#actively sobbing and vomiting

[nosegoes]

The bit I can’t stop thinking about is listening to John’s 37(?) y/o voice and Paul’s current voice together it makes me wanna rip my intestines out just a little bit

[swordmaid]

I don’t think shri’iia would’ve fallen for astarion if he kept up with his overtly flirting act/seduction which is ironic since she’s more comfortable with that compared to the more genuine version of him since she doesn’t know what to do with kindness in general, and this is new territory for her so she doesn’t know what to do with it. anyway. I don’t think shri’iia would’ve fallen for him if their relationship was just about the sex.

the reason why she starts that fwb relationship with him in the first place because she’s using him as a distraction because her oath has been severed and she’s been abandoned by her goddess. she needs something to latch onto or else she will quite literally spiral down since she doesn’t know what purpose she has anymore. shri’iia doesn’t know how to exist outside of lolth, let alone know such a thing was possible. and sex for shri’iia is mostly for the validation that comes with it and less about the pleasure (I’ll get into the whole of that in another post) — not to say she didn’t find enjoyment in it, she does - which is one of the things that sets her off (bc her relationship with her matriarch had never been mutual) but if her relationship with astarion was just about the sex then she would’ve never fallen for him as much as she did.

like the reason why she ends up crushing on him is bc of his companionship. I think they have similar humours and temperament, and they’re both pretty slimy who has no problem with being shitheads and I think that’s the key thing about it. they just have fun together! plain and simple. and I think when it comes down to it, shri’iia is a pretty lonely person who is so so desperate for companionship considering she was either hidden away in solitude or constantly chasing the approval of her mistress for a sliver of her affection and she’s been doing that for a near century. I imagine there are decades where she doesn’t even get a visit from her matriarch, and she is just sitting on the floors of her little tower waiting. I also imagine she talks to herself often because of this. regardless, I think shri’iia just ends up enjoying astarion’s company most of all, and she develops a little crush on him because he makes her laugh, and she also doesn’t realise that she has a crush on him or likes him in that way because the only thing she knows is outright devotion. love to her is something all consuming, not something that comes in quietly. she doesn’t realise she’s fond of him because she has never known such a thing before, or she finds him oddly endearing because her basis of love was her past devotion to lolth and her matriarch that bordered on obsession.

and it’s the funniest thing to me because I see him falling for her similarly too. like the thing to me is that hag romance never needed to have that fwb relationship in the first place; they inevitably will start to like each other because they simply just enjoy each other’s companionship BUT the fwb relationship is also important too since it starts when she is in her most vulnerable state (post oath-breaking), and it also allows him to be vulnerable with her too (let her read his scars).

[kitticula]

healing from brain damage is definitely the worst injury ive ever had to heal from so far 😞 this shit is so difficult yall

[milo-knight]

ACCORDING TO MY FUCKING COLLEGE I NEVER ACCEPTED MY FINANCIAL AID GRANTS BUT I WAS NEVER NOTIFIED OF EVEN RECEIVING THE OFFERS AND I WAS NEVER ABLE TO ACCESS THE FUCKING PORTAL THAT WOULD ALLOW ME THE ABILITY TO ACCEPT OR DECLINE THE FUCKING GRANTS AND NOW THE WINDOW IS CLOSED (???) AND I AM 6,000 IN DEBT TO MY FUCKING SCHOOL FOR THIS SEMESTER ALONE NOW AND I HAVE BEEN SENDING THEM EMAILS ABOUT THE ISSUE AND I AM FREAKING OUT BECAUSE IT'S TOO LATE TO WITHDRAW FOR THE SCHOOL YEAR AND BECAUSE IT'S PAST THE DATE MY PAYMENT TO THE COLLEGE WAS DUE NOW I HAVE FUCKING LATE FEES TOO EVEN THOUGH I NEVER RECEIVED MY FUCKING GRANTS THAT I EMAILED THE SCHOOL ABOUT BECAUSE I KNEW I WAS ELIGIBLE FOR THOSE FUCKING GRANTS IM ACTUALLY CRYING IM SO STRESSED FUCK YOU UCSC IDC IDC FUCK YOU UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SANTA CRUZ FUCK YOU TO HELL

[ethan-acfan]

Merthur, except once they start dating instead of the same banter as before, the insults are replaced with lovey dovey romantic word vomit said in the exact same tone and vibe as their insults to the point where people can't tell if they hate each other or not.

Arthur: *activity glaring at Merlin* I just love how brilliant you are. Every day, I fall deeper in live with you, my dear.

Merlin: *giving him a "Are you stupid?" Look* "Every day, you remind me why life is worth living, and for that, I will forever be loyal to you, my love."

Arthur: *very clearly on the verge of jumping across the table and smacking merlin* "My soul is yours to-

Random knight who just happened to be in the room during this: "WHAT IS GOING ON?!" *confused sobs*

[raining-anonymously]

i really really appreciate how much the mouthwashing gameplay emphasizes that curly is still a feeling human person after the crash. he reacts to every single thing that happens around him. he makes decisions. he changes his behavior as the game progresses. these subtle details are everything to me. he’s not a prop.

CW for discussion of medical abuse, forcefeeding, torture, gore, autocannibalism, basically everything curly experiences in-game

“he doesn’t want to keep still any more.” our first line in curly’s presence. anya doesn’t say “he won’t keep still anymore,” she says he doesn’t want to. this diction provides a sharp contrast to jimmy, whose only acknowledgment of curly’s desires comes up when he puts words in curly’s mouth, while anya observes curly’s body language to extrapolate what he actually wants and needs. she considers him a person, just as the player is meant to; jimmy does not.

the progression of the pills scenes. in the first one, he’s in about as little pain as we see him. he just chokes it down.

in the second pills scene, anya is late on giving him the pills and he’s clearly in great pain, crying, tossing and turning even though that probably just hurts him more. i do think the way the crying can be heard through the entire ship is jimmy’s auditory hallucination, but it was loud enough to wake jimmy up from the lounge. when jim actually does give him the pills, curly briefly resists, but after that first hit, he cries out in pain and then gives this strangled “huh?” before the beating continues. he cries out a couple more times before realizing jimmy wants him to be quiet, and he stops crying out, lets jimmy give him the pills, and sobs quietly before going silent.

in the third pills scene, curly seems to be trying not to make noise or resist. he still sobs after the pills go down and falls quiet after.

after anya’s and daisuke’s deaths, curly lies so still and quiet that i’ve witnessed multiple players be shocked that he’s still alive when his chest moves.

and the infamous laughter… that’s definitive proof that curly isn’t just reacting to stimuli like pain (which would not make him less of a person, for the record) but actively observing and thinking about the events around him.

when jimmy picks curly up. despite the fact that having his burns pressed against another person would be excruciating, curly does not react. just breaths hoarsely and keeps his eye locked on jimmy — until he ends up on the table surrounded by the corpses. then, and only then, does his breath get panicky, and he starts to cry softly.

cutting the leg. my goodness, those screams. incredible voice acting, first of all, but it really stands out to me that it isn’t a terrifying, inhuman scream. it’s very human, very desperate and pained, mixed with heaving, awful sobs. and afterward? curly’s so shaken that he’s visibly moving his jaw on his own as he gasps for breath. and the look in his eye…

in the force feeding scene — which, in my mind, was a hallucinatory version of real events — curly is silent and still. he only moves or cries out when he’s forced to via vomiting or the wheels turning (though the latter is likely imagined). he doesn’t react to anything else. doesn’t even hold up his head. but he gives these pained cries when the wheels turn, and this draws awareness to how he’s being treated as a prop here with intention. he’s being dehumanized, reduced to an object, but we as the player are painfully aware that this is a person. he’s not reacting more because he’s shutting down from all the trauma he’s experienced.

and i have a lot in my head about the juxtaposition of curly POV scenes with jimmy interacting with post-crash curly scenes. they’re often perfectly timed to remind you that the person on the cot, on the table, or in your arms is the same man who you were a minute ago, and vice versa.

just. man. mouthwashing emphasizes curly’s humanity at every corner, and that makes his story so much more horrifying.

i really like this game and i really like that it displays a disabled character being dehumanized by the player character while also emphasizing to the player that this is not right.

[i-cant-sing]

Just thinking about Yandere Todoroki clan and reader's random moments.

Reader coming home after a particularly bad day, but poor girl cant even cry or complain without everyone immediately overreacting and pulling you out of school/college or even keeping you from going out at all. So now, reader has to either cry in self pity before she enters her home, wipe her tears and fix herself just enough to show that she hadnt just bawled her eyes out moments ago. That, or do the more risky thing and go home, go to your room and cry under the covers, but then theres always the chance of Rei or the others walking in on you any moment.

Also thinking about baby/toddler reader being sick, just a common cold or flu, nothing major. But with reader whining and being so young, the family's infantalisation goes through the roof and theyd treat you as if you were immunocompromised. I wont lie, but I think Rei is almost kinda... glad when you get sick? She enjoys you being dependant on her for the most things, even when you grow up and are able to handle a cold, she still deludes herself into thinking that you need mommy to come and help you.

I think the one person who is most affected by reader getting sick, no matter what age, is Enji. The man just cant help but view you as a fragile, starving Victorian child the moment you fall ill. In his eyes, even a harsh blow of air is too much for a fragile thing like you, let alone something as bad as the flu. He just- he's holding toddler reader in his arms, who snuggles into his warm body, your tiny nose pink and he cant get the image of you crying and vomiting and being oh so feverish- thats just way too much for your small body. Oh how he almost cried when he took you to the doctor for a shot and you clung to him, trying to bury yourself into him as you begged him to make you feel better, cried to him that you didnt want to get the "big scary needle!" He just had to hold you there in his firm grip as you writhed, had to look away when you looked at him and he saw the feeling of betrayal in your eyes, had to keep himself from not strangling the fucking doctor for not being careful, had to walk out of the clinic and hand you to Rei because he couldnt hear you cry anymore, had to have Rei console both you and Enji (assuring him that "no, Enji. Y/n doesnt resent you for making her get a shot.") and he couldnt even sleep a wink that night because he was standing by your bed, holding your tiny hand with his pinky as a tear finally slipped out of his eye.

ALSO thinking about adult reader going out of the house to meet up with friends, except shes meeting up with them at a club instead of at their house like she told Enji and Rei, and now shes standing outside, abandoned by said friends, and shes now running because a group of pervy men are chasing her and she doesnt know who to call, so she just speed dials Shotou, except someone just changed all your speed dials to one number, and you think youre doomed when Shotou doesnt say a word to you and just hangs up when within minutes, someone comes in front of you-

"Dabi?" He tells you to cover your ears and look away, and you know well by know what that means, so you obey, feeling a bit regretful as those men begin to scream in agony. You dont know how long its been until Dabi pulls your hands away and examines your wounds. He lets you crash into his chest as you sob, and this time, Dabi simply decides to take you home quietly without a lecture.

Hmmm, also thinking about Natsuo who is usually cool as a cucumber, the most normal being in the family, except for his very rare episodes of unbridled rage where he suddenly becomes the Hulk. Good thing for you is that this anger is never directed towards you, rather towards people who actively threaten your life (except Rei cause she gets to play "Im your mom who became mentally unstable because of your abusive dad") The only time NAtsuo is stern with you is when it comes to your health. He's just looking at you with those strict eyes when you refuse to take your multivitamins, or dont want to get a flu shot, or try to make up an excuse so that he cant check your vitals. And when he just grabs your wrist and pulls you to sit down so that he can do his checkup, its in those moments that you realise just how strong your brother is... and how easy it may be for him to overpower you and sedate you if he ever followed through Rei's threats.

[brickmvster]

An Old Flame | L.K.

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader

Synopsis: After getting hammered at a club in attempts to repair a broken heart, in your drunken stupor, you call the one person you were trying to get over. He takes you back to his place, taking care of you, and it's then you realize that your feelings for him never quite dissipated.

Tags: breaking up and making up/exes to lovers, angst, fluff, a little bit of emotional hurt/comfort that goes both ways, reconciliation

Warnings: Alcohol consumption

Word Count: 6,309

Author's Note: I'm alive 😭 writer's block sucks, but I'm slowly getting back into the swing of things, I think. I hope you guys enjoy this!! Notes and reblogs are appreciated of course. This has been proofread, but if any mistakes still managed to slip by me, apologies in advance, they're all mine.

I imagined RE4R Leon while writing this but please feel free to imagine any version of him you'd like!

(Read on AO3)

Sobbing in a dirty bathroom stall was definitely not how you envisioned your Friday night going.

The fact that you were also considerably drunk and could feel the liquid sloshing around inside of your belly, threatening to come up your throat and all over the floor, certainly didn't make matters any better.

You had come to the club with a group of friends who were all far more enthusiastic than you to be there. You never considered yourself much of a party person; and if you were going to attend a party, it was always a small one with people that you knew or were at least acquaintances with. At a dingy nightclub, you were surrounded by hundreds of sweaty strangers, and the music was so loud that you were sure you were going to be temporarily deaf for a while. To make the long story short �� you weren't looking forward to coming here, but you regrettably let your friends drag you out of the comfort of your home.

The stupid leather pants your friends insisted you wore were feeling too tight. The bathroom was so stuffy and unbearably hot. There were two individuals in the stall next to you engaging in… a certain activity that you really didn't want to be around to hear. And the awful, terrible smell of puke was probably one of the worst things you've ever smelled in your entire life. It was all too much, every single one of your five senses being mercilessly attacked.

You shouldn't have let yourself get wasted; you knew that, and you mentally cursed yourself for such reckless behavior. But the longer you sat at the bar, completely by yourself and with your friends nowhere in sight, it was like no one was there to stop you. You still missed him and you thought alcohol would be better at numbing the pain than a tub of ice cream. Both were terrible items for getting over a heartbreak because they both only made you want to vomit, which is something you always learned the hard way.

That's how you ended up in a stall, tears freely running down your cheeks in a drunken haze. Your friends were on your mind, but more than anything you just wanted to be carried out of here. You grabbed your phone out of your bag and opened up your contacts. But for some reason, instead of clicking on one of your friend's names, you kept scrolling further down, subconsciously searching for that specific name that you knew you should've just deleted a long time ago.

You clicked on the little phone icon, and listened attentively to the ringing on the other end. It rang and rang and rang, and it went on for so long that it almost snapped you out of the very stupid thing you were doing, but then–

"Hello?"

Leon actually answered. And even after all this time, his voice was still the most soothing sound in the world. You cleared your throat before attempting to put together a sentence in response.

"Hey… I'm… I'm, uh, in a gross bathroom at, um… fuck, what was the name of this place…" you trailed off, your cheeks heating up out of embarrassment. You rubbed your forehead, trying to think despite how hard it was to do.

Leon was silent for a bit on the other end before speaking up.

"___? Are you okay? It's… really late."

You chuckled, a burp coming out alongside the sound. "I know, right? What the fuck am I even doing here?"

"___, listen to me. Are you alright? Why did you call?" Leon asked. You could just faintly hear shuffling on the other end, and the unmistakable sound of keys jingling, as if he was already gathering his things before you even told him the location. Your heart fluttered at that and even more warmth was sent to your cheeks.

"No. No, I'm not alright. I feel really fucking sick right now and I don't know where my friends are and I fucking hate being here and-"

"Slow down, sweetheart," Leon said. If the alcohol didn't kill you, the pet name that Leon apparently still liked using for you would.

Leon fell quiet on the line, almost as if suddenly realizing the word that had slipped from his mouth.

"Sorry, I mean– look, tell me where you are. Do you want me to come and get you?"

There was a voice in your head screaming at you to just say no. Your friends were a text message away. If they saw the state you were in they'd take you home in a heartbeat. You knew the right thing to do was apologize to Leon, hang up, and get your ass out of the bathroom stall to find your group. But the alcohol was clouding your judgment, and the rational part of you simply didn't exist right now. Going back to Leon's apartment was like reopening a wound that had just healed. But you couldn't deny how much you needed him in this moment, no matter how pathetic it sounded. He had been on your mind the entire time you were at the club, and hell, even if you had been sober you probably would have ended up back at his place anyway. Because you simply didn't know how to stay away from things that you walked away from.

"Yes. Please come and get me." You replied softly, your words shaky with sorrow and guilt, your voice cracking.

"On my way. Stay put, okay?"

____

"___?"

Your eyes opened slowly. The side of your mouth felt wet with drool. Your brows furrowed as you took in your surroundings.

"___, are you in here?"

Your eyes widened a bit more upon registering whose voice was calling for you. You immediately sat up, trying to adjust your hair and straighten your shirt – before quickly giving up, because you knew no amount of adjusting would make you look like less of a hot mess.

"In here," you called out, not bothering to get up and open the door as your legs felt like they didn't work and any small movement would've caused you to expel your breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

You saw two feet stop right in front of the door. You recognized those boots anywhere. They were your favorite pair.

"Are you… decent? Can I open the door?" Leon asked. You nodded, before quickly realizing he can't hear the movement of your head.

"Yeah," you replied weakly. Leon did just that, opening the stall door slowly.

God, you wanted the ground to swallow you up right then and there. You knew you looked terrible, disgusting even. Your ex, on the other hand, still looked as gorgeous as ever, with his dirty blonde hair slightly longer than the last time you saw it and prettily falling into his deep blue eyes. He was wearing a form fitting black shirt that left nothing to the imagination with a pair of blue jeans and his expensive brown coat.

You averted your gaze out of pure embarrassment. Leon had never seen you in this state and you wish he hadn't. You wished you could turn back time and call your friends instead of him.

Leon kneeled in front of you in the cramped space, gently lifting your chin and making you look him in the eyes. The action only made you feel smaller.

"Hey, let me see you," he started, his gaze softening as he observed you.

"What happened? Nobody-" his jaw clenched. "Nobody did anything to you, right?"

