#clear eyes full hearts can’t lose bitch

[merci-killing]

i know it in my heart that the only food joel can make is chili and he’s a real dick (affectionate) about it (no beans!!!!) because he knows you know it’s good

[specialagentlokitty]

Aizawa x reader - the heart of a hero

Part 2:

You woke up to something being thrown at your head and you groaned, rolling over to the side.

“Don’t be such a bitch…”

“You need to take your tiny foods!” Venom yelled.

Reaching down, you pat the floor, trying to find the bottle and you picked them up, reading the label before looking at the symbiotesface in front of yours.

“You know these are food right?”

“The science man said you have to take them!”

You grumbled, tossing them back across your apartment, only to have venom fling them back at your head.

“That’s abusive man, what the fuck?”

“Take your tiny foods!”

You sighed, sitting up as you picked up the bottle, walking over to the sink to get a glass of water.

“Will you stop throwing them at me if I take them?”

“Maybe.”

Venom came over, studying you for a moment as you took your medication.

“I still don’t understand why we have to take the tiny food.”

“They’re antidepressants idiot, they’re supposed to make me so called normal. Anyway, I have work, so let’s go.”

You grabbed your work shirt, pulling it on over the one you were wearing, and you made your way to the quiet cafe.

You didn’t work much, you worked part time, it was the only job you could get, the pay was crap, your boss was horrible, but it paid for your medication you had to take, and let you buy a little bit of food each week.

As always, you finished late, you threw your hoodie back on and pulled your hood up as you left the kitchen of the restaurant, making your way into the dark street.

“I am hungry!”

“You’re always hungry…” you grumbled.

“I want brains!”

“You wouldn’t eat the damn chickens!” You hissed.

The creature huffed a little bit, taking control of your legs and you just sighed, letting him.

You couldn’t be bothered fighting him, and you didn’t feel like going home straight away either, so you let venom lead the way.

He jumped up on to a building, and you pulled your bandana up as you crouched down, resting your arms on your legs.

You stared at the ground below, yawning a little bit.

“This blows, can’t we just go to the shop. You’re not going to eat their heads anyways.”

“I crave violence!”

“Of course you do…”

Sighing heavily, you rested your elbow on your knee, and your chin on your hand, slowly looking over the streets.

So many people wondering about, probably having actual homes to go to, friends, families, maybe some of them felt the same way you did, you weren’t sure.

You were half asleep at that point, but when you heard a noise behind you, and the feeling of being tangled up in some sort of fabric you just sighed as you were dragged backwards.

“You’re coming with me venom.”

You recognised that voice.

Tilting your head up a little, your eyes bore into his, and you looked away again.

“Venom mask…”

Soon enough your body was gone, and he free of the scarf, and he let out a loud laugh as he pointed at the hero.

“I will eat your brain!”

“Don’t hurt him.”

“You are no fun!” He huffed.

Venom looked around, noticing a helicopter light was on him.

“Look, just try lose them if you can.”

“Fine!”

Venom ran towards the end of the building, jumping down the ledge.

He used the surrounding buildings to jump around, jumping between them, or swinging from them to get around corners.

He was fast, but you noticed that the pair of you weren’t alone in the skies, and in his attempts to escape from the heroes, you realised it was on purpose.

“It’s a trap!”

Before venom could stop, he came crashing into a clearing full of pros and police, all then them focused on the pair of you.

Venom looked around the construction site, grabbing some steel beams as he held them above his head with a roar.

“Venom don’t! They’ve got us, just sit down.”

You didn’t want to hurt any of them, so you forced him to give himself up as well, watching as they cuffed you, leading you to the back of a van.

You were taken away, taken to an isolated cell with guns in each corner, and you were strapped to the chair.

“I want food!” Venom yelled.

A police officer stood in front of the glass, arms crossed.

“Tell is who you are first. What’s your real name?”

“We are venom.”

“We know you have another form, I want to speak to that one, we believe that’s the true owner of the body, am I right?”

Venom tilted his head a little, grinning widely to show his teeth.

“I have eaten them!”

“No you haven’t. Where is the human? What is your quirk?”

Venom pushed his feet on the floor, pushing his chair backwards, and the guns followed him.

“I will stare at the ceiling!”

Half of venoms face receded to show yours.

“You dumbass, we’re going to be stuck like this now. Idiot.”

