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thefanbasewhore · 4 years ago

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Retirement.

Summary: Blood is something Bucky has grown used to but when he's covered in yours, he's sick. Don't worry, happy ending!!

Warning/Content: almost death, getting shot in the head, Bucky cries but finally gets everything he deserves 😅

Paring: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Bucky Barnes tag list and master list

"Buck -" The rasp comes from the piece in his ear, he barely hears it as bullets that wiz past the surface of his head and bounce off the ground. He's out of breath, gasping as he find shelter behind an abandoned car, pressing the piece closer.

"What is it? Did you get in?" He pauses, "We need those files."

"Buck, he has a gun, he has me. Compromised." His heart is already unsteady and those words only make it beat faster. A pit forming in his stomach instead, he hears a male voice in the background.

"Who has a gun?" The silence makes his brows crease, heart drop as his voice cracks. "Answer me!"

"He wants to know where you are and what files you want." Bucky let's out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding at the sound of your voice.

"Tell him, give him the drive." There's no hesitation in his voice. There nothing in this world he wouldn't do to save you, nothing else mattered. Not the mission and definitely not the data.

But you know this, he's hard headed but instead of listening to Bucky you decide to test the waters. Looking up at the man which isn't hard, he has you on your knees, hands out in front of you but a gun inches from your head. "He said fuck off, if you shoot me you'll never know."

"What are you doing? Give him the drive, now." The growl that emphasizes the last word would usually be enough to have you shaking, but you don't give. Despite how rough he sounds, he tries to soften it "That's an order, give it to him sweetheart."

"Oh, he said fuck off again."

Bucky body runs hot, adrenaline pumping through his veins, warming his entire body as makes a b-line for the building you disappeared into a short while ago. "Give him the fucking drive."

It's useless, he hears rustling and talking but nothing he can understand but that's until he hears you talk to fast he can barely understand. "Office, we are in the first office second floor."

It's music to his ears, a second of relief but he feels dizzy as the found of a gun going off through the comlink almost paralyzes him.

"Fuck!" He yells, as he calls your name repetitively but there is no answer.

Nothing can stop him, he's running so fast he can barely register. It's all a blur, up the stairs through the main office until the stench of blood greets him.

There you are, lifeless and surrounded by your own blood.

His hands grasp gently grasping your head, blood seeping through his gapped fingers as good heart drops. "No..no." he mumbles to himself, managing to turn you over. It's hard to breath, he can't even think, see over the tears that blue his vision. A large lump forming in his mouth, it seals his throat.

There's too much blood to see anything, it soaks your scalp and mats into the hair around it. His fingers blindly look around for an exit wound but nothing is there, instead his focus falls to the rise and fall of your chest, still breathing.

Eyelashes flicker again cheekbones, disoriented and confused as Bucky let's out a sign of relief while you crunch your nose together in pain. He takes a second, just one to lay his head on top of yours and thank anything - anyone.

"Where does it hurt? I can't see, your bleeding too much baby.." Bucky watches as your eyes flicker from his steel blues and your hand reaches up to run a knuckle again his jaw, feeling the course fine hairs there. "Hey, listen to me, where does it hurt?"

Following the path of your shaky fingers he lets out a sigh of relief, the bullet managed to just graze the side of your head. The spot is hot under his trembling plam, beginning to scab and the hair is ripped away but he feels so thankful in that moment.

"He missed." It's not funny but both of you can't help but laugh as your sense of mind is returning. Hues of yellow and blue already forming under both of your eyes, no doubt from the head trauma.Bucky feels one of your hands push against his chest which he responds by tightening his core.

"Get off, I'm fine."

The look he gives you is filled with annoyance, eyes widening as if he can't believe the words that came out of your mouth, especially since his pants are wet and sticky seeing he is actually kneeling in a pool of blood.

"Are you crazy? You will bleed out." Bucky is quick to rip a piece of material from a nearby blanket, wrapping it tightly around your head but keeps pressure with his palm. "You need to get stitched up before you bleed out."

"I'm fine." Trying to push him away again but the look he gives is warning enough so you don't fight him as one arm slip underneath your knees, and then other supports your head against his chest.

"Scared me." Is all he manages to mumble as he starts his ascend towards stairs, a small kiss pressed against the uninjured part of your head. It's gentle, filled with so many words as his lips linger there, more so to reinsure that the skin is warm, full of color and lively. "Don't ever do that again, please."

"Bucky I couldn't just give it to them." Something is placed into his coat pocket while you tap it with a small smile. Hooded eyes weak, threatening to close with every passing second. "So I didn't, it's safe, the morons didn't even bother to search me."

Great, the mission is still ago but he's frowning. "I don't care about the mission. I care about you risking your life for some file, you disobeyed my orders I told you to give it to them and to tell them. If that bullet was an inch closer you would have died."

Silence feel over the pair, nothing else to be said because Bucky was right. The agreement was Bucky was in charge, in order for you to come everything would be up to him, especially because you weren't supposed to be there in the first place.

"I'm sorry, Buck." Guilt creeping over, pressing a small kiss to the underside of his jaw. Small tears beginning to blur vision but you're not sure if it's from the look of disappointed and fear that line his handsome features or that fact that you were that close to death and blood is soaking threw the make shift bandage and trailing down the side of your head. "I should have listened."

"I need a medic." Bucky brings his wrist to his lips before laying his cheek against the top of your own. The heavy, swish of air from the helicopter does little to him, he still stands confident and strong as he speaks.

"Don't cry, doll. I'm not mad, I promise." He pauses but you can feel his hands trembling, heart pounding inside of his chest. "Just scared, I'm covered in your blood and i hate it."

***

He was right, from head to toe, smeared across his face and dying his hands pink even after scrubbing them effortlessly in the shower does little to get it off. The smell of your blood is still fresh, enough to crinkle his nose with distaste. Every time he looks down it's a reminder that he almost lost you.

When he enters the bedroom with a towel around his waist you look up, head still spinning but now the wound is stitched up, white bandages knotted behind your head. After the initial shock left your system you notice the side affects, right below where the bullet grazed, your right ear is ringing. You can hear anything and honestly, the doctors couldn't give a definite answer if it will ever come back.

"How your head, did the medicine start working yet?" Bucky asks, throwing on a pair on underwear and doesn't bother with anything else.

With a defeat huff you shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut as the bright light of the bathroom hurts. Bucky notices and shuts it off before curling up into the bed, legs entangling with your own as he presses a soft kiss against your neck.

A few more soft ones pressed against your cheeks, the warmth gathering the few tears that slip from your eyes. A hand runs through the soft strands of the involved side of your head, a soft hum of comfort vibrates against it. "Shhhh, it's going to be okay sweetheart."

As the underside of his hand comes back up to comfort you the pink hue catches his attention once again and a frown fills his features.

"I don't want to say this..." his words are rushed and desperate but he can't keep it in any longer. "Every time I close my eyes I see you there, in your own blood. I can't shake the feeling of your blood oozing through my fingers."

Bucky is never one to hold his partner back and to be honest he thinks you're one of the best agents he's ever met, skilled and smart but none of that will matter if you are dead. "I don't want you going on active missions anymore."

"You don't get to decide that." You argue, he fears the worse as your head moves from his hand, no longer seeking the comfort. "You can't do that."

"I need piece of mind, you're the only person I have left." He argues. The bright moon creates just enough light to illuminate one side of your face through the window. Eyes are black and blue and red shot, a popped vessel on the corner of your right eyes almost swells it shit. They're also puffy, no doubt from the wound and all the crying. In pain, agonizing pain, who knew getting shot in the head would give you such a bad headache? His soft hands find you again, pulling you close and gently for you face him.

One hand slides over the skin of the back of your arm, squeezing the muscle there as he presses an experimental kiss against your lips in fear you'll pull away. You couldn't if you tried, pull away that is. The smell of his soap overrides any other sense, his skin is soft and warm, his lips gentle as he strokes your hairline, pushing the hair away from your forehead. "I didn't say you have to stop, just be more careful about it, no more active missions but you can go after, make the arrests, still get in on the action."

"So let everyone else do the hard work while I sit on the sidelines? That not who I am."

"Please." He sounds desperate, blue eyes roaming over the soft features of your face, the wrinkle of irritation pinching lines between your forehead, the curve of your nose to the fullness of your lips. Beautiful, breathtaking, he's never loved something so much before. The fact that you're still laying next to him, breathing makes him want to cry.

So he does, unwanted tears fall in a messy, zig-zagged pattern as he hiccups. A soft, small hand finds his head, the buzz cut smooth under finger-tips.

"Bucky, baby.."

"I have lost everyone. My parents, my friends... Steve. I don't want to loose you either." A sound so sad, choked up and stuttering jumps his chest as he cries into your neck.

It's long over due, he refuses to speak about it. The last year of his life as been challenging to say the least, he's trying to adapt but struggling. Coming to terms of what he's done over the last 70 years but also learning how to love again, how to become human again.

Steve still haunts his dreams, his best friend, the man who saved him from Hydra, from everything is now gone. The one person who has been constant, his backbone but now he's finding that in you and honestly, his heart cant take much more.

"It's alright Buck, I'm not leaving you. I promise, I'm right here." It doesn't help, his heart his burning, chest crushing under the pressure of tears. The ball of emotion and growing and growing in the back of his throat, making it hard to speak. "You can't leave me.. you can't."

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm okay."

"You're not okay, you can barely keep your eyes open. You have a gun shot wound in the side of your head! I felt it, your blood stains my hands. It's all I can smell. I thought you were dead... I can't take it."

What If he didn't miss? If Bucky had found you lifeless and cold?

"It's okay." You rub soothing circles to the middle of back, letting him cry it out. He needs it, he needs to talk about his problems, grow from them.

"What If we both stop?" Bucky's words silence you, "No more missions, we find a home, settle down. Just me and you."

The thought had crossed your mind more than once, a peaceful place to call your own with the man you love. Who knows what would happen? There's no doubt the pair of you would be bored out of your minds but can also gets jobs to fill the void, teach self defense classes.. start a family.

The thought alone makes your heart pound, so filled with love. "I want a normal life.. it's all I ever wanted. I can't imagine it with anyone else but I also need you safe. We can...." He's hesitant, not sure if they're the right words. "We can get married, get a home.. leave all this behind."

It's all so much, his words mix with the ache in the side of your skull but you don't need to think twice. The promise of Bucky forever is impossible to pass up on. "Yes."

"Yes to what?" Bucky's breathing is normal now, a few stray tears soaking your skin but his chest doesn't move. Like he's not breathing because he'll miss the words you say.

"All of it, to being your wife, to starting a normal life with you." After everything Bucky has been through, it's the least he deserves and you're going to give it to him. As his smile grows against your skin, you're breathless. Heart beating rapidly against his own and you swear you fall in love all over again.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fluff #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky imagine #buckysam #sebastian stan #bucky angst #james bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes

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neonlights92 · 4 years ago

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RUN: CHAPTER VI

Jeon Jungkook hops from bed to bed, sleeping with as many beautiful, rich women as he can possibly find time for. He’s young and attractive, with a silver tongue that gets him practically anything he wants. So when his friend and boss, Kim Taehyung, tells him it’s time to settle down, Jungkook takes it pretty badly. And when he finds out that the woman he’s destined to marry is, in fact, his little sister’s best friend, he is less than impressed.

You have spent your entire life trying to forget the way you feel about Jeon Jungkook. So when you find out that Jungkook is to be your husband - and that he is anything but pleased about it - your world is thrown into chaos. How can you survive a loveless marriage with the man you are hopelessly in love with?

WARNINGS: Language, some violence and smut

A/N: Final chapter friends!! Hope you enjoy it. We’ve still got the epilogue to go and then onto Joonie!

When you woke up with a start it was on a cold, stone floor.

Your body felt like it had been run over by a truck.

You could barely see anything - but you could smell burning - and you tasted ash.

Where the fuck were you?

“Hello?” You tried to move around and realised your hands were held together with what felt like rope, “Is anyone there?” Panic settled in your chest as you realised the situation you were in. It wasn’t looking hopeful.

Your mind drew back to the car crash - the men who’d pulled you and Namjoon out of the wreck -

Namjoon.

Your heart felt like it might very well fall out of your ribcage. Was Namjoon okay?

The last you could remember he’d seemed very much unconscious. You winced.

Shit.

What the hell was going on?

Before you could try to even begin to answer that question - the door to the room you were in swung open and light flooded your surroundings. You realised quickly you were in some kind of storage room - and you had been chained to some pipes sticking out of the wall.

“Seems our guest is awake.” Your blood ran cold at the voice.

You’d heard it only once before - but you’d never forget it.

Violetta.

“Y/N was it?” She took a step towards you and flipped a switch - lighting the room up.

Your chest tightened at the look on her face.

Unfiltered anger.

“What are you doing?” Your voice sounded like sandpaper, “What’s going on?”

“Surely you’ve seen enough movies to know what a kidnapping is.” She smirked - cold and cruel, “Or do I need to talk you through it?”

You coughed then, feeling bile climb up your throat.

“Jungkook will kill you -” “When he finds out.” She rolled her eyes, coming to crouch in front of you, “Yes. I’ve heard it all before.” Her eyes flickered across your face.

“Not even beautiful,” She scoffed, “What’s the point?”

You felt something akin to fear shiver down your spine.

“What are you going to do with me?” “Oh. I’m not going to do anything, darling. I don’t call the shots here. I just called in… A tip.”

“Jungkook will kill you.”

She pulled a face then - of mock pity.

“Oh you poor thing. You think he cares about you?” She rose a dark brow, “God. You really are smitten.” Maybe before - when you were insecure, when you weren’t sure what Jungkook felt for Violetta… You might have let her words move you. You might have even believed her.

Believed that Jungkook didn’t care about you. That you were disposable to him - a toy.

But you knew better.

You’d heard the relief in his voice when you called him. You remembered the things he had said - how he wanted to protect you and keep you safe.

Namjoon was right. Jungkook was a dickhead, but he cared about you.

“Anyway. I can’t tell you what they’re going to do,” She shrugged carelessly, “You weren’t the real target. Namjoon was. What a blessing you were with him though.”

Her eyes narrowed and you noticed for the first time how cold they were… Lifeless almost.

“Why would you call in a tip about Namjoon? What has he ever done to you?” “I just needed to get Jungkook’s attention. Thought this might work,” She flipped her hair across her pale shoulders, and stood, “He’ll definitely know I had something to do with it.” Your mind was racing - was Namjoon alright? You were hit with sickening dread as you considered the possibility that your friend might be hurt… Or worse, dead.

“What have you done with him?” You asked, throat dry, “You know Jungkook will never forgive you if something happens to him.” She shrugged and inspected the bed of her nails, as though you were boring her.

“I don’t much care for what he thinks about me now,” She licked her teeth and shot you a cold glare, “I just wanted to hurt him back in kind.”

And without another word, she stalked away from you - hovering in the doorway for a moment before turning back to give you something like a smile.

“I know you think you love him,” She said to you - voice cutting straight through your core, “But he’ll never love anymore more than himself.” She looked almost like she felt sorry for you.

“I hope you know that.” And then she slammed the door shut, and you were left alone.

It was hours before anyone came back to see you. First it was a guard with some food and water. He was stoic and unresponsive as you asked time and time again who he worked for - what they wanted from you.

You had been crying for hours by the time Namjoon was thrown in beside you. He crumpled on the floor in agony, and you noticed immediately how much he was building.

The man who had pushed him stood snarling in the doorway and you felt your heart freeze in your chest at the condition your friend was in. You couldn’t even help him - chained to the pipe as you were - and so all you could do was watch helplessly as he writhed in pain.

“Simmer in your wounds for a little while,” The guard grunted, “Let’s see if you feel like talking when the pain sets in.” His eyes flickered to yours and you felt sick from what you saw in them. Pure hatred.

The door slammed shut and you were alone with Namjoon.

He still hadn’t sat up - he was clutching his stomach in pain - and his head was bleeding. You couldn’t assess how bad the situation was - and you felt bile rise to your throat at the look on your friend’s face.

He looked like he was dying of pain.

“Namjoon! Namjoon. Please it’s me, Y/N. Can you talk?” “Y/N,” He rasped, eyes cracking open as he stared back at you - your heart turned in your chest at the way he was looking at you, “I can’t feel my fingers.”

Your gaze snapped down to his hands and you realised he hadn’t been clutching his stomach - he’d been shielding his fingers. They were mangled and broken and this time when the bile rose to your throat you couldn’t stop it.

When you were finished throwing up Namjoon smirked tiredly, “That bad huh?” “Joon…” You were crying now.

The situation was dire wasn’t it? Was there any hope you’d come out of this alive - in one piece?

Namjoon had pushed himself up against the wall, cradling his broken hand, and staring mindlessly at the ceiling.

“It’s Byun Baekhyun’s sister.” Your eyes snapped to Namjoon’s.

“What?” “The person who’s doing all this,” He added voice shaking with pain, “It’s Baekhyun’s sister. She wants retribution for her brother’s death. For the demise of EXO. Seems she was able to string together some EXO loyalists and, of course, Violetta.”

“What does she want then?” You asked, watching as Namjoon placed his broken hand on the floor, “Is she going to kill us?” “She wants information. To take down Bangtan. I suppose she thinks she’ll be able to break me, eventually.” He shrugged and cringed at the pain, “I don’t know.” “Are you going to be okay?” You were so concerned - so scared, “Your hand…” “It’s you I’m worried about,” He replied honestly, and his eyes searched your own carefully, “Whatever they do Y/N… Don’t give up anything. The moment they think they have what they need from you, your dead, okay?” Your heart thundered against your chest.

No, no, no. You weren’t a warrior. You couldn’t do this.

Why was this happening to you? You felt dizzy - the world was spinning - would you faint? Your eyes struggled to focus.

“Y/N. Listen to me.” Namjoon’s voice centred you. You looked up, “I know you can do this okay. Trust yourself. Do this for Jungkook.”

The door swung open and the same guard from earlier glared down at you.

“Boss wants to see you, Princess.” His voice sounded like nails scratching across a chalkboard. Your chest tightened, but you fought against the panic.

You couldn’t let him see you were scared.

You set your face like stone as he untied you, eyes moving to meet with Namjoon’s frantically. He gave you a small smile - a vote of confidence - and you pushed past the fear.

You could do this.

“So you're Jeon’s wife, huh?” The guard pushed you out into the hallway and grabbed you by the shoulders, “Does he fuck you like he has half of Seoul?” You supposed this was some kind of psychological torture - intended to further break you down.

Why would you stay loyal to a man who treated you like a mistress? But you knew who you married. You knew whose bed you shared.

And whether he could admit it to himself or not - you knew Jungkook loved you too.

You said nothing. You set your jaw. You locked your eyes on the door at the very end of the long, winding corridor.

You ignored the brush of his beard against the bare skin of your cheek as you walked.

He reeked of beer.

Of course he did.

“I think he even fucked a few EXO girls if I’m honest,” He sounded drunk - slurring, “Rumour has it he’s got a massive cock. Care to confirm?” You pressed your lips tighter together.

“Cat got your tongue lovely?” He chuckled darkly, “Well. We’ll see how long that lasts.” He opened a door to your left and pushed you inside, and your eyes moved to meet with the glare of a woman sat behind a metal desk.

