserved for you, but the organ is astonishingly jealous, as well. Constantly cooking myriads of dishes for you, cleaning every speck of dust to ever exist, being your teddy bear. You would be overwhelmed by his aggressive affections if it weren't for those tender hands soothing his baby of any restless sorrow.

There is no need to take that tenacious, puffy-eyed exterior to heart, either. Not when the journals hidden beneath the floorboards tell an entirely different story. Just don’t be surprised if you find pages covered with your name and proclamations of devotion, all written red with his fresh blood.

Life had been adorned in these matters for a while. Another month has tread by and all wounds, both physical and mental, have fortunately healed. As well as the poor kitchen island, which has now been revived with a sleek marble finish. You'll just choose to ignore how Carlos and Jill had locked you in the bedroom when the repairman spent several hours patching up the counter, ensuring he didn't wander off. If he found you, he'd surely want you for himself, the two are sure of it.

Instead, you swerve your attention toward how all conflicts have been reduced to minimal bickers. Though the jealous glares and backhanded comments will always remain, your days together have shifted toward much brighter circumstances.

With the presence of Spring lurking, the golden sun has escaped through the clouds and now engulfs the world in its warm hues. Your relentless suggestions of enjoying the pleasant weather had originally been brought to zero fruition. Especially with what occurred the last time you had left. Danger resides around every corner, they claimed. Outside these suffocating walls, you would be exposed to this. Even from something as little as nearly tripping over a protruding tree root, the thought made them both aghast.

However, when you look at them like that, they can feel their stern exterior crack beneath the harsh blows your adorable self delivers. And the look of surprised joy in your expression when they introduced the idea of enjoying a picnic by the private riverside erased any restriction either of them had.

The wicker basket sitting on a picnic blanket is full of numerous delicious treats, all crafted by Carlos' hands. With your fresh pair of expensive boots on (after Jill insisted on sitting you down and quadruple-knotting your shoelaces), the three of you are leaving the house at each other's sides. More so, Carlos is shoulder-to-shoulder with you and flinching at any feeble sound while Jill remains level-headed, soaking in your enthusiastic state of mind.

The wooden, decaying trail was adorned with unkempt debris, a considerable contrast to the pristine appearance of the house. With a hand around your waist, Jill guards you against the protruding nails and chunks of sharp wood threatening to bring you harm. The sight of several goosebumps littering your arm and Carlos strips his coat off and fastens it around your form. All as if you weren't wearing clothing thick enough to be considered armor. You're surprised he hadn't suffocated you with bubble wrap before you left.

Despite their suffocating and infantilizing treatment, you do not let them spoil this experience. For months, you have only ever seen this wondrous rainforest through a window. Now, being within the genuine physicality of it was nothing short of breathtaking.

Gentle rain patters against the healthy leaves; birds squawk and chitter throughout the trees. The thunderous sound of a heavy waterfall echoes throughout the expanse and has you mesmerized. And you cannot forget the fresh air invading your lungs and just how much you had longed for it.

The scent of rainwater and late-morning fog complement the state of serenity you're in, as well. You almost step directly into the adjacent river from how captivated you were by the beautiful sight. From behind you, Jill's voice pervades the peaceful atmosphere.

"Careful, baby. 'Don't want you gettin' wet. Rather it be in another wa- agh!" A rough grunt is pulled from Jill before she can complete her sentence. Abruptly, she is shoved to the forest floor.

Her well-being is entirely ignored by Carlos, who chooses to ensnare you in his protective hold instead. Letting your vision absorb what had occurred over your shoulder, you see a man dressed in a white-lab coat towering over her. When you see that familiar Umbrella symbol on his shoulder, you are ashamed to feel a sense of safety in their presence. They had provided you with the only place you were ever able to confidently call "home", after all.

When you attempt to wrangle from Carlos' suffocating hold, your efforts halt when he whips out a handgun and points the weapon at the assailant. Did he really bring that to our picnic?

A harsh kick to his crotch and the man above Jill keeled over, granting her the opportunity to spring to her feet and race to your aid. She then grabs hold of the handgun she brought, as well. Why on Earth did they both bring weapons!?

Never one to hesitate, she flicks the safety off, juts her finger against the trigger, and a permeating bang! thunders against your eardrums. Before you can witness the aftermath induced by her bullet, Carlos' hand shields your eyes from the sight. A heavy set of numerous footsteps follow the silence left after the gunshot and strengthen the dreadful fear in your gut.

When they begin to hasten towards you alone, a flurry of gunshots echo.

Amid the chaos, an unseen force from behind yanks you out of the strong arms locked around your form. You splat harshly against the ground and the contact robs a groan of pain from your chest. Attempting to identify what was responsible for the sudden altercation, you find another stranger at your side who was dressed in the same white garb. The terror envelops you in its bitter embrace as you anticipate his next move.

Before he can even think of touching you, however, he is violently tackled to the ground by Carlos. Glancing past him, vomit threatens to escape from your stomach when you find several other men lying lifeless. Pools of blood mend with the soil and paint your shoes; the scent of iron and gunpowder make your nose twitch from the unwelcome pervasion.

"Put a fuckin' finger on them and I'll leave all of yours at your mother's doorstep!" It doesn't surprise you that Jill was responsible for this flare of savagery. Gun in one hand, pocket knife in the other, the blood of your assailants adorns her entire body as she continues to combat anyone standing in her way.

"How dare you put your fucking hands on them!? I'll spend eternity making sure you're rotting in Hell for what you’ve done!" Carlos did not differ from her state, either. Your attacker had already been presumed dead, but the man above him continues to surge his fists into the gorey expanse of his deformed face.

And much like the brawl between Jill and Carlos, you were left in a state of shock and unable to make any coherent actions.

All you do is sit at the stump of this tree and watch as the hysterical display folds out before you. The carnage satiating your senses is enough evidence that these two will conquer this battle. But as they claim more bodies, more heaps of men adorned with the same Umbrella patch follow.

Jill and Carlos quickly become overpowered by the sheer amount of violent people closing in on them. Through every punch, every slice, every gunshot, all advantages used to defend themselves are stolen from them. Several men now hold them compliant to the muddied ground as the two roar out curses and threats.

Another man soon joins the scene, verbally tutting at the impact left behind, before turning to you. And when you fully take in his features, your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach.

Doctor Gorkis, or 'Matt', as he insisted you to call him stands by your feet.

He had aided you during the precarious descent into your new life within the sanctuary and remained your friend throughout the years. And if you were honest with yourself, you have always harbored a sort of childlike crush on him. The knight in shining armor; the prince who saves you from the evil dragon. The feelings you had for him were something along those lines. If Jill and Carlos knew this, they'd surely rip his head off, but that presumption was irrelevant right now.

Matt bends down to your level, the violent shouts of "don't you fucking touch them!" from behind him nothing but a mere passing car, a drifting thought.

"Hello, Y/N..." When you hear his voice, you finally comprehend how much you have yearned for your old life, for him. It is soft and euphonious, but still possesses a friendly shimmer that could melt even the coldest of hearts, you're sure of it.

Shifting your attention away from your old friend, you look to Jill and Carlos. They both struggle and shout beneath the weight of their attackers, more desperate than you have ever seen them before.

Poor Carlos is just sobbing. All his speech is sullied and incoherent, far too overwhelmed by the weight of his emotions. Shockingly, you see Jill weeping, as well. This is the first occurrence in which you have seen such acute emotion within her, within both of them.

A single night in heaven granted them six endless years of torture. Then, they were gifted six months of sheer bliss. To know that in the blink of an eye, this stranger could unsheathe a weapon and take your life right then and there, while all they can do is watch in horror — it destroys them.

Your gaze is soon forced back onto Matt. Albeit forcefully when he tilts his head into your train of vision, intense eyes peering into yours.

"A lot has changed since you were taken from us. Our organization has changed for the better and we have taken extra precautions to ensure our patients' safety. Your safety. You will be safe now. That is... If you'll come with me...?" His words confuse you.

"Butterfly, don't you dare listen to him! He's full of shit!" One on hand, you're convinced Jill and Carlos had saved you from a corrupt company.

"Sweet Bumblebee, you are the only reason I am alive! Don't listen to him...! Please, don't listen to him..." On the other hand, the familiarity of Matt's presence lulls you into complying.

"Those two don't care for you, not like me and all of your friends back home. If you come with me, you can see them again..." You don't know who to believe.

The fear paralyzing your body, despite how meager it was compared to everything else, is all the proof you need to decide what path you should venture on.

You cannot trust anyone, so you choose to trust yourself.

You were never meant to be in the restricting paradise of Umbrella's sanctuary; you were never meant to be locked away with your two corrupt lovers. Maybe you were always meant to be alone.

Using the tree for stability, you stand on your feet. Matt follows your movements, seemingly guarding you from the two feral dogs pinned to the forest floor.

With the ball in your court, all three of them hastily anticipate your answer.

A step away and your answer is clear.

You choose no one.

And you choose to ignore how Jill and Carlos practically screech for you as you walk away from them. But, you couldn't choose to ignore Matt when he follows you in your path and closes the short distance between you two. He pulls out an anesthesia mask with his gloved hand and presses it to your face, ensnaring you in his arms.

As you are soothed into unconsciousness, he reassures you that everything will be alright. And if you choose to ignore the desperate shouts of your name fading out, you could almost believe him.

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

THE BONUS TRACK !

❝ LOST IN THE LABYRINTH

OF MY MIND . . . ❞

bc i can't control myself, here are more visions of jill and carlos' house. here, here, here, here, here, and here.

gif credits :: jill & carlos.

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disillusioneddanny · 4 months

Text

Tim watched with an amused smile as Danny stomped around their apartment, his bottom lip pushed out in a pout. He had made an agreement with Bruce and was now spending a week going on patrol with the Bats of Gotham and the halfa was not happy about it. In Tim’s opinion, though, Danny should have known better than to make an agreement with the Batman of all people.

It didn’t make it any less funny watching his boyfriend pout and mope about the fact that he was going to be coming out of retirement for a week.

“Do I absolutely have to do this?” Danny asked with a sigh as he flopped onto the couch that Tim was currently lying on, his head now pillowed in the vigilante’s lap as he stared up at him with the most adorable pout on his lips. It was taking everything in Tim’s power to not kiss those beautiful pink lips. How the hell did he get so lucky to have such a beautiful boyfriend?

“Yes,” Tim murmured, brushing his fingers through Danny’s hair. “You made an agreement and if you don’t, Bruce isn’t going to give you his blessing to marry me and you know, I kinda want that.”

Danny let out a loud groan, rubbing his hands against his face. “Why does his opinion have to matter so much?” he bemoaned, rubbing at his eyes.

Tim let out a hum. “I mean if we really want to get into it, it’s probably because I spent most of my adolescence trying to get the approval of Jack and Janet and then Batman and while I never got it with my biological parents, I eventually got it with my adoptive father. And now I just have an unhealthy desire to constantly have his approval,” he said with a cheeky smile.

Danny let out a huff. “I hate you,” he said. Tim smiled, leaned down and gave him a soft kiss

“You love me and you want to marry me,” Tim sang, combing his fingers through Danny’s hair lightly. “Now, are you going to go out as Phantom or do you want to go out as something else?”

Danny let out a huff of a sigh. “Phantom, I’m not subjecting myself to being a fucking bat or a bird,” he said with a grumble.

Tim just gave him a small grin. “If you say so, Boo,” he said before kissing Danny once more. “Have I mentioned how much I love you and how excited I am to go on patrols with you for a week?”

Danny let out a grunt and buried his face in Tim’s stomach as he continued to comb through the halfa’s hair. Danny had gone to Bruce to ask for his blessing in marrying Tim and Bruce had said he would only agree on the contingent that Danny had to prove that he could handle the life of being married to a vigilante. And not only that but Tim could rely on him if he was ever in trouble. Tim was pretty sure there was a comment or two about the vigilante being a trouble magnet and needing to be bailed out of situations. Tim was also pretty certain that Bruce was worried that Ra’s would find out about Tim getting married and get extremely pissed off. Which was… fair.

Danny would probably have to fight off the Demon’s head for Tim’s hand in marriage and if he spent a week on patrols in Gotham it would likely make Bruce feel a little better about siccing Danny to the wolves.

So far, Ra’s hadn’t done anything about the fact that Tim was in a relationship but he had a feeling that would change as soon as he learned about the marriage.

Eventually, the sun set, and the couple made their way down to the basement of the building where Tim shoved his boyfriend into the Nest.

“Alright, I’m almost ready so you know, change forms whenever,” Tim said as he pulled on one of his boots. Danny let out a huff and a bright ring of light wrapped around the halfa. Once Tim blinked the spots out of his vision, he smiled at the man in front of him.

Danny was beautiful when he was in his Phantom form. His white hair floated around his head in a beautiful halo, and his green eyes seemed to shine like the brightest of stars. He was magnificent and he was all Tim’s.

“I’m so excited,” Tim said, pulling his bot all the way on and tying the laces. Danny just gave him a less-than-impressed look as he crossed his arms. He watched Tim as the vigilante made his way towards his bike before he clicked his tongue.

“Nope, not using that tonight, Timmers,” he said with a small smile. Tim scowled and turned to face the man.

“One, don’t call me that. Two, what do you mean not tonight? I always use my bike on patrols,” Tim said with a sigh, he rested one hand on his hip as he looked over his boyfriend. “You’re not trying to get out of this, are you?”