“I do not want to look at his ugly face!”

“I don’t want to lay here forever either, push us back up!”

“Fine! But you can look at his stupid face!”

Venom pushed you both back up, quickly covering you as the guns fired, and you waited for them to stop.

When they did, he fully disappeared, hiding inside of your again.

The officer couldn’t see much of you, you kept your head down, and you were still wearing your bandana.

“What’s your name?”

“His name is venom.”

“I want to know your name.”

You didn’t respond.

“What’s your quirk?”

Again you didn’t respond.

“Who do you work for? The league of villains?”

This caught your attention, and you lifted your head just enough so he could see your eyes.

“I’m not a villain.” You spat.

“Then what have you been doing?”

You refused to reply to his question, and he sighed, crossing his arms.

“Fine, I’ll try again tomorrow.”

They kept trying, day after day, you had your food delivered by robots, which venom enjoyed messing with.

You wouldn’t give the a chance to get closer to you to see your face, or try take your hood down, venom always had you covered, the mist they would flood the room with to knock you out didn’t affect the alien.

So he would keep you covered while you slept, or while they flooded the room with it.

You had broken free of your restraints a while ago, but you didn’t have the effort to try and break out of the prison, so you kept to your cell.

You were sitting in the corner playing a game with venom with some cards you had hidden in your pocket when you heard the speak activate.

“We have some heroes who are here to talk to you.”

Venom lifted his head to look up, and you smirked, swapping his cards before going back to looking at your own.

The speaker was shut down, so you couldn’t heard their conversation.

“Why aren’t they restrained?” Aizawa asked.

“They kept breaking out, they seem to have no interest in escaping.”

Aizawa nodded his head, putting his hands in his pockets as he looked through the window.

“He’s strong enough to escape, why won’t he?”

“We don’t think he’s the one in control, at least not fully. He seems to sometimes listen to what the other says. We don’t know their name, they won’t tell us, they just keep telling us they aren’t a villain, that’s it.”

Aizawa nodded his head, carefully studying the pair of you before.

Venom used your left hand to pick up his cards and he narrowed his eyes a bit before throwing them in the air.

“You cheated!”

“No I didn’t!”

He took over your body before launched you across the room, quickly uncovering you so your back slammed into the wall.

You fell on the floor with a heavy groan.

“This is why no one likes you…”

“They do this every day.” The officer sighed.

He left the room, leaning Aizawa sitting there.

“Venom the hero who found you is here to ask you a few questions.”

You and venom looked up, and you stared at Aizawa, pushing yourself to your feet.

Walking over, you stood in front of the glass with your hands in your pockets like him.

“Who do you work for?” He asked.

“I’m not a damn villain! Stop asking that!” You snapped.

“We eat villains!”

You turned to venom.

“Stop saying that shit we don’t eat them!”

Aizawa narrowed his eyes a little, then activated his quirk.

Venom decided to play along with this and hid himself inside you, and you rose a brow in confusion.

“You’re not a hero either, so what are you? Who are you?”

You sighed heavily.

“I’m a vigilante. Bringing down villains, we’ve never actually hurt somebody who didn’t deserve it.”

“That’s still a criminal offence.”

“Doesn’t make us a villain, just a criminal then.”

“What’s your name?”

You stayed quiet.

“This is the same question they refuse to answer. That and what their quirk is.” The officer said.

Aizawa released his quirky, and venom came back out, putting his face against the glass.

“We want our tiny foods!”

“You won’t tell us what your tiny foods are! What does it mean?!” An officer shouted over the speaker.

“The tiny foods that make us normal!”

“Medication? What kind of medication?” Aizawa asked.

Maybe this could narrow down their search, if they could find the matching name or description from doctors, they might be able to figure out who you are.

“The tiny foods make us normal, so we are not so sad.” Venom said.

You sighed, placing a hand on top of your hood.

“He means antidepressants. I take antidepressants.”

“What’s your name, we can get a prescription for you.” Aizawa said.

“Im not stupid.”

“We’re going to find out anyway.”

You walked over to the back of the room, sitting down, resting your arm on your knee as you began throwing the cards across the room.

“No you’re not. I’ve been out of the system for years.”

“You’ll still be somewhere, we’ll ask around.”

You scoffed.