“Please. Sit.”

You didn’t have a choice, obviously. You were forced into the seat roughly, and you winced when the bone of your elbow snapped as the man handling you handcuffed you to the chair.

“Thank you Taeil,” The woman looked up at the guard and smiled briefly, “That will be all.” He bowed and shot you another smirk, before disappearing. When the door clicked closed, the woman sighed heavily.

“I’m sure Namjoon has told you who I am.” Her voice was business-like, “But in case he hasn’t. My name is Sana.” Her eyes cut through you like glass. You shifted.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” You pinched the skin of your thigh - forcing yourself not to give in to the anxiety rushing through your veins. She couldn’t know how you felt.

“You broke his hand,” Your voice was bolder than you thought it would be, “He’s in so much pain.” “I admit. Taeil can be a brute.” Her eyes gave nothing away, “But he won’t die from it.” “He might lose his hand.” “A price we pay to live in a world like this,” She shrugged, “I’m sure you’re aware that Kim Taehyung killed my brother. He’s the only person I care about hurting, or killing. If you help me find him, I’ll let you both go.”

Your ears were roaring, “Bangtan is my family. What makes you think I would ever dishonour them like that?” “Because you must be sick and tired of being treated like shit,” Sana’s face was like stone - you had to admit a small part of you was impressed. How did she keep it so well hidden?

“What are you talking about?” “Jungkook. Your husband. His infidelities.”

Once upon a time those words would have sent you in a tailspin. Now you forced yourself to stay calm.

“You won’t get me to betray them,” You answered honestly, “You’re wasting your time.”

She considered you for a moment - eyes raking you carefully, slowly, like she was coming to some kind of a decision. Afterwards, she clasped her hands in front of her and sighed heavily.

“Remember I tried to be kind.” She told you, as she stood, making her way to the front door and knocking once, “Taeil.”

The portal opened and Taeil was stood grinning drunkenly, “Yes ma’am?” “She’s all yours.” Her eyes flicked to yours, once and she shrugged, “I don’t think it will take long.” Taeil’s eyes lit up with glee and you felt your stomach drop with a sickening thud. He was carrying a suitcase. You knew what that meant.

What kind of horrors suitcases like that, held.

He stepped inside the room and your anxiety rose once again, feeling like it might overwhelm you.

When the two of you were alone, he made his way towards you and you found your heart rising to your throat. You were panicking from the look in his eyes.

You’d seen that look before. Like a predator stalking his prey.

Like he was going to eat you up.

“Stay away from me,” You warned, voice cracking, “My husband will kill you -” He slapped you, once, across the face. Your chair screeched back from the force of the hit and when you turned to look at him you found your eyes couldn’t focus.

He’d disorientated you.

“God.” He growled, cracking his knuckles, “I can already tell this is gonna be fun.”

You shook your head, feeling tears come to your eyes as he grabbed you by the hair and yanked your hair backwards.

“Open up princess,” He grunted, shoving his fingers into your mouth and prying your lips open, “I’m just going to take this for good luck, okay?” He tapped your incisor and your eyes widened in horror, as he pulled a wrench out of the leather suitcase he’d brought inside with him.

“No, no please,” You begged, feeling your heart thud angrily against your chest, “Please…” But he didn’t pay you any mind as he placed the tooth between the mouth of the wrench, and twisted, popping out your incisor as pain shot through your entire being. You felt blood fill your mouth, and your eyes flashed with blinding light.

“Oh god…” You were sobbing as he stepped away, inspecting the incisor, “Oh god…” “Pretty.” He murmured smiling at you, “Wanna see?”

It would be the last thing he ever said.

Suddenly a thunderous bang resonated throughout the entire building you were in, and what sounded like a rain of bullets came showering down.

You could hear shouting outside - and your heart expanded - was that Bangtan?

The door to the room you were in swung open, and before you could blink, a bullet shot through the air and into the back of Taeil’s head. Within seconds he was dead, slumping over.

You screamed, your chest tightening like a balloon. God, god, god. Were you going to be next. You struggled against your restraints before your eyes met the woman standing in the doorway.

It was Park Jimin’s wife.

Switchblade.

She rushed towards you quickly, her eyes worried as she evaluated your condition.

“Are you okay Y/N?” She asked quickly, rooting around Taeil’s dead body for the keys to the handcuffs that were keeping you from being able to run, “God. He’s sick.” “It looks worse than it is,” You told her, spitting out more blood as it trickled down the side of your mouth, “Just get me out of here.”

She finally found the keys, and fiddled around with the lock, eventually freeing you.

“Can you walk on your own?” “Yes.” You stood quickly, eyes meeting her own, “What about Namjoon?” “Hoseok’s gone to get him,” She grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards the door, “He’s going to fine. C’mon. We have got to get out of here.”

The corridor was filled with chaos, and you felt your chest tighten. Members of Bangtan threw open doors, pulling out their adversaries and throwing them to the ground.

“Ignore it,” Switchblade told you sternly, “Follow me. And you’ll be fine.” You tried to listen to her.

Tried to ignore the cries of pain - the way members of EXO begged for their lives - the way only moments ago that had been you.

You watched the back of Switchblade’s head, followed her down the winding hallway.

You had to get out. You had to get out.

Someone to her left tried to knock the gun out of her hand, and Switchblade reacted in less than half a second - bullet through his ears.

Your chest tightened. You felt sick. You felt euphoric.

You were going to live, weren’t you?

Just as you reached the end of the hallway - just as Switchblade turned to give you a triumphant smile - somebody stood right in front of you both, blocking the way.

Immediately, Switchblade’s body language changed. She froze.

Because staring back at her was someone you knew she’d known her entire life.

Sana.

And she was pointing a gun at her.

“Switchblade,” Her voice was so calm, it scared you, “Nice to see you again. It’s been a while hasn’t it?” The polite tone in her voice belied the anger she felt. You could see the fire in her eyes.

“I suppose you’ll want to kill me now.” Switchblade answered coldly, “For Baekhyun’s honour?” “How could you betray EXO like that?” Sana seemed genuinely hurt for a moment - it flickered across her face - before it was replaced with that same look of cold contempt, “I thought you loved my brother.” “I did.” Switchblade’s fingers flexed as she pointed her own gun back at her old friend, “But they left me no choice.”

“As you’ve left me no choice. I hope you understand why I orchestrated all of this.” Switchblade nodded once, sharply, “I understand, Sana.”

“So?” She cocked her head to the side, “We’re at a deadlock. Neither of us can shoot.” You heard the regret in Switchblade’s voice, “You always did underestimate me, Sana. Not just you. But all of you. EXO.” And in the blink of an eye, Switchblade had slashed a knife she’d kept hidden behind her back across Sana’s throat. She was dead before her body reached the ground.

You worried you might vomit again.

“C’mon.” She turned to you - a look of regret on her face, “It’s over now.” As the front door swung open and sunlight flooded your eyes, you felt like you might very well break down in tears.

Switchblade led you over to the white van that she assured you would take you back home to Jungkook. Jimin sat behind the driver’s wheel, with Jin in the passenger seat.

You and Switchblade took the backseats.

“He loves you, y’know.” She told you as she climbed in beside you, “Jungkook I mean. We all see it.” There was a long moment of silence. You leaned your head back against the headrest and sighed heavily.

Then you finally admitted what you’d always hoped, always wanted. Always dreamed.

Your eyes met her and you nodded.

“Yeah,” You whispered, “I know.”

And then finally, you gave in and fell asleep.

You woke up hours later, in darkness.

Your throat was closed tight as your hands clutched for something - anything that might anchor you.

Where were you? Where were you? Sana’s dead body…

Namjoon’s mangled fingers…

Violetta’s cruel smile….

Taeil’s eyes…

“Oh god, oh god, oh god…” You were sobbing now, body wracking with the force of it, and before you knew it a light had switched on and two warm, strong arms were wrapped around you.

“Y/N. Oh my sweet baby. Oh Angel. I’m so sorry, so sorry…”

You knew that voice. You recognised that warmth.

As you pulled away, you found yourself staring into the beautiful eyes of your husband, Jungkook. He relaxed his hold on you but kept one arm around you, pushing hair away from your face and kissing away the tears.

“I’m so sorry Y/N,” You realised suddenly, that he was crying too, “My darling Angel. I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t know what he was apologising for, but you didn’t care. Instead you buried yourself further into the warmth of his chest, and breathed in deeply.

It was him. Jungkook. You were home. You were safe.

After a few moments of holding each other, you finally pulled away enough that you could look into his eyes. He was staring back at you like you might disappear into smoke right in front of him.

“Jungkook…” The word sounded foreign, even to your own ears.

Had it been so long since you’d said it?

“I’m so sorry Y/N. So sorry. About everything.” He brought a hand up to cup your cheek and you leaned into his touch. The smile that graced his lips caught your chest, “God. When they found Namjoon’s car - Jesus. I thought I might lose my mind. Y/N. My baby. My sweet, sweet baby.”

He kissed you then, softly, gently, like he was trying to take everything in. You let him take whatever he wanted from you - you gave him your heart, your soul, your mind freely.

You always had.

“How did you find me?” You asked after he’d pulled away to press kisses against your cheeks - your chin - your eyelids.

“Yoongi.” He murmured, pushing his forehead against yours and staring into your eyes like he might lose you any moment, “He was tracking Violetta. We knew she was behind this.”

“Is she…” Jungkook’s eyes hardened, “Yes. I made sure of it.”

You felt sick again.

She was cruel, awful… But did she deserve death? “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when Switchblade found you,” He ran his hands through your hair, bringing you closer, “But Taehyung wouldn’t let me go. He said I was too emotionally attached to you. It was too dangerous.”

You laughed a little, feeling a big, fat tear fall down the dip of your nose, “And are you?” “Am I what, darling?”

The softness, the affection.. The warmth. It was overwhelming. But you took everything he gave you.

“Are you emotionally attached to me?”

He paused for a moment, eyes searching your face fervently. Looking for something - something you knew he’d already found.

“God Y/N of course I am. Jesus. I am so attached - I can’t… I couldn’t go on without you,” He grabbed your face gently and brought your lips to his, pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth. His eyes were closed as he pulled away after a moment.

“Even though I’m missing a tooth?” You made a feeble attempt at a joke, smiling to display the gap where your incisor should’ve been.

You’d meant for it to be funny, but instead Jungkook’s eyes snapped open - dark and angry - like two swirling orbs of obsidian black.

“I wish I could bring him back so I could take out every single one of his teeth. And then some.” His eyes softened and he pressed another kiss to your mouth, “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.” You touched your fingers to his lips, and shook your head.

“I know you did your best, Jungkook.” Your body was flushed with warmth at the way he was holding you, “Please don’t hold yourself accountable for this.”

“But -” “No. This is the risk we take. The risk I take as a member of Bangtan. As your wife,” You pressed your cheek against his naked chest, “And it’s worth it.”

Jungkook squeezed you tighter at your words.

After a moment, you kissed the space in his chest where his heart beat.

“I love you,” You whispered against the skin, running your nose through his soft hair, “I love you so much it consumes me, sometimes.”

He paused. Then he pulled you away and tears misted his eyes again.

“God. I don’t deserve it. Don’t deserve you Angel.” He kissed you again, “But I love you too.” The words - though you’d known they were true - filled your heart with an indescribable sense of fullness.

“Say it again.” He chuckled and pressed a kiss to your shoulder, “God. Love you so much I can’t even think straight sometimes.” He ran his hand through your hair, “Love you, Angel. Love you.” The words set fire to your heart.

That night, when you made love, Jungkook told you again and again and again how much he loved you. How you completed him. Made him whole.

You returned the sentiments.

And then when you were both spent, lying in bed together, staring at each other in adoration - like two lovesick teenagers - he breathed out a sigh of relief. Like something he’d been holding in for years.

“I’ve been running for my feelings for you for years, Y/N.” He told you as he pressed his nose against yours gently, “That’s what Taehyung told me when he said he wanted us to get married.”

Your heart turned, “He did?” Jungkook nodded slowly.

“Was he right?” You whispered, fresh tears coming to the surface.

Jungkook pressed a kiss against your mouth that felt like a vow.

When his eyes were boring into your own again, he cupped your cheek and stroked your brow.

“Of course he was,” He laughed softly, “ A Capo is always right about these things.” And the truth was…

You couldn’t really argue with that.

FIN

#jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfiction #jeong jungkook #mafia au #gang au #arranged marriage au #jeon jungkook #fanfic #reader x jungkook

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op-imaginesandmore · 3 years ago

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How would Issho/Fujitora, Doflamingo, Smoker, Arlong, and Gin react to their s/o dying in their arms? (human s/o for all of them including Arlong) Sorry there are so many the posts you've made so far I've enjoyed immensely. I love your style of writing! (:

I know it’s been *checks notes* actual years since I have touched this blog, but I kinda wanted to try my hand at a few of the asks I have in my inbox. I’m going to do just Smoker, and with each of the asks with multiple characters I will pick the one I am most comfortable with writing and go from there. I hope you like it! And also, to anyone who reads this and likes it, thank you! But my ask box will remain closed until…idk, probably a long time. I don’t want to get any one’s hopes about about anything.

Pairing: Smoker x GN!reader

Warnings: Angst, character death (you asked for it), mild descriptions of injury, mentions of blood, implied smut (mildest of spice), unbeta’d if that is a warning

***

The OP was supposed to be a simple one. Get in, do reconnaissance, stay under the radar, come back with what info they needed on the pirate crew, get out.

No one thought Big Mom herself was going to recognize Y/N, because you were good at your job. You had been spying for the government for years, you’d worked with Smoker as one of his subordinates, had infiltrated countless pirate crews, revolutionary bases, treasonous scum that thought they could get away with anything, and had always succeeded in your job.

Lay low, go unnoticed, get the info, come back to him. It was a perfectly organized system that was like clock work, each gear turning for the purpose of civilian protection, and justice.

Until now.

Blood soaked the beach he was kneeling on, who’s it was, he had no idea. Could be his, was probably the pirates’ that were scattered around the Vice-Admiral like debris after a storm, but what infuriated him most was it was most definitely yours.

Wheezes, broken and wet, escaped from your lips, swollen eyes looking up into stoic grey that was like looking into twin hurricanes. Anger, righteous and intense, swirled around with frustration, concern, grief, and an emotion you knew from your quiet moments between soft sheets and the hard planes of his body.

So gentle you barely felt it, he lifted you from the sand like something precious, your blood dripping down his arms and pooling beneath your broken body. Your eyes, swollen and bruised, squinted up at him and a soft smile cracked painfully across your lips.

“Hey handsome” you rasped, a cough that was soaked with blood spurting out. Smoker put a large hand through your matted hair, jaw clenching as he tightened his hold on you.

“I’m gonna get you to the ship’s infirmary” he seethed through his teeth, the usual multiple cigars he kept there like pacifiers long gone. He made to get up, but the cry that came from your lips was shrill and heartbreaking. He immediately stopped, holding you to his chest in a hold soft enough for a newborn.

“I know it hurts, but you need-“

“Do you remember Alabasta?”

Smoker stopped, looking down at your broken body that had the audacity to be giving him the smile that always managed to make his heart flutter in his chest like a crushing school girl’s. He swallowed thickly, not trusting his voice and opting for a nod.

“You were such a baby about Strawhat, I thought you were going to implode when he had his crew mate save your life.” You reached a trembling hand to his face, stroking the rough stubble of his jaw. Almost involuntarily, Smoker leaned into the soft touch, turning his head to kiss your palm as memories of their time on the desert island came to mind.

It had been the first time you had ever yelled at him, calling him reckless and blind. Telling him you were thankful for Strawhat, grateful he had saved his “stupid, sorry, ass” so you had the chance to give him a piece of your mind. He had retaliated with a practiced speech about being your superior, about how you should worry more about your job than what he was doing, how you shouldn’t talk to him like that.

Then you had the nerve to yell at him that you didn’t have a choice but to worry about him. When he yelled at you back about the why, instead of answering him you kissed him square on the mouth.

Their first kiss was in the moment, it was all teeth clacking and sudden and Smoker had been blindsided, but also hadn’t been. The two of you had been flirting with the line between officer and government agent for months at that point, subtle glances and bold, shameless flirting on your part had morphed into soft and subtle touches and hours of listening to you talk about everything and anything.

When the shock of it had worn off a second after you started kissing him, he hadn’t expected for himself to kiss you back. He had adjusted your chin, softened the kiss, and wrapped his arms possessively around your waist and lifted you, your legs wrapping around his own waist in a way that sent chills down his spine as he carried you to his desk. He set you down upon it, gentle as can be, but your legs stayed around his waist, his hips grinding into yours in a way that had him growling. Your lips had been like soft, plush, velvet on his own chapped ones, tongue sinful in its exploration, running against his to beg for entrance.

The two of you broke apart, you were panting, your face flush as you put your head on his chest and listened to the quick thumping of his heart. He smelled like a cigar, a hint of sweet fruit in a haze of earth and smoke that always managed to make your head spin. A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as you licked the taste of him from them.

“I worry about you because I care about you Smoker” you looked up at him, your eyes twinkling in the soft glow of the sunlight coming in through the porthole of his cabin ��probably more than what’s appropriate for a working relationship, but I don’t want to hide it anymore.” You put your hand on his face, stroking the apple of his cheek in a way no one had ever dared touch him before “if you don’t want this though, we can stop right now and never talk about it a-“

Smoker was kissing you again, softer but with a passion that turned your whole body into jelly that molded into his. It was brief, too brief for your liking but he was looking at you with a smoldering gaze that promised more.

“We do this, we tell no one.” He said with conviction “I can’t have my subordinates thinking I have favorites, and fraternizing could get me and you in a lot of trouble.”

You nodded, understanding alighted in your eyes as you coyly bit your kiss swollen bottom lip.

“If that means I get to see your smoke powers at work in the bedroom, I’ll take an oath of silence”

He felt his body react, his hardened length against your thigh making you squeeze your legs together, bringing him impossibly closer.

Smoker’s chest tightened at the memory.

“I’m glad” you said, swollen gaze growing distant “that it all happened the way it did. The last year and a half has been the best of my life” another cough, violent and cracking in its intensity that it had you whimpering into Smokers chest, and his eyes were burning with the tears that were inevitable now.

“Y/N-“ Smoker started, the deep rumble of his voice cracking “baby, you’re gonna be fine, let’s just-“ he took a breath, steeling himself to try and lift you up again, but your head falling limp against his chest stopped him, made the breath leave his lungs and, for the first time in a very long time, Smoker felt true terror grip his careful self control.

“Y/N?” His voice, so unlike the commanding bass it usually was, soft and broken as the body he held “Y/N? Sweetheart c’mon, wake up” he shook you, your head lolling to one side and then the next awkwardly, before it rested back on his chest and Smoker realized your uneven breathing had stopped, the rasping, painful breaths gone quiet and the only sounds to be heard on the bloodied beach were Smoker’s own uneven hyperventilating “Y/N please! You-you can’t do this! Baby, c’mon-open those pretty eyes, please! Y/N? Y/N!”