You shook your head. You didn't trust your voice enough to speak.

"Okay, good. You just drank too much?"

You nodded that time.

Leon seemed physically relieved, his shoulders relaxing a bit as he stood back up. He held out his hand.

"Can you stand?" He asked. You muttered out something that sounded like a "yes," taking his hand and slowly rising off the toilet seat. You almost toppled over, but Leon was there to steady you.

"Put your arm around my shoulder." He instructed, but he was already moving your arm for you. You gladly took ahold of his shoulder as his hand held your wrist; his other arm was wrapped around your waist, holding you firmly. The two of you walked out of the bathroom together, ignoring the stares from other club goers.

The both of you made outside, and the cool air was a pleasant sensation to your extremely warm body. Leon helped you into your car, handling you like you were made of glass, before getting into the driver's side himself. He buckled you up first, leaning over you to pull the strap across your chest. His breath was fanning across your face, and you felt your heart rate skyrocket. You gazed at him with tired eyes, and he returned the eye contact briefly, his eyes mostly unreadable, but definitely filled with concern no less.

Once he was buckled up himself, he took off, and you just closed your eyes, hoping and praying that the motion of the car wouldn't cause any sudden hurling.

The car ride was mostly silent; aside from the radio that Leon had turned up slightly, playing some rock song, you were far too exhausted to say anything. You didn't even know what to say, anyway, and it seemed like Leon didn't either.

Eventually, when he stopped at a light, he spoke for the first time in several long minutes. "Your friends – did they abandon you?"

You shook your head. "No… I was the one who split from them. Told them I wanted to be alone."

"But they didn't even check on you?"

You glanced at him and noticed his tense jaw had returned, and his grip on the steering wheel tightened.

"They're all probably shit-faced, too." You replied dryly.

Leon sighed. "I… sure, I guess. Then that brings me to my next question… Why did you go over your limit? You could've put yourself in danger."

You shrugged, gazing out the window.

"I really don't know," you lied.

"God, ___, don't do something like this again. Please." Leon replied.

"I'm… sorry." You said. What you were apologizing for exactly, you weren't sure. For worrying him? For making him come all the way out here to save you like a damsel in distress? The more you thought about it, the more you leaned toward all of the above.

Leon seemed to relax again upon hearing your soft-spoken apology. "There's no need for that, I just…" a sigh. "You should rest. We're almost home."

Home.

You let your eyes slowly drift closed again. The last thing you saw was the sight of Leon driving with one hand, still wearing that unreadable expression.

____

Leon was quick to help you out the car after finding a parking spot. He guided you up the steps to the second floor of the complex, walking to his door. You leaned against him while he fiddled with his keys.

He eventually got the door open, helping you walk through the door. As he walked you through his living room to the bathroom, rather slowly as your feet were slightly dragging across the floor, you took in the familiar space around you. Leon's apartment was, of course, just how you remembered it. He had few decorations, most of them put up by you. His raggedy, but deceptively comfortable couch was somehow still standing strong. His place looked well lived-in; not terribly disorganized, just slightly cluttered. Given the nature of his career and how often he was away, he was never home long enough to let huge messes pile up anyway. You felt a smile tug at your lips as memories crawled back into your mind.

You remembered shopping with Leon for his decorations shortly after you moved in. He pretended to be indifferent, but you'll never forget the grin on his face as he helped you hang up some abstract paintings with poorly hidden amusement. That very couch was often where you spent your time resting your head on Leon's shoulders, or sometimes his head on your lap. The kitchen was where you and Leon made huge messes together, doing more kissing than cooking.

But your smile slightly faded as memories of the tail end of your relationship tainted your mind. Waiting alone for Leon to return home for a mission, worrying yourself sick. Sometimes Leon was distant, going from attentive and caring to cold and unresponsive in a heartbeat. You knew his trauma made it difficult for him to be fully present in the relationship – but sometimes you acted harshly anyway, both out of frustration and out of concern. His career was eating away at you, too.

The sound of running water pulled you out of your thoughts. You quickly registered that Leon had sat you down on his toilet. After wetting a washcloth, he leaned down in front of you again.

"I'm just gonna wipe your face, alright?" He said. You nodded, closing your eyes.

Leon wiped your face with the washcloth ever so gently, dabbing away dried drool and removing the light sweat that had formed across your forehead. He even went as far as to brush your teeth for you, thoroughly reaching every inch of your mouth to the best of his ability. Somehow, even during this, you found yourself dozing off a few times.

"You don't have to wash up now if you're too tired." Leon said once he had finished a portion of your nighttime routine for you. He stood in front of you while you were still seated, waiting for your next move.

You wanted nothing more than to wish the stink of the nightclub off your skin, but your eyelids were getting heavier by the second.

"Take me to bed, Leon." You muttered, wrapping your hands around his waist and leaning against his torso.

Leon found himself grinning at how much of a koala you became when sleepy and drunk. With one hand, he played with your hair for a bit as you continued holding him. You sighed contently as you felt yourself slip away in the sensation. Leon looked down at you, feeling something tug at his heart strings at how vulnerable you looked like this. The warmth from your arms around his waist brought Leon to a painful realization – that he missed your touch more than he thought.

Leon tried to store that thought away. You'd be gone by the morning, right? He couldn't allow himself to open up to you after all this time. You had made the choice to walk away and as far as he knew, you hadn't changed your mind.

He gently tapped your arms, causing you to stir a bit.

"If you want me to take you to bed, you have to get up first." He said teasingly. You groaned, but reluctantly did what he asked. Even while standing, your eyes were barely open.

"Do you wanna change?” He asked.

“Into what?” You said sleepily, words slurring together.

“I can give you one of my shirts and a pair of my pants. I don't mind.”

You just nodded, leaning into Leon's side, your head falling onto his shoulder.

Leon walked you to his bedroom, grabbing some clothes for you as you stood there patiently, your eyes half open. He gave you an old shirt of his and some gray sweatpants.

You began stepping out of your gross nightclub clothes right in front of Leon, who didn't seem to mind – he helped keep you from stumbling as you got dressed.

“This is so much better.” You said, feeling free and unconstrained now that you were out of those awful leather pants. Leon found himself holding back a grin at the way you were happily rubbing at the fabric of his shirt.

“Let's get you to bed.” He spoke.

He assisted you in getting cozy under the large comforter, even going as far as to tuck you in.

Leon's scent washed over you as you sunk into the softness of his mattress. You almost instantly succumbed to slumber, subconsciously burying your head into Leon's pillow.

For a long time, Leon just stared.

You were safe now, finally out of that awful nightclub and resting comfortably. He felt the tension leave his body, and he could finally go about his nightly routine at ease knowing you were taken care of.

Seeing you in his bed like this reminded him of the nights he came home late. Those nights, he'd crawl into bed next to you, holding you close as if you'd disappear into thin air. Strangely, despite the fact that he was looking directly at you, this was another moment where he felt like you'd cease to exist if he so much as looked away.

But he eventually forced himself to look away, sighing to himself as he went back to the bathroom to freshen up himself. He decided to sleep on the couch, falling asleep with you in his mind and still feeling the phantom touch of your arms around his waist.

____

Upon slowly opening your eyes, squinting slightly at the sunlight filtering through the room, it didn't take you long to notice the splitting headache that pulsated uncomfortably right behind your eyes. You also took note of the fact that you were clad in Leon's clothing.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, your face bunching up in pain at your awful hangover. You were mentally chastising yourself, as you knew that this terrible headache could've been easily avoided had you not gone past your limit the night before. It was at the moment, as you were lying on your back and staring at the familiar sight of Leon's apartment ceiling, that all of the memories from last night came rushing back to you.

You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, feeling a sense of shame wash over you. You barely remember anything from last night, but you knew that when you were shit-faced you turned into a giant child, and you were already feeling apologetic for putting Leon through your drunken antics. You didn't even want to get out of bed and face the man.

So, you did just that; you lied there for a few extra minutes, absolutely dreading the moment when you would have to get up eventually. You sighed, rolling over on your side, facing the closed bedroom door. It was then that you noticed the tall glass of water and bottle of painkillers on the bedside table.

You sat up slowly, feeling your heart warm at Leon's thoughtfulness. You took one pill from the bottle, swallowing it down in one large gulp of water.

You also noticed your phone on the table. Curiously, you checked to see if your phone was even alive – which it was, much to your surprise, but the battery was low. You saw numerous text messages from your acquaintances last night. Some of them were just talking about how much fun they had and thanking you for coming out. Others seem concerned about where you had gone. You didn't feel like replying to any of them, so you promptly shut your phone off. You needed to save your battery, anyway, as you didn't have a charger. You left your phone in its place on the table.

You sat in Leon's bed for a little longer after that, sighing to yourself, before getting up to go find where he was.

You didn't have to look very far after opening the door; there Leon stood in the kitchen, occupied with making breakfast. It seemed like he didn't notice your presence at first, so you took that opportunity to gaze at him, grinning softly at the concentrated look on his face as he flipped over a pancake, his hair falling into his eyes. He looked cuter than ever, clad in his well-loved plaid pajama pants and a loose black shirt. It felt strange, seeing him like this again after so many months.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” Leon suddenly spoke, still turned away from you. You were slightly startled, quickly averting your gaze.

“Morning,” you said softly. “Did you know I was standing here the whole time?”

“Of course I did,” Leon replied, finally turning to you with a pretty smile on his face, one that you couldn't help but immediately return. “Government training helped me with my awareness, y'know.”

You chuckled at that, making your way over to the dining table and taking a seat. Resting your chin in your hand, you watched Leon lovingly, a comfortable silence settling between you.

“Need a hand with anything?” you asked.

“Nah, it's alright. I'm almost done, anyway.” Leon replied. “By the way, how did you sleep?”

“Like a baby. I forgot how comfortable your bed was.” you said.

Leon grinned. “That's good. And your head?”

“It's feeling better. Thanks for the medicine, by the way.”

“Of course.” Leon replied.

Eventually, he carried to the table two plates of food, along with two tall glasses of orange juice. It was a simple breakfast, consisting of just pancakes, but it was totally fine by you. They looked fluffy and perfectly cooked and you didn't hesitate to dive in.

Leon just watched you eat in silence, a small grin on his face as he watched you do a little happy dance upon taking a bite. He wasn't really showing it, but he was very pleased with himself; not just because he made you a decent plate of pancakes but because you were here with him, out of that grimy nightclub, content and being taken care of. Leon felt a tug at his heartstrings as he realized just how much he missed taking care of you.

“Leon. Are you gonna eat?” you said with a chuckle, nearly done with your food. Leon seemed to snap out of whatever trance you had put him in, quickly glancing at his untouched plate of food.

“Yeah. Sorry.” He said in a slightly bashful way that made you swoon. He finally had begun eating, thoughtfully chewing, taking his time.

You leaned back in your chair, feeling completely satiated. For a while, the two of you just sat in comfortable silence. It dawned on you that eventually you'd have to leave, sadness beginning to wash over you like waves.

“What's the matter?” Leon suddenly spoke. “Be honest, were the pancakes actually terrible?” He said jokingly. That got you smiling again, and you let out a small, half-hearted laugh.

“Leon, they were fucking amazing,” you replied sincerely. You smiled then faltered a bit. “I just… I still feel bad.”

Leon, who was also sitting lax in his chair, had straightened up, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he gazed warmly at you.

“About?” He inquired.

You sighed, looking down at your lap. Suddenly eye contact was too much right now.

“For last night. I know I've already apologized but… seriously, I'm really sorry for making you drive all the way out there. And for worrying you.”

Leon shook his head, looking at you with an expression that could only be read as sympathetic.

“I've said it before and I'll say it again – you don't have to apologize, okay? If anything, I'm glad you called me. It meant that you trusted me to ensure your safety; and that made me feel good.”

You felt your heart warm at that. You continued to stare down at your lap, twiddling your thumbs, still hesitant to let him into your gaze.

“Can you look at me? Please?” Leon said ever so softly. The gentle, almost desperate tone of voice was enough to get you to finally raise your head and meet his eyes.

“There you are,” he said fondly. “I want you to know that you can always call me. For anything. And if you need me, I'll be there. We're not… together anymore but that doesn't mean I'm just gonna step out of your life, okay? I still care about you. Always will.”

You were effectively silenced, so deeply touched by Leon's words that you couldn't even produce any of your own. Suddenly your vision began to blur and your bottom lip was quivering.

Your friends – really, just your co-workers – who had practically forgotten about you at that club? They probably didn't care about you all like they claimed to. But if there was one person that would always stand up for you, help you, tend to your needs – it was Leon. It had always been him.

With a shaky voice, you responded, “Thank you, Leon. I… still care about you, too. So much. I totally owe you after last night.” you said with a playful smile, although you were honestly very serious.

“No, it's okay. You don't owe me anything. I was just doing what a good friend is supposed to do.”

Friend.

You brushed the word off, ignoring the pang of disappointment that hit you. You simply smiled at him.

Clearing your throat, you started another topic. “So, um… I guess since I'm here, we should catch up a bit. It's been so long since I've last spoken to you.”

Leon shrugged. “Honestly? I don't have much to catch you up on. I've just been doing what I always do, lounging around, working, occasionally going out with Claire and Chris. You know me, I'm a boring guy.”

“You are not at all boring, Kennedy,” you said teasingly.

“You know, it's okay to admit it.” He replied, and you could only shake your head, laughing quietly to yourself.

“You're literally a government agent. That's the opposite of boring.”

“Well, what a lot of people don't know is that being a government agent also comes with a shit-ton of paperwork.”

“I suppose,” you said with a completely playful roll of your eyes. “Anyway, Claire and her brother doing well?”

“They're doing great. They're always asking about you.”

You felt guilt begin to rear its ugly head at Leon's comment. “I haven't spoken to them in a while too… God, I'm terrible.” You said.

“Hey, don't make it a huge deal. They know how busy you are. They still care about you too. You could go a thousand years without speaking to them and they'd still be excited to hear from you.”

“That's nice to know.” You replied. You made it a mental note to get in contact with them soon.

The dining table fell quiet again. There was this undeniable tension in the air, one that the two of you couldn't shake. As much as you hated to admit it, you had missed sitting at Leon's dining table, sitting across from him specifically, sharing peaceful mornings together. You knew that eventually you'd have to leave; you'd part ways with Leon once more. You wish you could say that'd be easy to do.

Leon pulled you out of the recesses of your mind when he suddenly stood up, grabbing the two plates and cups. You silently watched as he went over to the sink, turning on the faucet.

Without even thinking, you stood up as well, joining him in the kitchen.

“Let me help you,” you said, not even giving him the choice.

Leon shook his head, like you knew he would. “It's alright, I got it. I know you've probably got things to do, so I understand if you need to go-”

“Things to do? Like what?” You interrupted with a playful grin. “I want to help, Leon, please.”

“It's only a few dishes.”

“I know– look, stop being so stubborn and let me help. Please.” You said, taking a plate out of his hand and grabbing a washcloth to help with drying. Leon just chuckled, having paused his washing for a bit to admire you.

“You haven't changed.” He spoke.

“What do you mean?” You asked as you put the plate back in its respective cabinet. You didn't even need to ask where it went – it was muscle memory for you.

“I mean… always wanting to help with stuff. It's what I've always liked about you.” Leon replied, handing you a newly washed cup. You took it, slowly, still processing his words. You felt a certain warmth throughout your body, trying to distract yourself from the feeling by rather furiously drying the glass.

“That's just how I am. Can't help it.” You replied shyly, your voice coming out small.

“I know. You should consider being an agent since you like helping so much.” Leon teased. You were putting the glass up when he had said that and weren't looking directly at him, but you could hear the smirk in his voice. It made you smile.

“Absolutely not.” You replied immediately, to which the both of you broke out into laughter, the sound filling the kitchen.

The two of you finished doing the dishes fairly quickly, falling into an easy rhythm. It all felt too familiar. The both of you fell into your usual banter so easily, and it was almost like you two hadn't just spent months apart.

You ended up helping Leon clean his entire kitchen after the dishes, chatting with him every second and moving around each other with the sort of ease you can only get when you've spent enough time in one place to memorize everything. You told Leon that you didn't mind helping him knock out a few chores, which was true; you knew how busy he was and how he was usually too tired to take care of things like this himself. But deep down, the true reason why you were still here was because you just didn't want to leave. But you kept that part buried within you. It was difficult coming to terms with what that meant and you didn't want to think about it.

“Does anything else need tidying?” You asked him once you finished wiping the kitchen counter. Leon looked around, seemingly thinking for a moment, before shaking his head.

“Nah, it's all good. But I appreciate it.”

Your grin faltered a bit. You knew you had to go. You had been here for hours now.

“Ah, okay,” you said, trying to hide the dejection in your voice. “Well, um… I guess I should get out of your hair then.”

Leon perked up at that. “You don't have to leave.” He said quickly. He then cleared his throat, looking away. “I mean, uh– if you don't want to, you can stay as long as you want.”

You wanted to more than anything else. But the right thing would be to leave, even though that went against your heart's desires. Who knows what you'd end up saying– or doing– if you stayed. Whatever it'd be, you'd probably regret it.

“I should really go.” You said quietly. Leon just silently nodded. His expression was unreadable yet again.

After making sure you had all your belongings, and unfortunately having to change back into your cursed club outfit for the time being, you now stood in front of the door. Leon had changed out of his pajamas too, looking as handsome as ever in a simple pair of jeans, a black shirt, and boots.

Since your friends had driven you to the club, and Leon drove you to his place, he'd have to drive you back. You were waiting for him after he had said he had to find his keys. You took one long, final glance around his house as you stood there with a heavy heart.

Quite a bit of time had passed, though, and you were about to call out to Leon, as you noticed he seemed to be taking longer than you expected. You figured he just needed help searching for his keys, so you jogged over to his bedroom, where you saw him enter.