“I don’t get why you won’t leave us alone…”

“You’re using your quirk, scaring civilians, and taking justice into your own hands.”

“Well if people just left me alone like I wanted…”

“What’s your name?” Aizawa pressed.

You pushed yourself up again, marching over to the glass and you pulled your bandanna down, letting him get a good look at your face.

“There, happy now? You know exactly who I am.” You snapped.

With that, you pulled your bandanna back up and went back to your corner.

“Just leave us alone…”

“(Y/N)…” he whispered.

“Bring us the tiny food!” Venom roared.

Aizawa narrowed his eyes a little bit.

You were you, he’d recognise you anywhere, but he couldn’t recognise you all at the same time, you looked so tired, worn down, you looked so sad and void of emotion all at the same time

[reijamira]

The Heart Killers Episode 10: Through thick and thin (my reaction)

Uh, I’m so excited about this. Lots of stuff is going to happen. Let’s see what spoilers I caught this week:

Bison screams at Ruerat while Fadel aims a gun at him.

A lot of photos of Fadel and Bison sitting at different tables. 

Fadel and Bison all dressed up and wearing glasses! 🤓 

A sad looking scene between Fadel and Bison where Fadel hugs Bison. 

Miserable Kant at the bowling alley remembering Bison. 

Something about Fadel breaking down on Style‘s lap. Looks like he is devastated or crying. He definitely IS crying. I just saw another still. 😭😭 This scene (the last one of the episode?) is bittersweet and touching. Oh, okay, I think Fadel knows the truth about his ex now. OMG! I’m going to need this box of TISSUES for my ISSUES Joong posted on his Xitter. 

That scene with the four of them where Style assures Fadel he is all in, body and soul. 😍

Oh, help, I just saw a gif of Style in that sexy suit kicking Keen of all people! Oh lord! Love me some badass Style!

Dunk posted on his Xitter pics of Style in a vest suit with the lyrics for APOLOGIZE feat. OneDirection by Timbaland:  Now I’m sitting here and thinking what this is supposed to mean. It can’t be about the betrayal, right? That was already cleared. Is there another issue on the horizon? 

I hope I‘m strong enough to stay away from that promising FadelStyle rice scene that is P‘Jojo‘s favorite FadelStyle moment, and JoongDunk also liked it. (Yeah! Accomplished! I didn’t see any spoilers for that scene. ➡️ That is because it wasn't in EP10. 🤣) 

There is a still of Fadel tightly hugging Style, and we see Fadel’s face over Style‘s shoulder. He looks so tense and determined. Is he planning something stupid? Revenge, maybe? (No, that was just heavy-hearted Fadel realizing Style really is the one and only for him. 🫠😭)

FadelBison train a gun on Mother. 

Something about Bison appreciating Kant’s fingers. 🔥

Ooookay, I don‘t want to lose any more time. Let‘s delve into episode 10. 

Perfect! I love that these episodes all run roundabout one hour! 

Ohhh, sweet! The episode just started and I already get a dose of worried Fadel. It‘s so lovely how he cares for Style.

******SPOILER FOR THE NOVEL******

See? This is why I don’t want the brothers to go to prison like in the novel. This little separation they are planning is already enough to make me sad. Just like these four guys are sad and miserable. I couldn‘t endure the fact that Fadel and Bison have to go to prison for two years, especially knowing the horrible conditions in Thai prisons. It would destroy me. 😭

******END OF SPOILER******

Oh no, Kant and Style look like abandoned dogs. 🥺

Ahhh, beautiful KantStyle moment! I love all four of these characters so much. I wish the show were longer so that we could have more moments between all of them. 😍

I’m excited that we get to see some mission/ops action! Love Fadel and Bison planning their next hit. I’m a sucker for this kind of stuff. 🫠

Oh my lawwwwd, look at them brothers in these suits with the freaking glasses!! 🤓 Holy moly, what a look! 

I’m sorry, but am I the only one who thinks Ruerat is hot? Just like Captain Christ! I still vote for the middle-aged men BL dramas! 🤩😆

Bison is so freaking tense. He wants to go for Ruerat’s throat so bad. The way he moves his head is telling. 

Ah, yes, there it is. The attack! I love how Fadel sits back and just lets Bison handle this. He knows Bison needs to get it out of his system. 