He held on tight to your body as he slowly broke down, the tears running rivers down his face that had smudges of your blood on it from holding your body up to it, his face buried into your hair as if he could revive you if he held on a little tighter, begged a little harder to whatever god or devil would listen. His cries broke through the silence, their only companion the lapping of water against the sand and gore. He rocked back and forth, clinging to your lifeless body like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

That was how Tashigi found her Vice-Admiral, sobbing into your hair as he begged you to wake up. Her heart shattered into a million pieces, but she had to keep him moving, had to remind him of the duty he still held.

“Vice-Admiral Smoker?” She breathed, caution in her tone, heartbreak threatening to pull her under when his breath caught. He looked up at Tashigi with a tsunami of emotions that she had never seen him display. Heartbreak and grief worked in tandem to make the ever stoic and statuesque officer crumble to his knees.

“I’ve gathered the survivors of our platoon, we’re awaiting your orders, sir”

There was a pregnant pause that seemed to stretch for an eternity, Smoker looking down at his dead lover, the emotions that had been raging across his face draining from his being, and was replaced once again with the careful stoicism that his position required of him.

He got up slowly, you still cradled against his chest as he looked out at the horizon. It was another long moment before he spoke.

“We bury our dead, then we take the fight to the one who started this.” There was a fury in his words that struck fear into Tashigi, a fear for how reckless her Vice-Admiral was about to be against a Yonko.

“But Smo-“

“Did I fucking stutter?” He whipped his head around, the grey of his eyes burning with an unbridled rage that seemed barely contained “I’m not gonna rest until every last piece of filth that carries the name of Charlotte are wiped from every ocean from the East Blue to Raftel.” He glanced down at the body in his arms, a soft, broken look before the rage hit again.

“They’re gonna pay for what they’ve taken, I’ll make sure of it personally.”

#smoker #one piece #Smoker x reader #Smoker One Piece #angst #crying #character death #tashigi

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yuta-senpai · 4 years ago

Text

Deceit Chapter 1 | Hendery

- Genre: Smut

- Warnings: Mentions of infidelity, lying, degradation, mirror sex, restrained hands, choking, unprotected sex, and mentions of divorce

- Word Count: 2.6K

Previous | Next

You sat on the couch waiting for your husband Hendery to get back from work. He was late as always, and tonight you had dinner plans for the 10th anniversary of your marriage which it seems like he forgot about. You understood that being the CEO of an entertainment company required a lot of time and work, but this was not his first time missing plans and not even telling you he would be late.

He was officially 4 hours late and you had missed your dinner reservation, you were tempted to change and just go to sleep, but you wanted him to see what he missed out on. You were pulled away from your thoughts when you heard the front door open and a soft giggle. You stood up from the sofa and walked over to the door.

Hendery was standing there with his arm around his secretary, his eyes wide, then a big smile spread across his face, “Hehehe hi princess. You look good. Why you so dressed up, just want me to eat you up?”

You were wearing a tight pink dress, a white lace bra, and thong set underneath. Pink was his favorite color, you weren’t crazy about it but would wear it for him.

His secretary bowed and apologized, “I’m sorry he went out for a meeting and got way too drunk on Soju.” You arched your eyebrow, “So he had a business meeting? Would have been nice for him to tell me that.” She seemed annoyed, her eyebrow twitching, “I’m sorry it was last minute, did you two have plans for tonight?”

You nodded then sighed and walked over, taking his arm and helping walk him to the living room to sit on the couch.

“Thanks for bringing him home, I’ll deal with him.” She bowed again then left quickly. You had always known he was fucking her behind your back, she was trying to win him over and she had won. You understood why, Hendery was attractive, young, and rich. He was only 32 years old. You two met when he was 20, dated for 2 years, then got married and have been together ever since.

Hendery underestimated your intelligence, thought that you wouldn't notice him coming home later than normal, him smelling like perfume, the lipstick marks on the collar of his shirts, and his sudden loss of desire to sleep with you. He seemed to forget you were a college-educated woman with a full-time job, not just some naive housewife who would just take it.

You stood over Hendery who was slouched back on the sofa smiling really big.

“You are just too pretty my princess, so perfect. I love you so much, and want to love you forever.” He opened his arms to pull you down into his lap. You shook your head ‘no’ and sat down on the table behind you.

He pouted, “Why do you not wanna sit on me?” Tears welled in your eyes, he really had no clue what today was, he had no clue why you had dressed up, he was too busy fucking his secretary, but you weren’t going to cry in front of him so you pushed the tears away. You used to love him but he hurt you too much.

“Do you not remember what today is Hendery?” He thought for a moment, “Hmmm Saturday?” You rolled your eyes, “Yes but do you have an idea of what the date is?” He thought again and his face fell, “May 4th” You nodded and he seemed to sober up, “I’m so sorry princess, work has just been crazy and I forgot.” He leaned forward and grabbed your hands but you pulled away, “Sorry isn’t going to work anymore Hendery. This keeps happening, you should just go to your secretary, you spend more time with her anyway, I don’t even know why we are married anymore.” He looked at you with sadness in his eyes, his breathing quickened. “Y/N I can’t lose you, because I need you. You are the air I breathe, the blood in my veins, and just my everything.” You noticed he just ignored the secretary comment which pissed you off and the way he seemed completely sober now as if he was faking being drunk, “You are a fucking liar. You are only afraid of losing me, because I am always here for you, always putting up with your shit. You don’t care that it’s me only that somebody is here for you.”

He took your face in his hands, his eyes watering, but no tears falling quite yet.

“Please Y/N, don’t leave me.” Tears slid from your eyes as you finally broke down, he leaned in and kissed the tears away. He hovered over your lips and eyed you as if asking for permission to kiss you.

You knew he didn’t deserve it, and it would only hurt you more, but figured having sex with him one last time wouldn’t hurt.

You closed your eyes and he took that as a ‘yes, connecting his lips with yours. He pulled you onto his lap, holding you close to him. He kissed down your neck pausing every couple moments to speak, “I - will - make sure - you know- just - how much - I - love you.”

He slid your dress up your thighs and over your ass. “Look at those pretty panties, I love them, you really know how to drive me crazy, but would rather see that pretty pussy of yours” He laid you down on the couch, and slid your underwear off, throwing them to the side.

“I’m gonna make tonight all about you princess. Make sure you feel good.”

He held onto your right leg, then kissed down from your ankle all the way to your inner thigh he lingered on your inner thigh, sucking and leaving a couple of hickeys.

He then kissed all the way down hovering over your core, he stared into your eyes then kissed your clit.

A soft sigh left your lips, and you let both of your legs rest on his shoulders. He focused on your clit, alternating between lightly sucking and licking. You moaned and clamped your thighs around his head. He chuckled which vibrated against your core making you shudder, “Don’t suffocate me down here princess, although at least I’d be dying because of your pussy.” You rolled your eyes and he smiled at you, then went back to work on your clit. He was more aggressive this time, trying to work your orgasm out of you. He backed away and licked his middle and ring finger on his right hand then slid his fingers into you. You dug your fingers into his hair and moaned. His fingers curled up inside you rubbing against the most sensitive spot and his tongue ran perfectly across your clit, electrifying your bundle of nerves. You pulled on his hair and moaned, “Ahh right there Hendery.”

He let his tongue lap at that certain spot and made sure his fingers curled against the spot. Your toes curled and your eyes rolled back into your head. Your thighs clamped around his head as you came. He stayed working on those spots, working you through your orgasm.

Even if Hendery was basically shit at the husband thing he always knew how to make your orgasm. Once you came down from your high you released your grip on his hair and opened your thighs. Hendery looked up and smiled at you, his face covered in your juices. He wiped his face with the back of his hand. You smiled back making him crawl up your body and kiss you. He hovered over you, then backed away, standing up. He leaned down and picked you up in his arms, carrying you bridal style. You giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck.

You thought he was carrying you to the bedroom but he turned down another hall. You knew where he was going, he hadn't brought you here in months. He pushed the door open and flipped the first switch. The room filled with a dim red glow.

You looked around the room and sighed. Hendery when you two were dating was all up for experimenting and loved the kinky side of sex, just like you. So when you two got married and moved here he put together this room as a sort of a sexual retreat.

He sat you down on the floor. Then walked over and flipped a light on so that there was a brighter glow from the floor by the mirrors.

He walked over to you slowly, he untied his tie as he walked over. He looked at you closely, eyeing your body like an animal ready to pounce.

"On your knees now princess. Face the mirror."

You got onto your knees and looked at him in the mirror. He crouched down behind you and lifted your dress over your head leaving you just in your white lace bra.

He kissed your shoulder and wrapped his arms around your waist looking at you in the mirror. You watched him closely, the way he touched you was just as loving as ever. You had no doubt Hendery still loved you very much but he didn’t love you enough not to cheat. He wanted to be married to you and have your love but he wanted to get the sex from somebody else.

He kissed along your neck leaving a few hickeys, then he unhooked your bra letting it fall. He bit his lip, “Fuck, you are so sexy, princess.” He eyed the new large tattoo adorning your underbust and raised his eyebrow, “When did you get that?” You sighed, “Several months ago. You would have known if you ever wanted to see your own wife naked. I tried to ask you about your opinion but you ignored me. Then when I decided to just get it, you never even gave me the chance to show you with all of those last nights at the office.” He looked sad, you think deep inside he knew he had lost you, that this was a goodbye. He lost all of those wishes of having children, growing old together, and the broken promise of ‘till death do we part.

*Flashback*

You laid on Hendery’s chest listening to the beating of his heart. His hand slowly stroked your head.

“I love you so much Y/N” “I love you too Hendery. Forever and always.” You looked at him and he smiled, “Forever and always.” He kissed you and pulled you over to straddle him. “I can’t wait to grow old with you, raise children together, and just be with you forever. I don’t know how I will function in life without you, you are the only thing I will ever need.” *End of flashback*

It hurt you, you remember how just a few years ago things were so different. You wanted to hope it would work, but nothing could repair this broken love.

He gripped your hands, “Can I tie your hands?” You nodded and he took his tie and wrapped it around your hands restricting you.

He helped push you forward, your face pressed against the floor and your ass in the air. You watched in the mirror as he undid his belt and slid his slacks and underwear just far enough down to pull his dick free.

“Aren’t you going to get undressed?”

“Why? I said tonight is about you.” You sighed, “But you know I like your body and I haven’t seen it in months.” “I don’t want to, now don’t ask again or I will be rough.” It felt degrading and not in a good way. He didn’t even go to the effort to take his clothes off for you, and it made you feel like just a hole for him to fuck, not his wife.

He lined himself up with your core and sunk into you. A deep moan left his lips and you whimpered.

The angle making his thrusts feel more intense since he didn’t give you a chance to adjust to his size.

You closed your eyes and bit your lip, “Eyes open princess, watch me fucking you, remember who your husband is and who this pussy belongs to. Let me hear those moans.”

You opened your eyes to see Hendery’s jaw held tight in pleasure, his eyes dark, his hair perfectly framing his face, his right hand pushing against your hands tied behind your back, and his left hand against your hip.

It did annoy you that he claimed you as his but was out cheating, but you knew one of his kinks was claiming you and you used to love that but not anymore.

“Look at how beautiful you are full of my cock, the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” Your face flushed, he moved his hand from your back to your hair, pulling you up against him. Your back pressed against his chest and your breasts bounced with each thrust. His hand wrapped around your throat. He pushed on your carotid artery, closer to your ear, restricting the blood flow to your head making you feel light-headed.

Strangled moans escaped your lips. Watching him fuck himself up into you was hot, his brow set in determination.

His left hand moved down to your core, his fingers rubbing against your clit. Your body jerked and he chuckled lowly in your ear, “Too much for you princess. Can you not handle my cock?” You whimpered, “Ahh yes, of course, I can. I don’t think you can handle this pussy and that’s why you cheat.” He snarled and started thrusting up into you harder, his grip on your throat tightening. You had made him angry, and this further proved he was cheating, if he wasn’t he would have tried to reassure you he wasn’t.

Your hands pressed against his abs through his shirt as they were still tied up.

He bit down on your neck sending a wave of pleasure through your body. You tightened around his member as you came, he grunted and had to slow his thrusts to not finish yet.

He released his grip on your throat and slowly pulled out from you. He held you against him so you could catch your breath.

“You did amazing princess.” He kissed your cheek

He untied your wrists and just held you in his lap for a moment.

“Princess, I want you to ride me.” “Okay” You got off his lap and he helped you up, leading you over to the bed. He laid down and pulled you down on top of him.

You hovered over his dick then gripped it and guided it into you. You both moaned and he gripped your hips.

Leaning forward you braced yourself on his chest. Watching him now made you wonder where things went wrong, what made you two grow apart. You could still feel the love, like there was no doubt in your heart that Hendery loved you and always would but somewhere along the way he lost whatever had drawn you to each other.

You held his shirt and went to unbutton it wanting to see his chest and abs one last time. He gripped your hands, “I said no.” You raised your eyebrow then quickly grabbed the neck of his button-up, ripping the buttons off as you pulled his shirt open. His chest and neck were littered with hickeys, not from you, and very fresh.

You froze and he held onto your wrists.

“I-” He tried to pull you down to hug you but you fought back. You got off him and rolled down beside him.

“Hendery I want a divorce”

#nct #nct smut #wayv #wayv smut #nct hendery #wayv hendery #hendery #hendery smut #nct scenarios #wayv scenarios #nct imagines #wayv imagines #nct fanfic #wayv fanfic #nct x reader #wayv x reader #hendery x reader

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thatharringrovehoe · 3 years ago

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So I've been playing Dishonored which is my favorite game and this popped into my head so now you all have to suffer with me. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*.✧

He's so fucking cold. Like he’s been plunged into a lake mid winter and can’t find his way to the surface. Hands shaking, Billy sifts clumsily through the box of his mother’s things he keeps hidden in the back of his closet. He's found that if he thinks about the good times, picnics at the beach under the California sun, the thing oozing it's way though his brain losses just a bit of it's grip. Leaves Billy with enough motor function to stumble around his bedroom, trying to find the right pieces. And fucking hell it’s been so long since he's done this. He can remember helping his Ma when he was little, chubby fingers clenched tight in her cotton sundress as she arranged the items on the table just right. Pricked her finger to draw sigils in a language long forgotten, her voice a soft cadence through the bedroom as she hummed Billy’s favorite lullaby. No words, just a beautiful mournful thing. Humming a song of grieving loss. Billy doesn't know why he likes it so much.

“Remember baby. When you offer your gifts they have to be special. Well loved. Something that brings you joy every time you use it.”

His mother kept a pair of earrings on the cloth covered table. She never wore them when his father was home. Took them out and put them back on the little rickety stand in the back of her closet every day before he came back from work. Dangling silver daggers with the onyx beads. Billy shoved one straight through his left earlobe when he turned fifteen and has barely taken it out since.

His Ma told him that everything he built his shrine with had to mean something. Had to be something he treasured. From the fabric to the stand itself. So Billy tried his best. Draped his best leather jacket over the milk crate that held all of his favorite hair products. Placed his Ma's Fleetwood Mac album next to one of his mother's silver earrings (the one he always wears), arranged as neatly as he can manage. He’d had to prick his thumb seven times because to his dawning horror it kept healing over. Just another tally mark towards something being really fucking wrong. And he remembers the warehouse. Can still feel the slimy caustic sludge being pumped down his throat by a fucking tentacle. But he’d hoped it had been a dream, a nightmare from reading to many Lovecraft novels. Billy curses as he slices open his thumb for what feels like the millionth time.

Apparently not.

He's drawn the characters just how he remembers. His mother had made him practice every day, showing him each and every shape and line, drawn in colorful crayon. She gave him a cookie every time he got them right. Never hung them up on the fridge though. Didn't want his father to see.

He can feel the shadow creeping through his blood, dragging it’s claws against his veins. It might not know exactly what he’s doing yet, but it must be able to feel the intention. Billy thinks of ocean waves and a soft hand running through his curls. Fights the pull at the back of his mind to just give in. To sleep. His hands shake harder.

Fuck, where is it?! Billy combs through records and trinkets, a bottle of her perfume. He’s desperately hoping it didn't get lost in the move because his mother never taught him how to make one. Hell, he's pretty certain that he wouldn't be able to find the pieces he needs in Hawkins anyway. Not like Melvalds has a supernatural voodoo isle.

Then finally, finally he finds it. Lifting up his mother’s satin scarf it comes tumbling out to land on the floor with a clatter. Bleached white and beaten smooth by the waves, it's about the size of a sand dollar. Billy picks it up, places it in the palm of his hand. He still remembers the day he found it out on the shore. Washed up between some sea glass, the leather bindings still somehow soft even soaked with salt water. Etched with symbols and shapes Billy will never understand. When Billy showed it to his mother an unreadable expression crossed her face. It was that evening she showed him her shrine.

The rune seems to hum against his skin, an otherworldly song from far away ghosting past his ears. The thing that’s trying to Shanghai Billy’s brain writhes. It's angry, but more than that it’s fucking terrified and Billy has never been more sure of anything in his life. This was a good idea. But his limbs are getting colder, heavier. Whatever this evil piece of shit is it doesn’t like what Billy’s doing. He has to fight against the deadening of his limbs, crawling towards his shitty attempt at a shrine from his place on the floor. His vision is starting to grow dark when he finally clutches on to the milk crate, placing the rune between the earring and his cassette tape. And he knows that there's no guarantee. That whatever his Ma prayed to every night never shielded her from Neil’s fists, didn’t do a damn thing as the cancer slowly drained her down to nothing. That sometimes (most times) when someone would call out to the void the only thing they heard in return was their own disappointment. But he's got no other options. This is his trump card. His last resort. If this hocus pocus bullshit doesn’t work then Billy is up shit creek without a paddle. With a frustrated shout against the nightmare pulling him in, Billy begs.

“Please! Fuck, help me! I'll do anything, c’mon just- please!”

The air in Billy’s bedroom all of a sudden seems to shudder. The shadows flicker and meld together, reaching outwards. The sound of dry fall leaves blowing in the wind, a wail of a thousand dying worlds ricochets off the walls. Then nothing. Billy scrunches his eyes shut against the sting of tears. Fuck, of course it didn’t work. Story of his life. He called for help and just like always it doesn't mean shit. No one is coming to save him.

“Well well well. Certainly been a long time since someone summoned me like that. Very old school.”

Billy’s eyes snap open, the surprise and adrenaline enough to fight the heaving weight of his limbs to raise his head. And there, perched on his shitty milk crate shrine, sits the most beautiful boy he's ever seen. He's got hair the color of soil after it rains. High cheekbones and full lips, milky white skin dotted with a constellation of beauty marks. Billy didn't know what he expected but it certainly wasn't this. The boy god is dressed in a swanky leather coat the color of charcoal with pants to match. Eyes like an oil spill, inky black and endless. With a good look at Billy, they narrow dangerously.

“I thought I fucking told you not to touch this world. You want a repeat of last time?”

Whatever deity he summoned looks pissed as hell. Did he not do it right? Maybe the items weren’t good enough. That would be just his luck. He's so confused he almost doesn’t notice it right away. The shadow slowly working it’s way through his body has stopped, retreated a little even.