When you walked in, he was kneeling in front of a cardboard box. His closet door was open, so you presumed that's where the box came from. Your brows pinched together in confusion.

“Leon? I can help with finding your keys-”

“Oh, I have my keys. I just, um… suddenly remembered something.” He said, a bit cryptically.

You were still visibly puzzled. “Remembered what?” you asked, walking a bit closer to see the contents of the box. And then you realized.

In the box was some jewelry of yours, one of your shirts, and a bottle of perfume that you had forgotten at his home ages ago.

Your heart warmed at the fact that Leon kept them safe and tucked away in his closet, almost as if he was waiting for the day to return them to you.

“I completely forgot about these,” he said, standing up to face you. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. I've been meaning to give these back.”

You just smiled, feeling so incredibly touched and endeared.

“It's okay, Leon. I didn't even realize I was missing these items.” You said with a chuckle. You kneeled down yourself, sifting through the contents of the box and reminiscing. The perfume especially reminded you of so many date nights and all the times Leon told you how nice you smelled.

“You know, that reminds me,” You began, feeling the cotton of your old, worn t-shirt that lay perfectly folded in the box. “I think I still have one of your sweatshirts. The old RPD one.”

You knew you did. It was still in your closet, hidden away. Not forgotten, just out of sight.

“You can keep it.” Leon said. “You looked better in it anyway.”

You felt that familiar heat rush to your face again. Even after all this time, his words still affected you.

“Well, um… thanks.” You replied.

“It's nothing.”

You stood up, holding the box, and the two of you walked back to the door. Every step felt heavier than the last.

You watched as Leon was about to open the door for you. But in that moment, as he was about to turn the knob, something within you snapped.

“Wait.” You said.

Leon paused, turning to look at you. “Did– did you forget something?” He asked.

You shook your head. You slowly put the box down on the floor, gently kicking it aside.

“I don't wanna leave, Leon.”

Leon still seemed perplexed. “I told you, you can stay as long as you-”

“No, I mean… I'm not leaving… again.”

It didn't take long for the realization to hit Leon. He was silent for a bit, unsure of how to proceed, or what to say.

“I need you to be more clear.” He said simply.

You stepped closer to him. You nearly reached your hand out, wanting to gently stroke his hair like you always used to do, but you weren't sure if he was ready to jump back into physical affection like that. You restrained yourself.

“I want to try again, Leon. I'm so sorry for how I treated you. At the time, I didn't understand your trauma – I failed to accommodate you. When I left… I realized how shitty I had been. How much I had missed you. I dated other people and none of them gave me what you did. You were too good to me and I was too selfish. I'm sorry, and I want you to know that I've grown. I will try my best to meet you where you are from now on if you just let me back in.”

You said all of this while staring directly into Leon's captivating eyes, sincerity in your tone and in the way you gazed at him. You hoped Leon could feel your guilt. Your remorse.

Leon just stared back, stunned into silence. You could tell his mind was racing, searching for what to say, processing everything you had told him. You were prepared for him to say no. You were bracing for the heartbreak. You wouldn't be upset, no. You'd be understanding. You were ready to leave for good if that's what he wanted.

But heartbreak isn't what you got.

“Thank you. For apologizing.” Leon said. “I should, too. I wasn't being totally honest about my line of work. And dating a government agent isn't necessarily an easy thing to handle. It was probably traumatic for you, too, seeing me come home so damaged, physically and mentally.

“And for the record, I don't think you were being selfish. You wanted to help, I know you did, you just didn't know how and it was frustrating.”

You felt a stinging sensation in your eyes, your emotions nearly meeting their boiling point, tears threatening to spill. Deep down, you didn't think Leon had anything to apologize for, considering everything he's been through and seen, but you were appreciative of his apology nonetheless. It warmed your heart to know that he never resented you when you were together, like you always thought he did.

“So… should we try this again?” you said, a playful glint in your watery eyes.

Leon grinned. “We should.”

At that, you couldn't hold back any longer. You went in for a hug, wrapping your arms around his neck snugly. He wasted no time in wrapping his around your waist. Being back in his arms again felt like a dream.

You brought a hand up to his hair, running your fingers through it. You felt Leon relax even more at the soft touch.

With your lips close to his ear, you whispered:

“I never stopped loving you.”

Leon pulled away a bit, his hands just lightly resting on your waist.

“Neither did I.”

A pause. You felt his breath fan across your face.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked, already grinning like a lovesick teenager.

“Please.” Was all Leon said before you leaned in, your lips finding purchase on top of his, bodies pressed close together.

You had a hunch that making yourself at home again wouldn't be difficult at all.

[wosoamazing]

Nursery & Sickness

Summary: You don't want to go to nursery. You also get sick from Nursery, making your Mum sick too. Based off this request.

Warnings: Sickness (Vomiting)

A/N: I was kind of stumped on what to write so of course I turned it into a sickfic - I hope that is okay. I promise I am trying to write things other than sickfics, some of your requests are definitely helping with that.

You didn't want to go to Nursery, you wanted to go to training as you always did, but you didn't understand why you couldn’t. Once you realised your Mum was leading you in the direction of your nursery you planted your feet firmly on the ground, refusing to walk, she just picked you up, not budging at your actions.

As she placed you down in your room, you started to cry, you didn't want to leave her side. “I’ve got to go to training Bubba, so you’re going to spend the day here, and I’ll be back to pick you up as soon as training is over”

“No, I come training with you”

“But Bubba you can’t, it's better for you to go to Nursery, and you can still come to games, I promise I will be back to pick you up.”

“No go,” you sobbed.

“I have to, what if we read a book together before I go?” You sadly nodded your head and went over to pick a book, while you Mum sat crossed legged on the floor. You chose a book and walked over to her, before walking backwards into her lap and sitting down, she read you the book and you calmed down, enough so that she didn’t feel guilty to leave you. 

_

When she came back to pick you up, you had a huge grin on your face and you were in the middle of a painting activity, you didn't want to leave. So she helped you finish your painting before you both went home, in the car you told her about your amazing day. She was relieved that you had enjoyed, so much so that you asked when you were getting to go back

_____

Leah expected you to be sad and upset the first time she took you to Nursery, but what she didn’t expect was that you would have a new illness every week, the experienced nursery parents told her that this was normal, and would happen for roughly 2 or 3 months than you would just get like the seasonal flu, and if you moved Nurseries it would happen all over again, Leah took a mental note of that and promised herself she would not move you to a different Nursery. Heaps of the more experienced parents told her that this would happen for the first 2 or 3 months than you would be fine, so she just had to get through it.

_____

Today was game day, which you were excited for, it meant you didn’t have to go to Nursery, however you felt funny, your head kind of hurt and your tummy felt icky, but you didn’t tell your Mum, you didn’t want her to make you stay home.

You slept in the car on the way to the game, which wasn’t a rare occurrence, considering it was a late game. When you were offered your snacks to eat before the game started you shook your head, which your Mum found odd as it was an offer you would always jump at. You fell asleep very quickly into the first half and slept the whole way through the game. Only waking up when Katie turned on the TV to see the men play as she waited for Caitlin to finish getting ready. The loud noise of the fans cheering through the TV radiated through your head and you started crying.

“What’s wrong Bubba?” Your Mum asked, snapping her fingers in Katie’s direction, who quickly turned down the volume.

“Icky,” you cried out.

“Oh Bubba, do you feel sick?” she asked as she felt your forehead, which was quite warm. You nodded in reply.

“Okay, well I’ll just get our stuff all packed up and then we can go okay, I love you,” she said, placing a kiss on your forehead. She was walking around the locker room, gathering all your things when the sound of liquid spilling onto the floor echoed around the locker room. She quickly spun around to see you covered in vomit, with a puddle of vomit in front of you. She quickly moved over to you and moved you out of the way of your puddle of vomit, tears started to roll down your cheeks, as she went to look over to Katie to ask something, but Katie had already left the room and there is no one else in the room, they all have already left or the ones that remain are in the showers.

Your Mum takes off your Shirt and Shorts, and uses a wet wipe to wipe your hands and face, before she starts getting you changed into your spare clothes. As she is smoothing down your hair that was messed up by your shirt, you gag, she looks around the room panicked trying to figure out what she can grab, when she sees Katie walk in who quickly chucks her a sick bowl. She places the sick bowl under your chin just in time as you start throwing up again. Caitlin, Steph, Lia and Kim have all now finished their showers and walk into the room, to see the absolute scene in front of them. Your Mum is kneeling beside you rubbing your back as you throw up into the sick bowl she is holding for you, there is a puddle of vomit nearby and a bag with your vomit cover clothes in it, sitting near you, that has yet to be tied up. 

“Do you need any help Leah?” Kim asks.

“No, no it’s all good, you guys just go, have a good night,” Leah responds, they all quickly gather their things and head out, except for one, who is rushing around behind your Mum, gathering all your belongings. She has finished packing all three of your bags and walks over to where the bag with your dirty clothes sits, your Mum jumps slightly not realising there was still someone in the room with her, she looks up to find it is Lia, her heart melting slightly at the kindness of her best friend.

“Lia, you really didn't need to stay behind,” she looks behind her, “Or pack up any of our stuff.”

“Don’t be silly Leah, I’ll just take these things out to the car and then I’ll come back for you and Y/N/N, and before you say you are fine to drive home, we drove here together.” Your Mum’s face cringed, she had totally forgotten that.

When Lia came back in you were sitting in your Mum’s lap, as she held you close, rocking you backwards and forwards.

“Le,” Lia said softly, your Mum looked up, “I’m ready when you are.” Your Mum got up and headed to the car, you threw up a lot more that night. The worst being when you had just gotten home, you were in your Mum’s arms, meaning it was all over you and her.

____

It had been a day since you last threw up, but you still felt icky so you were sleeping in your Mum’s bed, between her and Lia. Lia had insisted she stayed to help look after you.

“Fuck, Lia, can you hand me a sick bowl?” Your Mum asked.

“Yeah, but why, Y/N/N is asleep. Or have your Mum senses started tingling,” Lia joked as she handed the sick bowl to your Mum, who lent her head back against the headboard and closed her eyes, taking some deep breaths, Lia quickly clicked on to what was happening. She carefully and gently picked you up and quickly walked to your room, knowing Leah would be more comfortable if you weren’t there, she placed you on your bed before returning to the room. She climbed into the bed and sat next to your Mum, placing her hand on your Mum’s thigh, gently reassuring her, knowing that your Mum wouldn't want much physical touch currently. They remained like that for a few minutes before your Mum’s upper body jerked forward and she lost the contents of her stomach into the sick bowl, Lia rubbed her back whilst she softly spoke reassuring words to her.

____

You awoke in your bed feeling much better, but you wanted your Mum so you decided to toddle off down the hall and into her room, you saw her with Lia in the bathroom, hunched over the toilet as Lia rubbed her back, you walked into the bathroom.

“Mummy?” You questioned, slightly worried.

“Mummy is sick, I think she got your sick. Are you feeling better?" you nodded your head, "Thats good," Lia said before she moved her free hand to your Mums shoulder and gently squeezed it, your Mum shook her head slightly and Lia murmured a quiet 'okay' before she turned her gaze back to you. "Why don’t you go out to the living room and I’ll join you in a sec,” you nodded and toddled off.

[sanemisstalker]

NSFW// Douma doing pussy inspections to make sure you didn't fuck any of his servants in his absence.

Saw a post talking about a possessive partner doing pussy inspections to make sure you'd stayed loyal and I 🤭

CW// Fem reffered/ AFAB reader/ Breasted / NTR / Cheating/Cuckholding (questionable) / BDSM dynamics / DUB-CON/NON-CON/ Objectification / Reader is reffered to as a 'sow' / is viewed as akin to an animal / Threats of Genital Mutilation / Gore / 24/7 Submission / Sexual Torture.

For all intents and purposes, you never wanted to cheat on Douma. The impulse was exactly that, an impulse. You would have to be dumb or, even worse, unstable, to actively seek punishment from a demon of his caliber. From a man of his social statute.

But, even if you didn't want it, which you would assure you didn't, that did nothing to sooth the pain of the itch. You weren't entirely sure what possessed you once he left your sight, but the idea was always there. Locked away behind bar after bar in your silly little head...

After your first incident with a fellow sow, found with your pussy rubbing gleefully up and down her thigh, Douma figured you were just odd. A bunch of humans are born that way. Just wrong in the head. He'd had a number of attempts on his life through the years.

He had never implied that there would be a punishment for such petty insolence, because he figured you would never be dumb enough to try. After all, the other sow began sobbing, begging for his forgiveness for her desecration and sin. She must've been right in the head.

You were clearly the predator in the situation, not even bothering to appear shameful, just dissapointed. Douma had been entirely perplexed. He had no real urge to harm the other woman. Maybe it was because she was a woman that he felt no real inclination to do so. And he didn't really want to hurt you, either.

The closest thing Douma could compare the feeling to was the curiosity he once felt when he watched too stray cats mate. How odd, that behavior. The need to fuck. Douma never needed to do anything. Want, yes, but that was always very distinct. Douma had never needed to fuck. He figured it was another one of those human things he never quite got around to doing.

He had told you, in a rather lack luster tone, to keep your hands to yourself. It upset you, he could tell. Likely because you were being reffered to with such child-like verbiage, but he felt it had gotten the point across.

The next incident upset him slightly more. He walked in on you with one of his closer male confidants. His face was buried between your legs, and just as quickly as it'd been there, it was gone. The remnants splattered on your thighs and Douma's palm.

The blood had made your orgasm dry out completely. Douma recalled the little huff you made, unbothered by the warm body at your feet. Douma shifted your lifted robes so they would fall back over your legs, patting the fabric into the mess with a tight smile.

"Is there something you're adverse to telling me, hm?" He'd prod, "Is there a quality you find I'm lacking?" There was a tilt to his voice. An odd tone you couldn't quite read. It wasn't insecurity, nor dissapointment. It was taunting, almost.

"I'm not sure." You answered honestly, and he knew, then and there, you must truly be unstable because what an anger inducing comment. He couldn't grasp why you were so... weird.

The problem wasn't your infidelity. Douma could, quite frankly, care less about whether or not you're loyal to him. The problem sat with the human taboo he knew you knew were comitting. One you should feel shameful for, yet you wore nothing but that pissy little look on your face because an orgasm had been stolen away. Nothing to indicate you even registered such a thing.

You had been the one begging him for months to fuck you. Pleading, sobbing, all but vomiting praise at his feet. Nothing but a desperate sow he had willingly invited into his harem, the only one he even had light willingness to sleep with, and now you were defiling his hole with other blood.

Fine. Douma resigned to simply keeping you with him wherever he went. You were allowed out if his sight only for prayer and the bathroom.

The third incident, Douma was quite certain you'd become more than unstable. To let another man bed you on his throne had to be entirely insane on your part. A complete lack of self preservation. Not only had you snuck away from prayer, but you had brought in an outsider. Some random slayer, at that.

The risk was palpable, each time Douma watched the man's cock slide deeper into you-

The man was lucky he finished before Douma's hand reached around his neck. A final pleasure in this world, found in your cunt. Douma flung his body effortlessly against the wall, the corpse folding in on itself with a sickening crack.

"Ah, Y/N, do I need to sew you shut?" Douma would ask in the same sing song voice he always had. "This is entirely disrespectful of your superiors."

"I-I know-" You huffed, winded from the act, pussy aching for your lord's cock. You knew you wouldn't get it. He'd never bother with a used hole.

You couldn't understand it anymore than he could. Why you craved that look in his eye so bad, that unpleasant lilt in his voice. He seemed almost bothered by the whole thing. Almost.

"Please don't... sew me up." Your pussy tingled at the idea- Maybe such pain would fix your ailment, not having your clit exposed anymore, or your needy hole.

Your hand trailed between you thighs, seeking your gape. As you felt a bit of the dead man's seed slip out, you rushed to finger it back into yourself. You feared what Douma might do should a drop of it land on his cushions-

The desperate display sickened him, willing an emotion to the forefront he hadn't felt in a millenia, at least.

Fine. Fine. Fine fine fine.

You were no longer allowed to leave his sight. At all. A leash now rested firmly on your throat. If not held by Douma, held by someone else who he'd calmly threatened to spay if they even so much as consider your constant pleading.

Douma had to make a remedial, somewhat temperamental announcement to his followers.

You were a temptress, never to be trusted. Something on the brink of succubi. Fucking you would lead to great downfall for anyone who fell woefully victim to your tricks. Their sperm would die before it even formed, bedding you would insure a life of flaccidity. You'd curse any womb you ate-

How kind a leader he was to assure the victory of his people by capturing you. A real, honest to god demon.

He decided he was going to fix you. Sometimes humans needed that kind of thing. Fixing. He decided you were sick. In the head. If your ever so present need for cock continously won out over a need to live, then such an illness had to be cured.

He set you up with a chittering little toy. Firmly tied against your clit with pretty red rope. He didn't bother having your hands tied. You loved it, after all, the constant attention (abuse) to the little bundle of nerves.

You realized what he was trying to do the first time your clit went numb. He was certainly trying to sterilize you, make it so you wouldn't even want to open your legs.

Another rod was always tucked inside your pussy. Keeping you constantly wet and always stretched for the once in a blue moon where Douma would kindly make you warm his cock instead. He was never a fan of the uncomfortable tightness the first few times he entered a sow. This was a far preferable sensation. Warm and just tight enough to nurse his cock.

Another would be in your ass, since he'd once again overheard you begging one of his servants for something so grotesque. Any hole would work to satisfy your bizarre appetite, it seemed.

Any time Douma had to leave for an extended time, he'd come back to greet his people, and then you, who he kept tucked behind a slew of pillows to muffle the constant moaning and sobbing you loosed.

He'd always check your mouth first, gentle claws pulling the orifice open so he could slide his tongue in and assault the crevice, seeking the taste of another human on your lips.