Danny just gave him a shit-eating grin. “Because we’re not going to drive or grapple to do your patrols, Birdie. We’re going to fly,” he said before waving his hand. Tim felt himself get shoved into Danny’s arms before the halfa turned them both intangible and flew straight out of the nest and building.

“Phantom!” He screeched, holding onto Danny’s middle for dear life as Danny soared through the skies. “You have to at least warn me before you do this! I keep telling you that, you asshole!”

Phantom just let out a soft chuckle and spun them around in the air, his arm wrapped solidly around Tim’s waist. “Sorry, sorry,” he said before he pressed a kiss to Tim’s cheek. “Now, where does your patrol route start?” he asked.

Tim just heaved out a sigh before he pointed Danny in the right direction before he patched into the comms.

“Finally! We’ve got the wonder duo with us!” Nightwing cheered. “How’s the night looking for you two?”

“We literally just started,” Red Robin said with a laugh. “Phantom, what do you hear?”

Danny let out a hum. “Mugging three streets away,” he said before he started flying in that direction.

“This is amazing,” Tim swooned as Danny landed in front of the mugger and immediately hopped into action, leaving Tim to simply watch his boyfriend take the guy down with relative ease. “He’s so hot like this, B, I think I owe you one. I mean getting to see Phantom in action? Amazing. He just took down a guy three times his size with his fists. I mean he’s not even using his powers. Oh my Ancients, now he’s comforting the victim. How is he so perfect? I might have to force him out of retirement permanently.”

“What have you done?” Red Hood hissed through the comms. “We’re going to be stuck listening to the Replacement simp over Phantom for the rest of the night and it’s your fault B.”

“I am starting to realize that now,” Batman said with a forlorn sigh. “I highly doubt that they will do this all night.”

Tim just let out a happy sigh as Phantom came over and took his hand before they started to fly together once more. This was actually heaven on earth if Tim was going to be completely honest. He smiled over at his boyfriend and future husband as they soared through the skies, Danny using his powers to keep an ear out for any possible crimes or issues on their patrol route.

“You know, this is so much different from when I was a vigilante in Amity Park,” Danny said as they landed on the top of Wayne Enterprises and looked out over the city that Tim loved so dearly. “In Amity, I was scared constantly, I had ghosts that I thought were trying to destroy me, parents who were trying to catch me and experiment on me, and the people in the town pretty much hated me. Hell, there was a whole ass hero who was dedicated to hunting me down. I felt like a villain more often than a hero,” he said with a soft sigh as he looked out over the city. Tim squeezed his hand lightly as Danny gave him a small, haunted smile.

“It’s different here,” Tim said softly, asking a question but also stating a fact.

The halfa hummed in agreement. “It is,” he said, the green in his eyes shimmered and glistened, glowing in a way that eyes didn’t naturally do. “People have been thanking me when I save them. They aren’t scared of me, they don’t run away. It’s so different.”

“I can’t even imagine how hard that must have been for you, Phantom,” Tim said softly. “I’m sorry it was such a bad experience. I don’t fully understand but I do get it in a sense. There’s been times where it just feels like the most thankless job in the world.”

Danny nodded. “It does,” he murmured. “I don’t think I want to patrol every single night like you do. But I don’t think I’d mind helping out if things get bad. Like an Arkham breakout or if there’s a big mission that you all need my expertise,” he said, giving Tim a wry grin. “Maybe we can get an Arkham breakout during my week on patrols and I can really prove to Batman that I can handle myself. Or, maybe Ra’s can come and attack me or something and I can prove to him that way.”

Tim let out a laugh and wrapped his arm around Danny’s waist. “Please don’t jinx us,” he said, pressing a kiss to Danny’s cheek.

“I’ll try my best,” Danny said with a chuckle.

“Red Robin, Phantom, there’s some movement around one of the Joker’s old bases, I need you two to check it out for me. I don’t know if we’re gearing up towards another breakout and they’re preparing for their boss or what. But I’d like to be as ahead of it as possible.”

“On it Oracle!” Phantom said before he gave Tim one more deep, loving kiss before the two took off in the sky to go see what was going on.

————

Bruce Wayne stared down the man that his son, his baby boy had been dating for the last handful of years, his arms crossed tight over his chest.

“I did what you asked, Bruce!” Danny said petulantly as he stood across from him, his arms crossed over his chest in a mirror to Bruce’s. “I fought the Joker and I didn’t even kill him like Jason asked me to. I think I proved that I can hold my own against Tim’s enemies and I’ve been proving the last few years that I can take care of him. So, can I please marry your son?”

The World’s Greatest Detective gave him a steely look. To his right, Dick let out a soft chuckle.

“You do realize that Tim’s his favorite right?” Dick asked, shaking his head. “He’s not going to just let anyone marry his sweet little Timmy.”

“Hn,” Bruce said in response. He was not going to confirm or deny that Tim was in fact his favorite child. It would only start arguments between the rest of his children. Besides, Dick was correct in his assumptions. Tim was, indeed, Bruce’s favorite child. And he needed to be absolutely sure that Danny truly was worthy of his son’s hand in marriage.

Danny simply let out a groan. “What else do I have to do to prove myself!” He whined, stomping his foot in frustration. “Because I’ll fight Batman himself if it means I get to marry Tim.”

“I think that can be arranged,” Bruce said with a smug smirk.

“Bruce!” Tim exclaimed. “Will you please quit being mean to my boyfriend and just give him your blessing?”

Bruce made a face and looked between the two men before he let out a sigh. “I suppose. Danny, I give you my blessing, you can marry Tim.”

Danny’s shoulders drooped in relief. “Thank the ancients, I didn’t think Tim would appreciate me beating up his dad,” he said before he wrapped his arm around Tim’s shoulders and kissed the top of Tim’s head softly.

Tim just let out a soft laugh. “He’s right, B, he would eviscerate you,” he said with a snort.

Bruce simply scowled at the couple. “I’m going to the cave,” he grumbled before stomping away. He couldn’t believe this, his precious little boy was getting married. To a boy who could fly.

Because it was always the metas, every damn time.

#dpxdc #danny phantom #dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #dis writes #dis dreams #batman #danny fenton #dc x dp crossover

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walpu · 2 months

Note

[Kicks down door. Gets in. Fixes the door. Sits down and puts this on the table]

Aventurine x Halovian!reader, your honor.

Halovians, stars and icons across the universe. Shrewd, charismatic, and few can peer past their mysterious and elegant smiles. Not to mention the radiating frequencies of their halo can convey the nature of their thoughts in the form of telepathy.

Tldr: Aventurine can't decipher what's on their mind for shit unless they convey so.

Such beauty, such grace, but they will be a lost finch like it's another Tuesday. Despite the common knowledge that Halovians are stars and icons across the universe, they're more... Free and out in the wild (no responsibility to serve The Family, travels the cosmos alone, etc etc) and is unafraid to convey their emotions in another way.

Their wings would brush his face for giggles. When agitated they'd plop their head on a table and flap their wings, tapping the table rapidly, same goes with happiness. Although shrewd, and won't let anyone sense their true feelings they'd cup his face and give him smooches. Asking how's his day? Anything new happening? They brought something and he might've like it because it reminded them of him.

Their heart would sing with joy and mourn with his sadness. What did he do to score an angel such as them?

(Hmmm, cheese-)

- 🪽

I'm a blind rat and at first I misread Halovian as Heliobus and was like huh okay it's something to think about actually 😭

I really like the idea, it was fun to write!

Aventurine x Halovian!reader

characters - Aventurine

notes - gn!reader, fluffy, a bit of a hurt/comfort, no beta

Okay first of all since Halovians quite literally can translate their thoughts and feelings to someone, not to mention how shrewd they are, I feel like Aven would have hard time relaxing around you at first. He is used to be the one who can see through people while hiding behind the nonchalant mask. And now not only he's the one being read like an open book, he also can't decipher you.

It's sort of a challenge for him at first. He learns to see even the smallest changes in the way you act, how your voice trembles ever so slightly, how your wings flap adorably when you experience intense emotions. He doesn't notice when he starts observing you not out of desire to protect himself but out of curiosity and then out of adoration.

Man he falls hard.

There's just something so precious to him how you never use your abilities against him. Yes it's a bare minimum but it's still something special to him okay.

He would absolutely adore your wings. Wouldn't touch them without your permission of course, but once he knows you're comfortable with this he always tries to caress them in some ways.

Would try to spread them carefully to admire them.

If you don't take offense in being compared to birds, he would give you some bird-relared nickname.

Someone on twitter pointed out that female Halovians have bigger wings but smaller hallows and it's the opposite for the male Halovians.

So he would pick a bird to nickname you after depending in the size of your wings lol

And if you think it would be some cute bird, then, well, you're not wrong, it's usually something endearing BUT he would NOT hesitate to call you his pigeon or pelican when he feels like teasing you.

While Aventurine never hides his origin and is, sadly, used to people's comments about him being an Avgin, it would still hit very differently when people would whisper about you, a Halovian, being with an Avgin. He usually doesn't say anything about it, just hiding behind his smile. Even if the mask cracks, showing obvious discomfort. Remember the face he made when Ratio brought up his origin? Yeah, this.

Please shut everyone up. Doesn't matter if you give them an unsettling biblically accurate angel looking ass smile and tell them to Be Quite or if you straight up tell them to stfu, just let Aven see that you are willing to defend him and your relationship.

Reassure him too. He will laugh softly and tell you that you worry too much, that he knows you love him, but he would still treasure your words.

Okay back to positive stuff, he would help you to groom your wings!!! Would learn all about it too. Please compliment his needy ass on his wing-grooming skills, he didn't sleep for the whole night trying to learn how to do it correctly.

Be ready for a lot of silly questions he asks just to pester you and get your attention.

"darling, my darling, and what would happen if you'd throw your hallow as a frisbee? would it come back?" "it's sharp enough to cut through rock, Aven". "ohhh, pretty but deadly, just how I like it~"

Adores it when you tickle his face with your wings, he always leans into the caress with the expression of a spoiled lapcat.

Would find it funny if you'd use your telepathy for silly things. Like he takes you to some business meeting with him or, on the country, you take him somewhere with you, and it's just boring as hell. So you sit there, smile mysteriously, all while telepathically whinig to Aventurine how this place sucks and how you hate all those people. It takes a lot for him not to laugh.

If you flap your wings during kisses then it's the end of him I fear.

#Hsr #honkai star rail #walp's writing #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine #reader insert

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multi-kpop-fanfics · 11 months

Text

Unholy

pairing: sugar daddy!Seungcheol x socialite!reader

genre: smut smut SMUT - minors dni.

warnings: dom!cheol, bratty sub!reader, thigh riding, cursing, ass slapping, cheating, degradation, use of petnames (baby, princess, darling), daddy kink, hair pulling, manhandling, unprotected sex (stay safe), mentions of breeding, marking, finger sucking, possessiveness, cheol and reader are actual red flags

no word count, it was speed-written

summary: inspired by Unholy - Sam Smith ft. Kim Petras

Author’s note: This was written on an absolute whim i’m going through some serious cheolrot - tagging @duhnova for obvious reasons

nsfw taglist: @rosecult @bibinnieposts @ovai @littlemisssarcastic21 @tinkerbell460 @jonghyuns-husband @romromthedeer @y00nzin0 @llsiriusminorisll @booyouwhore17 @delicatewerewolfsoul @aliceu

“Come on, princess, shake those hips like I know you can,” Seungcheol slaps your ass and you whine, “Better give me a good reason for letting your pussy make a mess over my pants.”

“Y-Yes, Daddy,” you pout your lips and speed up your hips, grinding your pussy over the crushed velvety material of his pants, “Your thigh feels so fucking good, ugh.”

“Darling,” Seungcheol grips your jaw and forces you to look directly at him, “A pretty little baby like you shouldn’t use bad words.” He parts your lips with his thumb and you eagerly suck on it, moaning and swirling your tongue around the thick digit as if it was a cherry lollipop.

“Oh, Y/N...” Seungcheol chuckles as he watches your body shake over his thigh, “You’re trying so hard to be worth my time and money, don’t you?”

Under different circumstances, you would have clawed his eyes out for treating you like another desperate gold digger, but quite frankly? He was absolutely right in everything he said.

You don’t even need his money, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it when you use his sleek black card to pay for all the unnecessary accessories, makeup and clothes that shine a bit more than a set of Swarowski earrings. Besides, it’s not like they were unnecessary to you, since being a socialite practically requires flashy clothes and accessories.

Choi Seungcheol is no better than you - a seemingly responsible man, attending all social events with his beloved wife, never missing a chance to show how much he adores her in front of the cameras and blinding lights of the high society.

That’s what she thinks as well, judging from the comfortable and luxurious life she’s leading thanks to her lovely husband.

Except said husband loves money more than anything else. And if it’s money well spent? Two birds with one stone.

Another thing Seungcheol loves is getting his dick wet - And your pussy does that with a perfect streak of two months.

“I’m definitely more worth than your little trophy wife,” you bite back with a smirk, “Otherwise you wouldn’t be here to fuck me, Cheol.”

His demeanor changes within a split second and he’s lifting you off his thigh, throwing you over his shoulder and then throwing you on the bed of your apartment, face down on the mattress and ass up in the air.

“You are in no fucking place to talk about my life, little bitch,” he flips over your dress and harshly pulls your panties from your body, ripping the flimsy material in half, “Nepo babies like you only want to spend money and fuck around like you own the world.”