“I-... I don't know what you’re talking about. Please, there's something wrong with me. Something got put inside of me and I need it out. Please, help me.”

Billy hasn’t begged since his Ma was takin her last breath in that damn hospice bed. Didn't see the point when it always got you nowhere. But now he can't make himself stop. Cuz he's never been this scared before. The things this monster inside him wants him to do. It's so strong, like he’s fighting a steam roller. He's got no hope on his own.

The boy sitting on his best leather jacket stills. Cocks his head to the side slightly, considering. Then those pretty pink lips are spreading out into a gleeful smirk. Slides off the shrine to settle on his knees in front of Billy. Reaches out his hand to cup Billy’s jaw gentle enough it makes him want to cry.

“You can't get a good enough hold of this one can you? Interesting. Tell me trouble maker, what's your name?”

That voice, deep and ethereal, seems to echo from all around him. He can feel it vibrate in his bones. He wants, no, needs to answer.

“Billy. Billy Hargrove.”

The boy smiles now, all gleaming pearly whites. If Billy looks long enough reality starts to flicker. And for just a second all he can see is teeth sharp like knives in a Cheshire grin. There for a moment and gone in a flash. The hand on his jaw tightens just the slightest fraction.

“Well Billy Hargrove. You seem to find yourself in quite the predicament. That parasite sucking on your soul is an old acquaintance of mine. He's one nasty little shit.”

If a brain washing shadow monster could feel indignant he’s pretty sure that’s what's happening now. Whatever was hijacking Billy's mind has curled up somewhere tight, sunk it’s teeth in deep. Cornered like a threatened animal.

“Please, I’ll do anything you want. I can’t… I can’t fight it. It's too much.”

There’s enough tears leakin down his face that it's soaking the front of his shirt. The boy is giving him this look, almost amused. The longer he holds Billy’s jaw the more the monster losses his grip, and Billy is ready to do anything at this point. Because that thing stuck to his brain wants him to find people. Feed it people. Wants Billy to drink all the chemicals in the supply shed at the pool. Told Billy that if he tried to fight it would take Max first and he can't let that happen.

The boy seems to come to a decision, grabs Billy’s hands to help him shakily to this feet. He doesn’t let go even when they’re both standing.

“You know there’s not many who can fight his hold for this long. I'm impressed.”

He steps forward until his chest is practically pressed up against Billy's. He smells like ozone and smoke, bottomless black eyes trained on stormy blue. Reaches up to tangle his fingers into Billy’s curls, sending tingles across his scalp. Smiles wider at the small noise that escapes Billy's throat.

“I'll help you Billy Hargrove. But in return, you have to do something for me.”

Billy's nodding before he can even really register what’s being said. Anything. He'd do whatever this pretty boy asked as long as he keeps touching Billy like this. Gentle, with a reverence no one has ever bothered to show.

“I need you to kick this little shit back into the hole he crawled out of. Can you do that for me Billy? I wanna see how your story pans out trouble maker. Wanna see what you do when someone gives you a chance.”

Billy nods again, breathless. The boy chuckles, the sound saccharine. Like warm honey dripping down his spine.

“Gunna have to use your words baby.”

Billy swallows, the click of his dry throat loud in the warm personal bubble they’ve created.

“Yes. Yeah. I’ll do it. Whatever you want pretty boy, please.”

It comes out a whisper but the boy hears it all the same. The boy smiles bright, pulls Billy forward. Soft warm lips press against his own and Billy is floating. He's never been kissed like this before. Slow and deep, the boy's tongue pressing in to curl and slide. Stuff him full. Billy's shaking for a whole other reason now. Reaches out to grip the boy's coat, cool to the touch where Billy is burning. Fire rushing through his veins, and he's already so close just from this. Whimpers brokenly into the kiss.

The boy pulls him in impossibly closer, slots his thigh between Billy’s legs, pushes up up up. And Billy is right fucking there, grinds down as he swaps spit with an old god in his shitty bedroom with the peeling yellow paint and the door that locks from the outside. Can feel the tell tale tingle spreading behind his navel.

“ ‘m gunna cum! Fuck, more please!” Billy mumbles curses into the kiss, breath hitching as his balls draw tight. The boy smiles against his mouth, yanks his curls back to bite into the meat of his neck and Billy’s gone, pulsing rope after rope of cum into his underwear.

“Oh my- .. Fuuuuuck. Yes! Uhhhnn!” He's panting like a dog as he slumps forward into the boys shoulder. Gentle fingers card through his hair as aftershocks zap up and down his body. A kiss is pressed behind his ear, a soft warmth flooding his core. He can't feel the shadow anywhere.

“So good for me sweet thing. Makes me want to keep you.”

It's said so quiet, like the boy doesn’t intend for it to be heard. Billy presses his face into his neck. There's no heartbeat under the boy's skin.

“You could. I want you to.” Whoever this is, whatever he is, he came for Billy. Answered his literal cry for help when no one else did. He doesn't know what he has to offer but he wants to give this impossible boy everything.

The boy in question hums. Brings Billy's left hand up to kiss the back of it. His skin feels hot under his lips, bordering on uncomfortable. Like stepping on sun scorched pavement. When the boy pulls back there’s a tattoo on his hand. A strange design that looks vaguely like a compass. It's the same mark as the one on the middle of the rune sitting behind them.

“I haven't given my mark to someone quite so special in a while. Try not to disappoint me Billy Hargrove.”

The boy goes to pull away but Billy still has his hand clenched tight on his coat. Panic wells up in his chest. Doesn't want to end whatever this is quite yet.

“Wait! What’s-…what's your name?” Which is a valid question he thinks. And probably one he should have asked at some point before he started grinding his dick on the guys leg. Oh well.

“I've had many names, none if which would hold any significance for you. Call me what you want trouble maker. I'll be there when you need me.”

Billy believes him. Then between one blink and the next the boy is gone, tendrils of dissipating smoke the only evidence he was ever there. A deep voice whispers from nowhere and everywhere.

“Ask your sister about the monsters in the woods.”

On the shrine the only thing that remains is the rune, both his gifts having apparently been accepted. Billy gives a hysterical bark of laughter at the thought of some higher being listening to Fleetwood Mac somewhere out in the void. It gives him an idea. He drags his lips across the fresh mark on his hand, mumbles into his skin.

“Thanks Stevie.”

#i don't know what this is but here ya go!#Outsider!Steve #Billy Hargrove #harringrove #dishonored au #yes Billy gets powers but i haven't decided what they are yet #that hoe writes #stranger things #Neil you better watch out my boy has a literal old god for a boyfriend now

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onbeinganangel · 4 years ago

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warmup ficlet for @the-starryknight! she picked 'i know we’re not together but i might die today so i’m going to kiss you just in case there is no later' from this wee list of kisses and asked me to drarry it up and I rubbed my hands together in glee knowing fully well i was about to put together a hell of an angst sandwich

not beta'd, not edited, just angst with a happy ending directly from my heart to yours! (cw: some canon-style mentions of blood, violence, injury and also kind of patient/healer relationship)

damned if you do it and damned if you don’t

(draco/harry, 1.8k)

Draco had pictured it so often throughout his life he sometimes couldn’t honestly believe he had made it all the way to twenty-seven.

He remembers saying it after being thrown on his arse by the family Abraxan. He’d been very little, then. Five or six, maybe. He’d cried, big fat tears running down his face, and when his Mother finally managed to pull his tiny fists down and stop him from hiding his crying behind them, he’d announced, “Maman, I am dying.” She had assured him he very much wasn’t. They’d had scones with big heaped spoonfuls of clotted cream and raspberry jam in the garden and he’d soon forgotten about his fall.

A few years later, he fell off his broom and straight into the lake. Dobby had spelled him dry to avoid him getting in trouble and he was still heaving, coughing up water and panicking when he told the Elf, “Dobby, I am dying.”

Then there was the incident at Hogwarts. He still felt the sharp talons on his skin way after the hippogriff was far, far away, as he bled, holding onto the gashes on his arm and announced to the whole class, “I am dying, it’s killed me!”

Between the ages of sixteen and eighteen, it was more constant. It was the heavy burn of the Mark settling on his arm, it was the feeling of all his organs lighting up in pain and his bones breaking under Crucio after Crucio, it was the sounds of Nagini slithering outside his bedroom door at night, the sickening thud of death, the unsettling screaming, his aunt’s shrill nails-on-chalkboard voice, Greyback’s growls. A neverending chant of “I am dying, I am dying, I am dying, I am dying” inside his head.

It was confiding in a ghost, it was crying because the fear of failure was so intense he reckons he would have preferred to be dead then, it was the only person he believed was actually kind and pure and incapable of willingly inflicting pain on anyone slashing him open and leaving him for dead on a bathroom floor. Draco had looked at Snape, murmuring spell after spell over him, and he’d whispered, “I am dying.”

It was learning how to be numb, how to not feel, how to keep everyone out of his mind and away from his thoughts, it was the paralysing terror of crawling around in the shadows, the bone-deep dread of dropping leftover bread rolls on the floor by the bars on the dungeon and kicking them swiftly into the other side, where they kept his classmates. It was sneaking a blanket or two down and saying to himself, “If they find out…”

It was the persistent horror of knowing you don’t believe in what you’re doing and knowing you’re damned if you do it and damned if you don’t. Between the ages of sixteen and eighteen, Draco would lie in his bed at night — his own at home, his own in the dorms, Pansy’s in the girls’ dorms when it got bad, and he would say it to himself, hoping it would become true, “I am dying.”

But he hadn’t. Despite all odds, Draco is happy. Twenty-seven. He’s got friends, a flat, a job he loves and he’s good at. He’s no longer spat at on the streets. He survived, he made amends, he managed it all. Most of all, he had managed not to die.

Until now, that is. This time he’s pretty certain he won’t be afforded such luck. He feels the curse hit him square on the chest. It’s his own fault, really, for not realising there was someone already in the room he entered. He’d been too busy throwing a rather flourished Incarcerous across the room at the two potions dealers he’d been running after for the past five minutes to notice the third man.

Draco is falling backwards before he has time to even think about anything, his wand clanking noisily seconds before he joins it on the floor.

Then: “Incarcerous.” He hears it — muffled but there. And after, “Fuck, Draco.”

He’s way too familiar with the way his Auror partner works not to know it’s him when the strong arms wrap around him and pull him up. “Oh, Merlin,” he hears. His eyes flutter back open for a couple of seconds and he can tell he was right, even if it’s all blurry: red robes, orange hair, worried blue eyes.

Fear. “I am dying,” he thinks. “Harry,” he says.

“You’re gonna see Harry alright,” Ron says. “He’s gonna have words about having to heal you again,” it’s almost like a joke. Like a Ronald-typical joke. But there’s an edge of worry there. There’s panic. Ronald doesn’t panic.

And it dawns on him. Draco tries to look down but it’s all red. The burgundy of his robes, the sticky dark red of drying blood on his hands and the fresh and vivid blood still pouring out of his chest. He’s not gonna make it to St. Mungo’s, he’s never going to make it to Harry.

“I am dying,” he says, and Ron makes a noise that can only be described as half agony, half agreement.

It smells like St. Mungo’s when he wakes up thinking “I am dying.” Very faintly, he hears the same voice he always hears in his dreams. Maybe he is dead. The voice never sounds like this in his dreams, though: disembodied, frantic, quick. Draco catches half words, half sentences, half conversations that don’t make sense. A different voice is saying “just do it” and “you’re powerful enough” and “sod protocol” and “I am his partner, I brought him here.” The voice from his dreams responds with things like “unstable” and “I don’t know” and “can you please try” and a “I can’t get in touch with her” and “not without consent forms” and a louder, angry “he’s not going to d—“

Draco tries to move towards the voice.

“Draco!” Says the first voice and three pairs of feet come towards him.

“Don’t try to open your eyes, don’t try to talk, don’t try to move, okay? We have stopped the bleeding for now, but we’re still trying to reverse the curse.”

“Harry.” His Harry.

“Yes, hello. We have got to stop meeting like this.”

“I am dying,” Draco croaks out.

“I won’t let you.”

Draco wants to speak. He wants to say “I am dying, I don’t want to die without telling you,” but he has no strength. His thoughts are going faster than the newest Firebolt as he hears Harry tell whoever else is in the room (Ron?) to leave. He wonders if this is it. This what they show you in the films: your life flashing before your eyes right before you die. He thinks of Harry shaking his hand after his Auror graduation ceremony. “Well done, Malfoy,” he’d said. He thinks of that first time he’d been invited over to Ron and Hermione’s, a few weeks after he became Ron’s partner, and Harry had laughed at his stories, lips wine-red and plump, eyes kind like he’d never expected. He thinks of every moment of almost in between them, every moment where Draco considered blurting it out, saying what was on his mind. The Christmas Gala as he towered over Harry and fixed the little chain on his robes for him, and that night at that dingy club for Hermione’s birthday where they’d stared at each other for forty minutes and when Draco had decided he couldn’t take it anymore, he found out that Harry had left. Or just last month when they’d gone out to buy a housewarming present for Luna and ended up eating leftovers on Harry’s sofa, exhausted from people and walking. There are too many. Too many instances of hesitation, too many “nearly-but-not-quites.”

And he’ll die and won’t ever get the chance to tell him, to kiss his handsome, stupid, precious face, and it aches — it hurts almost as much as that spot just to the left of his breastbone where the Curse had hit, where he was profusely bleeding not long ago.

“Closer,” he manages, very quietly.

Harry approaches, but not close enough, not even close enough for Draco to grab at him.

“Cl— clos—uh—closer,” he tries again.

And Harry’s right there, by his bed and he looks beautiful in his Healer robes (unheard of, really) and Draco is blinking his view into a sharper focus and listing all the things he knows he loves, the things he doesn’t want to forget: the white-ish storm of a scar that slashes through Harry’s eyebrow, the shiny (shinier than usual?) green eyes, the touch of stubble, the slightly crooked nose, the lips — oh, the lips, plump and sweet looking and Draco will never get to find out just how sweet. And then, he has to do it. Because if he’s going to die anyway, he may as well use his last breath on this.

He pushes himself off the pillow slightly and his hand pulls Harry’s green robes closer until their lips meet, clumsily and hard — Harry not expecting it, Draco waning from the efforts of pulling Harry closer, but Draco will die knowing he’s kissed Harry. And if there’s no later, at least he’s done it. At least Harry knows.

“Stop. You’ll hurt yourself,” Harry says, and pushes him back down. Gently, like everything he does.

“But—“

“I know, darling. Me too.”

Darling? Harry… too?

“I’m going to heal you, okay? I’m going to heal you and we’ll do that again. I’ll take you to dinner, or brunch, I know you like brunch. Or just coffee. We’ll go to the pictures. I’ll hold your hand. We’ll go flying. We’ll go clubbing and I’ll dance with you, I promise I will, and I’ll let you tell me how bad I am. I’ll find you a copy of that book you were talking about with Hermione, no matter how much it costs. I’ll throw my name around if I have to, okay? And we’re going to do that again, properly. When I’m not your healer and you’re not hurting. I’m going to heal you now, you just—“ he stops, then, breathing wild and panicked.

Then, a small sob. A kiss to his forehead. Draco doesn’t remember closing his eyes.

“You just hold on, yeah? Don’t go anywhere.”

And Draco would cry if he had the strength, he would say yes to all those plans and more, but he focuses on the feeling of Harry’s magic sinking into his body like and he holds on, just like he was told to. He holds on, even if he doesn’t know exactly to what. And he thinks maybe he’ll get lucky again, and he’ll stop picturing himself dead like he’s been doing his whole life. Harry’s magic feels like love, like poetry, like cascading words of affection whispered into the space between his ribs, it feels like hope. And Draco holds on and thinks to himself, as loud as a thought can go, “I am not dying.”

#i may actual edit this and pop it on ao3?#i kind of like it?#thank you starry baby for this delicious prompt #warmup ficlets #drarry #m writes #angst with a happy ending #cw blood #cw injury #cw violence

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lunaekalenda · 4 years ago

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hi!! can i ask for either an eren or porco x reader fic where their titan form saves you from nearly dying during a battle and they get mad at you afterwards because they’re obviously not gonna be there all the time then when you apologize they end up breaking down because their afraid of losing you and it just ends in fluff 👉🏻👈🏻

OMG OMG wait this is gold!! that was a really good plot!! i had a hard time deciding, but i'm more into porco lately, so this time i'll be using him for my first fic! i hope you like it and sorry for the errors or the things that were different to the original ask :( (*´-`) this takes place in one of the battles Marley fights against another enemy, but I will not follow the line of the original manga :D (also thanks to @breathes24 for refreshing my memory :D)

𝔰𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔶𝔬𝔲

❁ porco x reader

❁ mention of blood and battle, mention of the extraction of a bullet, bad talking. shingeki s4 spoilers!

The only thing you could hear were shots. You kept running, your feet hurted and the backpack was really heavy. Running in the middle of the battlefield was a suicide mission, you knew it, but you were not going to leave all in Pieck's and Porco's hands. So, trying to avoid the shots, you keep runing. You can see Pieck's bag shooting and Porco running from one machine to another, trying to break them with his hardened claws. You look around, the corpses of your companions scattered across the field, along with some enemies. You try to concentrate in what you’re trying to do. The kids are safe in the trench, and you’re not a soldier of valor, you only have nursing knowledge, useless for the fight.

That’s why the commander has not hesitated to send you as a distraction.

“If you expose yourself as an easy target, they will probably have to divide their attention between them and you. Also, they know there are nine Changing Titans, but they don’t know exactly how many of them we have. They could think you’re one of them. That will make Zeke’s appearance more unexpected for them, you see?”

"Where the hell is Zeke?" you think. He should be here helping, a lot of eldians have died. a scream is heard and you identify it as a Titan's one. Pieck received a shot on her hand. She's losing her strength little by little. Porco keeps fighting, and Pieck’s support soldiers do a great job mastering the cannons, trying to hit the enemies. Reiner is trying to stop their train.

"Just wait a bit, guys. I'm almost there..." you enter the enemy side of the field. Your trench looks empty, because your army blindly believes in titans. But, like humans, their stamina is limited, and transforming takes a great deal of energy.

"There's one of them!!" someone yells in front of you. "She could be the Beast Titan, kill her before she reaches the other two!" all the soldiers can be heard loading their shotguns.

The first shot impacts on the floor. The second, near you. You just have an option: keep running, faster.

You accelerate the step to the front, where big war machines are searching you. From the trench, a lot of soldiers are trying to kill you, failing due to the poor visibility they have, but it's a matter of time before those who run the tanks finds you.

This is the end.

The shots are every time more precise, but you can’t return and leave them alone, waiting for Zeke to make his appearance.

You have no scape.

You close your eyes, accepting the destiny, while you keep running. You can hear them charging their big machines. They found you.

You’re their target now.

A Titan's scream is heard, right before the order of the enemy captain.

"Fire!"

You open your eyes when a shot impacts on your leg, and you watch how they charge the canons, ready to kill you. Now you have zero scape way, you’re hurt and you can’t move.

Suddenly, the Jaw Titan appears and, opening his mouth, picks you up off the ground, locking you in his hardened jaw. His speed of movement allows him to easily dodge all shots.

"Thanks, Pock."