And then he'd turn you over, the first time in weeks you'd be allowed to have that toy taken off your irritated, pulsing clit. He'd carefully slip the other toy from between your lips. Your cunt would contract around nothing.

Douma would spread you open with little regard for how puffy your pyssy had become, how even the dull part of his claws were overstimulating. He'd ignore your yaps and cries in favour of burying two fingers in.

He'd bring them out and up to his lips.

"Oh wow!" He'd sing, overjoyed that his drastic measures had worked. "You did so good, Y/N! I can't smell anyone on you! I'm proud! I'm impressed!"

Something about the words made you sob. Your pussy ached, any and every touch felt like you were going to implode. You could barely remember why you were in this situation at all.

Douma would pop the plug from your backside, loosing an all too pleased noise at the sight on your twitching asshole. A finger would probe the wet hole before slipping in with incredible ease. Your toes curled into the plush of the pillows you'd been rested on.

"So good!" He'd mock cheer, clapping as the tightness persisted with a second finger. It was as tight as when he'd left you.

Douma reached up to your head, managing to lift you up by your hair. With incredibly weak knees, you struggled to steady yourself. Thankfully, Douma pushed you back down into the pillows, only desiring to see the arch of your back.

"Can you spread yourself for me?" He'd request. The word 'spread' didn't sound real, but you could hear the shift of his hands and the clank of his belt.

"L-Lord Douma, I can't- can't possibly-" You cried.

"Oh shush, you can." He laughed. With shaking hands you followed his commands, throat too sore to deny him. Your fingers felt cold against the boiling heat of your lips. You pulled yourself apart, presenting your sopping wet cunt to him.

Douma shuddered slightly. He'd melded humans to his will before, but never so quickly had they snapped. Maybe this sex thing could become a want for him.

You couldn't even feel when he sank into you entirely with his first thrust. You took him so incredibly well, his ego swelled at the sight. You were finally a good loyal hole for him to fuck.

A good, loyal, and stable hole for him to fuck.

[nctstar]

Hiii I dont know if you still take requests but really like your blogs and I want to ask can you please do a jaehyun x female reader where the reader id pregnant and jae is needy but she isn't confident about her pregnancy body so he tell her it's okay and all you can change it as much as you like but like just keep the main idea pls thank youuuuu

thank you! here you are :)

be my forever only.

“My love…I’ll be right here when you wake up. I promise.”

pairing: jaehyun x fem!reader

other members: none

word count: 2.1k

genre: smut, fluff

warnings: sexual content so minors please dni!! descriptions of pregnancy and pregnancy body, reader is insecure about her appearance, kissing, pregnancy sex, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, clitoral stimulation, breast play, penetrative p in v sex, (pretty vanilla actually who would have thought for me lol), lots and lots of praise and use of petnames (baby, pretty girl, darling, love etc.), profanity, jaehyun is sort of a soft dom (but nothing too crazy)

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction purely from my (filthy) imagination. I don't know the nct members and don't claim that they act like this in real life. I also do not condone any of the activity by any of the characters in this fic. 

a/n: we all need a jaehyun like this i think

Nothing was going right today from the start.

Your hair was having a field day – dry as hay on the ends, greasy near your part line, making it near impossible for any style to look half-decent. Lips chapped and skin peeling, you swallowed a lump of acidotic nausea that threatened to spill past your lips for what felt like the dozenth time today. You must have gone to the bathroom to let trickles of urine leak out of you, never feeling quite relieved but at the same time, not being able to resist the urge each time. You felt swollen, like your body was bursting at the seams of your hot, tight skin.

And to make matters worse, today was the hottest day of the year.

“Jae,” you called out breathlessly, trying not to sound too exhausted as you lowered yourself down onto your bed with shaky arms. “Can you come here, please?”

The sound of your husband’s steps calmed you momentarily, a wave of contentedness that was swiftly replaced by anxiety as you watched his form materialise at the frame of your bedroom door.

There was nothing wrong with Jaehyun – in fact, he was perfect.

Too perfect.

“You alright?” His shirt hung open dangerously, revealing the tantalising lines of his toned stomach and the edges of his underwear, pants slipping off his slender hips. “Oh, wait, wait.” He rushed over to you, the smell of his cologne overtaking you, making your nausea spike tenfold. “Jae, that’s okay. That’s not why I called.” You willed the wave of nausea away before speaking again. “Is the AC on? It doesn’t seem like it is.”

“It is, love. It’s freezing,” His face was lined with worry, even as he tried to laugh it off. “You feeling sick again?”

You wanted to shake your head, say no, but your head moved on its own accord. As you tilted your head up and down, tears flooded your vision. “Sorry.” You tried to whisper, but it came out a whimper, and immediately you felt Jaehyun squeeze his arms around your body, soundless.

You felt the nausea rising again, and you shoved your arms against his, the cologne smell attacking you once again. “No, Jae, don’t. I’m gonna be sick again.” As soon as the words left you, you gagged, head flying down in response. You felt his weight lift off the bed and heard the sound of your bedside vomit bag crinkle even before he held it up towards your face. “It’s okay. Do you need to? Just go if you need to.” He rubbed your back rather harshly, but it felt so nice, like a thousand-year-old itch finally being tended to. You sobbed, one hand stubbornly wiping away every tear that dared rolled down your skin.

“Hey, hey. Are you hurt? Do you want me to call someone?” You furiously shook your head. “No? What do you need, baby? I can help you.”

Between gasps for air, you managed to get out. “I feel so nauseas, but nothing will come out. I feel heavy, like a lump of shit, or a water balloon. And I feel so ugly!” You cried harder, simultaneously because you felt ugly and because of how silly and superficial that sounded coming out of your mouth. Jaehyun’s rubs on your back transformed to gentler strokes, and he spoke softly. “Why would you feel ugly? You’re carrying our child, my love. You have never been more beautiful.”

You scoffed. “Really, Mr ‘Hottest Man in Korea?’” The headline you saw this morning still flashed before your eyes, making you feel ashamed that you were this perfect man’s wife. And then, even more ashamed at the fact that you could even think about yourself like that.

This had never been a problem for you. You were far from a model, or, at least, what the current beauty standards considered the pinnacle of feminine beauty and perfection. But it never really phased you, even as you stood next to your conventionally perfect husband, watching him stand next to other seemingly flawless human beings. You never cared about any of it. Yet, today, the dangerous concoction of your pregnancy hormones and the TikToks you saw this morning about wives saying their husbands found them less attractive after pregnancy, threatened to push you over the edge.

Jaehyun furrowed his brows, looking annoyed. “What are you talking about, _?” Seeing him annoyed snapped you out of your tearful mood, and you tried to stand, teter tottering under the weight of your belly. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”

“No, tell me.” Pulling you down gently, Jaehyun slid his hand down your arm and let it rest on top of yours as you sat back down. The burning in your legs from the effort started to ebb away, and you sighed. “I know it’s stupid.”

“No, of course not.”

“No, but it is. Like, I mean, why should I care how sexy you think I am? That’s not even why we got together…I mean, of course I care, but, like, I think I’m decent, like maybe a five-“

Your lips were met with his, cutting you off, the smell of his hair now clouding you. You breathed into the kiss, but your body felt stiff, refusing to relax. Jaehyun pulled away, grazing the edges of his lips on your cheek. “I can’t believe you think so lowly of yourself, _. You’re gorgeous. You always have been.” He began to travel his face down to your neck, leaving soft kisses on your skin, making the hairs on your body stand on end. “Jaehyun,” you tried to whisper, but it came out like a loud moan, and you immediately blushed. He chuckled, wrapping his long fingers around your waist. “Do you want this, my love? Are you still feeling alright? Let me take care of you, then.”

Your body felt hot, butterflies erupting in your stomach from a sudden sense of feeling cared for, of being loved so deeply. It wasn’t necessarily that he wasn’t sweet like this always, but something about the idea of letting go of your anxieties and having your husband take the lead like this made you feel floaty with desire. “O-okay.” As soon as the breath left your lungs, Jaehyun stood to make his way in front of you, bending down on one knee. You giggled. “I do, Jae.”

He smiled, his eyes turning into half circles. “Are you losing your memory too, baby? Or is it just your marbles? Thinking you’re not sexy, you’re not beautiful. What nonsense.” He huffed, and you cringed physically, not used to being so lovey-dovey like this. You can’t say you were hating it, though.

Placing his hands on your knees, you reflexibly separated them, making him chuckle. “So eager for me. No, I want you to shuffle back on the bed, darling.” Muttering an oh, you begin to shuffle yourself back using your arms, feeling Jae push on your knees to help. “That’s it. Good girl.” Your stomach turned at his words and his voice, knowing how much you loved his soft praises as much as his mean dominance.  

Your knees fell apart naturally, the weight of your belly now pushing down onto the lower part of your spine, making you wince. You fought back a groan, but Jaehyun was already onto it, pillow in hand. “Let me pop this under your back, darling. Do you wanna lay like this? Is it comfortable?” Grunting, you both manoeuvred the pillow to fit snug under the curve of your lower back, throat dry with anticipation. “It’s okay, baby.” You let your head fall back, your shoulders and neck aching from looking at Jaehyun’s head from this angle. “That’s it. Lie back and relax, _.”

As soon as Jaehyun’s hot tongue nestled inside you, your legs recoiled naturally, stopping as your thighs hit the plush of your belly. “A-ah.” Jaehyun shushed you, the vibrations spreading through your core and deep inside you, making you moan. As he worked his tongue in circles, you tried to reach down you touch him, or yourself, fighting the urge to cum quickly, but also wanting to so bad. His long arms stretched out to pin your wandering hand into place. “Did I say to move, hmm?” He sped up, head bobbing up and down, the wetness of your juices now spreading to the inner skin of your thighs, making you cry out. “Fuck! Oh my god, Jae, don’t stop…” you babbled, falling apart at a rapid rate.

“I’m gonna cum!” Your head thrown back, you felt your legs shake, and Jaehyun pull away, making you audibly whine. “Shh, be patient, pretty girl. What do we say when we feel good, hmm?” Hair in his eyes, you watched him tower over you, one hand still between your legs. You were surprised at the way he was soft and gentle, but also keeping up with the domineering that always sent you into bliss. His fingers pushed lightly onto your clit, but it was enough to send electricity down your spine. “Mmm, Jae, so good, so good…” Your lips met his, tongue exploring the crevices of your mouth as you moaned. His other hand squeezed around your right boob, eliciting a shaky whimper from you. “Please, I’m…ngh, thank you, thank you…” He hummed in satisfaction, rubbing your clit faster as he kissed the space between your boobs, meeting your skin as you arched your upper back off the bed in pleasure. You cried as you came, squeezing your eyes shut hard until you could see stars. Jaehyun pressed a kiss to your forehead, your vision blurry as you opened your eyes. “Beautiful, my love. So perfect.” You began to cry again, letting him peck the thin skin of your face and neck, his hot breath caressing you with every kiss.

“M-more, please…” You tried to squeeze your legs together, for the smallest bit of relief, but the weight of your protruding belly stopped you. You whined in frustration. ��Fuck, please, please, you’re so good…want your cock, please.”

“So polite, my pretty girl.” Jaehyun pressed a kiss on top of your belly, making you suddenly shyer than ever. “Who am I to deny my baby, hmm?” You nodded fervently, making him chuckle once again, sitting back on his heels to align his hard length against your leaking hole. As he pushed himself inside, the stretch felt overwhelming, all encompassing, and your toes curled, fingers clutching the sheets in vain. “O-oh, fuck, so sensitive…” Jaehyun halted his hips, high kneeling to watch your face closely. “Does it hurt, love?” You shook your head, but he still slowed down, one hand holding yours and letting his thumb stroke the skin lazily in an attempt to soothe you. “F-fuck, you’re sucking me in so well, honey. Wish you could see this perfect pussy right now.” You replied through a series of wanton moans, eyes rolling already at the feeling of being stuffed full, the pressure on your clit orgasmic. “I’m gonna cum again, oh, fuck.”

You and Jaehyun groaned in unison as you squirted all over his cock, egging him on to start thrusting deeper and faster. His cock sliding in and out of your gummy walls, your pussy screamed with sensitivity, but you felt too good to stop. “Nghhh, ah, please, please…” Tears streaming down your face, Jaehyun grabbed your hand and kissed the top messily, his hips still travelling at an unfaltering speed. “Perfect, so perfect. You wanna cum again, princess?” You babbled incoherently, but he kept going. “Say it. Say you’re beautiful, and you deserve to cum.”

“I, ah, hmm, wanna cum…” Your voice shook, and Jaehyun spread his legs wider, pulling both of your ankles up towards his shoulders. The new angle hit right on your g-spot, the sudden switch making you scream. “Oh, fuck!”

“Don’t cum yet. That wasn’t good enough.” Jaehyun thrusts were getting sloppier, messier, and you could tell he was close. Your face felt hot, the rush of blood in your ears almost deafening, all organised thoughts leaving you as you felt your body reach another climax. “Ah! Fuck, gonna cum! Deserve it, please…I’m b-beautiful, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your whole body jerked involuntarily, your vision momentarily going black as you came hard and fast. You heard Jaehyun’s voice first, then his lips on your ear, one hand stroking your face and another your thigh. “Shhh, good girl, baby. Let me fill you up so good, baby.” Only then could you feel that he had finished inside you, his hot load viscous and threatening to spill out with the tiniest movement. “You okay?”

You needed a minute to regain your composure, but you used whatever strength you had left to nod, mumbling. “Was so good. Wanna sleep, please.”

“Okay, honey. You relax, I’ll clean you up.”

You latched onto him, bringing him closer to you, the smell of his body making you want to cry in relief. “I…love you, love you, Jaehyun. Please, s-stay.” He kissed you, muttering I love you’s back as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders.

“My love…I’ll be right here when you wake up. I promise.”

[pilot-boi]

I wonder how the Arc clan is handling the news of Jaune's death only for Saphron to call in hysterics saying Jaune's back oh Brothers and Creator he's back but he's not the same and he *Que Arc family vomit trait activating*

The Arc clan were not dealing with Jaune’s death at all well

Their only brother, their son, their boy. They told him not to go, but they were so proud when he went anyway. They said it would be fine if he had to come hope, but every day they rejoiced when he didn’t

Jaune thrived at Beacon. Their boy. He was the leader of his own team, he made actual friends. His own friends, not just the friends of his sisters. Every call he made was full of stories of missions and lessons, and always his friends. Always his friends

Team RWBY and team JNPR

And then the Vytal Festival, and they SAW him fight. They watched him lead his team into battle, and they watched him win. Their boy. Their baby boy

Most of them couldn’t watch the Fall. The younger ones were sent to bed while the older ones kept vigil by the television. Watching for any glimpse of Arc blonde and white steel. All they see are Atlas paladins mowing Huntsmen down and Grimm devouring civilians

That Wyvern dive bombs the tower, the feed cuts

With the CCT down, they don’t find out Jaune is dead until his team visit them with haunted expressions and empty armor

They leave, and the Arcs mourn. Their sunshine is gone. A guitar is left without hands to play it. His room sits empty like a shrine. They visit Saphron more, their only family away from home, all the way in Argus

They get by. As well as anyone does. Neighbors skirt around the topic, drop by with casseroles. Their farm feels cold in the morning, and months go by with a hole in their hearts

And then, nearly a year and a half later, there’s a call from Saphron over the limited CCT

A frantic, staticy, half-garbled call from a hysterical Saphron about how Jaune is in Argus, he’s alive, oh gods he’s alive, but he’s different, he’s changed, please you have to come, please dad, he’s here, I can’t do this, please-

The call cuts off with Arc family vomiting and sobs. High emotions, anxiety, they’re all susceptible. They think she’s seeing things, think she’s losing her mind from grief

But then they hear someone comforting. Not her wife, not her son

THEIR son

Anxious and stubborn and frantic and their boy “Saph! I’m sorry, oh gods I’m sorry. It’s me, it’s really me. C’mere, I’ve got you-”

The call hangs up

The Arc family is in chaos. They’re chattering an airship for Argus before they’re even packed, the whole clan heaped in the back. Half in pajamas, half in clothes, all out of their minds with just the HOPE that their boy is alive

By the time they get there, of course, Jaune is gone. In his way to Atlas with the rest of his friends. But Saphron swears up and down that he was here, and Terra and even the Atlas military at the base back her up

He’s alive. But he’s not quite himself. He’s still their boy. But he’s not quite human. Pictures and words don’t do it justice

What has happened to their boy?

[ellesthots]

Fateful Beginnings

XXXIII. “night light”

parts: previous / next

plot: not a week after the publishing of your interview, Bruce’s vulnerability is exploited when someone enacts revenge.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, physical assault (threats/guns (in mouth/pointed at head)), description of injury (blood/mild gore), hurt/comfort, angst, fluff (<3)

words: 8.1k

a/n: hi lovelies !! i’m so excited to hear what you think about this chapter 🤭 we got the angst, we got some FLUFF finally !! AGHHH i love them

Why did he say that?

It took a few turns and back alleys for Bruce to lose the paparazzi, but soon enough he was driving on the road of the fight. The thighs of his pants were damp from rubbing his hands on them to dry; he needed to check the side-effect list of his meds. His body felt alight with tension and activation, and all he could think about on a haunting loop was: from the bottom of my heart. He didn’t say things like that. Why did he say that?

Now that he was further from the trigger, and not yet at the scene, he tried to dehaze the memory of what it felt like to sit across from you. If he could pin himself to that moment, investigate those feelings… he was drawing a blank. He focused in on the apprehension, the hesitation that stopped him from saying goodbye, or even good riddance. It wasn’t often he couldn’t drudge up any possibilities. He shoved his foot on the gas, frustrated.