Seungcheol slaps your ass once, twice and two more times before he unbuckles his soiled pants to let his rock hard cock spring free. He digs his hand in your hair and pushes his cock in your cunt with one swift motion, your eyes rolling in the back of your skull.

He starts fucking you like a mad man, his pelvis slapping against your ass without mercy. You almost feel like frothing at the mouth from how good it feels to let the fat tip of his shaft bully your pussy and

“Fucking nepo baby with a fucking tight cunt,” he grunts, his lips hovering above the shell of your ear, “My fucking nepo baby. Say it.”

“Y-Your nepo b-baby,” you gasp, “Oh my God, Daddy, your cock is so good!”

“That’s more like it,” Seungcheol plants his right leg in the mattress to fuck his cock deeper in you, “That’s how you should act when you’re with me, especially underneath me, Y/N.”

The noises you make are whiny, loud and utter music to his ears. You’re drooling on the sheets, your hair sticking out in random directions due to Seungcheol’s iron grip on it, mind going blank from pleasure.

The knot in the pit of your stomach tightens to the point of breaking in a rather violent manner, the previous stimulation from riding Seungcheol’s thigh amplifying that sensation.

“D-Daddy, I’m gonna cum, fuckfuckfuck, I’m cumming!” You scream like a baby bunny caught by a predator as your pussy tightens around his cock, your walls massaging his length in a final attempt to milk him.

Your heart drops when Seungcheol pulls out his cock and jerks himself off until he blows his load all over your ass, milky streaks painting your skin. He lets out a groan and taps his cock on your asscheek, biting his lip at your wrecked sight.

“Why didn’t you come inside me?!”

“Oh darling,” Seungcheol buttons his pants and smooths over his clothes, “Did you really think you deserved to get your pussy filled up with my cum after misbehaving so much?”

“But-” You opt to protest and sit up, but Seungcheol stops you with his hand on your jaw again.

“Y/N. If I say ‘shut up’, you shut up. If I say ‘cum’, you cum. If I say you don’t deserve my cum in you, then you fucking don’t.” He taps your cheek twice and captures your lips in a short-lived yet filthy kiss full of his tongue, leaving you wanting for more.

“See you next week, princess - You better behave until then or I’m cutting down on your ‘pretty girl with pretty pussy’ privileges.”

#svthub #scoups smut #seungcheol smut #svt scoups #choi seungcheol #svt smut #seventeen smut #seventeen #tw toxic #tw cheating

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dreaming-of-lu · 2 months

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A thought that I shared with a couple of mutuals, cause I cannot shut up about Stardew Valley right now. Imma mix mash my favs together and make y'all spiral with me.

You, the only beloved grandchild of your grandfather, was given a letter by your grandfather who was on his last leg, filled with information regarding his left behind farm and cottage in your name. He told you when the day comes that when you've grown tired of the city and yearn for a life free from the shackles of the ever growing demand of corporates and nonstop hustle bustle. The farm and cottage will be waiting until you are ready. Years passed and of course, you become tired, exactly what your grandfather told you would. With no thoughts to spare to the city you left behind and little clothes on your back. Quitting your job, you head towards Pelican Town.

The mayor was friendly, save for the carpenter that definitely made you laugh until she made a jab at your grandfather's cottage. While you could agree, since it's honestly not much, yet you'll make do with what you got for now and add things on later. However, the slight pang went through your heart at the disrespect she gave to him. Before the mayor could set off, he highly encouraged you to introduce yourself to the entire town. He then goes over with you about the shipping container, what to put in there while handing you a sack filled with parsnip seeds. He also gestures to the tools he was able to get you that were sitting on the porch, with a wordless pat of good luck, he sets off down the road back to the town.

MEET OUR BACHELORS

First: Single (Bachelor)

Meeting First was quite quick since the man was known to be busy and quite on the run to get things done before heading back to the adventurer's guild that his great uncle runs. He was short in his greetings to you and apologized swiftly that he had to be somewhere.

It may not seem like it, but this man is definitely a poet with words. Chivalrous, that had his great uncle playfully rolling his eyes at his nephew.

Yet there's something underlying mysterious about him that drew you in to him. Perhaps you should gift him things and get to know him a little more better!

Sky: Single (Bachelor)

The eldest son of the carpenter! He lives down southeast of Lon Lon Ranch. He's the absolute sweetest person you've ever met in your entire life. The bright smile on his sleepy face had you mentally cooing at him.

He carves, paints, builds little bird houses just like what his mother use to do. He definitely decorates his home each time the season changes, it's so damn adorable.

He's single due to a breakup that did not end on good terms unfortunately. While he still respect her, however, there are things that were said that ended up hurting the other.

Four: Single (Bachelor)

The grandson of the blacksmith. He was working behind the counter when your fresh face entered the shop. Obviously, a little put off since not many people tend to flock to Pelican Town. He's a bit shy yet he makes small talk just to get to know you better. Until his grandfather emerged and the look on his face had him laughing.

Yeah, he ain't laughing anymore when his grandfather told him 'that's the kid you used to play with all the time when you were younger.'

He takes the tools you got and upgrades them or process the geodes that you tend to bring in.

Time: Single (Bachelor)

The working left hand man of Lon Lon Ranch. This man scared the absolute shit out of you when he showed up on your front porch that morning. To open a door to a towering, one eye, scarred man was not on your bingo card of shit you witness while living here.

He was straight to the point of who to come to when buying animals whenever you get your barn and coop up n going.

He's someone you want to be careful around, an anger you do not want aimed towards you. That mask you saw sitting on his belt felt ominous. He's hard to get warm up to.

Twilight: Single (Bachelor)

You were just planting the parsnip seeds when you heard a bark come from behind you and yelling from someone telling to 'Come back!' A black and white dog ran up on your porch with its tail wagging a mile a minute. A cute dirty blonde haired male came jogging up with an exasperated look before realizing you were the new farmer there.

He was embarrassed yet quickly introduced himself. The adopted son of Uli and Rusl's, the older brother to Colin and his soon to be born little sister. He also works at Lon Lon Ranch.

He's hiding something.

Hyrule: Single (Bachelor)

The doctor of the town. A shy sweetheart that introduced himself to you after you came in due to an already early incident on the farm. He scolds you gently for doing something stupid and rash.

May or may not have told you one day that he wasn't getting enough patients which affected his pay heavily.

Man has unprocessed trauma.

Wild: Single (Bachelor)

He runs the saloon, all by himself, save for his friend Flora does tend to come help him to keep things smooth and sailing when it gets packed. He was friendly enough to introduce himself to you when seeing you pass him on your way to Ravio's General Store.

He def encouraged you to take a load off once and awhile to relax in his Saloon.

He doesn't remember his old life, it seems like he doesn't want to either way.

Warriors: Single (Bachelor)

The older brother to Wind and Aryll. House is on the beach and he's dramatic as hell yet he comes in later on year 2 of your life on the farm. He introduced himself first thing in the morning and he's a bit stiff about it.

He's the only soldier(?) in Pelican Town and ties to the city, he seems so tired and run down honestly.

He's doing his absolute best to raise Wind and Aryll after the funeral of their grandmother.

Legend: Single (Bachelor)

The lone wizard that "summoned" you to his tower to gift you the language of the Junimos. Just to be able to easily translate the language and to fix up the community center.

His sassy attitude def threw you off yet he's standoffish. Only asking you of things he needed from the mines.

He seems to be mourning something.

Ravio: Single???

The owner of Ravio's General Store. The sight of his bunny ear hat sat upon his head was the first thing that caught your eyes. His eagerness to greet you while showing you the package of seeds he was given, showing off the wares he gotten.

The sight of his broken heart made yours clench when one of the workers of Joja mart came in and declared loudly that things were on sale for 50% off. He's trying his best, but the income is needed.

Is finding ways to take down Joja Mart

-TO BACHELORETTES (To be added at some point-

#linked universe x reader #.bea's writing #lu x reader #linkeduniverse x reader #linked universe #link x reader #lu time x reader #lu first x reader #lu legend x reader #lu sky x reader #lu four x reader #lu twilight x reader #lu warriors x reader #lu wild x reader #lu hyrule x reader #ravio x reader #loz x reader #loz link x reader

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charlottecutepie · 2 months

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𐙚 How was your date, doll? (William Afton x fem!reader)

In honor of reaching >200 followers, this is a little gift from me <3 thanks for your feedback, comments and reblogs, it means a lot to me!!

After a bad date, your boss William Affon is more than glad to help you.

tags: nsfw, smut, fingering, squirting, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, public sex, pet names, doggy style, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, degrading and praising, dirty talk, dumbification, sir kink, manipulations, secret filming

You have been working for William not so long ago, but you have already become his most beloved employee. He treats you in a special way, even forgiving you for being late. He likes to hand you a cup of coffee in the morning when he sees his beloved girl yawning adorably, still sleepy on the morning shift. He likes to stroke your hair gently at the end of the day, thanking you for your work. He truly appreciates you.

He has been watching you for a long time, noting your habits, your communication style, your gestures. You're so friendly, even already found friends in the team. William saw that many people liked you, visitors and colleagues, of course, such a good and smiling doll. He often wondered if his lovely girl had a boyfriend. Most likely, yes? You're so pretty and sweet, your eyes, lips, nose, everything is so beautiful about you, of course you have a boyfriend. William must be an idiot if he even allowed the idea that his girl was single.

But there was still hope, so he decided to test the water.

“You look so tired, doll. How about I give you a ride to your house?” he killed two birds with one stone. A pet name and ride offer. How will his baby react? William is holding himself together, nothing superfluous, right? It's just goodwill. You're so tired, barely standing on your feet.

“That's so sweet of you, Mr. Afton,” you look at him in surprise and the corners of your lips rise. “yeah, please, I'm so exhausted and my feet hurt.” It's the first time you've got in his car. Doubts crept into William's mind, if you had a boyfriend, you'd turn him down, right?

It's so interesting to talk to you, you're a good listener, and William has a lot to tell you, and at the same time ask you a couple of questions while you're sleepy. Just to make sure that his girl isn't in a relationship.

As he drops you off at your house, William tries his best to look casual. “Goodnight, doll,” he whispers softly, gently stroking a lock of your hair behind your ear. And here's another action that you didn't reject. If you had a boyfriend, you wouldn't let other man touch you like that, would you?

More time has passed, and with it more names have been added to you, more touches, more glances from Mr. Afton. You got along pretty well, William always found an approach to people. However his affection for you only grows stronger, but your personal life is changing too, just yesterday one person invited you on a date. If only William knew.

He's suspicious; something about your demeanor today isn't quite right. You're obviously acting more cheerful than usual, wearing makeup for the first time he's seen you which somehow makes you even more beautiful. You whisper to your friends, giggle softly, covering your mouth with your hand, a slight blush on your cheeks. Who are you talking about? William's gut tells him there's something different about his beloved girl today. What are you hiding?

“Mr. Afton?” his thoughts and assumptions are interrupted by your voice, he adjusts his glasses, slightly lost, he clearly wasn't listening to what you asked him a minute ago. He politely asks you to repeat it. “Uhm. . . I was wondering if I could leave early today?”

William raises an eyebrow thoughtfully. “Why exactly? Work isn't over yet.” a small smile tugs at his lips. “Unless there's some emergency. . .”

“It's just that I have an important meeting today.” your palms sweating slightly and your voice doesn't sound as confident as you want.

He raises his eyebrows, an amused gleam in his eyes. “A meeting, huh? Sounds interesting. Who is it with?”

And that's when you can no longer fight the feeling that you're lying to a person who trusts you a lot. Your excitement is becoming more noticeable and William already understands that this isn't an ordinary meeting. He's not stupid, but his jealous nature didn't want to believe to the last that you'd sooner or later find someone. And that's when he hears from his sweet girl, “I'm going on a date, sir,” fuck, the way you say it in such happy and naive tone, as if yourself can't fully realize it yet.

He doesn't want to let you go, he hates the idea of someone touching his beloved girl, kissing your lips, having. . . sex with you?

But everything changes the very next day, when you appear at work with your head down, your sweet face is tinged with sadness. You're distracted, silent, thoughtful.

“How was your date, doll?” a question when you don't expect it at all. The shift was already coming to an end, and you, all confused in your thoughts, didn't even notice. You give him a sad look, hoping that he'll read the answer in your eyes. But William still looks worried, even though he knows what happened, he needs his girl to admit it.

You look around. “I don't really want to talk about it.” you mumble.

You're just shy because you don't want anyone else to hear, William knows. That's why he leans towards you, too close. “Let's go to my office.” he offers, his voice tempting.

When you find yourself in his office, he closes the door behind you and sits down on a small couch in the corner, beckoning you to join him. You feel a little stiff and insecure, but as soon as you sit down next to Mr. Afton, your anxiety evaporates, and you feel a bit better. You trust him very much, you really need to hear a second opinion, especially from such a mature and experienced person as William Afton, who, although divorced, was married anyway. It's hard to hide your emotions, especially when you're new to this experience and relationships overall, when it's your first kisses, touches, hugs.

That's when he looks so sympathetic, interested in helping you and says, “Tell me what happened.” you obediently blurt out everything. You explain to him, your voice quiet and sometimes you're silent, as if afraid to say too much. You tell William everything, how your date started out sweet, romantic, how good it was in the beginning, and then when he started touching you, kissing not only your lips, but also your neck and collarbone, you stopped liking it. It became unbearable, uncomfortable, you didn't want this person, you felt no desire. It's an inexplicable feeling that you've experienced. And in some way, you even blame yourself for rejecting your so called boyfriend.