A tremor and the sound of lightning tells that Zeke has already arrived to help.

He keeps runing, and then all you can hear are rocks hitting people, trains and houses. Zeke’s titan may be slow for running, but his pitches are deadly. Your leg hurts where the bullet went through, and the pants you’re using are covered with blood.

“Just leave me here and return. I don’t want them to lose because of me.”

He ignored what you said and kept running, but slowing down. Probably he’s tired, he has been fighting for hours.

Once you two are far enough from the battlefield, Porco turns right and you recognize the path he has been taking. We’re close to the residence. He opens his mouth and you go down to the floor, but your leg complains of the roughness of the movement. Then, his Titan falls, and he appears behind it. He seems angry.

"What the hell were you doing there?" he says. His Titan is steaming.

"I wanted to help you, you were doing all the work... The commander told me to help and I thought it was a good idea." Porco looks at you without saying anything for a minute. Then, he sighs and looks at your bleeding leg, before coming towards you. His arm slips under your knees carefully, and the other rests on your back, before he lifts you. “I can walk, you don’t have to...”

“You have a fucking bullet inside, just take help for one damn time.” You decided to shut up and he enters the residence. “I have some medical stuff in my room, I’ll take you there.” He starts to walk up the stairs, heading to his room. There are a few doctors on their daily check of the injured soldiers that live here. He opens his door using his foot, and he enters. His room is clean and clear. Natural light comes in through the window, and a bedside lamp lights up the corner of hi bed. He leaves you in the bed before walking to his personal bathroom, from where he takes a medicine cabinet. Porco drags a chair to place it near the bed, making him able to treat your leg. He hasn’t talk since we arrived here, but he keeps frowning.

“We didn’t need help” He says after cutting your pants at the height of the wound. Then, Porco opens the medicine cabinet, and takes out thread, needle and some surgical tweezers. The scalpel glows when he pulls it out.

“Maybe this hurts a bit.” He whispers. He prepares also a towel with some water. “Grab that pillow and use it to muffle your screams.” You do what he said, and you put his pillow on your face. It smells like him, and it comforts you a lot. He works fast, moving his fingers with precision, and extracting the bullet without problem. Once he’s finished, he saves everything back in place and offers you a glass of water. You’re dizzy from the pain and you needed to drink, so you thank him and drink.

“Do it slow or you’ll be feeling worst, idiot.” he scolds tou. You drink it slower and you take a breath once you’re finished.

“Thanks” He puts the glass on the table he has as a desk.

“Well, I...”

“You could have died out there” he says. He’s not looking at you, and runs his hand through his hair. “You were about to die.”

“Thanks for that, you saved me”

“I’m not going to last forever, you know? Someday I’ll die, and I’m not going to be there to save you like all the other times. So start thinking about surviving and stop playing the heroine.”

“Sorry?”

Why was he so pissed off? You didn’t ask for his help.

“I don't have to take care of you every time we go out onto the battlefield”

“Stop doing it, then”

“It's called companionship, but it only works if everyone focuses on surviving and not in saving stupid death-hugging soldiers”

“I never asked you to save me.” The words come out on their own before you could stop them. That was very rude, you’re ungrateful. He looks at you in the eyes, but you can't tell how he feels.

“Cool, next time I'll take care of my business and let you die, if that’s what you want.”

He’s hurt. You hurt him because you were getting nervous.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean anything that I said. I was getting anxious...”

He sighs. “I also talked badly to you.”

“But you’re right. I can’t survive by myself.”

“I didn’t mean to say that.” His voice is losing strength, and his gaze is lowered. “It’s just... I thought that today I was losing you, I was not going to be able to arrive on time” his voice breaks while he talks. “I don't know what I would have done if something had happened to you”

You looked at him surprised. “To me? Who cares about me? Maybe it’s because we trained together since kids.” You think for yourself, before speaking.

“Well, I know you care for all of us, but Pock yo...”

“You’re not getting it.” He says. Then he leans over to the bed. “I care for you. I care a lot. I can’t imagine if something bad happens to you. I’m always near in case I have to help you. I can only thing about your wellness.” His brown eyes are fixed on yours. “Please, don’t do that again.” His eyes are getting wet. “Just the idea of losing you terrifies me.” His hand sits on your back, and draws you to him. You’re speechless.

You have always been interested in Porco. When you first met him, you thought he was really handsome, and his personality made you think of him as unattainable. You two have been training together since kids. He was really good in all skills, and you were really bad. He helped you a couple times, but you ended in the nursery school. You started to lose contact, but then he inherited the Jaw Titan and wasn’t sent to Paradis, so you both coincide again. He is a man now, even more attractive than before, but with a somewhat shocking personality. So listen him saying this things makes your heart shudder.

“Pock, I...”

“I like you. Well, I think this is no more just attraction.” he whispers. “I guess I’m in love with you.”

That hit you like a train. His love for you was behind all the times he saved you, the times he helped you and the times he reprimanded you. He was moved by love, genuine concern.

“Are you crying?” he separates you from his body to look at your face. Tears roll down your cheeks fast. Porco places his hands on both sides of your face, dabbing them dry with his thumbs. Your hands are placed on top of his, and you lean your head towards his touch.

“I also love you, Pock” he smiles before kissing your forehead. “Since we were kids”

“You know that if you had said it before, I would have corresponded long ago” you laugh quietly, his thumbs tracing circles on your skin. “I can’t promise you a long life together, but if you accept the little that I can offer, I’ll be delighted to be with you.”

His lips place a soft kiss on your hair and you hug him.

“I will be happy to be with you, Pock.”

The room was silent, and you could only listen to his heartbeat, slow, because he has you on his arms, alive. You look at him, his handsome face looking you.

“Does that mean I can ask you to going out later” he laughs.

“I just took out a bullet from your leg, you have to rest.” you smirk.

“I live in the other part of the city. I can’t walk.”

“I’ll call a horse cart for you.”

He was having fun, dodging every possible way to spend time together that night.

“What if my leg hurts? I live alone.” you tried and, for your surprise, he smiled.

“Then I guess you need someone to take care of you tonight...”

His lips covered yours sweetly, and you thought you could get used to it.

To him.

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gurenscumrag · 4 years ago

Text

Summary: Guren comes back from a hard mission, he’s bloodied and bruised and needy for your comfort after the horrors he’s seen in battle.

Word Count: 1,266.

Needy After A Hard Mission. (Guren Fluffy)

A deep sigh drifted from your lips as you sat crossed-legged on the soft, velvety mattresses that was tucked away in the corner of the room. The room was mostly dark, nothing but a small lamp emitting a soft gentle glow around you. The sweet smell of your bitter tea and the smell of the fresh winter air hit your nose as a draft carried a nice breeze against the harsh heater that sat opposite of you. You were sat up, a book on spellcrafts in your hands and the warm covers pulled mostly around your body. It was later into the night, Guren had promised to return tonight and as much as he told you not to stay up, you never did listen. You liked staying up, you enjoyed watching him come home after a long mission. Even if he was covered in blood, sweaty, and purely exhausted, to you there was nothing better than seeing Guren walk through the door and smile at you.

Glancing over at the clock that sat ideally by your cup of tea, the time read 2am. It was getting almost too late and a part of you, unfortunately, panicked at the idea that maybe Guren wasn’t coming home. Shaking the thought from your head you closed your book, placed it on the nightstand, and shut the lamp off. Snuggling down into the warm embrace of your covers, you stared up at the ceiling. This was your life and Guren’s life. The possibility that one of you may never come home, that risk was always looming over both of your heads. You had a tendency to take your time together for granted and never seemed to panic until it came to this. When you’re utterly alone and Guren promised to be back. An irritated groan erupted from your lips and you flopped onto your side, facing Guren’s pillow. “You’re such an idiot do you know that?! You make me worry day in and day out and for what? So you can get yourself killed without a stupid goodbye? It’s just... not fair.”

“I agree it’s not, it’s why I don’t plan on dying,” the deep voice rumbled from the shadows, startling you enough to force you upright and flustered out of sheer embarrassment. Of course, the moment you let your guard down does Guren waltz in. Perhaps he was always there and just waiting to pounce on you when the time struck, with Ichinose, anything was possible.

“Guren! You’re back! What took you guys so long?” You sheepishly gazed at the beautiful human who had come out from his hiding spot. He was bloodied and bruised, his uniform clinging desperately to areas where it had been torn open, clearly telling you that it was a rough couple of days. You frowned deeply, scanning him once more in case he was seriously hurt. “Any casualties?”

“Too many for what was suppose to be a simple order,” Guren mumbled softly, his hands methodically undoing his clothing and weapons belt, only to drop it carelessly to the floor. He rounded the corner of the bed to press a soft kiss to your lips before disappearing into the bathroom. The squeaking of the shower knobs rang out before the comforting sound of the shower started. Guren was only gone for what felt like a few minutes and once more did the love of your life reappear, except he less bloodied but all the more sorrowful. Guren slipped into bed, his arms automatically wrapping around you and pulling you close like you were his personal teddy bear. His deep breaths brushing over your hair while your cheek pressed against his collarbone, but most importantly, you placed a hand over his heart to remind yourself that he was still alive. Still alive and still warm beneath your touch.

“I never want to lose you.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I don’t ever want to lose you, (Y/N). So many people have died in my life. My mother, father, my squad, Shinya, Mahiru. If you died... I don’t know what I’d do with myself.”

“Guren, honey, what happened today?” You raised your head to peer at your soulmate only to find tears already spilling down his beautiful cheeks. Carefully wiping them off and gazing into violet eyes, you gave a soft smile

“I can’t handle being alone again,” he grumbled.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to stay alive for you, Mr. Ichinose.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Mmm, more like an order. I have a really stubborn colonel who wouldn’t like it if I died.”

A soft snort of laughter came from deep within his chest, “Sounds like a lucky man.”

“That he is, but I love him for it.”

Guren’s eyes scanned over your visage as if he was checking to make sure you were more okay than he was. Once satisfied, he dipped his head to kiss your soft lips gently. Both your hands that had been caressing away his tears came to cup his cheeks more firmly to allow the kiss to deepen.

“I really missed you, you idiot,” You murmured against his lips, one of your hands sliding into his blue-black locks and tightly grabbing a fistful of the locks while the other rested on the top of his back. A small grunt came from the man as he pressed himself a little closer and tilted his head to alleviate the pleasurable-pain you were causing, “I can tell. Already got your hands all over me, don’t ya?”

“Stop leaving for so long then. I’m too needy for that.” You whined gently, pursing your lips into a pout which only caused a bright smile to grace Guren’s lips. Rolling you and himself over till he was resting his body weight onto your front, his lips found their way to your neck and began to pepper kisses on the delicate flesh, “How much did you miss me?”

Your grip automatically tightened in his hair as his lips glided over a sweet spot, “Uhm… a lot.” You choked out dumbly, your mind too preoccupied with the feeling of his lips against your neck. You tilted your head back involuntarily to allow Guren better access as he bit down at the base of your throat, “Guren,” you warned, your hand now tugging on his hair while your hips pushed upwards against his own. He didn’t seem to care much for your warning, his tongue now bathing the sore spot to soothe it while he pinned your hips down with his own.

“I missed you a lot too,” his voice low and husky, bathing your wet skin with his warm breath causing you to shiver, “I missed you so fucking much. More than you could ever know, (Y/N).” Guren pressed his nose above the spot he had just marked, now shakily breathing against you before water began to slide down your throat, pooling onto your chest. For a moment you didn’t understand what he was doing, but soon it hit you.

He was crying.

His sobs were quiet, the only sound ever escaping him was short, soft gasps to greedily suck down air into his lungs. Yet, his body shook on top of yours, wrapping your arms around his middle to pull him closer and beginning to stroke his lower back, “I’ll always be right here, Guren, always. No matter what happens, no matter who dies, no matter how far you’ve lost yourself, you’ll always have a home to come back to. You’ll always have someone who loves you. You’ll always have me. I love you.”

#guren ichinose #guren ichinose x reader #guren ichinose x y/n #guren x reader #owari no seraph #seraph of the end #guren #lemon #fluff #emotional angst #crying #hurt #comfort #pain #female reader #male reader #genderneutral reader

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sassyhobbits · 4 years ago

Note

Guess I lied “Holding everything in doesn’t help, you know.” someone from the Cadre telling this to Fen and him breaking apart and crying and dying I want him to suffer