The sun had fully abandoned the sky, and the moon was shrouded in clouds. The dim street lamps didn’t do much, so he double-clicked the headlights, thankful for the apparent lack of other drivers to render sightless with his ultra-brights. Seemed like no one had been to the complex yet; at the entryway, a small pile of decaying vomit engraved itself below the side railing. Some specks of blood could be seen on the steps—his eyes narrowed. He hadn’t felt a cut on your head. Maybe Miller’s?

His nagging thoughts fell by the wayside as he noted no one around the apartment complex. He slid the car down an alleyway across the street, cutting the lights as he turned off the motor and unbuckled his seatbelt. That familiar tingle came back into him like a breath of life. The feeling of adventure, the feeling of duty, of purpose. It wasn’t the longest he’d kept from this, and he took a forceful inhale as he recalled the period after the flooding. All the blood that had been in the street, the bodies, the animals, the glass scattered everywhere… he’d drifted around in the weeks following, and he always heard someone scream from a cut. Every walk. The sound of the city’s sobs hadn’t left his mind for months.

A car drove past, then backed up. Bruce sat forward in his seat, his jaw locking tight as he soaked in the environment. Black Chevy truck, 832KZY license. Dent in the left flank by the brake light. Dusty. Faded paint. The driver was a petite woman with olive skin and mid-length dark hair. Bangs. She looked down at something to her right with annoyance. After some lurching, she grinned, and the car sped off. He relaxed. Stick shift issues. That year’s model was notoriously difficult.

As he reclined in his seat just so, the weight of speaking in front of the crowd thudded into him. His insides felt hollow, scooped out; his eyes stung like staring straight at the sun on a blazing summer day. He’d have to watch back the footage, even though the thought skinned him alive. It was necessary to study how he came off, find areas to tweak, improve. He slumped further into the seat. He would’ve much rather had a gun to his head. At least then he’d feel less lost. Less drained. Might even jolt some rage-fueled energy into him.

He was disappointed there wasn’t more to sink his teeth into; he longed to investigate. The cut-and-dry never did much for him. He lived to find the detail everyone else overlooked; to forge a bond between two things no one thought could be connected. God, even imagining doing that brought a rush… the pulsing throb of electrum whispered behind the past week’s curtains.

He redirected himself, pulling out a small journal from the glovebox. He clicked the pen.

Electrum. John Doe. Gordon. Investigate.

More thoughts came to him. Every other word he paused, flitting his eyes up to check for changes.

Hady, Grange, March. Research.

Bella Reál. Investigate.

He put it back in the glovebox and readjusted in his seat. Early on he’d tried to carry everything all at once, following the natural direction of his thoughts as if it were logical to rely on intuition alone. It was distracting. Inefficient. One thing at a time.

After a paltry fifteen minute stakeout, Alfred lit up his phone. Bruce hated how worrying he was lately, but what he hated more was he had good reason to. As severe the desire to ignore the man’s calls was, he knew he couldn’t keep him waiting… he grit his teeth. Under the present circumstances. While it wasn’t rare for him to daydream about time machines, he’d never before wanted to jump forward in time. He kept his eyes trained to the building, but there was no movement. “Yeah?”

“Did you see Y/N leave the meeting?”

You’d done precisely what Bruce had instructed, save your addition of turning off the lamp. Even after minutes spent gasping air into your lungs, waiting for an Uber to arrive, pretending that conversation with him had just been a figment of your imagination, you still struggled to catch your breath walking through the foyer.

Half of it was nerves about him going out again so soon, and the other was a sensation you couldn’t pin down, but it had you sweating and shaking. Fear? Anxiety? Sadness? Tension! More than anything, you’d felt tense. Bruce was intimidating, especially so when he held a metaphorical pair of scissors. And when they were aimed at you.

Mar had answered your third phone call as you walked down the city hall steps, berating you for interrupting their ‘jam session’. Faint guitar chords were heard in the background, the acoustics isolated and muffled. It sounded like a house party. She dismissed your concern about staying away, finally conceding and telling you she’d avoid it for a few weeks. “And to think I was practicing all my trivia skills for nothing.”

You should’ve realized by the beanie pulled nearly covering his eyes, but your usual vigilance had been halved as you came down from your interaction with Bruce. Sliding into the seat had you wincing at the pain in your thigh; you berated yourself for not bringing Tylenol with you. It’d been shockingly effective; you’d barely felt your injury on the walk here.

The drive was normal for the first half, so much so that you relaxed against the window and stared blankly at the people milling the main street, speed blurring them like ants. As the streets wound toward your apartment complex, you thought about how you could’ve feigned innocence, inputting the destination as the area of the fight. “Get a ride?” You’d tell him, when he glared at you and questioned your arrival. “I thought you meant here!” It was embarrassing roleplaying conversations with him, so you rid yourself of the thought. You’d feel it all in the morning and think about what to do next when your head was less scrambled.

The driver took a sharp left, cutting the lights as he pulled into an alley. You realized a second too late to reach for the door, ready to drop, roll and run. He’d child-locked it, and by the time you manually unclicked the lock, he pointed a gun at your head. The beanie slipped higher, and you could see clearly it was Miller. No other thoughts formed as the reality of having death pointed at your skull set in.

“Try to leave and I’ll blow your brains out.” He had two black eyes and a smushed nose. His lip was busted open and you swore he was missing a tooth. The rest of him was covered in thick industrial clothing. Bruce had effective punches. He hadn’t been on the guy more than a few seconds. Even Bruce began to slip away as you felt the cold metal jam into your temple. He pressed it harder and harder with every word he spoke. “Who the fuck was that guy?”

The dizzying adrenaline made the blood leave your body and rush into your head; he pressed right on a nerve that coaxed out every last bit of sting and throb from your concussion. You could barely focus on what he was saying. Breathe. Breathe. Your body stilled outside of your heartbeat and wincing eyelids.

“I’m not gonna ask again, bitch. Who the fuck was the guy last night?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know,”

“Bullshit. Call him.”

You stared back at him, unable to move. He stuck the barrel of the gun into your mouth, slacked open with debilitating fear. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe. You slapped around for your phone that had fallen at your side, unable to look down or move your face even an inch.

“Show me your call log.”

You strained your eyes to look down, fumbling with your apps, accidentally opening the likes of Old Navy and Target, tears threatening to slip with each passing second. You held it up to him, hands almost too shaky for the screen to be legible. ‘Alfred’ was listed for an eleven minute call at 11:49pm Wednesday. “It’s my, my stepdad,”

“Call him.” He pressed it and held it out to you, clacking the tip of the gun against your front teeth. You swallowed, thinking death only seconds or minutes in the horizon. He picked up on the third ring. Not long enough for you to plan much. Or at all. The man was deadly serious, his eyes a frenzied mess of bleary red as he jostled the gun against the roof of your mouth.

“What’s going on, Miss?”

The man withdrew the barrel just enough for you to speak unencumbered. You rushed the words to refuse him time to say something that would give him away. “Hey Dad.” You let out a small sigh. “I just wanted to call to see how the cats were doing.” You paused, then hurried more out with a hollow laugh. The man narrowed his eyes, cocking the gun. “Probably lost on the upper floors of the house. Or stealing some soup, you know how they love it.”

You were saying too much. If the roles were reversed, you’d think you were speaking in code. A predetermined plan. A keyword to let people know things were not alright.

Alfred chuckled on the other end. “I think Camelot is nestled on my bed. Everything go well at the meeting? After your call last night, I’ve been worried.” His tone was conversational, but concerned. You wanted to fucking bawl, reach out to him and wrap him in a tight, tight hug, mutter a thousand thanks. It felt like there was an ocean between the both of you. He’d fucking caught on.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You stuttered forward. “And just more boring election stuff. Not much to go off of.” It was fucking incredible you could speak. You were starting to regain some more of your breathing. The clouds were beginning to lift. The environment slowly moving back into focus. Even with him however many miles away, you knew he’d be looking out for you, and do his best to help.

Alfred sighed, a light but impatient one. He rustled something in the background that sounded like metal on metal. “Well, hurry back. I’ll bring over some lasagna later. I have your locale, but… the streets are dangerous at night. I worry. Your screams were terrible.”

Maybe not as subtle as you would have liked, but you knew what he was trying to do, and you trusted him more than yourself in this moment. He muttered something. “The ricotta… Jane, I told you we needed the automated mixer.” He let out another sigh. “Call me when you get back, sweets. I’ve got to put some muscle into this.”

Alfred ended the call. You tried not to have it feel like the beginning of the end. If it took Bruce, or Batman, or the police longer than it took for him to shoot you in the head…

He drew closer to you, hucking spit onto you before he spoke. It slid down the sides of your nose. “Who was the guy?”

It was difficult to speak. “I don’t know,”

“YOU KNOW!” He jammed the gun further into your mouth, and you kept your mouth wide as you felt a small chipping.

The words were swallowed against the thickness of the gun. “I don’t, I just screamed and then he came and, then the, police,” He pressed the gun to your uvula and you gagged. It was humiliating, and your blood boiled when you saw him grin at it.

He spit in your face again, this time just below your eye, and pressed the gun until it scraped the back of your throat. Tears sprung to your eyes and poured down your cheeks in reflex. He ripped the gun out of your mouth, keeping it focused at your sternum. He cursed and slammed a fist against his seat. He began muttering, his eyes ablaze. “No one has ever fought me like that, no one but...” He punched the center console, sending a part of the plastic flying in front of the passenger seat. “Immediately booked, too. Only happens with him.”

Oh. You opened your mouth to speak but he shouted at you instead. “You’re gonna help me, or you’re fucking dead.”

He taunted you by shoving the gun toward you. You considered making a break for it, but figured you wouldn’t get far before all you saw was black. How the fuck did Bruce face this every night? Even if his suit was bulletproof? You stared back at him while he laid out his plan, starting to wonder if Bruce was actually a masochist.

“I know you got that Wayne guy in your pocket.”

It was whiplash having them mentioned so close to each other, and made you paranoid the man was reading your mind. You began to shake your head but he cocked the gun again, grazing the trigger. “You’re gonna leave, and you’re gonna get him on our side.”

“I don’t—”

“If you alert anyone to this shit, I’ll hunt you down and kill you with my bare fucking hands.”

“I only did an interv—”

“That’s more than anyone else fucking gets.” He bared his teeth in a snarl. “You’re gonna get him to give me his best fuckin lawyers. And get me back in school, full fucking ride.”

You didn’t have a response queued, which seemed to escalate him. He lunged, grabbing you by the throat with his left hand. He smelled like cigarettes, booze, and Drops. That familiar citrus scent; the type that made you afraid to put it in your eyes. The type of acidic smell that made you wonder how every Drophead hadn’t yet lost their vision. Some did. His hands were rough and dirty as his fingers closed on your larynx.

“That’s the only money I fucking get; I’ll get life before going back to Point.” He sniffed, adjusting his posture. His arm strength was faltering. You wondered if you could disarm him yourself… knock his left arm into his right before he pulled the trigger... “If he gets wind of this little deal, I’m ending you.”

Crown Point. A neighborhood absolutely decimated by the flood, and more or less abandoned by the local government. It was entirely written off, as the highest percentage of the houseless and impoverished population lived there. You didn’t know too much about Gotham’s ecosystem, but you did know that they didn’t give a fuck about Point. You nodded. “Okay.” It came out in a croak. “I won’t tell.” It was surreal feeling a wash of relaxation pour over you, but you understood it was either being held like this, or looking down the barrel of something that could kill you before you’d even realize what was happening.

He released his grip and you sputtered. “You have until the thirteenth to kill it. I’ll kill you and your friend.” His gun was lowered, but still pointed to you, like he’d forgotten he was holding a powerful, terrifying weapon. His gaze focused above you and his glare set. He spun in his seat and floored it before you even realized what was happening; the alley was long and straight, but thin. As the bricks around you blurred, you thought about what had the highest survival rate—staying in the car, or jumping?

The speed of the car made you stay inside; you even thought about buckling your seatbelt as you noticed the end creep closer and closer; a giant brick wall with a hard ninety-degree turn. Miller kept looking in his rearview mirror, each time nearly slamming the car into the side of the tight alley.

The wall was a football field away. Your hand shot for the seatbelt as Miller realized he needed to brake, squealing tires skidding, slipping on the concrete. Pure instinct, nothing more, made your call; you jammed open the door as far as it could, sparks flying off of it as it slammed against the brick, and tossed yourself out ass-first.

The first part of your body to hit was your left thigh, leaving you screeching on the impact. The second was your back, knocking the wind entirely out of you. You had the good sense to tuck your hands behind your head, and you felt the knuckles skid against the rough, chunky street. Almost in unison, you heard a petrifying, deafening crash of metal crunching. You laid there gasping at the sky, your vision swirling, heart racing, leg throbbing, hands numb.

The dark sky above only made you more dizzy, giving you nothing to concentrate on and cling to. You heard footsteps further back from whence you came, and the sound of a car door wrenching open. You sat up on your elbows, forcing yourself back up. Your body felt battered and bruised, your left leg now bordering on unusable, but you managed to get up to your knees. You panted at the ground until you caught Bruce’s cologne run past. He wasn’t in the suit. No!

You reached out and grabbed his ankle, shouting weakly for him to stop. He shook you off but you yelled louder, lunging forward, scraping your elbows as you barely caught his calf with both hands. You heard more creaking, and suddenly Bruce’s face was inches from yours, dropped to a squat. His cheeks were flushed and his breath was hard and full against your sweaty, spit-sodden cheeks. His brow furrowed, his mouth curled down into an exasperated scowl. “What are you doing?!”

You glanced above him to the left, noticing Miller jump face-first out of the car, bolting down the turn in the alley. Bruce turned to look with you, but felt the tightening of your hands around him when he tried to move forward. Your fingernails dug into his skin, even through his pant leg. “Stop, don’t.”

“He’s gonna get away—”

“STAY!”

This was the first time you’d yelled at him, and it was like scolding a dog. You didn’t have time to feel bad yet, letting your arms limp and lying flat on your stomach. Disgusting, wet, smelly ground. You caught the rest of your breath, staring intently at his feet. You could hear him scowling, groaning and mumbling.

You took a few beats to catch your breath and orient to your surroundings. It took a few minutes to catch yourself, bring your chest back to a normal percussion. Took half as long for your eyes to unblur, but they kept darting across the ground, and the first few bricks along the sides of the alley.

“Let’s go,” Bruce grabbed your wrist and tried to help you up, but you weren’t ready yet. Your head swirled, the pain was just beginning to surpass the adrenaline…

“Let’s go.” He pulled harder, his voice cracking. You yelped, your knee skidding on the upheaval. You slammed back down on all fours, tears springing to your eyes. You couldn’t see him, but you could see his feet pacing. Tight, muffled sounds came from above you. You dry-heaved against the cement, nothing spurring but hot bile that soured you, furthering more pitiful attempts at retching. Your arms shook and fingers scraped the jagged ground as you tried to sit up on your own again.

Every time he saw you in an alleyway, he wanted to jump off a cliff; seeing you unable to stand, gasping, sputtering against the ground in one threatened to kill him. His cheeks got hot, the world got wobbly, and his legs felt like jello. He probably looked like an asshole, but the flashbacks were ripping at him, his feet unable to be stilled. If you were anyone else he might’ve just ran. Phoned Gordon. Maybe if it were anyone else he wouldn’t have panicked, though, and he didn’t want to interrogate that.

You held out your arms for him to help you up. He took a deep breath and knelt down, focusing on the mechanics of the moment. He held the brunt of your weight, and you stumbled like that to his car on the street, your left leg a mess of pain, your head rapidly catching up. You gasped into the back seat as your thigh scraped against the leather. He shut the door gently, but quickly.

He drove you around until you were on the outskirts of town, and pulled over beside a throng of trees, the gravel loud under the tires as he parked. He turned to look at you from the driver’s seat and you flinched, glancing down at where the gun had been. Without fanfare, he got out and sidled in beside you in the backseat. It hurt to turn your head, but you did enough to at least see some of his body in your vision.

“What happened?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but he pummeled more questions your way. “Why’d you get in the car with him?” “Couldn’t you tell it was him?” “What was he doing?” “What did he want?”

You held a feeble hand out to him before moving it to your temple. Gently, you set your head against the leather seat, needing a moment to gather yourself. Your blood was still pumping like you were sprinting fifty miles, everything, everything wildly unstable. By some miracle Bruce obliged and stopped talking.

You didn’t know if it had been ten seconds or ten minutes by the time you opened your eyes again and started to speak, and you kept an arm outstretched to keep his interrogations at bay. “He wants the charges dropped.” You swallowed hard, trying to think of anything else besides the pain in your head and leg—or how bad the chip might be. Your voice was dry and scratchy. “Wanted me to use your connection. For lawyers. Retract our statements.” You took another breather, heard him draw in a breath to speak, and shoved the rest out before he could. “I stopped you going after him.” Another gulp, a wince. You’d never been more desperate for sweet, sweet Tylenol… “Because he also.” It was impossible to speak. You let your head fall back in failure. He needs to know this. “He knows whoever fought him last night was Batman. Felt it. Same fighting. Feeling. Booking.” Your lashes fluttered open with a rush of pain in a circle around your skull.

Bruce didn’t know how to respond; he didn’t want you to have to speak more without medication, so he instead faced the back seat, head spinning. You spoke anyway, confirming a fear he’d had since the day his parents died in that alley, a fear that had been poked, prodded, and split entirely open seeing Alfred in the hospital. “Said if you got wind of it, he’d kill me. And Mar.”

You bolted up, startling him. “Mar!”

He sat up and shook his head at you. “I’ll watch her. I’m taking you back to my place.”

You did not want to go there, but your brain was slow to think of anything, slow to form words, and by the time he shut the driver’s door and started for Wayne Tower, you realized he was right. His house was a fortress of safety. Wasn’t like he could be in two places at once.