“I was lost, so I let him touch me. I knew that sooner or later we would go further, but for some reason I didn't want to do this with. . .” you pause thoughtfully. “him.”

“Did he touch you here?” William puts his hand on your thigh. You shudder, such a strange question that you definitely never expected. But trusting William, you think that's the way it should be and nod. “Was it unpleasant or uncomfortable?”

“I didn't feel anything,” you shrug helplessly. “and then it felt like he didn't understand my signal and started kissing me more aggressively, it was too much for me.”

“It's completely normal to feel this way,” William explains, stroking your thigh. “Some people just can't be physically attracted to certain partners. It's not a reflection on you. The important thing is that you listen to your own body and emotions, if something doesn't feel right, trust yourself enough to speak up.” he's trying to ease your discomfort, as he talks, his fingers move slowly higher on your leg, gradually reaching closer to a forbidden zone.

You get goosebumps, immediately there's a feeling of warmth that spreads nicely through your body, such an acute reaction to William's touch, something that you never experienced with your boyfriend.

You're his naive little bunny, so trusting, sweet, blinded, yet curious about his opinion, craving his advice and help, support. “Your body knows what it wants, princess. You felt weird because your gut told you he wasn't the right one to satisfy you. On a subconscious level, you realized that he's not the person you would like to give yourself to. You need someone who understands your body. Someone capable enough to pleasure you, doll.”

William notices something much more than just guilt in your eyes, something sparking in them. That's when he catches your gaze on his lips, your eyes dreamy, as if you're not listening to him at all.

“I can give you that, darling. You deserve to be satisfied fully, someone who knows what they're doing and won't disappoint you.” you contemplating his words, comparing him to your boyfriend; William seems more understanding, experienced and dominant than any man you knew. “because I'm well aware of how to pleasure a girl like you.”

You don't pull away and let William kiss you, his hand squeezes your thigh, causing you to moan softly into his mouth. This is the first time you've felt so sensitive, you gasp when finally his hand slides to your clothed pussy. Your brows furrow and you let out a sudden “ahhh” as you pull away, lips parted. William continues moving his palm all over your core, his fingers rubbing you through panties, your skirt hiking up.

“You're wet just because I kissed you, doll. Was it different with him?”

“Much different,” you breathe out. “this. . . feels better.” your pussy throbbing in anticipation as his fingers push the fabric of your panties to the side, exposing you to his hungry eyes. “Sir, i don't know if—"

“I want to help you figure this out. We're already halfway there, we've already found out that your body doesn't want him, honey. I don't want you to get upset about yourself or men, I don't want you to think that sex is something unpleasant.” he understands that his little girl still in doubt, that you're shy, your face is confused, your lips are pursed, you're afraid to make a moan, but your eyes speak for you. So pleading, so needy, begging.

His thumb caresses your sensitive bundle and you whimper, grinding subtly against his finger, wanting more of those new sensations. Your curious gaze drops lower, noticing a distinct bulge in William's pants. “He had one too when we kissed. . .” you mutter. William gently guides your hand towards the outline of his erection through his pants.

“Of course he did,” he husks out. “It's impossible not to get hard around someone as beautiful as you.” William feels like his dick is about to explode right in his pants as your hand hesitantly starts stroking his bulge. You've never felt anything so hard before; he notices his little girl's eyes widen at the size of him, making you even wetter. “That's right, babygirl. Let your hands explore, feel just how much you affect me.”

“Has he ever made you cum, doll?”

“No, i couldn't. . .”

“Then let me take care of that.” William doesn't stop rubbing your little clit with his fingers, moving in smooth circle movements, what makes your head spin. You spread your legs wider due to overwhelming bliss, breathing heavily, your hand no longer on his bulge as you hold onto his wrist instead, as if trying to stop him or control, but not really, yourself don't know what your doing.

“Ahh— Nn, that feels weird!. . .” your body writhing beneath his touch. “S-sir, wait, wait!” you moan, he never stops stroking your wet folds.

“Just let go, babygirl, it's okay, you're supposed to feel that way.” he purrs in your ear. The sounds you're making are too loud, but beautiful for a man like William, so he doesn't give a fuck, rubbing your clit just a little bit faster to bring you to orgasm. As you cum, your body shudder uncontrollably, your hole clenching around nothing. “Such a good girl.” you bury your face in his shoulder to muffle the gasps escaping your lips, because you've never felt anything as this before.

His erection aches painfully in his pants at the sight of his girl coming in his arms. You just realize what happened. “S-sir. . . That—”

“Didn't expect you to cum that fast.” he smirks and continues stroking your sensitive clit even after your orgasm subsides, making you jolt. You feel embarrassed at this comment now. “Now that's what happens when you're in hands of experienced man, princess.”

His words and especially calm yet dominating tone of voice have your pussy throbbing with need again, your mind hazy. You blink couple of times, still trying to come to your senses, but it's so fucking hard when his hands never leave your body, caressing you, even groping you. You bat your eyelashes at him as his fingers teases your wet entrance.

“Your body didn't react that way to him, did it?”

“No. . . ” you whisper.

“That's what I thought," he hums, finally slipping one finger inside your warm, wet cunt. You immediately gasp, feeling sudden stretch, William takes a deep breath as you squeeze his finger. “such a tight little pussy. No wonder your boyfriend couldn't get you even wet.” he pumps his finger in and out of you, watching your face contorted with pleasure.

“Sir, ohh. . .”

“That's it, keep calling me that and I'll make sure to train this pussy cumming only on my cock and fingers,” he growls, adding another finger inside your already wet slit while kissing a trail along your neck. He pinches and rolls your clit between his fingers. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d be out there as a dried up little bitch who never got any satisfaction.”

“No, oh!. . .” you babble and glance at him in surprise, not expecting such degrading words, but as soon as your messy pussy clenches on his fingers, he can't help, but laugh. “Too much—”

“It's okay, bunny,” William curls his fingers up inside you, pressing on that sweet and sensitive spot that have you choking on your moans. “I'm just giving you what that prick of yours supposed to, making you squirt over my fingers, feels good, hm?” that's when he picks up a speed, finger-fucking you in fast rhythm, a small puddle forms on the couch under you.

“Waittt!. . . Ohh god, i can't! It feels so weird, sir,” there's panic in your voice as now this feeling is definitely not comparable to the previous orgasm, you sob and maintain eye contact with William, too shy to look down. He's pumping his fingers in your tight pussy, reaching deeper. “Please, wait!”

Your mouth hangs open and eyes roll back as you coat coach under you and drip on his fingers. William enjoys that cute scared and confused look on his little girl's face, he can feel the hotness of your cunt as you squirt, wet sloppy fucking filthy sounds it makes. You look absolutely hot and there's no way he's that lucky to finally have you in his hands.

“Damn it, doll, you should be grateful that I'm here teaching you how to properly fuck.” William pulls his fingers out, a satisfied smirk as he looks at the mess he created. “I bet you don't even know what an orgasm feels like until I gave it to you.”

Your eyes full with tears, body weak as you watch how William sucks his fingers clean, groaning at your heavenly taste. He manhandles you, putting you on all fours, slipping your panties off and unbuttoning your shirt to have access to your bare breasts. You don't even get what's going on, it's like your brain has leaked out through your pussy, but you love the way he behaves. That's what you needed. You press back into him and then hear the sound of his belt unbuckling, you nervous, but still glance over your shoulder with puppy eyes, lips pouty and cheeks burning. William pulls down his pants and reveals his cock.

“Tell me, princess, did the thought of his dick turn you on?“ you shake your head, he sighs. “You made a mistake, admit it, you stumbled, but you know, you're still a good girl because you came to your senses in time. You came to me, as a good girl should, that's because you know you need something better than him.” William's words make you almost cry at how true they are. In fact, you didn't like your boyfriend, you just didn't want to admit it, just was happy someone noticed you and liked you, but having a man like William around, it was hard not to succumb.

“It didn't feel right with him, as if there should have been someone other. . . Not him.” William teases his tip against your slit, rubbing sensually, you grip the couch, too desperate to finally feel him inside.

“You made the right decision, doll, you know that I'll always help you.” he tells you, while his hands carefully and gently fix your hair, all this time you feel his swollen cock runs through your folds. “It's good that you came to me, because someone else could just take advantage of you. But not me, sweetie, I'm here for you.”

“Please, sir, put it in, please—”

“You didn't beg him like that, did you?” his hands grabs your hips, squeezing the flesh hard enough to leave marks.

You shook your head, feeling a real fire igniting inside as your body doesn't obey, but begs for what it didn't receive on yesterday's date. A real good fuck.

“That's right,” he smacks your ass, pushing only tip inside of you, but that already enough to make your eyes widen and choked cry escape from your mouth. “you should feel lucky that I've taken notice of you and offered my help. Imagine if some other filthy jerk had gotten ahold of such clueless doll like you?”

“No, mr. Afton,” you're not yet able to realize what that feeling is, because you simply don't know, you're mindless, but every nerve is on edge, you're trembling with desperation. “i don't want anyone else, just you!”

“Fuck, you're so fucking hot inside, bunny,” William groans huskily as he pushes his length fully, your walls welcoming him with warmness and crazy tightness. Your knees weak, but William's hands wraps around you, not letting his precious girl fall. He leans towards you, almost pressing you into the couch, his breath on your skin. “sh, sh, babygirl, don't cry, don't cry,” he mutters in your ear while slowly starting to move. He frowns, trying not to moan loudly himself, but how can he hold back when your little pussy is so perfectly wrapped around his dick? So wet, warm and— “oh fuuuck, bunny!. . .”

You're shaking under him, mewling loudly and drooling as you cum, just from having his cock inside. Your eyes filled with sweet tears and nonstop “ohmygoood” slipping from your lips.

“You're full of surprises, dear.” William smiles and presses your head into the couch to shut you up. You can't make noise in the workplace, the most important rule. And that's when he fucks all the air and the last remnants of the brain out of you, starting to slam into your throbbing cunt. “Your taking me so well.”

William's dick presses deeper into you, your back arches. He knows what he does to you, but you don't, not yet. You swear you can feel his cock already penetrating where it's impossible, so deep in you that it begins to cause discomfort and pain. But you can't stop the madness that's going on, completely forgotten even your boyfriend's name, and what happened yesterday, as if no date ever happened. As if everything is as it should be, William Afton balls deep inside you, fucking your brains out, as it should be. All you can do is feel his cock filling you up, as it should.

“Nnggh— that feels, ohh— please!” you say through watery eyes, trying to wiggle your ass to draw him deeper into your pussy, but his grip on you is firm, so you have no choice but to just let yourself be used as a fleshlight.

Oh, poor little helpless and needy doll, William thinks. He sees how you grip the couch tighter, your glassy eyes, vision blurry, head empty, but cunt filled.

“You shouldn't have ignored your desires before.” he groans. “You're such a good girl, you deserve my dick, every fucking inch of it. I'll make you my little slut, who'll come to me at the end of the shift to have her pussy well fucked and filled with my cum. Every weekend at my place, where you can scream as loud as you want as I ruin your pussy.”

“That, nnngh— sounds so beautiful, sir.” you turn your head slightly towards William and give him the perfect view of how messy you are, dumbfounded, with silly smile on your peachy face, brows furrowed, drooling, your gaze isn't focused on him.

He thrusts roughly into you and you cry loudly when his tip reaches your cervix. He fucks you into oblivion. You're nearing your orgasm, your pussy preparing to cum one more time. William ruts deep into you, having no mercy on his girl as he lets his cock slide along your walls. The beautiful sounds your pussy squelching, your muffled cries and begs, of skin slapping filling his office.

“Yeahhh, I'll take care of you, don't you worry.” he grunts, you're breathless and limp in his arms, but when his hand travels down, his fingers finding your clit and starting to circle it, your closing your legs, shaking. “Spread them.” he commands you, but you can't really obey as your clit is way too sensitive and overstimulated. “I said spread your damn legs, doll.”

“No, no, sir, please— too sensitive, i can't!” you whine, your throat dry, but that only annoy him so he forces your legs open. His pace getting faster and his fingers rubbing on your bundle, what makes your mouth open in silent scream.

Soon his thrusts become sloppier, his dick twitching from how tight your clenching on him as if trying to milk him dry. William buries his cock deep inside you, low quiet moan leaves him as he spills his seed against your cervix, claiming you as his. Your orgasm hits you in next seconds, right after William's, what makes him laugh almost mockingly when he sees how his little doll becoming shaking mess, your hips moving in smooth circles as you cum, feeling warmth of his sperm inside you.

“Th. . . Thank you, mr. Afton.” William pulls out and his cum starts leaking of your used hole little by little.

You close your eyes and weaken, falling onto the couch fully now. Your panties on the floor, which is already stained with your juices mixed with his sperm, you don't even want to look there. No, right now you're not ashamed, not embarrassed, you just don't give a fuck, you felt so good that you won't be able to come to your senses for a long time. Even the glass of water that William handed you with big care won't bring you to reality. You're so tired that you don't even notice William turning off the camera in the corner of his office.