had to so this one. always happy to write about my boy fen!!! luv him

heres day 4!!!

~~~

“Are you sure you want to make that move?”

“Yes. No. Fuck. What’s wrong with this move?”

“Why the hell would I tell you? I’m trying to win.”

Aelin laughed at the stormy look on Fenrys’ face as his dark gaze studied the chess board before them intently. She knew he was determined to beat her for once. She had been on a winning streak lately.

Aelin settled in her seat before the fire, studying the board before them. It was a beautiful set, something she had bought Rowan for Yulemas the year before. Her husband loved the game, but loathed buying anything for himself. She knew he was pleased to have such a nice set, though he tried to play it casual. They played together at least one night a week. Rowan was terribly good at the game. Three hundred years of practice of both chess and military strategy had made him a truly formidable opponent. Aelin had yet to beat him, though she had been getting better.

Fenrys, however, she beat over half the time. Learning from Rowan had given her an edge.

The male across from her finally picked up a knight and moved it, capturing one of Aelin’s pawns that had been protecting her king. She raised a brow at him. “Really, Fenrys?”

“What? You were too well defended.”

Aelin tutted and shook her head. “Short-sighted once again, my friend.” She reached out and moved her queen on it diagonal, placing it down firmly and smirking at Fenrys. “Check mate.”

A slew of terribly, dirty curses streamed from Fenrys’ mouth as he knocked over his king. He shook his head, studying the board. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“I’ve always been good at keeping my schemes to myself,” Aelin shrugged. “That’s all chess is, anyway. Schemes.”

He cursed once more. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

Fenrys sighed, accepting his defeat, reaching over to the bottle of wine they had been working through and topping off both of their glasses.

Aelin enjoyed having her friend so close. Aedion, Lysandra, Elide and Lorcan visited Orynth when they could, though they were busy running their own territories. Dorian and Chaol were in Adarlan, Manon rebuilding the Witch Kingdom. Even Fenrys had been traveling until recently. She had truly missed her companion.

They spoke and joked between one another for a few more moments before the door to the parlor opened. Aelin recognized her mate’s scent without needing to look back, even beneath all the sweat.

She sensed his presence as he stopped by where she sat, tilting her head up and smiling at him. His silver hair was in disarray from training with the guards that evening, but his green eyes were bright as he looked to her and then to the board.

Her husband studied it with a general’s intent for a few moments before a smile curled on his lips, looking towards Aelin with pride glimmering in his eyes. Good job, Fireheart, he seemed to say before pressing a lingering kiss to her temple.

Aelin’s nose crinkled at the smell of him. “You, husband mine, are in desperate need of a bath.”

“I agree,” Fenrys added. “My eyes are watering.”

Rowan looked to him dryly, though it held no venom at the younger male’s teasing.

Aelin began asking him about how the training had gone. They had a recent surge of new recruits and though many of them had potential, they were rough around the edges. Aelin knew that if anyone could whip them into shape, it would be Rowan.

Aelin fell into the lull of conversation, and it wasn’t until a while later that she noted a strange quietness coming from across from her. Fenrys wasn’t one to hold his tongue for an extended period of time. She glanced away from Rowan, looking towards the male across from her. Fenrys’ face was somber, staring hard into the fire that made his dark skin glow. His brows were pinched together, lips pressed tight, eyes glazed. Somewhere far away.

Rowan followed her gaze, ceasing his report to study his comrade.

It took a few moments for Fenrys to recognize the sudden silence, blinking away the haunted look in his eyes before glancing towards the king and queen before him, as if he could feel their gazes.

Something in Aelin’s chest clenched. She knew what the look meant, had worn it herself plenty of times. Her head tilted to the side before asking softly, “Where did you go, my friend?”

The smile that slashed Fenrys’ face came just a fraction of a moment too late, confirming that whatever he had been remembering had shaken him more than he could admit.

“I’m just tired. Losing to you takes more energy than you would think,” Fenrys sighed, trying to muster some bravado into his voice, though Aelin saw right through it. “I think I’ll head off to bed.”

Aelin watched her friend warily as he pushed to his feet, nodding a brief farewell before heading towards the door. She glanced up at her husband, seeing a familiar look of concern on his handsome face. It was evident that the White Wolf of Doranelle was not alright.

…

Once Fenrys deemed himself an appropriate distance from where the king and queen sat in the parlor, he allowed himself to let go. His shoulders curved in, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he rested his back against a cool stone wall and hung his head in his hands.

Everything had been going well. He had spent the day assisting his queen with her duties while Rowan worked with the guards. He was fine through dinner, through their game of chess. Maybe it was because he had kept himself thoroughly distracted but… when he had let his mind quiet, even for a moment, he had felt himself drift away.

One moment he was laughing and teasing with Aelin, a smile lighting the queen’s face. The next, he heard echoes of her screams of agony, flashes of Cairn carving her up bit by bit while he had to sit aside and do nothing. Once he started, he couldn’t stop, spiraling down into the darkest part of his memories: Aelin sobbing in that iron coffin, the sight of Connall spilling his own blood, the feel of Maeve’s cold, pale hands on his body.

It happened from time to time. The memories getting the better of him. He always tried to play it off to the best of his abilities, making himself flash an easy smile to hide the vulnerability. He knew that the others suffered from similar afflictions, knew his queen was still haunted by nightmares. There were nights when he would wake to a knock on his door only to find Aelin standing on the other side, eyes hollow in a way Fenrys recognized. Sometimes she would talk about it, others she would just sit silently in his presence. The only person who truly had an inkling of what she had suffered for those two months. He knew Rowan still feared losing his mate, still saw the flash of panic in his eyes when he couldn’t find her in the sprawling palace, even though she was always safe and content. It was just… difficult to shake off those feelings.

And yet… Fenrys never wanted to burden his already burdened friends with his own troubles. He knew they would protest that description. Burden. They wouldn’t feel that way about it but… he did.

Fenrys was lost in his thoughts, all of them dark and swirling like a storm through his head. It distracted him enough that he hadn’t noticed anyone approaching until the purposeful scuff of a boot over stone caught his attention.

Fenrys raised his head, finding Rowan standing before him, green eyes studying him carefully. He stood straighter, forcing a wobbly smile to his lips.

“You miss me already?” Fenrys said, though his voice betrayed him, crackling towards the end.

Rowan’s expression turned sympathetic, a look Fenrys had never seen on his commander’s face until he had met Aelin. He stood a step closer.

“You doing alright there, pup?”

Fenrys shrugged, still trying to hold on to some semblance of nonchalance. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Rowan didn’t press him right away, sliding his hands into the pockets of his dirty trousers. “Your quick departure made my wife quite worried about you.”

“Aelin has enough on her plate. She doesn’t need to worry about me too.”

“I’m worried about you as well, Fenrys.”

Fenrys blinked, sure he had heard the king consort incorrectly. Rowan had certainly warmed up since he fell in love with Aelin, but he was still rather stoic most of the time. He saved most of his compassion for the woman he loved. Rowan wasn’t cruel to Fenrys, he never had been. Though he was a massive bastard and a pain in his ass once upon a time but… he had never reached out like this.

It seemed that Rowan took his stunned silence as a cue to continue.

“You try to hide it, but I can see it in your eyes. The pain.” Rowan’s jaw clenched ever so slightly. “I did the same thing for years.”

“Yeah, but you took it out on the rest of us poor soul.”

Rowan gave a dry chuckle. “That I did. But you know what helped me heal?”

“Bedding your stunning wife?”

Rowan smacked him softly on the side of the head. Rightly deserved, Fenrys knew. He was being immature.

“I’m serious, boyo,” Rowan said lowly. “I didn’t start coming out of that darkness until I started opening up. Talking. Confiding in people who knew what I felt and what I had gone through.”

Fenrys rubbed at his eyes before rasping, “I don’t know where to start. I don’t want to burden you. Burden Aelin.”

“Aelin loves you,” Rowan said plainly. “She would never feel burdened if you reached out to her. You’re her friend. You’re my friend too, Fen. We’re always going to be here for you.”

Fenrys nodded, not trusting that his voice wouldn’t fail him. He was grateful for the friends, family, and support he had found in the recent years. This life that he had now… he wouldn’t give it up for anything.

He was silent for a few more moments, simply looking down at his boots and trying to banish the lump clogged in his throat. Rowan, the perceptive bastard, simply cocked his head to the side and met his gaze.

“Holding everything in doesn’t help, you know.”

It was with those words that Fenrys broke. The tears began falling freely down his cheeks, blurring his vision.

“There are moments where I forget where I am,” Fenrys confessed. “When I get so lost in the worst of the memories that I fear there’s no way out. I don’t know how to escape, how to be free of it. At times, I feel like I’m drowning.”

Fenrys didn’t bother to try and smother the tears, the shaking breaths he took. He knew Rowan was right. Holding everything in certainly didn’t help. He wasn’t sure if crying in the halls of Orynth would do much either but-

His train of thought was brought to an abrupt halt when he felt arms wrapped around him. Fenrys blinked once, sure he was hallucinating. But no. It was real. Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius was actually hugging him.

He was frozen for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Some older part of him hissed that it was a trick, that the moment he let his guard down Rowan would put him in a headlock as part of a training exercise. But, Fenrys also knew that the cold and calculating commander of his past was no more.

Slowly, Fenrys reached up and returned the embrace.

For a few moments, neither of them said anything, until Fenrys whispered, “Thank you, brother.”

Another few heartbeats passed before Fenrys felt another pair of arms wrap around his torso from behind, the scent of jasmine and ashes tickling his nose. Aelin.

“You were snooping that entire time, weren’t you?” Fenrys asked with a tiny laugh.

“Of course I was,” the queen mumbled against his back. “How else am I supposed to stay three steps ahead of everyone if I don’t snoop?”

Fenrys chuckled lightly, already feeling lighter than he had before. He was a lucky bastard to have such friendship and support in his life. And, although he was still healing, he knew they were as well.

They would find the path to the light. Together.

#idek what to tag this one #like its kinda #rowaelin #but mostly #fenrys moonbeam #my writing #tog

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pigeonp0st · 4 years ago

Note

Oh you could write one where reader and Supergirl are fighting together against some supervillain and reader gets hurt and almost dies and Kara is freaking out because she can't lose her girlfriend and just... angst (please don't kill reader though, i'm begging you)

Kara Danvers x Reader #5

Words: 1,905

Warnings: Angst, Explosion not described in detail. Just an aftermath.

Notes:

MWHAHAHA! I technically didn’t listen to your plead...so i’m sorry? (Thank you for the request and sorry for all spelling mistakes)

——

They were kids.

You weren’t bulletproof like Kara, definitely not grenade proof, you knew that...but they were kids. Kids clutching onto their mom looking terrified. Terrified that their mom would get hurt, terrified that the three of them were going to die.

You’re terrified too. Lately as your life has gotten better with Kara, beautiful, caring Kara, you’ve been getting more scared everyday, scared that something was going to happen to ruin your happiness.

The fear is almost enough to paralyze you when you see the latest National City supervillain get ready to throw the grenade, but alas...when the man throws the grenade the stupid instinct to protect overtakes you and you jump into the air to catch it like a ball, before it can get to close to the family.

You’re more invincible than them, even if you’re not nearly as invincible as Kara...it’s time to test that theory, you think bitterly.

Turns out—when the grenade goes off and a piercing scream hits the air—you’re not that much more invincible than a regular human.

Kara, you think, tears running down your face, Kara, Kara, Kara. Kara. Everything hurts but all you can think about is Kara and whether or not she’s going to be okay fighting without you. Forever, possibly. Fighting without you forever, and just thinking about your death feels like ice water being poured over you until the cold sinks in and it’s just panic.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

It takes moments before she’s by your side, moments that feel like a lifetime, she was slowed by the kryptonite she was fighting against and wasn’t able to get to you in time when the grenade went off but now she’s here, and she’s sobbing. Sobs that wrack her body, and you’re trying to sit up despite the ringing in your ear.

“Kara!” You yell, eyes wide, and you don’t want to be doing this to her, you want to pretend like you’re okay with this—you want to be strong for her—but you can’t. You can’t, because holy fuck. Fuck. “I can’t feel my legs, Kara. Baby, I can’t feel anything. I can’t...why can’t I move?”

Kara places a hand on your chest, and you can feel that, it hurts, “Alex,” she says into the comms, “it’s Y/N...she’s badly injured. I can’t bring her to the DEO, I can’t fly; the kryptonite is still in the air around us, and I can’t move her away from it either.”

You hear Kara’s panicked voice next to you, and when you focus you hear it in your own comms.

Alex’s voice crackles through immediately, and even she sounds scared, “how bad, Kara?”

“She says she can’t feel her legs, and she...she’s losing a lot of blood. She’s cold, too, and her breathing is labored,” Kara’s practically ranting now, her fingers shaking against your chest. “I’d put pressure on the wound but there’s a lot of blood and I don’t know—”

You turn your face away from Kara when her hand travels to your cheek, and you try to tune her out, because her face...it really says everything about your condition, and you don’t want to hear Kara talk about all of the ways you’re dying.

You catch the last thing Alex says and it fills you with dread that makes your bones feel even heavier, “keep her awake, Kara. There’s no telling if she’ll wake up again if she falls asleep now.”

Kara’s resulting sob rips your heart to shreds.

“I didn’t realize until I met you how much I don’t want to die,” you tell her after a moment filled with her cries. You’ve never felt so scared in your life (besides after Kara’s fight with Reign) “but I really don’t want to, Kara. I really don’t want to.”

“You won’t,” Kara says, trying to give you a reassuring smile, “you won’t because I need you to stay. What am I supposed to do without you?” She tries to laugh afterwards but it’s really just a choked sound, and you can hear the fear in her words.

The iron taste that was on your tongue felt like death, but now as you slowly start to taste it less, and as the smell of gasoline slowly slips away, you wonder if this is really a sign of death. The reapers signature.

“You’ll live.” You say, “you have to. There’s no other choice.” Your voice is filled with too much certainty for a dying woman, “It’ll be fine. You’ll get to eat the last popsicle in the fridge,” a humorless chuckle forces its way out of your throat, “I hid it. It’s under the frozen peas.”

You can tell by the look on Kara’s face what she’s thinking about. A half empty bed when she goes home alone to your shared apartment, your favorite mug sitting on the counter half full of cold coffee, your dishes still in her sink—your sink—your clothes in the washing machine, your…

“I can’t,” Kara whispers, her voice filled with the amount of sorrow only she can manage, “I can’t lose two of my worlds. I’m not strong enough.”

Kara Zor-El not being strong enough. It’s a humorous thought. You know Kara will fight, she’ll fight because it’s all she knows. She’ll find her reason. She won’t give up on the world, even if she gives up on herself for some time. It’s the one thing you need to be sure of right now.

“Yeah you are,” you mumble, trying to lift your shaky hand to cup her cheek. She grabs a hold of your hand and helps you to your destination. You try not to scream curses at the world at the sight of your blood on her pale cheek. “You, Kara Danvers, are an anomaly in the way you never let anything knock you down.”

“This is enough,” Kara promises, and it’s the last promise you’d ever want to hear from her, “you’re enough to ruin me.”

“Kara,” you whisper, hating the world so furiously in that moment for all it wants to take. “That’s the last thing I want to hear...I only ever want to build you up.”

“And you do,” Kara says, “but love really does both, doesn’t it? Sometimes it hurts as much as it heals.”

“That isn’t fair,” you whimper out, and Kara nods against your hand, closing her eyes and trying not to breathe in the smell of your blood.

Moments later Kara opens her eyes in a panic after realizing that you haven’t spoken, only to see you trying to blink your eyes awake. She squeezes your hand repeatedly, trying to get your attention. “Y/N, it’s not time.” She tells you desperately, “it’s not time.”

One of her tears fall against your cheek, causing you to pout. “Stop crying,” you slur, delirious from the blood loss, “I resent it when you cry because of me.”

Kara shakes her head, only crying harder.

You smile up at her sadly, “I'm sorry i’m dying.” And you mean it.

“Stop saying that,” Kara pleads, like it’s breaking her, “stop.”

You wish you could give Kara what she wants but your eyelids are getting heavier and heavier and you don’t think you have much time. “Just tell Alex to name a kid after me, or at least tell her to name a fish after me.”

Kara’s shaking her head and shaking your arm, trying to get you to open your eyes again, “Y/N! Hey! Stop, come on, baby, just open your eyes…”

You try, you really do, you’ve never tried so hard to listen before, and it works for a moment, just for a second you manage to open your eyes, much to Kara’s relief, and that’s when you finally notice a crowd of people and a slumped alien (the man you two were fighting) a little ways behind you and Kara. When did Kara do that to him? When did the people come?

It’s when you see Alex though, rushing out of a black van, that you feel some sort of relief. Alex will protect Kara when you’re gone. You’re sure of it.

—

“Wake up! Wake up,” Kara sobs, “Alex, Alex—please, she’s not—”

—

“She died, Kara, in the van, we managed to bring her back...but things are looking uncertain right now. For now, the best thing you can do is look after yourself”

Kara’s glowing red eyes snap up from the floor towards Alex. Her powers have been going haywire since they arrived at the DEO. “Save her,” Kara pleads, voice hoarse from crying. “Please.”

—

It’s late at night after Kara hears your heart stop (the second time) that she gets placed in kryptonite handcuffs.

Alex doesn’t want to do it but Kara isn’t in control of her powers anymore, and she almost seriously hurt someone. Multiple times.

Kara doesn’t leave your side after they get your heart going again, she can’t hear your heart with the kryptonite on so the only thing she can take comfort in is the beeping of your heart monitor.

—

You wake up two weeks after your accident.

Kara’s asleep next to you when you do.

You’re confused and thirsty so it takes you several long moments for you to remember what happened, and once you do you’re sobbing hard, crying loud enough to startle awake a sleeping Kara.

She freezes when she sees you, you’re curled up in the hospital bed and shaking with your relief and the leftover fear, and she’s watching you like she doesn’t know what to do now that you’re awake.

She’s been praying for this moment, imagining it, waiting for it day after day, minute after minute, second after second, but now that it’s actually happened she’s paralyzed with her overwhelming emotions.

“Y/N?” Kara stutters, eyes filling with her own tears of relief.

You laugh at Kara’s face, loud and completely joyful, and suddenly she’s sobbing too, grinning all the while, because you’re here—finally— you’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay, and you’re laughing, and the world is finally okay again too.

“Damn, weren’t we dramatic?” You smirk, paying no mind to the tears running down your or her face.

Kara laughs, pulling you into a careful hug (she got her handcuffs taken off only a day ago). “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” you whisper back, tightening your hold on Kara as much as you can and simply breathing her in. Breathing life in.

“I feel like i’m dreaming,” Kara says after a while, voice trembling. You feel like you're dead...and like you're in heaven. Is this heaven?

“You aren’t,” you reassure Kara anyways.

She nods against your shoulder, shaking even harder than you were. “Are you okay?” You ask worriedly.

“you’re the one who had to go and die two times.”

“Nearly three times,” Alex says from the doorway.

You notice Kara tense and shift in front of you until she realizes it’s just Alex, and you think that’ll probably be something you two will have to talk about, but for now you roll your eyes at Alex and say, much to both Kara’s and her amusement; “the only reason you tried so hard to save me is because you didn’t want to name your kid after me, isn’t it?”

Alex’s shrug and “maybe” gets a glare from Kara and a smirk from you.

#kara danvers x reader #supergirl x reader #supergirl imagine #kara danvers imagine #kara zor el x reader #kara zor el imagine #fem reader #supergirl #kara danvers #kara zor el #alex danvers #dc x reader #kara x reader

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pine-lark · 3 years ago

Note

Ooh trap him somewhere either very hot or very cold?? :D

Oh.

This is a perfect excuse to write an old daydream from my childhood. Well, there's two-- Arion on a grill and Arion in a box. I chose the box for this one but I may be tempted to write the grill at some point. I haven't written The Box before now because it doesn't exactly... fit with the plot of the actual story, but I mean...

Alternate Rescue AU, coming right up, Anon. (Also sorry I'm like, infinitely late haha. School threw me into a hell pit and I've been recovering. I'm back now ((though I'm not sure for how long, things might change in a week or two... we'll see.)) For now, I'm working on a lot of Arion stuff that will hopefully pop up within a few days! Cheers!)

CW: Tiny whumpee, some blood, cold/hypothermia symptoms (duh), cages/referenced captivity, briefly implied forced nudity from said captivity, brief reference to a past fever and resulting vomiting, referenced/implied physical abuse, water/rain/storms/being submerged in/splashed with water, thoughts of dying (of the "I might die" and "Am I dead?" and wishing to be put out of misery type), crying, (thinking about) needles, short (kind of) graphic description of a bird being run over, brief religion references

His legs still ache from running.

Arion sits in the cardboard box he found on the side of the road, huddled in the corner, shivering in the dark. Although he tries to clamp his jaw shut and stop it, his teeth chatter and his shoulders quiver. It feels like the frozen autumn air has grasped him entirely in icy claws that shake him violently in an inescapable grip. It reminds him of being trapped in Heston’s hand, shaken, body tossed in every direction until his head pounded and his eyes watered.

It’s colder outside than it used to be in the garage. But it’s better out here. No one can hurt him here.

As long as they don’t find him.