As the trees thinned out and gravel turned to road, he told you to lay back as flat as you could. He’d be going through the front entry, which had ramped up security now. He muttered something about reporters lingering on the grounds after the interview, and you struggled to focus on it. Being horizontal in a moving car was nauseating when you weren’t in body-buzzing misery, but it was excruciating now. If you had the strength to sit up again, you would’ve. Fuck the paparazzi.

Bruce’s mind was a mess.

Not even one week since the interview’s release and you’d been held at gunpoint over him.

It was hellish attempting to concentrate on the road. It would be hard to convince you to leave Gotham, but it had to be done. Another conversation with you, and one he would ensure didn’t go awry. He swore he felt his teeth splitting against each other as he mulled over how to bring it up, and when. Not now. Tomorrow. You needed to recuperate, and he needed to find Miller.

Once in his garage, you scooted yourself up by fumes of sheer will so Bruce didn’t have to help you out. Forcing each foot in front of the other as he pushed the door open to the foyer, where Alfred stood, holding his glasses in his hands. Bruce walked ahead of you and gestured for Alfred to step into the kitchen for a minute. You supported yourself against the doorframe, taking out your phone to message Mar.

The screen assaulted you, peppering your vision with black spots and squiggly lines.

The guy from last night got released on bail, and he held me at gunpoint trying to get information out of me. I was able to escape, but I’m worried he’ll come after you. Stay inside, officers will be watching the area to see if he tries to come after you.

Her location showed she was at home; apparently, the ‘jam session’ was being held at her place; you looked up to remind Bruce to leave, but he was already gone, Alfred walking toward you with a lukewarm smile. He handed over a glass of water and the same little white pill, both of which you took with a desperate gulp. “Miss. So glad you’re alright. Bruce informed me about what happened. Do you know the address of your friend?”

You told him, and he texted it to him. A strange, temporary thrill flit through you thinking that he was just a few levels below, suiting up. So fucking weird. So fucking wild. Alfred helped you up the stairs, escorting you to the same room as last Spring. “Our housekeeper keeps things tidy, so you shouldn’t be left wanting. I’ll grab fresh clothing.”

Standing in the room again was one of the most disorienting experiences of your life. Everything was the same, as if you had left it yesterday. Almost as if he hadn’t left, Alfred reappeared in the doorway, holding a pair of black sweatpants and matching tee. Before he left, he asked if you wanted anything to eat, or any company. “These events can be traumatizing.”

You declined it all, wanting desperately to both be alone and be smothered by someone else, but confused enough by it you chose solitude. You thanked him, grabbed the clothes, and exchanged a solemn look. After an encouraging nod, he left, letting you know the same standards were in place; if you wanted anything from the kitchen, or to visit in his study, you were free to.

You slunk out of your dress and threw it into the corner, hastily pulling on the outfit you were desperate to forget was likely Bruce’s. The feat was easily won, though it was tight in some places, loose in others, and entirely too tall—because your nose was too blocked with snot you couldn’t smell anything.

The next two hours passed in a montage. Sitting on the side of the bed in a blurry haze. Every time you looked at your phone was like a knife to the chest recalling your dad’s text in June, which led to the room with the doctor, which led to the wheelchair, which led to the trial, which, which… your brain was numb to pain at this point.

Your limbs moved in slow-motion when they did adjust to laying. Mar had texted you that she was okay, and she’d heeded your warning. She’d asked if you were okay, and you’d said you were safe. She didn’t comment past that, only giving occasional check-ins to let you know she hadn’t been captured. At one point you’d texted Alfred through a mess of tears, asking him if he’d heard any updates from Bruce. He responded immediately, explaining that his suit was active and on Mar’s street. You let your head hit the pillow hard after that, which reminded you of the clack of the gun against your teeth and its pressure against your head.

Your head ached. Jabbed. Punctured. Shouted to be witnessed. You chose not to do anything about it. You took a selfie on your phone to check on your tooth, and noticed a noticeable tick on an incisor. Your cheeks were crunchy with dried spit, and you bolted to the bathroom as fast as your hobbling leg would allow. You scrubbed your face in the sink, taking the soap bar and shredding it against your skin to erase the attack.

In the mirror you noticed the bleeding crusties along your knuckles and the rippled shreds of skin hanging off your elbows. You plucked the shreds off carefully, giving your arms and hands a thorough wash. The skinning was artificial. No gravel lodged anywhere. You felt the wear on your body and slumped back to the room, landing hard against the pillow.

You woke up with a scream.

The gun’s muzzle had penetrated your skin, digging deep into your flesh, making hot, wet blood stream down your face in a thick river. You’d tried to scream, but blood had erupted from your esophagus, mixing with the vomit curdling your stomach. It felt like you sat there like that forever, screaming and gurgling and writhing before he’d pulled the trigger.

Apparently it’d been a dream.

A knock on your door made you jump, another yelp escaping.

“Can I come in?”

Bruce. You shouted a yes, or at least something similar, as you tried to catch your breath. It felt so impossibly real, every sensation filling you still, like your head was still dripping, your mouth was still full…

He opened the door, fiddling with the button on his pants. He was shirtless, his torso and hair dripping wet from what appeared to be him fresh out of the shower. His eyes were wide, searching around the room before landing on you trembling in bed. He noticed Alfred brought you the outfit he’d set out for himself—no wonder he couldn’t find it. The sight of you in it made him anxious.

“What happened?”

You thought you mumbled “Nightmare” but you weren’t sure. Sniffled, soft cries filled the space between the both of you. You were staring down at your hands fiddling with the top sheet, rubbing along the seam.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, then shook your head, his question propelling barely-quelled sobs out of you.

Bruce didn’t know what to do. At all. He figured all he could do was offer logistical support. “Need more Tylenol?”

The vulnerable peculiarity of the situation spurred a laugh as you sniffed up more tears, your voice muffled from your stuffed nose. “It’s like I’m a toddler.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. He had no idea what a toddler acted like. He waited, awkwardly, for your sniffing to pause, and spoke. “Miller’s been booked.” You looked up to him, interest piqued.

“Found him walking around your friend’s neighborhood. Watched Gordon take him in. He had an unregistered weapon on him too. He’ll be in there a while.” He hoped it would be some consolation, because you looked like you needed it. He forced himself not to think about what else you might need; thinking about you was starting to feel like holding his breath.

You sighed, your shoulders dropping a few inches. He looked away, too much relief filling him seeing it. “Thanks.”

He nodded, then turned to leave. “If you need anything, just shout.”

You nodded in response, and the door had almost shut when you spoke, tentative. The question not only gnawed at you now, it had been one of the first things you’d thought about with a fucking gun to your skull. “How do you do it?”

He did not want to go back in… He propped the door open and sidled halfway. “Do what?”

“Get shot at every night, it’s fucking horrifying.” More heat sprung to your face, and you pressed your palms to your eyes to force them back.

Admittedly, he’d forgotten how affecting those experiences could be. Even two decades later he couldn’t think too specifically back to Crime Alley or he’d succumb to panic. He stepped the rest of the way in, ashamed that he’d been subtly trying to slip away and ignore you.

You peered at him with a tear-streaked face and he averted his eyes, goosebumps prickling his skin. He swallowed back a lump that’d found its way to his throat. “Already happened, so. Not much to lose I guess.”

He wasn’t looking at you, but you couldn’t stop looking at him. Why did he think so low of himself? Why didn’t he think his life was worth protecting? That night he’d talked about feeling like he’d died with his parents, and suddenly his ghostlike demeanor made a lot of sense. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.” You’d caught your breath by this point, the haunting images falling back the longer he hung around. “I know you probably hate to hear it, but I am.”

You weren’t surprised when he deflected it. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

You wiped the pool of tears in the troughs of your cheeks. “It’s not even close.”

That struck a nerve. Few things had been more exasperating to him growing up than having every person’s problems minimized while he was around. “Sorry, Bruce, I mean, it’s nothing compared to what you went through.” “I shouldn’t be talking.” “What do I have to complain about?” Somehow, his words blurted out harsher and gentler than intended. “You’re allowed to be hurt by it.”

His face was contorted into a grimace. You didn’t know what else to do, the vibe entirely shifted, so you just sat, and nodded. When he turned to leave again, anxiety barreled into you like a truck. “Can you turn on the light?”

Tick. You squinted to adjust, the monsters creeping back into the closet.

“If you want anything, don’t hesitate.” He shut the door.

Your dreams had been shitty, but they hadn’t been horrifying.

It was four in the morning when you woke up next, officially well past needing another dose. Forgetting Bruce had essentially offered on-call service, you padded your way out to the stairwell, and jumped with his shadow already at the foot of the stairs. “I told you to shout if you need anything.”

He had a shirt on now, something you were grateful for. “I wanted more meds, thought I might want a walk.”

“How’s your leg?” His voice echoed in the foyer as he walked to the kitchen. He returned in a similar fashion as Alfred, but faster. You’d only made it down a few steps. As he walked to hand you them, you saw the bags under his eyes, creeping in under the moonlight. How every blink looked intentional and forced, designed to keep him standing and conscious. His shoulders were pulled forward, ragged with exhaustion.

You didn’t want to trouble him, scooping the pill out of his hand and grabbing the glass. “Hurts.” You drank it, popped it, and walked slowly back to your sleeping quarters. “Thanks.”

Except… standing in the doorway made you pathetically sad. Gazing at the big, empty room that wasn’t yours in the big, empty tower. Every anxious, miserable thought crowded closer. Your body ached, your spirit was absolutely obliterated. You’d almost died today. I almost DIED today.

More than anything, you wanted to be held. And you didn’t hear his footsteps leaving.

You squeezed your eyes shut until you saw stars, as if it would make it easier. “Can I have a hug?” The request was needy, breathy, feeble. You couldn’t muster a shit to give as the abyss circled you. It was silent.

Bruce froze. He wanted to deny you; after all, what good was a hug if it was hollow? If he was to force you out in the morning, planning ways to convince you to never, ever come back?

You looked over your shoulder, a slow, shakey glance dripping with sorrow. His lashes fluttered as his lips pressed into a thin line. He set the glass on the ground, and his body finished walking up the steps before he nodded. “Sure.” Your eyes focused on the floor as you stepped toward each other, as if looking him in the eye would scare you both off.

When you fell into him it didn’t feel hollow. He felt so full of empathy he could burst, his arms moving instinctually around your back like he’d hugged you a thousand times. His face naturally settled into concern, his chest caving in ever so slightly to welcome yours. You whimpered at the collision of your bodies. In dissent to his earlier apprehension, he pulled you closer, deepening the hug he realized you both so desperately needed.

Falling into his arms was easy. Wrapping your arms around his back was easier. Wailing into his shirt while you clumped fists of it around his back felt as simple as breathing; without beckoning, instinctual, like hot sand lapping up its first wave. The release fell out of you, and you didn’t even register you could be too loud, too much, or too rough. He was as sturdy as the oak tree in his backyard, and just as unyielding—except for now, as his strong hands wrapped around your back and squeezed.

Time paused and the world stopped turning as you were gifted a portal for your pain to fall into. A river to erode the rocks piled in your stomach. You clutched him, your chin tucked into your chest, soaking his shirt until it clung to your cheeks. You bawled until you were coughing, until you felt rugburn on your palm from fisting the cotton so tightly. When you started to shake, he hugged you tighter.

You finally managed to croak out a word, but your mind was undecided between ‘sorry’ and ‘thank you’. “Th-orry.”

You shriek-laughed and cried some more, feeling a gentle rumble from his chest. The humor was quickly lost as you sunk into the sadness again, beginning to hiccup as your cries intensified. Time evaded you as you stood there sniffing, hiccuping, and crying, with your eyes squeezed shut, for what simultaneously felt like five seconds and twenty years.

As your sobs quieted, and your hiccups intensified, you were forced to right yourself, unlatching your hands from around him and wiping your eyes, peeling your skin off his soaked clothes. Your head throbbed. You needed more water, a shower, to sleep, you needed to do anything besides what you were currently doing. He didn’t want this.

You cleared your gummy throat and moved further back to fully wipe your cheeks, tucking your chin under the collar of your shirt—his shirt—to soak up the water. You felt how hot and puffy your face was, the tired sting of your strained eyes. Bruce must not have slept for two days at this rate; what the hell were you doing? I’m just making things worse on him again.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

No conscious thought brought your eyes up to his, only shock at hearing him sound so gentle. His tone was soothing. His face matched it, which sent a jolt through your system remembering, seeing this was BRUCE. You stepped back, embarrassed tears threatening to overwhelm you. “I’m sorry.” You shook your head, realization sinking in staring at his wrinkled, soaked shirt that you’d just bawled—

“I don’t mind.” He gestured toward the kitchen down the steps, turning his body with it like he’d already made up his mind. You didn’t know it, but the embrace had temporarily quelled his inhibitions, replacing them with a profound desire to help. At least for tonight, he wanted to sit with you as long as you’d let him. Hear every bit of the pain that kept you from turning off the light. “Let’s talk.”

Your cheeks heated, intimidated by his new tenderness. “You’ve been awake so long,”

“Is that a no?”

You sighed, your shoulders rising high and dropping low in a huff. “You need to sleep.”

“I’m not tired.”

You wanted to cry again. He’d been so obviously weary. “Yes, you are.”

“I can wait.”

“I can wait. My problems will still be here in the morning.”

He hesitated, but obliged. He asked if you wanted more water before he went up, and you let him. He handed it off to you without fanfare, like this was your nightly routine. “Shout if you want anything.”

You walked up the stairway above his floor, and walked into the barren bedroom. You took a sip of the chilled water, feeling the weightiness of the glass, and turned off the light.

After a few minutes of stirring, you couldn’t ignore going to the bathroom. Padding out of your room turned into sneaking to check on Bruce’s door, which was half open. It hadn’t been that way in Spring. Your heart caught on the thought he’d done it so he wouldn’t miss if you yelled.

You’d been correct in your estimation of his fatigue; that, or he was the fastest sleeper you’d ever known. He was fully conked on his bed, facing the door, his mouth slacked ever so slightly open, the deep rise and fall of his—bare—chest matching his gentle snores. He was on his right side, his left arm half slung over. Your eyes followed down to his shirt abandoned on the ground beside the bed. Even in the low light you could see darker patches from where you’d filled the fibers with your tears.

You forced your feet toward the bathroom, struck with self-consciousness at having spied on him. The marble was cool on the soles of your feet, still not used to walking barefoot on floors with no give. You sat in the small hallway bathroom, the toilet seat frigid against your flushed skin.

You stared absently at the wooden door. The shiny golden handle. The unmoving glint of the static overhead lighting against it. The total silence was unsettling. Both of your apartments in Gotham had ample noise pollution being downtown. Back at home, there was a small littering of the occasional car passing through, a coyote, or Walter licking himself.

This silence was empty. Your mind didn’t waste a second filling it.

You wanted another hug from him. Your heartbeat quickened thinking about it. You moved your focus to the floor, the downward movement bringing Bruce to your nose. You lifted your shirt to bury your nose in it, bringing more depth to the smell. It was ambery and warm. In addition to whatever fragrant detergent he used, he used some sort of masculine body wash.

For a minute you sat there basking in it. Feeling held, wanted, and seen, without shying away. Letting your body relax into its intuitive trust in him. Taking a full, lung-satisfying breath into his comfort. The comfort of being held by him. The comfort of him being alive. The space he’d made for you. Even venturing into the what-if of what he might have said, how he might have looked at you, if you’d poured your grief in front of him.

But it was short-lived. With greater force than your appreciation swept in a current of shame. He didn’t want your tears. He probably thought he had to take them. Had to humor you. Had to make sure you were okay after the lie.

You walked back to your room still in a slurry of painful, self-flagellating emotion. You’d have to clarify in the morning. Tell him it was because of your mom, and the stuff online, and your ex-friends, and the gun shoved in your mouth. The attack. The threats. But you couldn’t very well leave out his attempt, could you? Would it make it seem like you didn’t care about him?

A thought dawned on you before you went to sleep, spurred by the flashback sensation of the gun on your temples. I could’ve just done my paper on the club shooting. Then none of this pain would’ve happened. To either of us. You wanted to curl up and die.

Distracted by the mystery of Batman and the reclusiveness of Bruce Wayne. Forcing his hand. Denting the doors of his life breaking in. Shattering all the glass inside, stealing the valuables. It was pathetic. You were pathetic. A pathetic, annoying, disgusting liar sitting in this room for the second time, of your own doing, of your own mistakes, your own fucked priorities and selfish interests.

But it was a lie that was keeping him alive.

After an hour of tossing and turning, fighting the harassment you flung at yourself with reckless abandon, you forced yourself to get up. You remembered something you learned in therapy when you were younger, something to stop these anxious, ruminating thoughts, to help the room feel less like you were drowning in it. Get an orange. Pay attention to it. Peel it slowly. Focus on the texture in your mouth. The zing. The juiciness in its crunch.

Opening up his fridge, you realized they didn’t have much outside of veggies, protein shakes, and meat. Absolutely not wanting to cook, and being put off by the grainy texture of past protein supplements, you opted for a stray apple in the back of the fridge. It was a bit bruised. You didn’t mind.

When you shut the fridge, the freezer popped slightly open. Instead of just shutting it, you peeked inside—more meat, and a tub of Breyer’s. The apple fell out of your hand and you felt wobbly. More memories flooded your veins already primed to panic. Just one week ago. Hospital. Lingering. On autopilot you shut the freezer, swooped the apple and brought it to the sink to rinse. The water was freezing on your hands. You hoped Bruce wasn’t a light sleeper. You didn’t want to subject him to you again.

The apple was surprisingly crisp, save a few spongy parts. You ate it as you walked up the stairs—one bite per step. You shut your eyes and let your senses guide you, zooming in and slowing down. The tang of the apple. The crunch on the first bite. The coolness of the marble steps. The height and slickness of the railing as it skimmed your palm. Crunch. Step.