#william afton smut #fnaf x reader #william afton x reader #fnaf william afton #dilf william #steve raglan smut #steve raglan x reader #william afton #fnaf smut #fnaf x y/n #william afton imagines #william afton x reader smut #fnaf x you

388 notes · View notes

mellowwillowy · 8 months

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐈

Yan! Crown Prince x (GN?) Childhood Friend! Reader

Reader was hinted to be intersex and appeared as a lady-in-waiting and a nobleman, reader was described as an enigmatic beauty (so not directly feminine nor masculine). WC: 1.5k

𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘯𝘰? 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙙? 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

"𝑨 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝒊𝒇 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒚, 𝒂 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒏𝒐𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒊𝒇 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒚, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒏𝒐 𝒄𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒚 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒘𝒐.”

-- Part I, II, III

The crown prince had always had his eyes set on you. Why? He’s not sure. Perhaps it was because his brother fancied you, their mother lady-in-waiting. Nonetheless, you were the enigmatic beauty who captured everyone’s attention. Beauty depends on the eye of the beholder, yet you were always basked in it no matter whose eyes were looking at you.

“I wish you the best for your journey, Noel.”

You hugged the man you placed the handkerchief on, and he returned the gesture by placing his hand on your head, giving you a peck on your cheek before hugging you tightly for one last time. The crown prince only watched everything from the side, waiting for all the knights to finish this rite.

"I will return home safely again no doubt."

Upon seeing everyone has steadied themselves, Erickson raised his arm, ordering all the knights to stand in line. The knight next to Erickson started his usual speech before the crown prince sent the knights off.

All the noble women hurdled to your side, eyes glistering in adoration as they watched you and Noel being the love birds. Upon the departure of the knights, you herded the ladies to the main hall, chit-chatting with them.

“Young master really adores you, lady Rigelhoff!”

“Oh, it does not look like those typical early phases! He really fancies you!”

“That bastard, he revealed himself the moment we got married, although we are certain young master isn’t one that is bland!”

Everyone laughed at the statement until Erickson approached your table, “Greetings, ladies, what are you beauties talking about?” Erickson had always been known as the playboy so it was no surprise to see him acting like this.

“Oh my, we were talking about your little brother!”

“Oh how sweet Master Noel is, God, I think falling for someone’s fiancé is no longer a sin!”

“Hey, don’t say that in front of the fiancée!” The other lady smacked playfully.

“Well ladies, that’s one of an interesting topic but may I please take lady Rigelhoff with me? I have something to converse with her.”

The other ladies gestured for him to take you with him, an ‘of course’ muttered repeatedly. Just as you were about to stand up from your seat, Erickson offered you his arm for you to hold. You were not exactly in the position to refuse so you held his arm.

“…Noel’s way more muscular than yours, Erick.” You commented as you felt his arm.

“Is that so? As expected from a rabid dog that is so invested in the battlefields.” Erickson cackled at your statement.

“Hush!” You elbowed him playfully while you two walked toward his chamber.

The guards stationed in front of his chamber opened the doors for you two to enter. You were used to seeing his room already. The room did not change much from the time you three were still children until now.

“So? What is it little pie? Care to spill the tea for me?”

Erickson pulled the chair for you to sit before he made his way to the other chair, “Well, I’m sure you are aware of how I’m the next emperor no? Soooo, what do you think?” He cocked his head to the side, waiting for your response.

“Hm? Well I think you should really change that attitude of yours first”

Erickson rang the bell to call the servants, asking them to prepare the two of you some tea and desserts.

“For example?”

“Hmm, stop being a heartbreaker and finally be a reliable figure for your nation?”

“Will I finally be worthy if I do that?”

“Worthy? Worthy of what?”

“Nothing! Although… I suppose that uncle of mine really should drop down soon since I have reached adulthood.”

Both Erickson and Noel’s uncle reigned the nation when their father passed away, although there was a contract where that man had to descend from the throne the moment Erickson reached adulthood, everyone including the former empress (Empress Dowager) herself started to doubt the contract would be fulfilled. You winced internally, if the current emperor won’t descend on his own, you’d have to finish your mission that was assigned by the former empress.

‘Dispose him the moment you got the chance to.’

This was a mission tasked to you that even the siblings were not aware of. In fact, only you, the former empress, and some of the servants were aware of this. You truly hoped that man would have a single bit of conscience left in him before you had to see how he led a revolution against Erickson.

Erickson stared into your dazed-off face, relishing in how your brows twitched occasionally. It seemed to him that you were worried about how that bastard had a change of heart and motive. He was none the ignorant one as well, he was aware of everything. How you and his mother schemed to dispose of his uncle was clear the moment he found the notes you hid in your shelf when he sneaked into your room. What was once originally just a usual secret visit to your room turned into a discovery that touched his heart. It seemed like both you and his mother still cared for him and not Noel only.

“So? Who are you going to court?”

“…what?” Erickson snapped out of his thoughts, shocked by your question.

“The next empress, Erick. Our nation needs an Empress figure as well.”

The servants brought trays of tea cups and desserts, all adorned to look tempting and lovely. One of them poured the two of you the warm tea while Erickson shifted his focus back to the conversation. Right. It had to be a woman of reputation and intelligence.

“How about Lady Rimwell? She’s a strong-natured woman that would keep you in manner, kukuku” You cackled as you smacked the fan into your palm. Erickson started thinking to himself, why find another when he could just court you? You bear the Rigelhoff’s crest on your chest despite it only being a mere decoration to cover your flow. That alone had already fulfilled the reputation criteria.

“I truly pity the other suitors as I’ll fully support Lady Rimwell, they’d probably have a hard time competing with her, don’t you think so too?”

Erickson didn’t think so. The winner all along would not be Lady Rimwell but you. You are naturally intelligent, having to learn and read the same books both Noel and Erickson read. Not to mention that he’s aware of how many times you’ve also reserved a seat in the nation’s politics as a nobleman. It was not hard for you to deceive everyone into thinking that you came from another family with a decorative crest on your chest, especially when you have their mother’s full support.

You may be her lady-in-waiting, but you were also the shadow that lurked over the nation, a man capable of dirtying their hand to keep everything in place. That alone would be enough to convince his mother to allow him to court you. As for the other advisors' opposition, they held almost no power to go against his decision so they would be of no problem to him.

“yes… I truly pity the other suitor.” He really did, to have their engagement broken and be courted by the next Emperor, o how pitiful this thing called love. The tea had gone cold, it seemed like he took longer than he expected. He took a new cup and poured the warm tea into it, sliding the plated cup toward you.

“It wouldn’t taste good to dip those cookies into a cold tea, no?”

Erickson knew you better than Noel, so why was he never spared even the slightest chance to creep into your heart? Why was it always Noel who got everything? His parents’ attention, your attention, everyone’s attention. Perhaps that’s why he’s reputable for being a heartbreaker. Perhaps that’s why he wanted everything Noel had, his honor and you. But Noel was his family, his brother, so he could not do much but only give him a bit of poking.

“I hope Noel won’t be mad for having me attending his love.” Erickson cackled as he crunched the sugar cube he held into dust, falling right into yours, “There, sweet just like what you like!”

Days turned into weeks and there was still no news regarding the knights. Your hand balled into a fist as your face contorted in worry. Noel was not weak, he had always been strong, the strongest. He’d return, you were certain of it. You’d swear on the witch of certainty that he’d return. For now, you could only wear your hat and take your cane, for duty had called you to eliminate another opposing nobleman.

“Prepare the carriage for me, I’ll be going to that man’s manor”

“Understood, Mister Marquez,” The servant that the former empress had entrusted to be your helper bowed. To you, names held almost regard to you as it was nothing but a means to assist you in executing plans and giving you the upbringing you needed in society.

“They really shouldn’t have opposed us”

---

"We can't send any messenger out because of the blizzard, sir!"

"What? But we can't also hold our position here! we are clearly outnumbered by the monsters!"

"Arrange a pathway for us to pull back, and protect Master Noel no matter what!"

--- 𝙻𝚘𝚐 𝟷 𝙴𝚗𝚍

𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬:

An introduction for the repeating characters

𝗕𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗸𝗲𝗻𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗺: Erickson, Noel, Former Empress (Empress Dowager Blankenheim), Current Emperor (Uncle) Reader had 2 houses' names, 𝗥𝗶𝗴𝗲𝗹𝗵𝗼𝗳𝗳 (as lady-in-waiting) and 𝗠𝗮𝗿𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘇 (as nobleman).

#yandere male #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere imagines #male yandere #yandere insert #yandere oc #yandere headcanons #yandere works #yandere writing #reader insert #x reader #oc #x gn reader #Erickson the Chosen #Noel the Unbent

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wrrrenff · 5 months

Text

How the Stardew Valley Bachelors React When the Farmer Injures Themselves

TW:// slight injury

Ahh... The crops have all been watered and the animals all have been fed. I deserve a snack!

The farmer starts their trek back to their farmhouse, thinking about what they might throw together in the kitchen. Suddenly you adorable pet bolts in front of you trying to chase a bird, and trips you! You land hard on the ground. You groan, your body feeling sore but overall fine, and get up. You dust yourself off only to notice that you landed on some sticks and they scraped up your arm pretty bad. It honestly didn't really hurt. It did look pretty ugly though. Hopefully no one will notice it once it's all cleaned up...

Harvey:

'Hey Far-'

Notices IMMEDIATELY

I mean c'mon of course he does. HES A DOCTOR

Doctor mode activated

Asks if he can take a closer look and fully inspects your arm

Asks what you used to clean it and scolds you when you say you just rinsed it off

Drags you back to his office and properly washes and bandages you

He's been so worried about what caused this the whole time but doesn't ask. He want you to share the cause only if you're comfortable

Let's out the biggest sigh of relief when he finds out it wasn't anything serious that caused this

Is on your ass making sure you are properly cleaning the wound and changing your bandage

Will softly kiss your bandages and forehead

'Thank yoba you have such an attentive doctor to take care of you'

Alex:

Despite how tough and nonchalant Alex may seem, I think he would be pretty worried and maybe even a little squeamish toward your injury

He does get injured sometimes playing gridball but the man is clueless when it come to caring for those injuries

He would usually just go to his grandma for help... which is exactly what he did with you

'Grandma can you help the farmer? They're hurt pretty bad. I-I just want to make them feel better'

After Evelyn patches you up, he grabs a blanket and something from his room then suggests you two go take a walk on the beach

Once at the beach he lays out the blanket and you both sit

That's when he pulls out his mothers music box and opens it, letting the soothing music play

'Mom would hum this while taking care of me and it always help me feel better. Maybe it'll be the same for you'

He will hold you and kiss you to help you forget about your pain

Shane:

I feel like he wouldn't notice immediately. Maybe 2 or 3 days after it happened and it's already pretty scabbed over

'Woah farmer, did one of you chickens get you?'

Tries to keep it together but is freaking out inside

Buys you a drink to 'help with the pain'

Gets a drink for himself to calm the fear of other things that could hurt you

Starts taking more 'walks around the valley' just to stop by the farm and make sure you stay safe

Sam:

'How'd you get that mean scrape farmer?''

He wasn't even fazed

He almost immediately assumed you just hurt yourself farming

He knew it couldn't be serious since you were still acting like your usual self

Sam has had some nasty injuries from skating around so he was a PRO when it came to cleaning and bandaging

Kept on you to change you bandages

Once he got a bad infection from not cleaning his scrape enough and he DOES NOT want you to have to deal with that

Will force you to hang with him and watch movies/eat snacks to keep you from overexerting yourself

Elliot:

If he sees your injury fresh I fully believe this man would faint

'Oh darling what happened? Did someone hurt you? Was it an animal? O-oh it was some... sticks? Those dastardly sticks!!"

Man will treat you like you broke you arm

I'm talking, making your food for you, drawing you baths, tucking you into bed, even doing your farming for you

You insist your fine but he wont hear it

Will cover your arm in kisses to make you feel better

Stays on top of cleaning your wound

He will definitely take inspiration from this moment for his novel

Sebastian:

Noticed it as soon as you walked into his room

He didn't want to say anything about it but you noticed his eyes were basically glued to your arm

His mind immediately went to the mines since he's seen you go in and out many times while he goes out to smoke

Is so relieved that is was just from some stupid sticks

He will absentmindedly rub the injury lightly when he's sitting near you

Lets you lay in his bed while he works to make you feel better, definitely not because he wants to keep an eye on you and make sure you don't hurt yourself more

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joedirtymadre · 1 month

Note

Hello 😊 I hope you are having a great day! I would like to request a fluffy Luffy x y/n story please!

The Potion

LUFFY X READER! FLUFF! (PLEASE SEND MORE REQUESTS! PLEASEE 🦫)

“Where is he?” You asked yourself as you continued exploring the new island. You were currently looking for your idiot captain, but adorable boyfriend. Nami thought it was a good idea to stop by an island to restock on some supplies. Nami only planned for a day stop, but Luffy still hasn’t returned… So a part of being his girlfriend is to find and drag him back to the ship. You groaned, “I can’t believe he just ditched me on the ship, why didn’t he ask if I wanted to tag along? Aren’t we dating?”

While walking down the main plaza, you turned and noticed a familiar dark haired man, with the very familiar straw hat on his head. “Luffy!” You called out as you ran over. He quickly turned and grinned once noticing you. “Yo (Y/N)! You found me!” He waved excitedly. “You idiot! I spent the last hour looking for you! How dare you ditch me?” You asked angrily as you smacked his head.

“I’m sorry…” he pouted. “It’s alright, I’m glad I finally found you. So, what have you been up to?” You asked as you rubbed the spot you hit. “Just running around, but I stopped to talk to this granny,” he said, motioning towards the older woman sitting at the stand.