He rubs his hands over the goosebumps on his arms, hoping to warm them up and calm down the wild pain buried deep in his skin. As he does so, blood smears along the path he touches. It’s still gently creeping out of the series of cuts etched into his forearms. With it, the image of Heston’s glinting eyes surfaces in Arion’s memory. He buries his head in his shaking knees with a wet sniff. But he’s done it, he reminds himself. He’s escaped. Finally. Chewed through rope, slipped through an unlocked door. Heston's gone. For now.

Please, please don’t come looking for me.

A dog barks somewhere in the distance. He jumps. It sets off an echo of shivers all the way down his spine as his hair stands on end.

A raindrop falls on the cardboard roof. Then another, and another. Thunder claps harshly overhead.

Arion shuts his eyes tight, bites back the frustrated tears welling up at the corners of his eyes. He curls up tighter, hugging himself, doing all he can to keep any scrap of heat he has close to his body. A storm might just do it. Might just kill him. A storm means wind. Freezing wind. And freezing rain. The last thing he needs right now is rain. It can’t rain. He presses his body closer to the cardboard wall, knowing it might not be standing there much longer if it rains.

And it does. It pours.

He sees the rain splash into the road before him. The storm swiftly grows. It’s ferocious and feral and cruel. The temperature around Arion drops. His tiny body shakes uncontrollably, as if it weren’t his own. It reminds him of the terrifying fever he had, long ago, in the confines of his red cage just weeks after being taken from his home. He’d been throwing up and twitching and having the most horrible, vivid dreams (on the occasions that both Heston and the illness let him sleep). The fits of shivering drove him mad, the endless teeth-chattering and flashes of uncomfortable warmth and sticky sweat made him feel even worse. It's like that, he thinks. Except, now, as he shivers, he’s unbearably cold.

An involuntary whine fights its way out of him. When he swallows, his throat feels stiff and achy. Snot runs profusely down his lips and no amount of wiping it away with his bleeding arms is helping it slow. Water has thoroughly and entirely drenched the cardboard, at this point. Has crept through the floor and the walls, and, gradually and persistently, has started to drip through the sagging ceiling. For a moment, Arion remembers he has toes, and that they’ve been numb for awhile now. Actually, now that he’s thinking about it, his feet haven’t felt like anything either, and when he tries to move his fingers, they only twitch. They feel heavy and prickly. He feels prickly all over. Like Heston had shoved a thousand frozen needles into a thousand different places all over his body. It hurts to breathe. There’s no way to get warmer. Nothing to hide under, not even something as decent as clothing. No way to escape, nowhere to run to, even if he had the energy left to try. He lets out a miserable sob.

And then the ceiling falls through, in a blur of collapsing cardboard and splashing waves of water that crash over his head and the rest of his body.

Arion tumbles out of the box, drenched. He coughs up water through jittery movements. For a second, he chokes on a mouthful, and he briefly he thinks he'll never breathe again, before his chest jerks and with another cough, the water falls out of his mouth. He tries to get his arms and legs under him, to stand or even crawl, but his limbs fail him and he crumbles face-first back to the harsh surface below him. The rocks mixed in the road’s tar are sharp. They cut deeply through his nose and cheek and the shoulder that followed his face in the fall. Arion winces against the fresh, sharp pain and the beads of blood that begin to form where he’s been hurt. His breaths come in ragged heaves.

He sniffs. Tears drip from his eyes. He lays helpless in the middle of the little road, in his mind begging to no one that a car doesn’t come along and crush him. Under any other circumstance, he’d love to be put out of his misery. But he’s seen a bird been run over before. Under a truck’s tire. And the memory makes his stomach churn. Flattened face, open stomach, popped like a bubble in a stream.

Briefly, Arion thinks of himself in place of the bird. He thinks of the smear of red underneath his empty, open eyes. He thinks of the way the headlights might look as they would suddenly appear right in front of him. The horrid, mind-numbing honk of a horn. The image he creates in his mind of those headlights, his last moments, is vivid. It’s so vivid that he thinks it might be real, or maybe hypothermia is setting in and beginning to ruin his mind.

It’s just his imagination, he thinks.

And then he smells exhaust from a car.

And the screech of brakes.

And for a second, whilst his body is numb and bright white light is all he can see, he thinks he might be dead.

“I swear, if I keep stopping my car for every mouse that sits in front of it, I’m never going to get anywhere.”

That voice drifts from the car stopped in front of him.

Not dead, then.

Almost, he thinks.

“Can’t help it though. What else am I supposed to do, run them over? Just vet instincts, I guess. Huh, Jasper.” There’s a meow in response. Arion’s breath hitches. The voice says, “Me-ow. I know, I know. I’ll be right back.” A car door shuts. Then there’s heavy wet footsteps. Boots clopping over puddles and asphalt. Panic floods Arion’s chest as a shadow cuts through the blinding white light from the vehicle. The outline of a human lowers, kneels in front of him. His breath stops. His mind goes blank.

“What…”

A moment passes. Something touches him. He flinches hard, but trying to run isn’t an option. His body is completely, entirely, wholly exhausted and far too numb to move more than flailing back a couple inches.

“Oh, geez, that’s-- not a mouse. Okay.” Her head turns in a way that Arion can see her face. A young woman with red hair, watching him with a warm but frantic gaze. “Okay. Okay okay. Oh, God, you’re injured pretty bad, little buddy. Your arms are all… cut up. That’s not good. Um.”

Arion stares blankly ahead. Suddenly, freezing to death isn’t something he feels like putting too much effort into avoiding.

“Okay. Here’s what we’ll do,” the girl continues. “I’m gonna bring you into my car where I can see you better, alright? Then I can help you. It’s gonna be okay. Here. I’m picking you up now, ‘kay?”

The feeling of a warm hand washes over his body. It’s both terrifying and incredibly welcome. The sting of cold seems to seep out of his skin, albeit very slowly. Quickly, though, burning prickles replace whatever comfort the touch brought him.

“Oh, you’re freezing, little guy. You must have been out here for a long time. That can be really dangerous… I’m glad I found you. I’ll get you all warmed up in the car.”

Arion whimpers against the hands that carry him to somewhere warmer, where he hears the faint, deep sound of a large beating heart. For a second, he wonders if this is God. And then the car door opens and creaks, and the girl curses under her breath, and Arion remembers he’s an atheist.

Still, as the stinging in his warming skin subsides, the warmth of her hands starts to feel… nice. If his mind were still intact (instead of shattered into vague, useless fragments as it is now), Arion would have done anything and everything to get away from any human or other predatory beast in sight. But with his head swimming, he leans into her touch, and compliantly accepts the soft feeling of some kind of cloth being wrapped all around him.

Words are spoken to him, but he can’t listen. To him they sound broken up and blurry as the insistence of sleep becomes more desperate in the back of his mind. As he gets warmer, his muscles relax, and his eyes get droopy. His vision darkens, and the girl’s voice hushes.

Just before he drifts off into a far overdue, deep and restful sleep, he thinks to himself, vaguely, that he hopes this human is different. He hopes that when he wakes back up, it won’t be in another cage.

Tag list because this ended up being a full drabble:

(Also, let me know if you'd like to be removed from the tag list. No hurt feelings! I know it's been a long time and if you've lost interest that is A-Okay, friend)

(Also, if you'd like to be added or if your username's changed, let me know!)

@whumping-every-day, @deluxewhump, @sola-whumping, @haro-whumps, @inaridriscoll, @whatwasmyprevioususername, @kiretto-laorentze, @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @ahorriblebimess, @whump-me-all-night-long

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redhoodieone · 4 years ago

Text

Welcome Home

A/N: Hi everyone! This is an old fic that I’m re-posting for those who want to read it. Enjoy!

WARNINGS: Language and Smut.

I knew my family was different the moment I found out my adoptive father was Batman. I was just a ten-year-old girl when I snuck down the stairs at midnight for a drink of water and spotted Batman leaving a trail of blood from his study and calling out for Alfred for help. The moment our eyes locked, Bruce instantly knew that I was clearly aware of his secret. He had also confessed it was him who saved me from a shootout that my parents were involved in and that it was him, as Batman. I felt I owed Bruce my own life for saving me, and I vowed to keep my father’s secret and pray that he would return home safely every night back to me.

It didn’t help that I soon discovered my adoptive older brother Dick Grayson was Robin. Not only did I have to keep his secret as well, but it made it more impossible to not have a crush on him. I mean, Dick has such a charming personality, beautiful baby blue eyes, and a devilish smile that can make any girl crawl on her hands and knees. And that ass…

I later found myself becoming the second Robin once Dick left to assume his own identity, Nightwing. Bruce trusted me, and he saw potential in me the second I told him I couldn’t see myself being a hero forever. Perhaps he never really wanted me to be his sidekick and figured if I got it out of my system that I could resume my life as a sixteen-year-old and do normal teenager activities. As if my life was normal anyways.

But things changed as soon as I was finally embracing myself as a hero. Bruce had taken in a new kid, Jason Todd. He was a troublemaker, a rebel, and a mysterious kid, who had never even spoken to me unless he had to. I don’t think my age helped the situation either; I was a couple of years older than him and he may not have seen me as an equal. But of course, the dark haired, icy blue eyed, bad attitude boy was given the Robin title, and I was removed because of a patrol-gone-wrong situation.

Stupid Harley Quinn and her baseball bat. Who knew one hit to my knee could bench me for two months (Alfred added an additional five months of rest).

Then the unthinkable happened. The second Robin was killed by the Joker. Jason Todd’s death put Bruce into a depression, and he swore he would never put another kid’s life in danger. Our father and daughter relationship broke apart before my very eyes. I spent my remaining teenage years in the mansion isolated, except for Alfred’s loving company.

I had graduated high school on time and I quickly decided to go to Gotham University to escape the Bat family. Before I moved out, I discovered Bruce had taken in another kid, Tim Drake, who was currently the new Robin. Was I hurt? Of course, I felt I was somehow replaced. Would I miss the Bat family? Maybe. Maybe not.

I did in fact wish the new younger Robin good luck. When Tim looked up at me, his light blue eyes were so innocent and frightened about me leaving him behind. I didn’t know why he would be so upset about me leaving; wouldn’t he want all of Bruce’s attention without me hanging around the mansion?

Now I’m twenty-one-years-old, and I’m still a student at Gotham University. Alfred had just called and informed me Bruce wants me back home.

As I sit in a taxi while anxiously waiting to pull up to Wayne Manor, I honestly don’t know why Bruce wants me back at home. Alfred has kept me up to date about the Bat family incidents and activities I have missed out those few years such as:

Dick Grayson becoming a womanizer (I saw it coming) and how he’s juggling working as a police officer and Nightwing. He’s still the favorite and golden child in Bruce’s eyes.

Jason Todd is back from the dead, and he’s currently operating his own team: Red Hood and the Outlaws (who knew he was leadership material underneath that thick skull of his?).

Tim Drake is Red Robin (does the fast food chain restaurant know about his superhero name?), and he’s currently assisting the Teen Titans when necessary while simultaneously aiding Bruce with detective work.

Damian Wayne is Bruce Wayne’s unknown biological child. I think he’s about fifteen-years-old now; from what I remember the last time I spoke to Alfred. I met Damian once, when Bruce asked me to meet him once Talia al Ghul practically dropped him off at Bruce’s doorstep. The boy was a little shit: bratty, stuck up, and insensitive. Even though he is the spitting image of Bruce, minus the different colored eyes (Bruce has blue and Damian’s are green), Damian claims he is set to take over the cowl when Bruce is either dead or done. God help us all…

But I still can’t figure out why I am needed back home. Is Alfred sick? Is Bruce dying after fighting all these years? Is it one of my brothers?

I jump in surprise once the taxi comes to a hard stop. After paying the man, I grab my duffel bag and I climb the front steps that I suddenly remember jumping off them as a kid. Alfred scolded me many times, and I still did it because being bad was fun.

I scoff loudly, and I jump down the five steps that would have given Alfred a heart attack. Maybe I haven’t changed as much as I thought.

I find the wooden front door unlocked, which is odd considering Alfred always makes sure to lock it. As a matter of fact, Alfred hasn’t greeted me like he always does when I come home. Where is Alfred?

After I unwrap my scarf, I pull my hoodie over my head to be more comfortable in the warm house. Sadly, I forgot to do laundry yesterday, so I came home in just my black yoga pants and red tank top. What would Alfred say?

I kick off my shoes and walk to the kitchen barefoot. Pulling my long hair into a ponytail, I notice a note on the counter that’s written for me. I unfold the note and stare at the nicest, well done cursive handwriting only one man can do here.

Dear Lady Y/N,

I sincerely apologize for not being there to greet you properly. Master Bruce had wanted me to take my holiday to London early, and Lord knows I can use a week to myself after stitching up countless wounds, tidying up bedrooms and Bat caves, and playing messenger between you and your father. I have a cooked roast with garlic mash potatoes in the refrigerator if you are hungry. Do heat it up and perhaps show your father and brothers how to use the microwave.

I dearly love you and the boys,

Love Alfred Pennyworth

P.S.

Look into the highest cabinet above the refrigerator, and you will discover a jar of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies just for you.

I grin widely, and before I can turn around and find the cookies, I’m stuck between the counter and a tall, hard body behind me. I freeze.

“Welcome home, Y/N. I missed you so much,” Bruce whispers in my ear. I can feel his hot breath above my shoulder and neck. The familiar smell of his expensive cologne fills my nostrils. His large hands rub my legs and grip onto my hips very hard. “Did you miss me?”

“H-hi dad. W-what are you doing?” I ask softly, but I know it came out like a whisper. One of his hands is holding my waist, while the other caresses my abdomen. It feels strange considering Bruce is supposed to be my father, and we shouldn’t be this close or even touching each other. But a part of me wants to keep feeling his hands on me and see what he does next.

“Holding you. Smelling you. Touching you,” he answers, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He breathes harder when I press my backside against his front by accident. “It appears you want this too. Am I correct, Y/N?”

His hand pulls down my yoga pants enough, so he can reach into my underwear. Bruce continues to breathe hard from his nose when his fingers find my core. His thumb rubs fast circles on my clit, while he pushes two fingers inside me. I bite my bottom lip to stop a loud moan from coming out of me, but he appears he’ll have none of that. He stops fingering me.

“You better be loud, or I won’t let you cum, Y/N.”

Before I can beg him to keep going, he turns my face, so I can look him in those cold, pale blue eyes. “Please tell me you’re…not a virgin.” Bruce’s face is twisted in pleasure from just fingering me, but I can tell his lips are trembling and there’s a soft but pleading look in his eyes. This must hurt him as much as it’s hurting me.

“I-I’m not,” I confess, and wonder if he would change his mind if I said I was.

“Who was it with?” Bruce demands. He kisses along my shoulder to my neck before he bites on my soft spot. I hiss in pain and I grind into him again.

“Josh Mitchell. I was sixteen,” I answer harshly.

“Was he any good?”

Before I can answer, Bruce shoves the front of my body onto the counter, while he pulls down my yoga pants. My adrenaline is rushing, and I can feel myself wetting the counter from just his roughness. I can feel him unzip his pants and I can already imagine this thick, hard cock fucking me into oblivion.

“No, no he wasn’t good at all!” I cry out.

“Good, I’m actually relieved to hear that,” Bruce says, as he starts to stroke himself. “Do you want me to fuck you, Y/N?”

I want to turn around and watch him jack off. Hearing him pleasure himself isn’t enough. Bruce then jams two fingers back into my pussy and I whimper loudly. It has been too long since I’ve been intimate with a man. I need his cock now!

“I asked you a question, Y/N. Do I need to remind you who you are supposed to answer to?” he says seriously before adding a third finger inside me. I grip the counter and I breathe harder. I find myself rubbing my pussy on the edge of the smooth countertop for more friction, but he grabs my hips and stops me. “Now, do you want me to fuck you, Y/N, or should I leave you here, so you can dry hump the countertop alone?”

I growl louder, while my nails scratch the counter top. “YES! Yes, I want you to fuck me, Dad!”

As soon as those words left my mouth, I immediately wonder if I killed the mood. Why would I call him ‘dad’ when we’re about to have hot, rough sex in the kitchen? I need to apologize. I push myself up on my elbows and I shift my head to the side to apologize. I open my mouth to speak but stop when Bruce’s eyes darkened, and he growls as he slams his thick cock inside me.

I moan louder than I have in my entire life. His cock fills me up so much that I fear I won’t be able to walk straight for the next week or two. Bruce lifts my legs up and continues to shove me against the counter with every hard thrust. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to fuck me. The man is practically drilling into me with no kindness at all.

“Oh fuck! You’re so fucking tight. So wet and so hot,” Bruce groans out. With each thrust, I can feel he wants to let go and fuck me like he owns me.

“Go ahead, Dad. Fuck me. Fuck me like I’m yours and only yours,” I tempt him playfully.

Bruce growls and rams his cock faster into me. He keeps knocking the air out from my lungs, and I can feel my body pulsating against his. I grip the countertop harder each time, and I know my knuckles are turning white and becoming numb every second. With one hand on my hips, Bruce moves his other hand up my tank top to hold my tits.

“No bra? You’re a bad girl,” Bruce says in between panting.

“I forgot to do laundry,” I choke out.

“Excuses,” he manages to say, as he holds me up more, so he can penetrate me deeper. His cock is hitting a deeper spot in me. It must be my g-spot, because I have read about it but never actually felt it to know. I can feel myself clenching his dick tightly, and I know I’m getting closer to release. “You wanted me and your brothers to see your tits, huh?”

“Maybe,” I cry out louder than what I intended to. Fuck, what if one of my brothers hears me? They’ll really think I’m insane for fucking our father and for loving it every second. Bruce readjusts our position once more, so he can hit that spot continuously. “I-I think I’m going to cum!”

“Not yet, you better not!” Bruce growls, and drills into me harder and faster. With his powerful thrusts and the constant friction from the countertop on my clit, I know for a fact that I can’t last longer. His hands hold onto my hips while he fucks me harder than before.

I become a moaning mess. I can feel my mouth drop open because I feel liquid coming out from my core. Did I just squirt? What the hell is happening to me?

The sounds of skin on skin is louder because of my mess. I drop my head onto the counter while Bruce continues to fuck me. Before I can catch my breath, Bruce chuckles and lifts me up. “I just made you squirt. That has never happened before, has it?”

“No, that was my first time,” I answer breathlessly. He kisses my neck.

“You’re so wet,” Bruce grunts into my ear. Breathing heavily, he lifts my hips again, so he can rub my clit with his fingers. “You’re making a mess all over my cock. You’re such a bad girl.”

“I’m your bad girl,” I moan out, as I can feel another orgasm threatening to take over my body.

“Fuck yes, you are!” Bruce groans, and continues to shove his cock into my soaking wet pussy.

With every rough thrust, I know Bruce won’t last. I whimper once more when my pussy clenches his dick as he fucks me through my orgasm. A few more hard thrusts, Bruce pulls out and turns me over onto my back. He jacks himself off as I watch his cum spurt out all over my stomach.

Just seeing his hard, veiny thick cock before me turns me on once more. I lick my lips at how the tip of his dick glistens with his cum.

Bruce sighs heavily, and just when I think I should try to get up and clean myself, he pulls me up and kisses me. He shoves his tongue into my mouth, and we explore each other’s mouths as if this was our last chance to. He pulls away from me and rests his forehead against mine.

“You’re mine, Y/N. You belong to me, and the Batfamily. I don’t care who wants you, because you will never give them what you have given me. Do you understand?” Bruce asks, before giving me his famous bat glare.

“I understand, and I promise,” I swear before he kisses me once more.

“Good, now go wash up,” Bruce instructs before he helps me off the counter.

I grab a paper towel and wipe Bruce’s cum off my stomach before I pull up my yoga pants. As soon as I toss the damped paper towel into the trash, I immediately notice Dick Grayson is standing there at the entrance of the kitchen staring at me with fire in his eyes.

#dc comics #batman #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x reader smut #bruce wayne x y/n smut #bruce wayne smut #batman smut

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fictionalabyss · 4 years ago

Text

Mated : Funkytown.

Pairings : Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader (mentioned), Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

Word count : 2,793

Written for : @spnabobingo

Square : Fuck or die

Warning : Angst ahead! a/b/o dynamics, character death talked about, depression, sickness, really bad heat, dying, minor smut, claiming, guilt

Masterlist • Patreon • Ko-fi.

Part 3 of Mated.

SPN A/B/O Bingo Round 5 Masterlist.

It had been weeks since Dean had died. Weeks of misery and mourning. Alone.

Sam had been around just to tell you, a quick “Dean’s dead.” before he disappeared while you broke down. You hadn’t heard from him since. You shut down, shut the whole world out while you mourned the loss of your mate.

And then your heat hit.

With no mate to get you through it, you tried to do it on your own, but you were still in mourning, and it was a bad one. You’d never had a heat so painful. Three weeks after your mate died, you were bedridden, weak, barely able to move. You couldn’t even make it to the shower, let alone the kitchen. Everything hurt, everything ached and burned, sweat pouring out of every pore. All you could do was cry. Cry and beg for relief that wasn’t coming.

When you hit seven days in, with no end in sight, you couldn’t do it anymore, could barely even stay awake. You needed it to stop, needed help. With a shaking hand, you reached for your phone on the nightstand next to your bed and weakly hit a number you hadn’t called in a long time.

It went to voicemail.

“P-please.. Sam. I-” you couldn’t stop the tears. “I’m scared… I can’t- I need suppressants, or.. I don’t- I’m scared, Sam. I’m so scared. I-” you swallowed and said the only thing you could think to say, something Dean had told you would always have him come running home. “Funkytown.” The phone fell from your hand, too weak to hold it anymore, and you curled into a ball and cried.