Uhh, so NOW that Mother was accused, Fadel gets involved. This scene is so thrilling! 😃 This is the scene from the spoiler. 😍 Great! 

Whoa! I wouldn’t have thought Mother herself used to be a hitwoman. 

Lol, Ruerat, spitting on the ground. What a dramatic bitch? 😂

Damn, this scene between Fadel and Bison is so intense and emotional, I completely destroyed my nest of pillows. 😂

Geez, the way both their eyes are full of unshed tears. Bison’s hot fire rage and Fadel’s cool, icy one. I love how Fadel tries to keep his cool. Gosh, the way Bison just explodes. So much PAIN! Imagine what they just learned. A life full of lies and deceit. This is so heartbreaking. Omg! Now, Fadel is crying, too! I can’t. 😭 The hug is much needed. 

Oh, if Kant and Style only knew how much comfort their boyfriends need at the moment. Uh. I love how they both share their misery with each other. More KantStyle moments, please! They are so rare and so precious.

So, Fadel and Biron really offed Ruerat? I can’t stand Mother. She is so false!

The spider tattoo! 

SO, IT WAS KEEN WHO SHOT STYLE! 🫵🏻 I knew it! 

Oh, the wheels are turning in Fadel’s mind. He is so perceptive. 

I love how Mother places herself in front of the photo of Ruerat’s body. I’m laughing maniacally on the inside. Is this foreshadowing that she meets a similar end? 

I hope it is. 

Keen, better get the hell out of there while you still can. I’m curious what he will do. Maybe he will sacrifice himself? I feel like he will die at the end. 

Babe is such a darling! Giving his big brother a pep talk. 

This is the miserable Kant scene at the bowling alley. My god, what a beautiful song choice. 

Oh man, the way Bison so effortlessly jumps on Kant. 😍🫠🤩 Bison looks really good in that position on Kant's body. 🫠

Oh, there is the real Bison! Kant! Yes, pursue! 

Bison looks so cute with his little black hat. Oh, Kant got hurt a bit. My hurt/comfort sense is tingling. First, that little protective Bison scene, now wound dressing. 🤩

Yes, train Kant! He can be helpful! And by god, share your pain with Kant. Don’t keep it to yourself. 

It’s so heartbreaking that all Bison ever wanted is to be genuinely loved. And here is Kant who does that. 😍 I hope they will find happiness! 

Uh, Style looks so good in his white tank top! 😍🫠 

Hahaha, what is that, Fadel? Secretly loitering around your boyfriend’s place. 

Oh Jesus, I would have screamed if someone had pulled that move on me. 😂😭

Love how Fadel admits he can’t stop thinking about Style. And he worries about the wound again. 🫠 

Oh, Style! My sweet boy! He is so wholesome! Worrying about Fadel hurts him more than being shot. Aww, baby! 🥰 Yes, tell him! Fadel should take your feelings seriously. 

The “I don’t want to lose you” scene, ladies and gentlemen! I’m melting. So wonderful! 

Lol, Fadel is going through three different stages of torment and pain. 😂 He just can’t say no to Style. 😄

Ah, the “I’m all in” scene from my trip into spoiler land. Even Kant and Bison can’t hold back their smiles. 

Style is simply the best! 

“Your life is as important to me as my own.” Seriously, Style is loyal and in love to a fault. I love the way Fadel reacts to these declarations. Always so taken aback. He can’t believe them to be true even though, deep down, he knows they are. He loves to hear them. Needs the reassurance. All because he was hurt once by his ex. 

Love the scene where they stack hands. And of course, Fadel has to be asked twice. It’s a habit. 😂

Gods. I love this found family trope! Can’t they all just be happy together now? 

The black hat is back again. 😍 And Kant taking Fadel’s place as the voice of reason is so funny. They are so alike. 

Love how Bison can’t resist flirting on the job. Let’s see how Fadel will be faring. After all, Style will be in a vest suit, looking all hot. 

Lol, Fadel and Style are so funny. What is this? 🤣

Fadel about Keen: “We never really care about him.” Poor guy, I think he knows that. 

OMG! Our pure soul Style thinks the same! 

Lol, how fast Style changes his mind now that he knows Keen shot him. 😂😂 What a diva! 