“Oh hello,” you smiled, and the woman smiled back. “Hi sweetheart,” she said. You looked at her stand, and realized that it was simply a table with a crystal ball in the middle, with a small stand with different colored bottles. You noticed one particular bottle that caught your eye, it was a beautiful shade of deep purple. “Would you like one deary?” The woman asked. “Ummm… well what are they?” You asked. “Potions!” She smiled. “Potions? “Really?” You asked suspiciously. “Well of course, I spent years trying to perfect each potion. Which one would you like?” She asked.

“Hmm… Well, what does each one do?” You asked curiously, eyeing each bottle. “Can one of them make me super strong? Or shapeshift? Or fly?” Luffy asked excitedly. “No, my potions don’t do that. They’re small potions, but trust me… they work,” she said. “I see, but what does each potion do?” You asked again. “Ahh… that all depends on you. My potions create whatever you heart desires,” she explains.

“Whatever my heart desires?” You questioned. “So that means I can fly!” Luffy said with stars in his eyes. “Perhaps, if your heart truly desires to fly,” the woman sighed. “Oh wow! Now we have to get one (Y/an)! Just imagine me, like a superhero, or a bird,” he grinned. You laughed at his reaction, “I guess I’ll take two,” you said.

“Only 1 per each group,” the woman said. “Huh?” Luffy pouted. “Well, I can’t have everyone getting their deep desires granted. Plus there are potions that take decades to create, my inventory would disappear if I didn’t limit purchases,” she explained. “I guess that makes sense,” you said. “Well which one sweetheart, I saw that the purple one caught your eye,” she said. “Yeah, it’s a pretty color,” you said softly. “I’ll take this one then,” you said. “Good choice, and remember all potions last for 24 hours,” she said as she took the berries from my hand and placed the bottle in it.

“Wow, a potion! Let’s drink it!” Luffy said. “No sharing, the potion won’t work if two people drink it,” the woman quickly explained. “Awe man…” he pouted. “If you want it, you can have it,” you smiled. “Seriously? Tha-“ Luffy was cut off. “Only the person that I gave the bottle to can drink it, for others it won’t work,” the woman said as she winked at me. “O-Oh… well that sucks,” Luffy frowned. “Sorry Luffy,” you said. “It’s fine, just means I’ll have to keep an eye on you. See if anything changes,” he laughed. You nodded and you both headed back to the ship.

“Drink it, drink it!” Luffy chanted. “Alright, but if I do can we go walk around some of the shops? I really wanted-“ you were interrupted. “That sounds boring…” he whined. “O-Oh… uhh, well alright. I guess we can do something else after,” you sighed. “Oo let’s go find another witch, maybe then I can get a potion!” He said excitedly, as he headed back to the plaza. “You go ahead, I’ll meet you there,” you said softly. “K!” He shouted as he raced off.

You let out a deep sigh, and walked over to an empty bench. “When’s the last time we’ve done anything I wanted to do? Or the last time we’ve done regular couple stuff?” You asked yourself as you leaned back into the bench.

“Hey! The woman said that this’ll grant my deepest desires! Maybe it’ll help Luffy be romantic again, like when we first started dating!” You said excitedly, as you opened your bag and pulled out the bottle. You stared suspiciously at it before you opened the lid. It made a hissing sound as you slowly opened the lid.

You shrugged it off and chugged it in one swoop. “Ugh… it tastes terrible,” you said in disgust. “If anything, at least Chopper can cure food poisoning or… regular poisoning,” you said.

All of a sudden you felt a nauseous wave rush through you. “I think I’m gonna pass-“ you immediately knocked out.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N)! Wake up, please!” You felt yourself being shaken. You slowly opened your eyes, and saw Luffy cradling you. “Luffy?” You asked as your eyes adjusted to the light. “Yeah it’s me, are you ok? I found you passed out on the bench,” he said, worriedly. “I-I’m fine,” you said as you tried to get up but slowly fell back. “Be careful, here I’ll carry you,” he said as he picked you up bridal style.

You felt your cheeks heat up. “You’re carrying me?” Yo I asked, surprised. “Well, why wouldn’t I carry you? You’re my girl,” he smiled. You felt your face heat up even more, and nuzzled your head into his chest. Just enjoying the moment.

You were finally able to stand, so after a few words of trying to convince Luffy that you can walk he finally let you down. As you were walking, you realized you were back at the main plaza. You suddenly felt someone reach out for your hand, you looked over and saw Luffy holding your hand. “I wanted to hold hands,” he smiled. “Ok!” You grinned. “Look, isn’t that the store you want to go to earlier?” He asked, as he pointed at a jewelry store. “Yeah… but it’s fine you said it was boring, let’s do something else,” you suggested.

“What? No way! Come on, you said you wanted to go so let’s go!” He smiled and dragged me to the shop. My eyes widened, there’s no way that her potion actually worked! You both spent the day like a normal couple, walking around being lovey dovey. Going to eat, exploring some cute store you found, and just enjoying each other’s company.

Now you were both at the main plaza’s water fountain. Just enjoying the sunset. “Man, I had an awesome day Luffy,” you smiled. “Me too, I’m glad you desired this,” he said, strangely. “Desired? Why’d you say it like-“ you were interrupted.

“(Y/N)?” You heard a family voice call out. You quickly snapped your head towards the voice and saw, “Luffy?” You stared in shock as he walked up to you. “L-Luffy? B-But I don’t- how- why?” You grabbed your head, not sure what the hell is going on. “(Y/N) who is that guy?” Luffy asked. “I’m Luffy, the better Luffy,” the other one said.

“The better Luffy? You’re just an imposter!” He yelled. You stared in disbelief, unsure what to do or say. “Not in (Y/N)’s eyes. That’s why she wished for me,” the other said, getting close to the other Luffy's face. “Wished for you? I-Is that true (Y/N)? Did you wish for him?” Luffy asked as he turned towards you.

You were speechless, you tried to explain yourself but nothing would come out. “Of course she did, she wanted that old spark we used to have. She hated how you treated her like a regular crew mate, how you would ditch her, ignore her wants or feelings, and just take her love for granted,” the other one said. “T-That’s now true, I love (Y/N)! You don’t know anything about us,” Luffy shouted.

“But it is, why else would she wish to do regular couple stuff with you? Because you never took the time to do it, that’s probably why she thinks you don’t love her anymore,” the other one explained. “Is this true (Y/N)? Do you really think I don’t love you?” He asked softly. “No, I-I… all I think is that you don't treat me the way you used to when we first started dating. Why?” You asked tearfully.

“I-I don't know, I guess I didn't realize it… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. I promise!” he said as he reached out for me. However, you felt a different pair of arms wrap around you from behind. They pulled you into a close hug, you looked to see the other Luffy who was holding you. “What makes you think that she’ll still want to be with you? After the amazing day we had? I carried her, held her hand, followed her to some nice shops, and ate nice food. We both know you wouldn’t have done that,” he said as he tightened his grip.

“Shut up! (Y/N), please believe me! I’m sorry, I do want to be with you. I love whenever you smile, when you smack me around whenever I’m acting dumb, when you rub and take care of me whenever I’m feeling down. I see now that I should’ve done the same for you, but please… Please let me try again, I won’t make you wish for a better me again,” he pleaded. “Oh Luffy,” you said softly. You quickly pulled yourself out of the other Luffy’s arms and leapt onto your Luffy. “(Y/N)!” He said, holding onto you tight.

“I’m sorry, this will never happen again. I swear,” he said with a light tremble in his voice. “I know,” you said as you pulled him into a kiss. This kiss almost made your legs give out, but luckily Luffy was keeping you steady.

“Hmm… it’s not 24 hours, but I guess my job here is done,” the other Luffy said. “Huh?” You asked as you turned your head. “Yep! I granted your deepest desire, to have your Luffy treat you like before,” he smiled, and you noticed his body began glowing. “But before I go,” the other Luffy said and ran over to give you a kiss on the cheek. “Hey!” Your Luffy shouted, pulling you back into his arms. “Take care of her, she deserves it,” the other Luffy said before disappearing.

Once the other Luffy was gone, you were quickly turned around. You felt a million kisses placed on the cheek the other Luffy kissed. “L-Luffy?” You blushed. “Good, now that fake’s kiss is erased,” he huffed. You laughed and pulled him into another kiss, happy to have your boyfriend back. I guess that woman is a real witch after all.

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angel-of-the-moons · 3 months

Text

Alone Time

Moon Knight System (Marc, Steven, Jake) x Fem! Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, Fluff, smut, oral (m + f! receiving), protected sex, PiV sex, Jake has a certain kink, unprotected sex, every good mama deserves to have a train run on her, body insecurities, affirmations, porn with a big heaping slice of life, could this be considered cucking? Or voyeurism/exhibitionism?, broken condom

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

This fic is connected to "Small Surprises" Pt. 1 and Pt. 2.

A/N: I had to do it lmao.

Taglist: @simp4-fictional-men @autismsupermusicalassassin @princessakirika @mochimoqa @pimosworld

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Your life was a strange one, now. You'd gotten used to the looming, musty-smelling god that lingered in your apartment and spent time with your daughter; you'd gotten so used to having the man--er, men--in your life at your side when you wake up in the morning.

You'd especially gotten attached to their little fishy friends!

But, hey, you wouldn't change it for the world. Hanukkah and Christmas came and went, so did New years. Poor Victoria, she was hiccuping and crying because the fireworks were too loud and terrified her, prompting Jake to immediately cradle her, and even Khonshu moved to slam your windows closed to muffle the sounds. (Although you lectured him about cracking one of the panes in his haste.)

And now, Valentine's Day was coming up, and you weren't entirely sure what to get for your boys.

Victoria, bless her tiny, sweet, adorable little heart, cut out some messy, colorful, and craft-herpes (glitter) covered hearts to each of them, doodling various things each man liked. Steven's heart was brown with gold glitter and had little Egyptian designs scribbled here and there, Marc had a few sports items drawn on his white and blue-glitter heart, Jake had a bright yellow and white heart, a crude scribble of his car drawn on next to his name.

She even made one for Khonshu. It was gaudy. Bright, neon pink, purple and blue glitter all over, and had small drawings of birds on it, with a crescent moon with a smiley face in the middle. His face couldn't emote, but you couldn't help but grin like an idiot (and had to elbow Steven in the gut to keep him quiet) as your innocent daughter handed her little art project to her "Cranky Bird Grandpa 'Shu". You were positive his pride took a blow when he accepted it in front of the two of you, but the way he gingerly held the little gift silently told you that he did, infact, like it.

Why Khonshu's personality seemed to shift around you and Victoria, you were unsure. You'd never asked, and to be honest you kinda didn't wanna know. You just chocked it up to, hopefully, Khonshu realized his existence didn't have to solely revolve around justice and violence. That some of his more forgotten attributes could be indulged in; such as him being a protector and a healer.

One time, Victoria fell and scraped her knee at the park, bawling as blood trickled down her delicate little leg. Before you or Marc could leap to your feet, Khonshu was there (invisible to others, of course) and whispered something to her. She repeated it, and by the time you two got there, Khonshu was gone, disappeared into a puff of mist, and Victoria was no longer injured.

Marc had asked her, worried, about what Khonshu said to her, the moment you got into the car. You were vaguely paying attention, at first, distracted at how his beard had come in, and he'd stopped being so meticulous about his appearance that his usually raven locks and beard (the one Jake insisted they grow out) were peppered with silver.

"What did he say, Vicky?" Marc asked.

"Jus' said that I had to say the words." Victoria answered vaguely, playing with her little scarab plushie in the back seat.

"What words, baby?" Marc asked, feeling a nervous sweat break out on his neck. You had to place your hand on his thigh to snap him back to reality.

"The words!" Victoria said, pursing her cute little face, her nose all scrunched up at his lack of automatically knowing what she meant. "He said, I gotta say the words to ask for help, so he can fix me!"

"...Wait." You turned in your seat to look back at her as you approached a red light, Marc watching her warily through the rear-view.

"Honey, do you mean a prayer?"

"Duh!" She scoffed, like it was obvious. "'Shu used to fix people all the time, he says. But nobody says the words no more so he can't. I had to say em so he could do it!"

You and Marc blink at each other, mulling over what your daughter just told you, a thick silence hanging in the air that was only cut through by her munching on some veggie sticks (all carefully arranged by color, of course. The red ones tasted the best, so they went first!).

"....I forgot he could do that." Marc murmured softly, looking back at the road as the light turned green.

"Yeah!" Victoria peeped. "'Shu says he can't do it no more cause it's hard. It's easier to find bad guys than fix people 'cuz they don't him ask for it no more."

You watch as Marc's jaw tenses and a look of confliction creases his brow.

Living under basically forced servitude tends to blind one to any benevolence their "benefactor" may have possessed at one point.

...And apparently still possessed. He'd never thought--none of them had--to consider that Khonshu never dispatched them to heal anyone, because A.) Nobody prayed to him for that anymore. B.) It wasn't in Moon Knight's abilities to heal anyone. And C.) Evil was just so much easier to root out.

The rest of the ride home was quiet; Marc, Jake, and Steven's headspace abuzz with this revelation.

You, meanwhile, still stressed out over what to get Marc, Steven, and Jake.

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"I still don't trust him." Marc muttered stubbornly.

"I understand why, and you have your rights to." You sigh softly, kneading the muscles in his shoulders. You were sitting behind him on the bed, his legs draped over the edge. "But you have to admit, he's strangely... sweet to Victoria."

"I don't trust it." He huffs again, his eyes closing as your thumbs work a particularly stiff knot between his shoulders.