When ringing the bell got him nowhere, he picked the lock far too easily. He was going to have to have a chat with you about that, about getting better locks. Sam pushed open the door and stepped inside. Before the door behind him even clicked shut, he knew something was wrong. Something was off. The house was dead silent, not a creak, like no one was home. He could still smell you, but it smelled… wrong.

He was running up the stairs, taking them two at a time, following the faint barely there smell to a thick bedroom door. He didn’t stop his stride, just opened the door and burst right in-

He froze when the smell hit him. It was you, but it was wrong, it was sick. The normally sweet smell of an omega in heat had turned sour. It was revolting. It smelt like death. If Sam hadn’t been used to the smells of corpses, burning or not from hunting, he’s sure he’d have lost his breakfast by now. “Jesus.” he mumbled, stepping closer to the bed you were curling up in. He could tell just by looking at you that you didn’t need suppressants, you needed a fucking doctor.

He scooped you up in his arms and you were nothing but dead weight, and yet, lighter than he expected, lighter than he’d remembered you being back in college when you’d drink too much and he’d piggy back you along the streets back to campus. You seemed to flinch at the feel of his skin on yours, but he could smell fresh slick and it smelt just as sickeningly wrong as the room. “Dean..” your voice was weak. His eyes shot down to your face, eyes fighting to open and losing.

“No, it’s me.” He answered as he carried you into the bathroom and lowered you into the tub before turning on the water.

“Sam?”

Your eyes finally managed to open and you were looking at him, so he gave you a small smile. “Yeah. It’s me.”

“You- you came..” you breathed it out like a sigh of relief. “I didn’t think..” you voice trailed off, eyes falling closed again.

“I’ll always come when you need me.” he told you even though he wasn’t sure you heard him until you weakly nodded.

You could feel warm water starting to pool around you, feel it wash over you as Sam splashed it over your skin to wipe away at the sweat that caked your skin. It hurt to feel him touching you, he wasn’t your mate, each brush of his skin on yours caused a fresh wave of pain, but at the same time, he was an Alpha, and you were in heat so it also brought on an ache in your core and more slick. You couldn’t fight either, you just slipped back into darkness as wet warmth surrounded you.

“When has she last eaten?”

You woke up hearing a man’s voice answering the question you had heard in a dream, and for a moment, hope filled you. But only for a moment. It wasn’t Dean, that wasn’t his voice, that wasn’t his scent. It was familiar, though. “I don’t know, she called me yesterday, left a voicemail crying, said she needed suppressants..”

“She needs her mate.” That was a voice you didn’t know, that was new. There was a stranger in your room. It took a bit of fighting, but you managed to get your eyes open to see someone leaning over you, poking and prodding, giving you a once over. The stethoscope around their neck was the dead giveaway. A doctor.

“He’s dead.” Sam answered from where he stood out of your line of sight.

“That explains it. First heat after the death?” Sam hummed. “It's always the worst. Some don’t survive it.” The doctor sighed and stood.

“What can you do for her?”

“Nothing.” The doctor looked towards your feet, his back going to you. “There’s nothing I can do, you asked for an Omega specifically. If you’d have asked for an Alpha-” Sam growled at that and the doctor ducked his head for a moment. “She needs her mate.”

“Like I said, he’s dead.”

“Then she needs a new one.” The room was quiet. “If you want her to live-”

“How long? How long does she have?”

You saw the doctor's shoulders shrug. “Honestly? I’d say if she doesn’t have a mate in about.. 24 hours, she’s not going to make it.” Sam cursed. “48 tops, and that’s really pushing it. Someone should have been called in sooner, she’s too far gone.”

“I would have if I had known.” Sam growled threateningly, and the doctor's hands went up.

“Look, getting her cleaned up and out of that room, that was good. But you need to get her to eat.”

“She can’t even fucking stay awake!”

“Exactly why she needs to eat. She’s got nothing in her system. Force her to, even if it’s just a soup broth. Don’t give her the choice.” Your eyes started to fall shut again, your lids too heavy to keep open. Thinking about it, if you had called Sam yesterday, it had to have been about 2 or 3 days since you’d been able to make it to your kitchen. That could not be helping things.

“You obviously don’t know her if you think she can be forced into anything.” Sam mumbled.

“Try. It’s that, or find someone to mate her and fast.”

Sam sighed. “She’d hate that even more.”

“Sadly, that’s all I’ve got for you.”

“Thanks anyways, doc.”

You heard movement, a zipper being closed and then “Good luck. I’ve got your number, I’ll call and check in tomorrow. Even though there’s not much I can do, I’d still-”

“Thanks, doc.”

Quiet followed the footsteps out of the room.

You shifted, and the pain brought you back to awake, curling in on yourself to try and relieve it. You weren’t sure how long had passed, days or hours, but judging by the sight of Sam when you opened your eyes, you’d say minutes. He was deep in thought, likely not having moved at all since the doctor left. His arms across his chest as he stared down at the floor, his ass settled on a dresser with his ankles crossed. He was nervously chewing on his bottom lip, something you can’t remember seeing him do before. Judging by the dark piece of furniture as well as the artwork on the wall behind him, you were in the spare bedroom.

“You’re really here.” Sam's head snaps up, eyes on you. “I thought I was dreaming it.. Am I really dying?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, closing your eyes again. “I need you to eat.”

You shook your head. “Not hungry.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“I’m sorry for calling you.” you told him quietly.

“What?”

“You can go, you probably have more important things to do..”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” he snapped, pushing off the dresser. “You fucking called me here, you said Funkytown knowing I’d come running. Now you want me to just leave? You’re dying.”

“You can’t save me, Sam. You can’t stop it.”

“You were scared. I came. I’m not leaving.”

“Would you just let me die in peace!?” you snapped, eyes opening to glare at him and he froze, the expression on his face changing.

“Why are you suddenly so eager to die?”

“Like I said, you can’t save me..” Sam watched you as you curled tighter into yourself with a whimper as another wave of pain hit, fresh slick leaking from between your thighs. “And I’ll finally see him again.”

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“Don’t-”

“It doesn’t fucking work like that!” Sam yelled, anger coming back as he stormed closer to the bed.

“JUST LET ME HAVE HOPE, SAM!”

“Fuck your hope!” he snapped. “Okay? And fuck you for calling me in just to tell me to leave. Do you really think you’re the only one missing him? He’s my fucking brother! He’s my blood! He’s all I had left! Him and you.” You closed your eyes again as tears began to fall. “You think if it was that simple I wouldn’t have just fucking ended it? He made a fucking deal.”

“So I’ll make one too, I’ll-”

“You can’t even get out of fucking bed.” Sam spat. “How the hell are you going to make it to a crossroads?”

“I don’t know, okay! I don’t know! All I know is I can’t do this! I can’t live without him!”

“You didn’t even fucking try.”

“Just leave, Sam.”

“No. You know I won't, that's exactly why you called me. You’ve got other friends, other people to call, but you called me.”

“Because despite how you pretend I don’t exist, you were still my best friend.” Your eyes opened to look at him, meet his eyes and you hoped and prayed he could see all the pain you were carrying from losing Dean and him both. “I’m sorry I called you, okay. I’m sorry. Just let me go.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why!? I heard the doctor, Sam! I heard what it’ll take! 24 hours to find a new mate? You said it yourself I can’t even move!”

“I’m not going to leave you to suffer alone. I can make you comfortable, keep you company, I-”

“YOU’RE NOT STAYING TO WATCH ME DIE!” you screamed. “Not after you had to watch him die. I can’t do that to you. Please.”

Sam kneeled down next to your bed, bringing him closer, and he ran his fingers along tangled hair, just pushing it back, to sooth you more than anything else. “Then let me help you.”

“You can’t. I know you can’t.”

“I can.” Sam swallowed. “You won’t like it, but I can.” You shook your head, eyes squeezing shut at another wave of pain and slick. “You called me to help you. Let me help you.”

“Please stop- stop touching me. It hurts. It makes everything hurt.”

Sam leaned forward, his lips pressing to your sweaty forehead and you started to cry all over again. “I’m not leaving. Not without trying. I owe it to Dean.”

You shook your head as Sam got up, moving over you and settling between your thighs. “You’re not him.” you cried before Sam’s lips pressed to yours, forcing a pained whine out of you. One of Sam’s forearms was pressed into the mattress, holding him up while his other hand worked at opening and freeing him from his jeans as his lips continued to move over your lips, jaw, and throat. “You’re not him.”

“Let me try.” the words whispered against your throat as you felt him move through your slick, tip of his cock sliding deliciously along your clit before he lined himself up. You never bothered with underwear while in heat, it was pointless and apparently Sam had figured the same when he re-dressed you after your bath.

He pushed forward, and you cried out, head going further into the pillows underneath it as your back arched off the bed. Your hands went to his shoulders, pushing, scratching, punching. You wanted to make him stop, it hurt so bad, he wasn't Dean, he wasn't your mate, but at the same time- he felt so fucking good buried deep inside you.

Sam gave slow and deliberate thrusts, and every thrust forward had you face twist in pain. "Let me try." he asked once more against the side of your neck "I can't lose you, too. Let me try.". Your only response was your eyes closing and your fists no longer pummeling at him. I wasn't really much of an answer, but Sam understood.

It was common for a second mate to break the mark of the first with their own claim. But something in you couldn't let go, couldn't let it happen. When you felt Sam going for it, you stopped him. "Not there.. please.. anywhere but there. I-" you couldn't even begin to explain. "Just… please.."

"Okay." He kissed your lips delicately, his own show of understanding before he tailed down to the other shoulder.

You relaxed a little against him, not fully though, every move he made still brought so much pain, but knowing Dean's mark would remain, that you would keep that reminder of him always, it was calming. Not many Alphas would grant that wish.

Suddenly, a scream ripped through you as his teeth sank deep into your skin. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you tried to pull him closer. Everything exploded, like you were suddenly alive again. The excruciating pain wasn't fully gone, but the pleasure-

Oh the pleasure. Sam's pace picked up, his thrust getting a little rougher and it felt so fucking good. As good as he felt hitting deep, the drag of him pulling back felt just as good and as your scream died down, a fresh gush of slick poured out as waves of an orgasm tore through you.

"There you are." Sam mumbled against the bite mark, taking a deep breath in. "There's the smell I love so much."

You tangled your fingers into his hair and pulled, bringing his face up to yours so you could look him in the eyes. They were beautiful. Not the bright green you had loved from Dean, but greens and browns in perfect harmony with each other. "Bring me back." You were begging, tears in your eyes as you looked into his. "I don't want to die."

"I know."

You were staring up at the ceiling, Sam snoring gently next to you. Two rounds before the pain of your heat finally started to feel more normal. You had sighed with relief when his knot had swelled and locked him in you, but now, in the quiet of the room with the post sex haze faded away, relief wasn't what you felt.

What you felt was guilt. Like you were betraying something or someone. Dean. Dean was dead and you were finding pleasure in his brother and you felt so much guilt. And weakness. You were too weak to live without him, too weak to deny Sam. Weeks. Not months, not years, weeks, and you were mated to his brother.

"I'm sorry." You whispered into the darkness of the room. "I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough." You rolled onto your side, your back towards Sam as you started to tear up. You couldn't let him see you crying, couldn't let him see the guilt. You didn't want it eating at him as well.

But it was like he knew, like he just knew you needed comfort, because he rolled over, putting his chest to your back as he wrapped an arm around your waist and held you close.

You tried to let his warmth wash over you, tried to remember how bad you had wanted this year's ago. You had it now, you had Sam.

But even as Sam's mark burned hot on your skin, a part of you just really wanted Dean back.

*If you like this, please consider supporting my work*

Tagging : Dean - @akshi8278 @adoptdontshoppets @evyiione @karikatz12481 @idksupernatural @deandreamernp

Sam - @evyiione @hoboal87

SPN - @sandlee44 @just-another-busy-fangirl @mrswhozeewhatsis @deanandsamsbitch @deans-baby-momma @thebescht @67-chevy-baby @supraveng @musiclovinchic93 @holyfuckloueh @ksgeekgirl @hobby27 @maddiepants @roxyspearing @onethirstyunicorn @fandom-princess-forevermore @kalesrebellion @deanwanddamons @thoughts-and-funnies

All tags - @sorenmarie87 @artemisthebadger @winchesterprincessbride @iflostreturntosteverogers @akfonkin @rebelminxy @foxyjwls007 @onethirstyunicorn @shaelyn102 @supernaturalenchanted @kazkingdom @babypink224221 @emoryhemsworth @ilovefanfic86 @pie-with-hunters @anaelsbrunette @lazinessisalliknow @feelmyroarrrr @letsdisneythings @cdwmtjb8 @notyourtypicalrose @xostephanie @ilovedeanspie @defenderrosetyler @amandamdiehl

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saeyoungchoismaid · 5 years ago

Text

Brothers’ + Diavolo’s reaction to their s/o on their period

Genre: fluff Warnings: none A/N: I made it to where demons/angels don’t have periods

Lucifer:

he walked into your shared bedroom to see you buried under your blankets

eating candy

and crying over whatever movie you were watching on your phone

instantly, he’s worried, confused, and curious

he slowly walks over to you and quietly gets your attention, not wanting to spook you

you look up from your phone to stare up at him with watery eyes

“What’s wrong, love?” he says softly, sitting on the bed by your legs

“I’m not feeling well,” you reply calmly, wiping the tears from your eyes

he frowns at this

“Why? What’s wrong? Did one of the idiots do something t-”

“No, no. I’m just on my period,” you explain shortly

there’s a long pause after that

Lucifer, for some reason, never expected this to happen

I mean, demons don’t have periods

even angels don’t have them

guess he should’ve known better

“You’re what?” is his brilliant response

you giggle and explain to him what’s going on, reassuring him you’ll be fine

he doesn’t hesitate to get what you need when you need it though

Mammon:

he doesn’t know what to do

he doesn’t even know what a period is

and you’re bleeding???

isn’t that serious????

humans can’t lose this much blood, right?????

but you seem completely chill

you’re just laying on your bed in some comfy clothes, eating junk food, and watching tv

how are you so calm??

despite his worries that you’ll literally die, he trusts your judgment and doesn’t rush you to a hospital

he constantly asks what you need though and, of course, you use this to your advantage

you make him bring you drinks, snacks, blankets, and whatever else you could possibly want

after making him your slave for fifteen minutes, you finally relent and tell him you just want cuddles

he happily obliges to that one

he all but jumps on your bed, curling up with you to watch whatever the heck you’re watching

Levi:

he once played a game where he was a human doctor

let’s just say he found out some things that he never thought he’d know

so, when he finds out you’re on your period, he’s only a little shocked

that game wasn’t just fabricating things up out of the wazoo??

humans literally bleed out of their vaginas???

now he knows just how cruel God is

he has to do a little research before doing anything

he looks up everything there is to know about the human period

he learned 1. they bleed a lot from anywhere from 2-7 days 2. they can have cramps and other physical pain 3. humans get cravings during this time 4. you won’t die

he had to search a lot to get that last one

apparently, it’s not a very popular search

after getting all his information, he finally goes to you

he helps you with whatever you need

anything from getting you a drink to giving you a massage

during the time of your period, he’ll randomly blurt little ‘fun’ facts about the human period

“Did you know that menstruating makes you hornier?”

he got wacked for that one

Satan:

of course this demon already knows all about it

with the number of books he reads?

please, he probably knows more than you do

as soon as he finds out, he just leaves without a word

you felt like crying, seeing as how you thought he was disgusted by you

before you could get far in crying, he’s suddenly back with a bunch of stuff

extra blankets, a heating pad, snacks, candy, medicine, warm and cool drinks, a book he recommended you to read, and a whole bunch of other stuff

you’re in awe, to say the least

your heart probably grew three sizes

he cuddles you as he gently rubs your abdomen over the heating pad

you ask him how he knows so much

because you were having ‘girl’ time with Asmo once and when you mentioned your period, he had no idea what you were talking about

he only chuckles and explains he’s not as dense as his brothers

he tells you about all the human books he has in his room and the library

he knows plenty about the human body

“How do you think I’m so good at pleasing you and making you orgasm so hard that you’re literally seeing stars?”

you let out a squeak as you hit him, a dark blush coming to your face

Asmo:

he, just like his other brothers (besides Satan), had no idea what you were talking about

he wanted to have ‘girl’ time when you said you didn’t feel like it

he was thoroughly confused

you always feel like it

what’s changed?

he offers to paint your nails while you tell him what’s wrong

you agree and lean back against your pillows once you sit up

you instantly change your mind when you smell the strong scent of the nail polish

you ask him to put it away, closing your eyes for a moment

he pouts but does as he’s told

he then offers to brush and braid your hair instead

that you instantly agreed with

as he plays with your hair, you feel your headache subside a bit

you explain to him what’s wrong and that what you’re going through is normal

and that you’ll be right as rain in a couple of days

he coos at you, wrapping his arms around you

“Why didn’t you say so, love bug? What can I do?”

after helping you to the best of his ability, he cuddles you and plays with your hair until you fall asleep

while you're asleep, he does some research

apparently, sex can help ease period-related symptoms, such as cramps

once you're awake, he tells you this new information

you're surprised that he's not disgusted and actually wants to try it

"Honey, I'm the avatar of lust. I see this as free lubrication," he replies with a smirk before getting to work

Beel:

just like pretty much everyone else, he’s lost

that doesn’t stop him though

he’s swift to make you all your favorite foods and more

while he secretly makes your surprise, he brings you some snacks and candy

he also gives you a bottle of water and tells you to drink it all by the time he gets back

he’s quick to make all the food, it taking everything in him to not take bites

when he brings you tray after tray of food, you assure him that you can split it with him

he feeds you and smiles when he sees that you’re feeling better

once you confirm that you’re full, he’s quick to finish everything off for you

after that, he cuddles you and makes sure that you’re as snug as a bug

he’s ready to get up if you need anything, running from your bedroom to whatever place held what you wanted

you quickly learn to keep your mouth shut

you just so happened to mention wanting cotton candy, a human world only delicacy, and he rushed off

he found Lucifer, made him take him to the human world, and tracked down one of those big buckets of cotton candy

when he returns, you thank him but make sure to also scold him

“Baby, I didn’t need this. I ju-”

“But you’re hurting. I want to make you feel better,” he says softly while not looking at you

he looks like a kid who’s getting scolded for being up past their bedtime

and how can you stay mad at that?

you reassure him it’s fine and cuddle back into him, starting to eat the cloud-like dessert

and, of course, you shared with him

Belphie:

he woke up from a nap with you to see red on the bed

just like anyone else who sees a human bleeding this much, he starts panicking

he wakes you up and basically shouts in your face that you’re dying and that you have to go to the hospital

you’re very confused, to say the least

he starts to check for a wound while yelling at someone to get the car ready or call an ambulance

he eventually finds the source of your wound

there’s a lot of blood in your underwear

he thinks that’s an odd place to stab someone or whatever but he brushes it off in an instant

he’s quick to ask how you didn’t notice the pain in your vagina of all places

that’s when things click for you

you’re beyond embarrassed

you shoo him out of the bed with hot cheeks, mumbling things to yourself as you take everything off the bed

he’s flabbergasted

“What are you doing? You’re dying and you want to do laundry?” he shouts

you roll your eyes, throwing the, basically ruined, heap of blankets and sheets to a corner of the room

“I’m not dying. Calm down,” you reassure, making your way to the bathroom to clean up

he’s so worried that he almost follows you in

after locking him out, he let’s everyone know that it was a false alarm while you clean up

you come out and throw your ruined underwear and pajama bottoms on top of the heap

you then sit him down and explain what’s going on

he’s embarrassed for having such a dramatic reaction to something that’s, apparently, very normal

you tell him not to be embarrassed because it’s not his fault that he didn’t know

you then say that if anyone should be embarrassed, it’s you

he cups your face and stares into your eyes, a serious look on his face

“Don’t ever apologize for something like that. You had no control over the situation. I’m not mad or disgusted. It’s perfectly natural. So, don’t worry your pretty little head,” he reassures softly before giving you a kiss

after that, he takes over with cleaning up

after getting news sheets and whatnot onto the bed, he bundles you up in it and gets whatever you want to make you feel better

Diavolo:

he, surprisingly, already knows about human periods

when he sees your shock, he chuckles for a moment before explaining

“Of course I know about periods, dear. I had to learn a lot about humans for this program. Now, c’mere. What do you need?”

after getting over your shock, you explain that you’re cramping and want a heating pad, if possible

he quickly reassures you that he’ll get his hands on one and to go lay down

when he returns to you, he has more than a heating pad with him

he’s brought snacks, medicine, movies, blankets, and new fuzzy pajamas

you try to tell him that you’re afraid to ruin the pajama bottoms but he reassures you that if you ‘ruin’ them, he’ll get you ten more

after coaxing you into the comfy clothes, he rolls you up in blankets and tucks you into bed by his side

he feeds you whatever you want to eat and gives you medicine for cramps, headaches, and whatever else is hurting

after taking said medicine, you start to get a little drowsy

you last about halfway through Mulan before you pass out

he curls up next to you and decides to take a nap himself once he knows you’re okay

he makes sure to check on you when you wake up, offering to draw up a bath for you

he then surprises you by joining you in the bath

it’s the most relaxed and pain-free you’ve ever felt while on your period

MASTERLIST

More with Obey Me!

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