Uh, Fadel’s neck grab! 😍

Gosh, this is all so hilarious! I need for them all to team up on missions. It’s great comedy. 😂 

What is Kant’s plan? And now Style also has a plan. 😂 

So, this is Kant meeting Mother. 😂 Puppy dog eyes full-on out. I bet even Mother can’t resist them. Ohhh, she can!! She has no heart. LOL but Kant is a stubborn puppy that won’t listen. 😂

If looks could kill. Lol, Mother really has a death glare. 

Hahaha, the background music when Bison sees Kant showing that lady where to put her leg. 😂😂 lol TONKHAO? Is this a reference to Khao? 😂 (I read on Xitter that Khaotung’s sister is called Tonkhao. 😆)

Kant really towers over these ladies. He is so huge! 😂

Mother doesn’t buy it.

Ohhhh, the vest suit really looks fantastic on Style! The first time I saw it, I thought he looked like Kamin. 

Uhh, okay, I didn’t see that coming. But we all know that Keen is not good at being a hitman, right?

I’m laughing how Kant plays boy toy for that lady. 😂😂

“Make sure your friends are handsome!” — “All my friends are, ma’am.” 😂😂😆 Yes, they are. 

Oh noes, Style is already kneeling on the ground. 😱

A shocking revelation to Keen. Has he never had any doubts about Mother?

Oh my lord! INTENSE! Style! OMFG! That move is straight out of an action movie! You really have some guts! Protect Fadel! 😍🫠

Lord, both of them with the guns. So hot. Now the roles are reversed. 

“I have something to tell you.” 

Jesus, no! I know what’s coming! 

OH NO! 

I knew it from the start. It was a hit, and Fadel’s ex is dead. Poor soul never left Fadel willingly. 

😭😭😭😭 

God, how much shit has Fadel to deal with? I feel for him so much. 

LMFAO! That kick from Style is so satisfying! 

So, they have a hostage now. 

I wonder how the elusive rice scene fits into this episode? Could it be that this scene isn’t in episode 10? The mood is much too sad for something spicy.

Bison found the necklace! No idea how he did that, but it’s back! That is so sweet! 🫠😃

I just realized they are at the same pool where Fadel took Style to after he chloroformed him. 

I’m pretty sure there is no spicy rice scene in EP10. Fadel will have his breakdown next. Oh my, I need my box of tissues. 

I love how Bison wants to reenact the car scene from Titanic. 😍😂🔥 They even mentioned the theory that Jack would have fit on that piece of wood. 🤣 I love this show so much! 

There is the finger whorshipping. 😍🫠 So romantic! 

Holy moly, that escalated quickly! What a passionate kiss! 🤩😍👏

I am not ready for this final scene. Help! Tissue at the ready. 

Fadel has been hurt so often and so deeply. 😭😭 

Oh, Style, you wonderful human being. Wiping one of Fadel’s tears away. Such a sweet and caring gesture. 🫠🥹

I can’t see this man cry! The tears are coming to me, too, now. 😭

He is so vulnerable here and so open. It’s beautiful. But it also breaks my heart. 

My heart is so heavy for Fadel. He blames himself. Oh my gooodddd. 

One tissue isn’t enough. 😭😭😭

Style is so sweet and so right. It wasn’t Fadel’s fault. 

“Please just leave me.” 

Noooooooooooooo. *Ugly crying.* I can’t! This is too much! Fadel’s vulnerability is killing me. His pain and anguish. All so raw. Omg!

Style, you are so sweet and precious with your words! I was clutching my chest the whole time. I’m so deeply touched by that scene. The forehead kiss, the soft kiss on the lips, the gentle way Style holds Fadel’s face and wipes his tears, the tight embrace and the way he strokes Fadel’s head. Soooo caring and loving and BEAUTIFUL! That fitting song, too. “Let it all out on me.” Ohhh, my! From the still I saw before I watched this episode, I thought Fadel was planning something. But that look he has is all because he mourns his ex, he is devastated about the situation, and he realizes Style is the one for him. He is his man! 😭🥹🥺😍🫠 

Lord above, what a stunning episode! How will I ever live on without my THK Wednesdays? 😭😭

Next week, EP11:

What the hell!

Confrontation with Mother! 

Captain Christ resurfaces. Shit! NO PRISON, okay!?! Eh, Kant, what are you asking of the Captain? A deal that grants them immunity? Please! 👏🙏 We’ve all seen that separation makes them miserable. No prison! 