"I know. But believe me, if he tries anything..." You mutter as your brow creases and you apply just a bit more pressure, earning a groan and a strained chuckle from Marc.

"Shit, I think the old man is more scared of you than what the Ennead might do to him if he fucks with the sky again." He says. "You and that broom."

You grin and press yourself against his back, resting your cheek on his shoulder as you slip your arms around his midsection, feeling the mix of softness and muscle, there.

"Well... me and my broom are fearless companions." You chuckle.

Marc stutters out a short huff as your fingers brush the trail of hair running beneath waistband of his sweatpants. They were doing very little to conceal the growing erection that throbbed against his thigh.

Marc tipped his head and looked at the monitor next to the bed, showing that Victoria was happily snuggled in bed, curled up with her arms squeezing Digger the scarab plush and snoozing peacefully.

Thank god that little girl usually slept like the dead...

"So..." You say, leaning in to nip at his ear as you comb your fingers through his curls, small water droplets clinging to the strands. Your nails scraping against his scalp, he groaned.

"You don't gotta work for the old man tonight." You say, kissing down his neck and to his shoulder, feeling how goosebumps formed beneath your soft lips; your hand slowly sliding up from his happy trail to his chest.

"Ay, hermano, you don't say yes I'll fuck her for you." Jake's voice rang out.

Marc grunted at his unwanted offer and demand; usually when it came to being intimate with you, the two of you worked out a system, setting up times, etcetera. And when spontaneous things like this happened, Jake and Steven would leave you and Marc alone, and the other ways around.

But of course Jake would occasionally peek in to tell Marc different things to do to you to get the best reaction, or hell, sometimes he'd cheer Marc on like a weird perverted, one-man cheerleader.

"Hmmm... Jake?" You chuckle, taking a small bit of his muscle in between your teeth playfully.

"Fuck. Yeah." Marc gasped, your palm sliding slowly back down until it was all the way under his sweats, stroking his throbbing cock leisurely. He could feel Jake linger, just barely... he would be a spectator tonight, it seemed.

"Ah, should've known. Steven's a good boy and tends to leave everyone alone when it comes to one-on-one time." You chuckle, placing a small kiss to your bite mark. They'd be gone by the time he suited up next, but you knew all the boys had preferred little "badges" to wear.

With Marc, he liked your bite marks, your hand occasionally tugging on his hair. With Steven, it was hickeys and lipstick stains. With Jake, it was scratches on his chest and back, maybe a bitten lip.

However you were all careful not to make them too obvious. The one time Victoria brought up a hickey she spotted on Steven's throat, you swore you saw steam puff out of his ears and his brain explode.

"A-A bug bit me, poppet, th-that's all!" He told her.

"Oh! Okay." She replied to him, not questioning it further, content to go back to playing with her dolls. (She had mummified one of them while you two were making lunch, which concerned you because Khonshu helped so it was as frighteningly accurate as it could get on a chunk of plastic...)

Marc groaned and he bucked his hips up into your touch, his hand falling to where he felt yours beneath his pants, encouraging you.

"Damn, baby." He huffed, already feeling beads of precum begin to drop from the tip of his dick.

You tug his head to the side and kiss him hungrily, your lips connecting as your tongues sloppily danced with one another.

"Your mouth?" Marc hissed.

You nod with a hum slipping around him and to your knees on the soft carpet at his feet, your eyes dark and hungry as he lifted his hips, letting your soft, delicate hands pull his sweats all the way down.

"We honestly may as well stop getting dressed right out of the shower." You chuckle, biting your lip as you pump his cock with your hand, your cheek resting on his thick thigh while you give him a teasing look.

You press your thumb against the weeping head of his dick, sighing. "....because either way, one of you boys get wound up and we wind up naked again."

"Can't help it around you." Marc groaned as you ran your tongue up the underside of his length, tracing the pulsing vein there.

"Clothes just fly off on their own when you're around us, baby."

You snort and roll your eyes, giving his tip a little love nip before licking the large drop of sweet-salty fluid off it, and popping it in between your lips and swallowing him down.

"Fuck." He growled as you bobbed your head, sucking tight and hollowing your cheeks while he petted your damp hair shakily.

"So fucking good, baby."

You moan appreciatively, squirming as you feel your panties start to squish, your clit throbbing almost in tune with his pulse as you take him deeper.

You gag a bit when he gets a little overzealous, and he pulls you back, panting and brows pinched up in concern. "Shit, you okay?"

"Yeah, I just need a teeny bit of a warning next time, honey." You giggled before pulling him back into the hot wet cavern of your mouth.

Marc's eyes rolled back in bliss as your tongue stroked him, his lips snagging his teeth beautifully as his eyes drift to the monitor again to check on Victoria.

Dead asleep, but this time with a little foot poking out from her blankets.

He made a soft whine as the plush of your lips squeezed his sensitivity flesh, your teeth grazing just after, providing a singular myriad of sensations.

Gods, your mouth was downright sinful. The first time you gave him a blowjob, he thought he died again, his orgasm slamming into him like a runaway train.

Afterwards, you sheepishly admitted that sometimes, the only way your ex would get intimate with you while you were pregnant was oral, because he said the sight of your stretch marks made him uncomfortable, and he had his concern for "the kid".

Yeah, it was more likely because he was already having sex with your friend on the side by that point.

But with your boys? They loved whatever they could get, and treasured every millisecond of it. Sometimes a little too much; Steven had a habit of cumming before he even properly fucked you, especially while spending time between your legs with his tongue to the point you were worried he smothered between your thighs.

So many times he'd stain the insides of his boxers and pants, just from eating you out.

Marc groaned, his cock jerking in your mouth to signal you he was going to cum; and you hummed around him greedily, sucking harder to milk him of whatever he could give you.

"Fuuuuck--" He breathed hard, the first spurt of cum shooting out and coating your tongue; his taste heavy and thick and oh-so addicting as you happily drank him down, swirling your tongue around as you pulled off.

Marc chuckled breathlessly and collapsed onto the bed, his arm resting over his face, "Shit... I swear you could suck the soul outta one of us."

You slowly crawl up his body, looking down at him as you support yourself with your hands and knees with a cheeky grin. "That good, huh?"

Marc leaned up and kissed you softly on the lips. "That good."

His hands find their way up your thighs to cup your ass, kneading the soft flesh as he bunched your microfiber sleep shorts beneath his fingers. "Now lemme return the favor."

You squeaked and laughed as he flipped you on your back, his hands almost ripping your buttons on your shirt open to get to the skin beneath, licking and placing open mouth kisses as he moved down to your breasts, his tongue flattening over your perked nipples as his hand slides down to your tummy.

You squirmed a bit, you always do when he palms your squishy lower half. After having Victoria, you didn't "bounce back" like those gorgeous mothers online always seemed to. Your belly was stretched, visible purple marks that faded to an almost silvery sheen over time, but you just couldn't lose the weight that came with your pregnancy.

Your ex didn't like your obvious signs of your growing child within your womb, but your boys? Gods, they adored it. Because it was proof you carried that sweet, adorable, curious little girl that you all loved so much; your body keeping her safe and warm until she was ready to greet the world for the first time.

"Baby." Marc said, looking at you, his dark eyes soft and loving as his flattened his calloused palm over your squishy tummy.

"C'mon... I know that look."

"I... I can't help it." You mumble as he plants feather-soft kisses over your eyelids.

"You need to stay off those mom forums." He joked. "They're full of photoshopped women, or women who can afford surgery to hide a previous pregnancy."

"I know..."

Marc leaned down, kissing his way down your tummy, planting more and more kisses over each and every stretch mark, until his lips reached the waistband of your shorts.

"You're fucking gorgeous, baby. Every scar and bit of baby fat included."

His fingers tapped your hips and you lifted them so he could all but rip them down your legs, practically licking his chops as his eyes landed on your soaked and puffy folds, a soft patch of hair on your mons.

He kissed his way down, further, his thumb spreading your lips and labia, smearing your slick around as his lips formed an "o" around your clit.

You moaned deeply, hand tangling in his mass of untamed curls as his fingers toy with your entrance; tracing it but not sliding inside.

"Marc!" You bucked impatiently.

"So greedy." He chuckled, the vibrations from his voice sending jolts through your clit, making you jump and yelp.

The way his beard tickled and scraped your cunt and thighs had your head swimming, your slick soaking the salt and pepper hairs on his face.

When his fingers finally plunged in, your toes curled and your hands gripped your blankets tight.

"Marc." You mewled.

Marc used his thumb to pull the hood of your clit back as his index and middle fingers curled inside your tight, gummy walls; giving his tongue unfettered access to wrap around the sensitive nub.

You hips tilted and your back arched, and you had to bite down on your lip to stifle the cries that wanted to come from your mouth. Your clit was sensitive, it always was; but god forbid your baby daddy ever give a fuck about that.

Marc and the boys? Oh, they loved to abuse that knowledge every time you two were intimate. Especially when they were using their mouths on you.

"Shit, we need to find a babysitter Vicky's comfortable with." Marc growled in between open mouth kisses to your sweet lips, his fingers curling in the most devilish way.

"Wanna hear how loud we can get ya."

You hiccuped softly in an effort to control your breathing and stuttering voice as your orgasm started to creep up on you. All you could do was blabber out a short "yes" when Marc nipped at your clit again, pressing his fingers up at juuuuust the right angle, sending your eyes rolling so far back into your head you swore you could probably see your own brain for a split second as those wonderful waves of ecstasy beat away at the shores of your sanity.

Marc continued to thrust and curl his fingers, slowing down to stretch out your orgasm until you were ready, your poor hungry hole fluttering and clenching around his digits for more.

Marc, the cheeky little shit, made a lewd display of licking his fingers clean, spreading them into a wide "v" as he wrapped his tongue around each one, licking you completely clean.

You growled playfully and pulled him down to you, slipping your tongue past his lips, tasting a little of yourself in his mouth as your kiss turned sloppy and very messy; his beard soaked all the way through from how much you had gushed onto his tongue and mouth.

When you parted (because your brains finally told you that you needed oxygen to keep living) you were both flushed and hungry for more, and Marc reached down, squeezing your baby fat softly.

"All this is ours, and we aren't trading it for anything."

And damn, did he spend the rest of the night proving it to you.

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"Aunt Layla!" Victoria squealed, running and practically leaping into the woman's arms.

"'Tawar." She giggled, waving excitedly at the hippo-woman trailing just behind.

Layla laughed loudly and you grinned as she and your daughter brushed noses. It was weird, at first, meeting Marc's ex-wife (and Steven's ex-girlfriend) but you were happy they were still on friendly terms, friendly enough, that Layla wanted to meet you and your little girl.

Victoria latched onto her immediately, the moment she sat down in your living room, the curious girl pattered up to her after waking up from her nap, still drowsy as she clambered onto the sofa, and curled up in Layla's nap, resting her head on her chest.

It was so cute you almost started crying. Even the goddess, Taweret, squealed and wiggled her feet at the sight. Given she was the goddess of mothers, children, and other related things, it made sense that she adored your daughter (like Khonshu, but the old pigeon would never admit to it.)

Taweret tagged along on most visits because she wanted to meet the woman and child responsible for gaining so much trust and love from the boys to ease their pain and loneliness. She also just wanted to meet your daughter because, c'mon. Victoria was adorable and everyone so far loved her. Even the "bloody old pigeon" as she and Steven were so fond of calling Khonshu.

Layla settled and hefted your child onto her hips, walking over to give you a side hug and you two exchanged cheek kisses in greeting.

"Hey, love!" Layla said to you both. "How have things been!"

"Oh, wonderful. Victoria's started reading multi-chapter books already." You sigh, smiling in wonder at your daughter.

Victoria giggled bashfully and started rubbing her cheek onto Layla's, reaching out to touch Taweret's outstretched palm.

"Really? So soon?" Layla blinked in amazement.

"Yeah, the doctor said it's not entirely uncommon that some autistic children develop certain skills quicker. She's already reading some of Steven's textbooks to him!" You reply.

"Damn, give her a few weeks and I'd wager this little ankle-nipper will be able to put any of those scholars at the museum to shame." She snorted.

"Steven said the same thing." You chuckled. "Even joked that they could probably go into Uni together."

"Oh gods, that's cute." Layla giggled as Victoria dug her fingers into her curly hair to play with the silky mass.

"Steven had a meeting at the museum today, he'll feel so sad for not saying bye." You say wistfully.

"Eh, it's one night. He will survive." Layla scoffed playfully.

"...Thank you so much for agreeing to take her." You sighed at her.

"Hey, hey, no problem. It's Valentine's and you two have been so wound up lately you need some alone time." She winked at you not-so-subtly.

You blushed a bit at her implication and laughed nervously as you reached for Victoria's overnight bag.

"Oh--her favorite blanket and toys are in there. Her shampoo, toothbrush, toothpaste, Digger is in there, too, because you know how she gets without him--"

"Relax, I know this'll be her first time away from you." Layla smiled warmly. "But she'll be fine. The hotel is just a block away, and plus, nothing will happen to her. Not with a goddess and her Avatar looking out for her, eh?"

Your shoulders dropped with a heavy sigh. "Yeah... Yeah, you're right. It's just..."

"No, no I get it." Layla's eyes twinkled. "...So how many squishmallow things has Steven and Victoria accumulated?"

You laugh out loud and point behind her, the corner of your living room where you'd had your Christmas tree was now stacked with several plushies, mostly squishmallows of various kinds, including a very large pineapple named "Maui" that Steven and Victoria loved curling up against to read together.