You made it back to your room calmer than you left it. The apple was nearly eaten to the core, and you discarded it in the trashcan by the side table. You slipped into bed methodically—left leg, slowly, carefully, then the right. First cover, then comforter, then head to pillow. Eyes closed. Slow, deep, gentle breathing. The only thing you had to do right now was sleep. The only task you had to do was let your body relax. Everything else could wait until morning.

Bruce Wayne could wait until the morning.

[f10werfae]

Expect the Unexpected Baby

pairing: Henry Cavill x Pregnant!Reader

Summary: Henry breaks up with Y/n, only to discover he’s left something of his behind, his baby. Does he try and reconcile? or Does he just accept the path he’s made? (requested by @depressedneedingrevenge )

Likes, Comments and reblogs are appreciated♥️ Library: @f10werfaes-cosy-collection

Disclaimer: This story is fiction and should not be taken literally, the behaviour is simply imaginative and the content may be inappropriate

Henry Masterlist, Full Masterlist Lumberjack!Henry

“Are- Are you really doing this to us Henry? I thought you said we wouldn’t give up on us?” Y/n sniffled taking off her engagement ring, watching as Henry packed the rest of his stuff from their house, he had only broken up with her a week prior. “Bab- Y/n I- you know I didn’t want this, I’ve got to work for longer, I need someone that’s willing to be there for me, give me something to come home to”

“So because I still haven’t been able to provide you with a baby, a family, i’m suddenly not worthy enough to keep you? Is that what it is?” Y/n snarked throwing her ring at him, watching as he scoffed and lugged the rest of his luggage out, throwing his house keys to the floor; leaving Y/n alone in the now lonely house. Y/n felt sobs wreck through her body as she collapsed to the ground, the sobs were so hard to a point where she felt herself gag and had to rush herself to the toilet.

Recently the couple had been on the edge of it, after being told their chances of conceiving were low due to Y/n’s hormone imbalance, their hopes and dreams of building a family together was shattered. As a result, they grew distant, both of them focusing on their careers as an actor and as a nurse.

“Shit, fucks sake” Y/n groaned pulling herself up from the bathroom floor, looking at the now broken version of herself in the mirror, “You’ll be okay Y/n, you’re stronger than this” She whispered to herself, studying the look on her face before forcing out a smile. This wasn’t the end of her happiness, Y/n L/n was a strong woman who was capable of anything if she put her mind to it; that includes being a single mother.

A few weeks after Henry had left her, Y/n fell ill to a point where her best friend Jess had to sleepover constantly just to make sure she ate properly and didn’t collapse from exhaustion. “Y/n You should really see your doctor, this surely isn’t normal, you’re a healthy young woman” Jess winced as she patted her friend’s back, watching on as she continuously vomited into the toilet bowl.

“I’m scared, come with me?” Y/n whimpered sitting back and wiping her mouth with a spare towel, her stomach had not been able to stomach anything but saltine crackers and water; she just wasn’t feeling her best at all. Usually it was Henry that accompanied her to the doctors, knowing how bad her anxiety got, but now she had no one; well Jess of course.

“Of course babes, wouldn’t let ya go there on you’ own, give me the number and i’ll book the appointment for you” Jess said taking Y/n’s phone and finding the practice’s number in her contacts, phoning them then and there to schedule an appointment for the next morning, it was an emergency after-all.

So off they went the next morning to the doctor, who out of the blue asked if she was sexually active after hearing the ongoing symptoms, was this normal? “Uh- well I was a few w-weeks ago” Y/n stuttered watching her doctor note things down and click a few things on her computer. “Miss. L/n, i’m going to need a urine sample if that’s alright?”

“What do you think is wrong with me?” Y/n whimpered holding onto Jess’ hand tightly, after giving in her sample all she had to do now was wait, and thankfully the practice wasn’t as busy today and she’d be able to get the results on the same day. “Nothing chick, you’re sweet, I know you are and it’s probably just something from a bad takeout-“

“Miss L/n, I have the results” The doctor smiled walking into the box white room, a clipboard in hand as she sat down in front of Y/n.

“You’re 2 months pregnant”

Y/n felt her world stop, was she really about to have a baby? That thought was out of the question for her, she thought she was destined for a childless life, and she’d spend everyday blaming herself despite it not being her fault at all.

“A-are you sure Dr. Brown? I thought my chances of conceiving were low? Is the baby okay? Wait- are you joking with me?”

“I said your chances were low, not impossible Miss L/n. Now we can talk through your options now, or, you can choose to go to the front desk and schedule for your first sonogram” Dr. Brown smiled already knowing Y/n’s answer, watching as Jess stood up cheering beside her gob smacked, and now pregnant, best friend Y/n.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Why does he look like an alien at 8 months?” Jess giggled looking at the baby L/n on the picture, it’s head looking odd with the 3d angle. “Shut up you, don’t listen blueberry you’re already so handsome” Y/n cooed looking down over her stretched stomach, seeing the imprint of a foot push against her marked skin, the stretch marks telling a story of hardships.

“i’m actually going to be the best god-mother, going to spoil the hell outta him” Jess smiled feeling the tiny babe kick at her hand, now that Christmas was in a few hours she felt it would be best to spend it with Y/n, who was unfortunately unable to spend it with family this year. “Yeah course you are, look Jess I know you hate me saying this but, have you tried calling Henry again? I know you hate his ass but, he deserves to know about blueberry right?”

For the past few weeks Henry had clouded Y/n’s mind, sure he had broken her heart, but she couldn’t help but yearn for his touch and love especially now that she was carrying the perfect mix of them both. Her baby blueberry. Anytime she tried to call him, it would cut off, meaning he had now changed numbers which would make sense. He was now working on a movie somewhere abroad, so he would need a new cell; unfortunately meaning he had now lost complete contact with her.

“Y/n L/n, you don’t need a man, you’re a strong independent mama alright?”

“I know I know, but if there’s a chance I don’t have to go through this alone, even just as a co-parent- OW FUCK” Y/n suddenly exclaimed feeling a strong pulse of strain go through her pelvis, her had going to support her stomach, protectively caring over her baby boy.

“Y/n, okay shit uhm, we gotta get you to a hospital your water has broken early sister; we got a Christmas present comin’ in hot”

“B-but is it not too early?! Blueberry isn’t due till later January” Y/n groaned feeling another contraction ripple through her body, groans leaving her body as Jess helped her get into the car, her body sweating despite the cold air. Pouting Y/n tried to calm herself down by talking to her baby, the single mother had only began nesting, buying hundreds (not exaggerating) of baby grows and bottles; even decorating the nursery with a DC theme to honour her relationship that produced her source of light.

“I don’t give a fuck honey, we just need a doctor, AND QUICK” Jess shouted out the window once they arrived at the emergency bay, immediately catching the attention of on duty nurses and doctors who skilfully transferred Y/n into a wheelchair, an oxygen mask being thrown over her head once inside the hospital to stabilise her breathing.

Y/n felt her whole world being turned upside down, nurses pushing her to God knows where, her hair now tied up by one of the doctors who just knew exactly what she needed then and there. When all of a sudden a dark haired man caught her eye as she was wheeled past A&E,

“Henry?” Y/n said drowsily through her mask, watching as the man turned his head just at the right moment to make eye contact with her, she’d know those blue eyes anywhere. “Y/n? Y/N?!” Henry shouted seeing his ex-fiancée being wheeled away in emergency, groups of nurses and doctors all fussing around her. Forgetting his hurt hip, his instincts took over and he found himself rushing after the woman he still loved, the woman he left for a job opportunity that he thought would fulfil the emptiness of not having a family.

Weeks into working abroad did he realise, Y/n was his family, he realised a bit too late. His contract was signed, he wouldn’t be able to return home for good until he finished this new series, he wasn’t able to come home; that is until now. Henry Cavill was back home, sure he was injured, but he was home back on the soil.

“J-jess, Jess that w-was Henry. I-if something happens, make- make sure he sees blueberry okay?” Y/n cried throwing her head back from the pain once she was carried onto the bed, her best friend panicking beside her realising the seriousness as she was made to sign a “next of kin” document. Her friend’s life was in danger.

“For fucks sake Y/n, you’re going to be okay ya hear me? You’ll be able to show him to Henry yourself once you get this baby out, y-you have to!” Jess sobbed, there was no way in hell she was letting her friend accept death, this wasn’t how it was supposed to end. “Excuse me miss if you’re not the father/partner, due to COVID regulations we can’t allow you in here”

The nurse said apologetically quickly ushering Jess to the door, “Are you guys serious?! She’s scared and in pain, there’s no way i’m leavin’ her here!” Jess fought trying to wrestle her way back to Y/n, “J-jess i’m scared, I don’t wanna do this alone” Y/n cried reaching for her friend, the doctors around her were buzzing with adrenaline, grabbing all sorts of equipment and liquids.

“So you’re telling me the baby’s father can be here right?” Jess exhaled, sprinting once she got the nod of approval from the nurse, relief filling her once she ran into the red-faced Henry who had clearly been running circles around the hospital after losing track of Y/n.

“Look Henry, no time for questions you need to fuckin run to room 304, Y/n is having your baby and- and she’s alone and scared-“

Not even letting her finish Henry began running for his life, not caring about his swelling pelvis, the people shouting at him to slow down; he just needed to see his Y/n and his baby. It didn’t take long for him to find the room with people constantly moving in and out purposefully, introducing himself to the nurse from earlier, she smiled gratefully handing him scrubs from the storeroom.

“Are you Henry? She’s been screaming for you even when we gave her some medication to calm her down” The nurse whispered bringing him into the room, his eyes widening seeing her laying down on the bed, her legs propped up. “H-Henry is that really you?” Her voice rasped, a tired smile on her face as she reached out for him, not wasting a second his hand intertwined with hers.

“So we’re having a baby huh?”

“Yes, our blueberry”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Wow h-he’s gorgeous” Henry smiled tearing up, his finger softly running over his tiny son’s cheek, the delivery hadn’t been easy at all with even there being mentions of a possible C-section. Thankfully Y/n was able to deliver naturally with help from an epidural, and honestly she was just glad to have someone by her side.

“Yeah he’s perfect, our blueberry” Y/n smiled nuzzling her cheek against her baby, his small fingers outstretched on her breast as he fed eagerly. The both of them cooing as he heard his tiny grunts, “Poor chap, musta been starving” Henry joked meeting Y/n’s tired eyes, truthfully she had never looked so beautiful to him than at that moment.

Not just because she had just birthed their child, but because she still smiled at him the same way she did all those months ago; not an ounce of hatred to be seen. “Yeah, s’jus like his daddy I suppose” Y/n giggled, just feeling relieved her baby boy was now here safe and sound. The room falling into a comfortable silence before Y/n revealed the name, “His name is Clark, it’s not up for debate just so you know” She joked smoothing the slight hairs already showing at the top of his head.

“Y/n, i’m home now, let me do it right this time”

“We can talk about that later Henry, let’s just look at our baby, please?”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“ Blueberry, where are you?” Y/n giggled pretending she couldn’t see her now one year old hiding behind his daddy, who was busy building the new batman Lair they had gotten Clark for Christmas. The tiny tot giggling as if his dark curls weren’t visible from behind his daddy’s arms.

“Babe, have you seen our blueberry anywhere? Was gonna give him kisses and cuddles” Y/n playfully pouting sitting beside Henry on the floor, knowing damn well Clark was on the other side of him giggling triumphantly. “No sorry momma, haven’t seen the champ since bath time this mornin”

“Well I guess m’gonna have to give you his kisses and cuddles instead then” Y/n smirked peppering kisses to Henry’s face and lips, her arms hugging her man tightly, knowing damn well that would coax her baby Clark out of hiding. “NO MAMA” She heard him screech, rapidly tumbling out of his spot like superman and clinging to his momma, pushing Henry as hard as possible.

“Ah! There he is, my baby blue” Y/n cooed blowing raspberries into his neck, her smile widening as his laughs grew louder; Henry’s arms coating around the both of them, bringing them into his side. After Y/n had given birth, they worked hard together to co-parent alongside couple’s counselling, finally reaching the last stage by moving back in together and functioning as a healthy couple. Some turned their noses at Y/n taking him back, whilst others scoffed at Henry for being “baby trapped” But the couple knew it was no one else’s business but theirs, if they were happy and if Clark was happy, what else mattered?

“We need to tell Jess to stop buying him so many complicated toys” Henry sighed turning the screwdriver as he built another floor of the batman building, “You know this is her way of punishin’ you right?” Y/n laughed letting Clark nuzzle into her neck, a sign he was getting sleepy and running out of energy.

“I know, and i’d do this a hundred times over, just to see the lil guy destroy it into pieces happily” Henry chuckled seeing his mini me slowly fall asleep in his girlfriend’s lap, leaning over he placed a soft sensual kiss on her lips; an act he now got the privilege of repeating every single second, minute, hour and day.

“I love you Y/n, n’ I hope you know that, i’ll keep reminding you anyway”

“Ya wont need to, as long as you’re here with me, i’ll know you love me and you’ll know I love you too” She whispered against his lips, kissing the corner of them lightly. “I think we’re due for a family nap, i’m feelin like pulling a Clark and hiding in mama’s neck too”

———

Taglist Tags : @pandaxnienke @thereisa8ella @kimhtoo17 @beck07990 @dumb-fawkin-bitch @madebylilly @kebabgirl67 @marvelgurl @uwiuwi @stormcloudss @princess-paramour @girl-of-multi-fandoms @misshale21 @hallecarey1 @nikkitc0703 @mischiefsemimanaged @oliviah-25 @aerangi @bookfrog242 @alina02 @alexxavicry @lastwandastan @hp-hogwartsexpress @angelmather1 @keiva1000 @acornacre @ggmimitf @thebaileybugle @p4st3lst4rs @kzhlvlysstuff @thoughtsofreid @cilliansangel @theekyliepage @cookielovesbook-akie @luvabellee @elenavampire21 @hoya122 @rosiesluv7 @yaminax @esposadomd @meyocoko @disaster-rose @severewobblerlightdragon @kemillyfreitas @adoreyouusugar @queensgirl718 @sweetybuzz25

[blxvdlusttxx]

Preacher's daughter - Eyeless Jack x Reader

Content warning: Mentions of murder, gore, SMUT, cult activities, sacrifice, dub-con? Jack takes readers virginity, oral (reader receiving) P in V, religion (Christianity) religious trauma? reader questions her religion and belief in God. Degradation (Jack mocks readers religion), corruption kink. mentions of vomiting, praise, pet names (Angel, little thing), angst.

Fem!reader

Request: Yes / No

First smut fic on here! I know i said I'll NEVER write rape-ish fics but I'm trying my hand at not quite non-con but it's a little questionable at the begining, but reader eventually consents so It's not quite out of my confort zone. I've been listening to Ethel Cain's songs Inbred and Strangers and it really inspired this fic.

Again, as mentioned before my stories are based off of Jordan Persegati's videos of the characters so if anything seems off about the story let me know.

Enough yapping, onto the story!

The air felt cold and damp, the smell of blood plagued the wind coming into the cave entrance, making y/n's stomach turn.

She looked up at what her friends had created, the monster they had summoned. She begged them not to do it, pleaded on her knees, hands folded as if she was praying to the God above.

A loud growl could be heard from Jack as he killed the last of her friends that forced him through the sacrifice. A tear rolled down her bloodstained cheek, becoming tainted with the liquid as it trailed down her neck.

Hey eyes widen as she notices that he had also noticed her, slowly approaching her, like a Lion creeps upon his pray. She had never felt so small in her life, he looked so large from her view on the floor. She closed her eyes tight, pushing herself impossibly closer to the wall as she clutched the cross that adorned her neck.

"Darling, God isn't going to help you now." Jack chuckles at the sight of her, his voice horse and scratchy. she looked pathetic, like a tiny child crying for her mother.

"P-please Jack... I didn't want this..." she sobbed, shifting to sit on her knees, head down in shame and fear. She couldn't look at him, she was too ashamed that she couldn't do more to help him out of the disgusting predicament he is now in.

Her plea caused him to chuckle, he crouched down in front of her, looking over her features carefully. She reminded him of a baby deer, her big doe eyes now saddened and filled with tears. Her hair was disheveled and stuck to her face. her white night gown dressed her body loosely, but flattering, the neckline left her collarbones bare, and the cross sat in between them, dangling from her neck. It almost made her look pure, if it weren't for the dirt and blood that stained the white fabric, making it almost see-through.

He smirked at her trembling frame, and stood up before reaching down and slinking his index finger under her chin, tilting her head to look up at him. Her bottom lip quivered, her eyes almost spoke volumes of his preys purity. But Jack knew better, he knew there was room for corruption.

"I'm sorry... I tried to help but they wouldn't listen... p-please I'm so sorry." She sobbed again, her pleas doing nothing more but causing his bloody jeans to tighten at the zipper.

He chuckled again, cupping her cheek with the hand that was holding up her chin, gently stroking her wet cheek with his thumb.

"What's wrong angel? it wasn't your fault" he cooes, looking down at her hungrily. "Your pure heart and "holy" beliefs can only do so much in this sinful world. Is that What you think of me now? A sinner?" He growls. Her eyes widen as she shakes her head frantically.

"N-No! of course not..." y/n whimpers, reaching up and holding onto the arm that touched her.

He enjoyed that look, the look of her on her knees in front of him, weak and bent to his will. He'd almost feel like her God himself, if it weren't for the demon that possessed his soul, hungrily desperate to bend her over and fuck the purity right out of her tight cunt.

He chuckles yet again, and leans down to meet her eyes. He licks his lips starvingly, he wanted to take her. He could, he knows that, but he knew it would be much more satisfying if she wanted it. He wanted to break her, wanted her to beg for him, beg for him to take her all for himself. It was selfish, yes, to steal a girls purity that could only be given once. That pure desire that she'd been saving for so long.