A cut? Now Style’s dad is suggesting a marriage!!!! So many hints in this direction, I want it so bad! A double wedding, if you please! 🙏 

Ohhhh, Kant is proposing! He is PROPOSING! 

What about Fadel and Style? 

Marriage proposal, the second? 

Aaand that spicy rice scene probably will be in the next episode or the one after that. 

I hope nothing bad happens in these last two episodes! 

NO PRISON! 

NO SEPARATION!

[lizthinspo]

i keep thinking to myself just make it to the end of the year and then ur free to do whatever you please but until then we are crying and screaming my lungs out. isn’t it so funny how the only way i can feel ok is through being myself and driving around, bc that’s how i clear my head probably bc i wish there could be a reckless driver in my path that can pls kill me so i don’t ever have to go back home. i can’t go home. it’s like im not even wanted there, i know when im not wanted somewhere. it’s summer, MY summer, im supposed to be living, instead im crying thinking about ending my life, i feel like im losing control. the things that i used to make myself feel ok are being taken away from me daily. i feel like im going insane bc everything i do is somehow wrong or not what was needed of me and it hurts so much bc how else am i supposed to be alive and happy and ok if im not loved by myself and i hate myself inside and outside i feel like im not good enough for anybody, i feel like im the one person ppl always forget abt like when we’re in a public setting and with a bunch of ppl, i feel like im always the one to have been forgotten or left out. its a horrible feeling honestly bc I WAS THERE. i feel like i don’t deserve anything and i really don’t. but since ik these are my last few memories i want to make the most of them but im also scared of my mom and what she’ll say of me when im happy. and yes i smoke and drink and cvt but honestly i love smoking bc it takes away all of my pain and im left feeling nothing, ik it seems crazy but it makes me feel like im going to make it out alive and ok even for a split second but thats why im always smoking. bc you most def don’t help me feeling ok, you’re the reason why i never feel safe nor ok nor alive nor happy. i enjoy drinking bc im not gonna make it to 21 so im just getting to still experience it and also it makes me feel happy and danceful and full of joy but you always seem to take it away from me always and it truly sucks so much because sometimes i do really want to be happy w you bc you’re my mom. and i wanna be good for you but no matter what i do you can never truly appreciate anything i do. that’s why ive given up, bc you’re never gonna open ur eyes and actually see how much im trying. this summer i had so much planned! i was so hyped and excited abt it, you should’ve heard me all of senior year, talking abt how happy i was gonna be bc im free from school and im finally gonna be able to be me. idk what else you want from me, i wanna go out and have sleepovers and have friends and be out w them for hours on end and stay out late. you say i can’t go out bc im drinking but maybe if i went out more often without ur fucking mf bitch phone call on my ass every single minute. i wouldn’t be out drinking and smoking everyday as you probably think i do now bc i could actually experience happiness. and ykw my #1 rule is to never cvt myself for anyone else’s problems but i truly think that this one deserves one bc i think if she takes my car im actually gonna lost and idk what to do. i keep saying and telling myself to keep pushing for jared and jensen and misha but i don’t think i can bc im so tired and over everything i don’t wanna live anymore. i wanna slit my wrists or hang myself to my death bc i cannot bear the thought of you saying that you’re disappointed in me bc that shattered my heart and to just continue to tell me these awful things that i wish i could respond with just fucking kill me already FUCKING KILL ME! i’m sure that’s what she wanted to do either way. she says she’ll be here for whenever you need me but i don’t need you i’m fine without you in fact i’m better off without you. ik that my intentions are good for others not for myself bc everything i’ve heard come from your mouth i believe by the amount of times that you’ve told me the same things so much so that i start to believe it myself and that translates over to me hating myself constantly and not being able to experience having real friends and have a relationship and to just experience any from of love

[threadsun]

Alright, last round of bois for the "kink list" thing, hope you've liked this little mini series (tiny series?)