Layla snorted when she looked, shaking her head. "Well, could collect worse things, I s'pose."

"Like taxidermied bugs and animals?" You joke.

"Oh that's a horrible thought!" She grinned.

"Yeah, well, like you said..."

Layla laughed again and moved so Victoria could lean up to you and rub noses, and you could pepper her soft little face with plenty of kisses.

"Be good for your Aunt Layla and Taweret, okay?" You ask her gently.

"I will, mommy!" Victoria chirped, rubbing her face onto yours lovingly, breathing in your perfume.

You waved as they all left, feeling almost bereft and out of place in your suddenly too quiet flat.

You decided, after a few moments of nervous lip chewing, to walk back to your bedroom.

You walked to your closet and moved aside an old suitcase, revealing a long black box wrapped in hot pink ribbons.

After that night with Marc, something clicked inside your brain and you knew what to get for the boys.

Or rather, what to get yourself for the boys.

You set the box on the bed and looked at the article of "clothing" sitting inside the box. You'd ordered this set of lingerie after Jake and Victoria snuggled on the couch after watching Zootopia together.

You made sure to have it delivered "accidentally" to your neighbor's flat, and she handed it over to you like you two were smuggling contraband into a prison.

After all, you didn't want the boys to find your surprise, now did you?

It took a bit, but you'd stripped down and hastily pulled on your new set. All straps, the fabric was easy on your hands, so you knew Steven wouldn't be overwhelmed by the texture when he touched you.

And boy... would he want to touch you.

The straps covered up nothing and so much at the same time, leaving nothing to the imagination while still, leaving so much.

Looking into the mirror, you swallowed thickly. It looked nothing like it did on the models on the site. Where they had flat, toned bodies and perfect figures...

You had soft, rounded out features, stretch marks and of course, the baby fat.

You chewed your bottom lip hesitantly, your first instinct to take it all off and shove it back into he closet when you saw what you didn't like.

But... you knew that Marc, Jake, and Steven loved you. And that they would go feral if they saw you in it.

For added measure, you slid on the sheer, white stockings up to your thighs, the soft material squishing the plushest parts of your legs.

You had to shove the second one up hastily when you heard the front door unlock, and Steven's voice.

"Ey, love?" Steven called out.

"Uh--egh--fuck--hold on a minute!" You say, scrambling for your fluffy bathrobe. It concealed enough that they wouldn't see much... save for if they looked at your feet.

Steven had walked into the bedroom just barely after you'd tossed the box back into the closet and the door clicked shut, you awkwardly smiling and standing with your hands clasped in front of you.

"Heeeyyy... You!" You tried pitifully.

A thick brow raised behind those dark-rimmed glasses of his. Gods, he looked gorgeous. Dressed in a nice smooth button-up, his blazer buttoned halfway up and his curls falling into his face? His sweet, boyish curiosity had you already blushing.

He looked every bit like the kind of professor many college students would fantasize about taking "extra credit" with...

"What's got you in a tizzy?" Steven chuckled, walking over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist to kiss the tip of your nose.

"Oh uhm.... Ah." You squirm, giggling at his kisses.

"Is it because Victoria is out?" He asked, tilting his head to the side like a curious pup.

"Well, uh, eh... Uhm." You cough awkwardly. Oh, this was a horrible idea. So stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

"Oh! Actually, hold that bubble." Steven chirped, fishing out a small paper bag out of his back pocket.

Inside the bag, was a small box. A jewelry box.

Your hand goes to your mouth as he opens it up and grins sheepishly. "Took us forever to agree on something. Marc was being a real bellend about it, y'know?"

He frowns over at your mirror, his brows creasing as he scowls at his reflection.

"What! You were!" He snapped.

Inside the box was a silver pendant, cut in the shape of the crescent moon, with engraving on it.

"We love you, to the moon and back."

"A bit cheesey, innit?" He mumbled, pulling at his sleeves as his hands darted all over your face, his teeth snagging his lip.

You honestly felt like tearing up. It was so... so cheesey, and so romantic. Very much a Steven thing to do. But you could tell even Marc and Jake had a hand in it, too. It was a united effort.

"Steven...." You begin, lifting your eyes to lock with his doe-like brown ones.

He tosses a nervous, awkward smile.

"I love it. It's gorgeous." You say, your thumb brushing over the shiny material.

"Let me put it on you?" Steven asked you hesitantly, as if worried you'd say no.

"Sure." You smile warmly at him, noticing how his demeanor lights up and he cheerfully brings the chain around your neck as he moves to stand behind you, carefully locking the clasp so the moon hung just beneath your collarbone.

You hear Steven go "huh" under his breath as his fingers brush beneath your bathrobe, touching the straps of the lingerie you were concealing.

"What's this, love?" He asked you, and you jolted slightly.

Oh, shit. Right. The lingerie. You'd almost forgotten it!

"Uh.... It's.... Eh...." You stammer out awkwardly, stepping away to fiddle with the sash of your robe.

Steven watches, curiously and patiently waiting for you to speak, his head tilted to the side.

"So, I've been trying to figure out what to get you guys for Valentine's day, y'know? I was stumped, trying to think on what I could do, so... I... Um."

You looked at Steven, his curls flopped over his head, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips as he nods, urging you on.

'Damn it, now or never...'

Your fingers undo the knot of the robe and let the fluffy material slip down to hang from your forearms, your face erupting in a heated flush as you feel his eyes rake slowly up and down your body and hear him gasp just barely audibly.

"Oh, love." He breathed. "You... That looks--"

He snapped his head to the mirror, his face scarlet red. "Sh-shut it! I was--no! You just shut it!"

You watch as he looks at you again, bashfully as your eyes reconnect. He rubbed the back of his head and said sheepishly, "S-Sorry.... Jake just won't... Stop being Jake right now."

"Oh..." You reply, licking your plush lips anxiously as Steven walks closer to you, his hand reaching out to brush the various straps, moving to delicately cup one breast, his thumb brushing over the strap that covered your nipple as he continued to look at you and that silver pendant that hung from your neck.

You really completed a gorgeous image; like a swan perched elegantly on a lake's smooth surface.

Sometimes, Steven felt like a clumsy and loud goose next to you. He knew it was a poor comparison, that you would never look at him or Jake or Marc that way, but he had his own insecurities as much as you did...

"Do... you like it?" You ask slowly as his other hand, warm and more than a little sweaty rests on your hip.

"We love it." He replied, leaning in to kiss you softly on the lips. As he pulled away, you noticed his dark eyes become almost smoky--heavy.

"We.... Wouldn't mind seeing this on you more often."

"Well... Hm." You say, feeling his hands encircle you, moving down to cup your ass as his mouth kissed your jaw.

His calloused fingers squished and rolled your cheeks beneath his palms, pulling you closer to his own body, allowing to feel his hardening cock press against your thigh while his knee parted your legs and your back connected with the cold plaster of your bedroom wall.

The chill made your nipples harden, poking through the fabric of your lingerie and you yelped at the sensation.

"Hell.... You 'right, love?" Steven asked, his curls falling over his forehead as he looked at you with wide eyes.

"Yeah." You chuckle, goosebumps erupting on your body. "The wall's a little cold."

"Oh...." Steven says, his lips brushing your ear.

"Then... we best move to the bed, yeah?"

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You were positive there were going to be bruises on your hips from how desperately Steven had gripped them, rabbiting into you, his cock sliding in and out of you effortlessly, the sound of slapping skin sinfully loud inside your bedroom.

"S-Steven!" You squeaked, your poor cunt abused and sensitive as he fucked you, the texture of the condom he wore sending little shocks through your body with each drag of his hips.

You had already cum--twice--once from Steven's hands and mouth, and once more from how he'd fucked into you.

Steven had cum while his face was buried between your legs, rutting his clothed hips hard against your mattress as you squirmed and writhed against him. The way he looked when he pulled back, lips swollen, face flushed; his beard wet from your juices, his hair tousled and hanging over his brow. He looked utterly fucked out and he hadn't even been inside of you yet.

"....k-know, love." Steven whimpered, rutting into you a bit more, practically bent in half over you as he kneeled between your legs, his cock angled at an eye-rolling tilt so it slammed once more against your g-spot.

"Almost--almost--" He panted hard, his grip on your hips slipping a little because of how sweaty you both were, so instead he hooked his hands through the straps that still adorned you and used them for leverage as he relentlessly pounded into you.

You dug your nails into his shoulders as you pulled him down, mouthing at the apple of his throat as it bobbed, tasting the thin layer of sweat that dewed his skin, sucking a bruise onto the skin, there.

"L-Love!" Steven whimpered, his pace stuttering as you feel him twitch inside of you, the condom beginning to swell a bit as he pumped his load into the safe cocoon of latex.

His hips slowed into languid rolls, prolonging his orgasm just by a tiny bit as he came down from his high.

You kissed his temple softly, petting his sweat-damp curls as his breathing began to even out. You feel him slump against against you and his arms lock.

You feel a shuddered breath escape him before his breathing finally became steady.

"Steven?" You ask him softly, running your fingers through his hair again.

He lifted back and supported himself on his forearms, looking down at you with a grin, his eyes twinkling.

"Think again, cariño."

"Jake." You breathed, already feeling a thrill creep up your spine as his lips traced your jawline.

"Steven got to have you all dressed up," His fingers playfully snapped one of the straps on you, making you squeak softly. "Now it's my turn. Can't let such a nice, pretty present go unwrapped."

"Oh.... So you're gonna take it off me, now?" You asked, shuddering as he pulled out, still rock hard.

"Nah." His hands went to your hips and with a jerk, flipped you onto your belly, pulling your ass up, his hand kneading the soft flesh as he looked down at you.

He moved the panties to the side to see your red, puffy cunt. "Coño más bonita que he visto."

He didn't change the condom; instead, he pushed right back into your pussy, groaning deep in his chest as he felt your heat grip and squeeze him invitingly.

"Nice..." Jake hissed through his teeth, pulling back slowly before sinking back in, relishing in how your body so eagerly welcomed him back inside of you; your thighs glistening so beautifully, wetting his own, dripping down his shaft to coat his balls as he started fucking you into a steady rhythm.

He winced himself, feeling tense as the body had cum while Steven was in control, so his nerves were still highly sensitive to everything right now. He wasn't going to last long, he knew and it frustrated him. He made a mental note to remind the other two to leave him alone with you for a day or so at some point, wanting to be able to ravish and ravage you properly.

He leaned over, kissing the skin between your shoulder blades as he muttered against you.

"Touch yourself for me, mamí. Want to feel you choke my cock." Jake rasped.

You moan weakly, complying with his request as your fingers slide down beneath you, grazing circles over your engorged clit, choked-out whimpers coming from you as Jake began thrusting into you hard and rough, his skin slapping you so hard you thought there would be red marks from the sheer ferocity of it.

"Oh, god--Jake--" You wail into the pillow, your fingers swiping and circling more and more, trying desperately to match his pace as your squishy, wet walls crushed his cock beneath their fluttering onslaught.

He growled and fisted a large bit of the straps in one hand, pulling your ass back against him, watching as your skin rippled and jiggled with every slap as he fucked into you over and over.

"Fuck, yes. Just. Like. That." He hissed, each word punctuated by a slam of his hips into yours.

You could feel another orgasm just about to burst, your head swimming in that blissful haze as Jake plowed into you at a bruising, aching pace.

"Such a gorgeous mamí." Jake said to you, his voice was heady with arousal.

"So fucking pretty, such a good fucking mamí. Sabes lo bonita que eres, ¿no?"

Your mind was turned to mush as your orgasm washed over you, filling every pore with a dizzying pleasure, rendering you barely aware of what he was saying, let alone to translate it as his hips snapped into you one final time.

However... You felt a new sensation inside of you, and with a few jagged, harsh thrusts, you felt Jake cum inside of you, flooding your deepest reaches with his thick load, making your eyes snap open.

"Shit." He groaned, pulling out of you, watching as the ripped condom clung to his cock, a thick ring of white at the base as he ran a shaky hand through his hair.

"Well, now. This is a pickle." He laughed.

"Jake, you--you know that--" You sputter, groaning as you roll over to look at him.

The bastard didn't seem upset in the slightest; that cheeky little shit!

"Yeah, yeah, mamí." Jake smirked at you as he pulled the ruined condom off of his cock as he caressed one of your spread thighs idly.

"Then why aren't you--FUCK!" You wail, feeling him bottom back out in one deep thrust, your nails scraping his skin at the blinding sensation.

Jake grinned as he nipped at your throat, "Baby, whatever happens, we aren't going anywhere. Even if that means I stuff you so full--or Steven or Marc--that your belly gets all cute and round."

You whimpered and gripped at the meat of his shoulders as he started fucking into you again, blood once more rushing straight through his dick, renewing him with more energy and drive.

"I think Vicky would love a baby brother or sister, no?" He muttered out, his tongue dragging over your fluttering pulse as it hammered against your skin. "So... Why don't we give 'er one?"

"D-did y-you even a-ask M-Marc or St-Steven?!" You cried, bouncing and pushing against your pillows and blankets as he fucked you.

"Don't have to... They've fantasized about it enough already." He laughed.

His lips kiss and glide over your skin as he rips the upper part of your ensemble down, freeing your breasts to bounce free from their strappy confines as Jake whispers in your ear.

"And believe me... Marc definitely wants to fill you up, now, bebita."

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