He knew that she was different though. Her eyes could fool anyone, but not him. She took to the "Preacher's daughter" role well, but he knew that she longed for someone to touch her. To make her feel as good as her holy God does.

"You're such a pretty little thing... Christ, look what you do to me" Jack growls lowly, taking ahold of her hand and pressing it firmly against his restrained cock. She whimpers in response, looking down at the evident erection in his pants.

"I-...I don't mean to..." she whispers shamefully, attempting to pull her hand away, He clicks his now elongated tongue against his sharpened teeth and shakes his head.

"I'm afraid God won't help you here, little thing." He snarks, he reaches under her arms and lifts her up, his hands glide down her body to wrap her legs around his waist. He pins her to the wall of the murky cave, leaning in to lick up the side of her neck, nibbling on her ear. A soft moan escapes her lips, her cheeks burning red as another tear rolls down.

"Oh God..." She whines, trying to push away from him.

"How unholy you are, little one" He groans into her ear. "You're not as pure as you let on, are you angel?" he mocks, leaning back to look her in the eyes.

"I-I am....please don't do this." she cries, gripping onto his shoulders for dear life.

"No... I don't think you are baby... I know you want this, we both know it." he smirks, grinding his cock into her clothed cunt. "Your God isn't here sweet girl, there's no need to hide from me." He slides a a hand from her thighs and up her nightgown, slipping under her white panties, he smirks as he rubs circles around her already wet clit.

She whimpers, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. He pulls her away from the wall and lays her on the floor, careful not to harm his new toy.

Was this really something that God allowed in this world? The maker of all things, the Almighty, the Healer? How could he allow such sinful things to harm those who don't deserve it? Jack may not be religious, she knew he wasn't. But to allow this to happen to him? Why? It felt like her chest was collapsing, everything she once believed in crashing down around her, mocking her naive trust and devotion.

Her thoughts swallowed her whole, only snapping out of it when she felt Jack's warm tongue against her pussy, licking a stripe up from her hole and swirling around her clit. She gasps, gripping his hair tightly to ground herself. He laughs menacingly, crawling up her body to look her in the eyes.

"there you are angel, where'd your pretty little mind wonder off to, hm?" he whispers, a cunning grin plastered on his lips.

"W-why are you doing this?" she whines, wanting to push him away, but also not wanting to. She knew this was a sin, this dirty feeling would stain her image in the Lord's eyes forever. Maybe Jack was right, maybe God really isn't there after all.

"I've decided that you're mine, my little angel." he presses a kiss to her temple. "You don't belong to your pathetic God anymore, you're all mine." he growls, trailing back down her body.

Y/n shuts her eyes tight, maybe being his wouldn't be so bad. He hadn't killed her yet, after all.

A soft moan leaves her lips as he ravished her, sucking and licking her pussy like it's the last meal he'll ever have. Her eyes snap open as she feels him slip a finger inside her, it was large, the unfamiliar sting of her insides being stretched open caused tears to prick at her eyes once again. It was painful, but the pleasure soon took over her body as he pumped in and out.

"J-Jack..." she moans, pulling at his hair. The feeling of pleasure was something she had never experienced before. She'd heard stories from her friend's, sure, and she was always curious to know what it felt like, but she knew that it was a sin to partake in any sexual activities before marriage. Her virginity was important to her, It was something that she was excited to give to her future husband. To remain pure and untainted by men. Now, she questioned what that even meant.

She felt disgusting for liking the way he's making her feel. Every throb and wave of pleasure caused her to cringe. As the blissful feeling grew more intense, she cared less. She wanted him to touch her, she wanted him to touch her till she vomited from the violating feeling, it was addicting. She never thought it would be this intoxicating.

She felt strange, the feeling of bliss was becoming unbearable, she didn't understand what was happening. Was she dying, Is this god punishing her for her sin?

"J-Jack I- What's happening?" she pants, trying desperately to squirm away and catch her breath.

"It's alright angel, let it come." Jack cooes, holding her in place by her hips and continuing his attack on her clit. He inserts another finger and laps at her clit, chuckling at her desperate moans and pleas

Her first orgasm hit her light a fright train, she cried out, her body convulsing and grinding into his face. Her back arched, head leaned back as she cried out into the night.

He slowed down after allowing her to ride out her high. He kissed up her body before meeting her face, keeping eye contact as her slipped his fingers into his mouth, licking up all the juices that leaked out of her.

"Shhh, it's alright angel, you're such a good girl" Jack cooes. He reaches down and unbuckles his belt, undoing the button and sliding down the zipper of his jeans. Her eyes lock in his hands, unable to form a coherent sentence as he pulls them down, allowing his large cock to spring up, slapping against his shirt. Her lip begins to quiver, fear begins to take over at the large size of him.

Jack notices as he positions himself between her legs, his leaky tip prodding at her entrance.

"It's alright angel, I'll be gentle, don't worry." he shushes her, reaching up to grip her hips as he presses in. It was beyond painful, her eyes screwed shut as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. She wanted to be his. She didn't care about anything else, only him. He was all that mattered to her now.

Tears ran down her temples as he stretched her out, his cock beginning to be coated in the blood of her now torn hymen. When he finally bottomed out, he remained there for a moment, pressing kisses to her tears as he waited for her to adjust to his size.

He eventually started moving, thrusting his cock into her over and over again. She moaned, gripping at his body as he took her all. The pain subsided and she was greeted with that feeling, the feeling of pure bliss that only he could make her feel.

He growled lowly, sucking on her neck until the skin was raw and purple as he thrusted into her. She was tight, it felt like she was milking him for all he had.

"Fuck baby, you feel so fucking good" he groans, increasing his pace.

the intense feeling was returning with every thrust of his cock. He felt so experienced, every way he moved, kissed, touched, it felt like he knew her body like a prayer. She cried out, desperate to feel that feeling again.

"Jack please" she begged, pulling on his hair.

"I know angel, I'll make you cum, just relax. I'm almost there too baby" he groans into her ear, reaching down to rub at her clit.

It finally hit her again, and she cried out, babbling a mix of his name and "oh god yes." he grunted, his own release hitting him. he filled up her tight cunt, a mix of cum and blood drooled out of her hole.

"You're mine, angel. all mine" he growled, and reached up, he yanks the cross off her neck and throws it God knows where on the dirty ground.

[urdepressedslut]

Not By Blood

♡ Pairing: Platonic!BuckyNat x Enhanced!Teen!Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: After a mission gone wrong, Natasha returns with an injury. Steve of course blames you.

♡ Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of gunfire/gunshot, injuries, vomiting, dissociation, anxiety attacks, steve being an asshole

You sat on the edge of your bed, having a staring contest with the wall. Seeing as the color of the paint was doing an okay job at distracting you from your thoughts. But it didn’t matter anyway, Steve’s words rang in your head.

It should’ve been you.

You tried to play it off as Steve just being concerned for his dear friend Nat. But you couldn’t brush off the hostility laced into his words.

It was a typical mission gone wrong, mistakes were made. People ended up getting hurt. But it was all an accident. Although Steve, didn’t see it that way.

Most of the time, you were seen as a helpful addition to the team. The power of invisibility making you stealthy, being able to retrieve important information without ever being seen. You had quite the advantage of taking down enemies when you weren’t visible.

While you were actively unseen, light and objects could pass through you. Explaining why the bullet passed through you, into Nat’s side.

You had been spooked by the gunshot, instincts swift as you vanished, leaving Nat exposed. Bucky had acted fast, downing the hidden sniper as you reappeared. Immediately being sent into panic, shakily applying your hands over her wound.

Bucky had immediately shoved you away, tending to his lovers wound. It was merely a push out of adrenaline, him needing space to help Nat. But you couldn’t help but feel the shove come off too strongly.

Many hours later, Nat was rushed back to the compound, into the medbay where she was taken immediately. The doctors, including Bruce had done their magic, announcing to everyone waiting, that she’d be okay after some rest.

The announcement eased your anxiety, the waves of nausea drifting finally. Standing up, you headed for Nat’s room.

That was until Steve’s strong arm blocked your path, nearly having you fall backwards in surprise.

“Steve! You scared m—”

“Where do you think you’re going?” He interrupted you, looking down at you with a quizzical glare, making you feel small.

“Um… To Nat’s room.” You told him, shrinking back a little more at his glare turning frustrated.

“Haven’t you done enough? She needs rest.” Steve scolded you, the nausea starting to make its return.

“I know, I just wanted to see her.” You begged, needing to see for your own eyes that Nat was okay.

“You think you should be allowed to? After what happened? She trusted you (Y/n), but not after you used her as a human shield!” Steve raised his voice, crossing his arms. His stance made it clear you weren’t allowed to pass.

“She doesn’t deserve to be in there…” He paused, looking at you up and down in disgust, “It should’ve been you.”

You were taken aback at his accusation, like you would ever purposely hurt any of your teammates, especially Nat and Bucky. Steve’s words cut deep, leaving you speechless. The sob bubbling up in your throat leaving you unable to defend yourself.

But it was the lowly muttered last words that had you wanting to crawl into a hole and hide away from everyone. You looked up to Steve, he had belived in you. What had changed?

Steve just shook his head, a flash of guilt marking his features before his harsh glare returned.

“Go to your room and clean yourself up.” He commanded.

You didn’t have any energy, nor did you trust you voice enough to respond. If you did, you would’ve scolded Steve for speaking to you like a child. You were the youngest in the whole facility, but you weren’t a child.

That’s how you found yourself sitting in your room, staring at the wall, in hopes you’d disappear if you sat still long enough.

The guilt was consuming you completely, maybe Steve was right. Nat had done more than enough to prove herself worthy, she was a valuable teammate. You were… You were just additional baggage. Not necessarily needed.

The thought that you had gotten Nat injured was making you sick, dizzy with guilt. Before you knew what was happening, you were sprinting to the bathroom, sliding just in time to empty your stomach in the toilet.

After a few more moments of dry heaving, you leaned back against the wall next to the porcelain, using the coolness from the wall behind you to calm your clammy skin.

It should’ve been you. It should’ve been you.

The words shouldn’t of bounced around in your head as much as they are, but you couldn’t help but feel they were true. You didn’t belong. They were a family, they had each other. What gave you the right to walk in and mess everything up?

Tears started trailing down your cheeks, shamefully wishing for Nat’s forgiveness, knowing you didn’t deserve it. You hoped Bucky didn’t hate you as much as he should, you don’t think you could live knowing he didn’t like you. You weren’t sure there would be a chance to win Steve’s trust back, you hoped he’d forgive you eventually.

The compound had started feeling like home, with the help of Nat and Bucky. But now, as you sit balled up in the corner— You’ve never felt more out of place.

~

Nat had woken up hours ago, getting through a bunch of hello’s, and appreciating everyone’s concern. Besides Bucky, there was someone who she hadn’t seen greet her yet.

“Where do you think she scurried off to?” Nat asked out loud, Bucky muting the TV and facing her.

“I don’t know. I can’t stop feeling bad for pushing her.” Bucky muttered, remembering the shock on your face after the action.

“James, you didn’t mean it. You were just in mama bear mode.” Nat teased, watching some light return to his face.

“Of course I didn’t mean it, I would never do anything like that to her on purpose… I just— you should’ve seen her face. She looked upset.” He admitted.

“It was a stressful situation, I’m sure she was upset. Just not at you. Stop being so hard on yourself, and go find her and bring her here.” Nat told him, watching him nod and smile.

“Yes ma’am.” He said teasingly, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

“Now go! I want my girl!” Nat scolded playfully, making Bucky chuckle at her goofiness.

~

Bucky had searched the whole compound, not finding you anywhere. He asked around, but nobody had seen you since Bruce gave everyone the okay on Nat’s condition.

The last place he’d yet to check was your room, but you hated being holed up in your room unless it was bedtime, so it seemed out of character for you to be there.

Making his way to your room, he knocked on your door, leaning his ear to the wood, not hearing any noise from inside. No music, movie, humming— nothing. But he knew you were in there because he could hear your heartbeat.

“Doll, it’s me! Can I come in?” He spoke loudly through the door.

After hearing nothing, he started to grow worried. Turning the knob and opening the door slowly, scanning the room for you. Your bed looked a little wrinkled but otherwise untouched, and everything was turned off, the only light coming from the bathroom.

“(Y/n)? You alright? I’m coming in if you don’t say anything.” He warned, trying to keep his tone lighthearted, but he was panicking internally.

Turning towards the doorway, he walked through the frame, spotting your curled up form next to the toilet. Immediately he squatted down to you, concerned at the way you were blankly staring at the wall.

“Hey, hey! (Y/n)? What’s wrong baby— are you hurt?” He rushed out, gently grabbing your arms, twisting you slightly so he could check for wounds, worried that the doctors had missed something.

“Baby what’s going on? You’re scaring me.” Bucky whispered softly, your state making him panic.

After finding no wounds, he relaxed slightly, fully sitting on the floor, cradling your face in his hands. Hoping the metal hand grounded you, like it usually does when you are having an attack.

“(Y/n), you need to talk to me.” Bucky tried again, getting no response, just your vacant stare that felt like it was going right through him.

Keeping his metal hand on your cheek, he reached into his pocket with his free hand, pulling out his phone and dialing.

After a few rings, Steve picked up.

“Steve, I need you to send—”

Bucky couldn’t even finish his sentence, feeling your jaw clench, finding your eyes wide with guilt.

“(Y/n)?” Bucky tried, watching your eyes dart all around the room, ending up on his phone.

“No…” You mumbled, barely audible if it weren’t for the super serum.

Bucky perked up, relieved to hear you talking, but his heart was breaking at how broken you sounded.

“No what baby?” Bucky asked you softly, hanging up on Steve and placing his hand back on your cheek, cradling your face.

“It should’ve been me… It should’ve been me…” You started mumbling in a chant, eyes clenching shut, tears escaping and trailing down your cheeks.

Bucky was concerned and confused, wondering what had happened to have you in this state.

“What do you mean?”

It was a simple question, gently asked by him. But it seemed to trigger you, fully bringing you back with him, but hysterical.

“It’s my fault Nat got shot— I’m sorry Bucky, I’m so sorry please don’t hate me, please! It should’ve been me… It should’ve been…” You sobbed, throwing yourself into Bucky’s arms, knowing you didn’t deserve his comfort, but desperately needing it.

It dawned on Bucky suddenly what had you acting like this, and he didn’t think it was possible for his heart to break anymore.

“Hey, it’s okay baby. It wasn’t your fault, okay? And I don’t hate you, you’re my girl.” He whispered into your hair, softly rubbing your back, holding you tight, letting you cling to him.

“It should’ve been me…” You mumbled into his chest again.

Bucky pulled you back from his chest, cradling your face, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“I don’t wanna hear you say that. It was a mistake, and mistakes happen. But don’t you dare say that. Nat’s okay— and i’m happy that you’re okay too.” Bucky told you, tone gentle.

You sniffled and nodded your head.

“Now, you wanna tell me why you are hiding in your bathroom? You always come to Nat and I.” Bucky asked, slightly offended that his girl found more comfort on the bathroom floor than with him.

You looked down shamefully, your head getting tilted back up by Bucky.

“I tried to visit Nat but… Steve said I shouldn’t.” You admitted quietly.

Bucky’s jaw tensed, leave it to Steve to makes things worse.

“He uh…” You started but got nervous, growing silent.

“He what baby? You can tell me.” Bucky urged, wiping his thumb under your eyes, drying the skin of moisture.

“Don’t get mad at him okay?” You told him, and Bucky rolled his eyes.

He was already mad. Steve messed with his girl.

“Promise?” You asked again.

He huffed in frustration, wishing he could just go yell at Steve. But otherwise nodded to you.

“He said that Nat didn’t deserve to be hurt… That it…” You paused, swallowing through the tightness in your throat, tears returning, “He said it should’ve been me.”

“That little punk, I’m gonna—”

“You promised!” You told him.

Bucky took a deep breath in, trying to let his anger melt away. But he couldn’t relax knowing Steve had said that to you, it was far from okay. You didn’t deserve that, you were the sweetest person to exist.

“Doll, he shouldn’t of said that to you. It’s not true. He sure as hell didn’t mean it, and I’m gonna have a talk with him about why he said it— but it’s not true.” Bucky told you, watching you relax at his words.

“Still hurt to hear though.” You whispered, burying yourself into his arms again.

“I know baby, I’m sorry you had to hear something like that.” Bucky uttered into your hair.

“So is… Is Natty okay?” You meekly asked, still feeling guilty from everything that had happened.

“She asked for you.” Bucky told you, watching you lean back, gazing into his eyes with happiness.

“Really?”

“Yes baby, she’s not mad at you, She just wants to see you. She loves you.” He told you, hating the way he had to convince you. “Wanna go see her?”

You nodded eagerly, needing to see Nat. See that she was okay.

~

The door to Nat’s room opened, she turned her head, smiling lovingly when she saw you standing with Bucky.

“There she is!” Nat called out, holding her arms open.

You ran over to her, jumping into her embrace. The guilt was still lingering and you couldn’t help the tears from falling again, dampening Nat’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry Nat, I’m so glad you’re okay. I don’t know what I’d do without you —I”

“Calm down (Y/n), I’m okay. It wasn’t your fault.” Nat cooed, running her fingers through your hair as you cried into her shoulder. “Oh baby, don’t cry. It’s okay.”

You leaned back just enough to look Nat in the eyes, relieved to have her here with you, safe. You suddenly felt a much larger body press from behind you, caged in between Nat and Bucky.

They wrapped their arms around each other, circling you with their warmth. They weren’t related to you by blood, but sometimes they felt like they were your true family. The family you had been missing.

“I love you guys.” You whispered to them.

“We love you baby.” Bucky mumbled into your hair, “You’re our girl.”