Jack: Hypnosis, Jack wants you under his control, not always, but when it matters your mind belongs to him. He also just can’t help but find it cute, seeing your eyes so empty yet so full of love, it’s perfect. Jack plays nice with the others but that’s only because he doesn’t really see them as a threat, he fully believes that he is your best option and it’s only a matter of time before you realize that. He’s also a big fan of exhibitionism, he loves laying his clam on you and just letting the others watch as he makes you forget your name. He’s also much more willing to see you having sex with the others than he would in canon. He’s so confident that he can win you over that he just sits back and lets you have your fun, making sure to remember what makes you scream so he can do it later while pointing out how much better it feels when he does it

Joseph: Impact play, Or really any kink that’s more touch-based? Joseph has been numb to the world for so long, he just wants to feel something, and while regular sex is great at doing that he gets the most out of it if there’s a lot of sensory input. He loves spanking and biting and scratching and heat and cold, he especially loves when he has something to remember it by. He wears any hickeys you give him with pride, and he’d gladly let you carve into his skin if you ever wanted to. He’s yours after all, his body is yours, so long as you like it he likes it

Jo just wants to be taken care of but you have to pull that info out of him. Seeing as you’re the child of prophecy he never even considers you taking care of him an option. Every time you do ask to take care of him in the bedroom he’s constantly fretting over you, saying you don’t have to do this just because he wants it, and asking if he should be doing anything. You need to absolutely wreck this man before you can be soft with him at least the first few times you have sex. It’s not like he doesn’t like it soft, it’s that he likes it “too much” he’s insistent that he’ll mess it up or that you don’t really like him in that way and he will not stop talking like that until your tongue is down his throat

Jean: The sacred bond of marriage-no I’m kidding, kinda. What Jean’s really into is claiming you for himself. A little rule in your harem is that no one can mark your neck, this rule helps with public appearances and keeping everyone at bay. If you didn’t have rules like this it would be like dousing yourself in chum and hopping into shark-infested waters. Which is why you’re so pissed when Jean marks your neck almost every time you two make out. Desperation, Jean already thinks you love him just as much as he loves you, but being able to see it clear as day that you need him? Oh, honey, you’re fucked. Although, playing into his delusions is probably the safest option for him. Lying and telling him that the others are just your boytoys and he’s the only one who owns your heart while making sure the others know you’re bullshitting is your best bet with Jean honestly…unless

Making him your bitch, tie this fucker down in your basement and brat tame him until he learns that sharing is caring. Make him watch and cum to the sight of you getting fucked by the others, promising that if he keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t get in the way he can lick their cum out of you. Jean loves this little fight for dominance, his brain only really allowing him to submit if he’s forced to, even though he really likes it. Jean is the enemy to everyone including himself, but if you can make him stop thinking and just lose himself to his pleasure he’s putty in your hands

These are sooooooo goood!!!!!!! I've loved this whole lil thing, your thoughts are absolutely spot on mwah chef's kiss 😘👌

Jack being such a cocky bastard because in this AU he has no reason not to be, I love it sooooo much!!! And subby Joseph is always perfect, both the masochism and wanting it soft sometimes, he deserves it all!! And then Jean, of course that fucker wants to claim you and make you entirely his, but also of course he'd melt if you were the first person to ever put him in his place.

[hannibalzero]

Charles Smith liked to think he wasn’t ruled by his secondary gender like most alphas his age. He was mature for a 18 year old, an old soul and serious. It was just who he was, Charles was told he got his seriousness from his mother. That’s all his father talked about, when he was awake. Charles was a young long horn bull, working his fathers failing ranch the only gift his mother left him up. Ranch work was neglected when fucking Arthur Morgan, the omega son of the Van Der Linde ranch the biggest in the state…that used to be Charles until his father sold it to the Van Der Linde.

Not like Charles hated Arthur or anything but it sometimes annoyed him that his father pissed half the ranch away. Arthur was cow, a strong young man, works hard and good at hunting.

They are casual friends and sometimes hung out together, worked on the fence together and went to school, but today…was different, Arthur was riding his horse Beast a big black shire, holding a toddler in his lap. The most beautiful toddler Charles had ever seen, a sweet little African American girl, hair braided in twin strands.

Arthur’s new little sister Tilly, The Van Der Linde’s fostered a lot of kids. Since Arthur’s adopted parents, Hosea (a jack rabbit) and Dutch (a Lion )alpha couldn’t have children so they filled their home best they could. But Tilly made it look like….Arthur had /Charles/ baby. Charles snorted tail swishing as he watched. Why did? Did Charles want Arthur to be his? He knew Arthur was single but…he didn’t want to lose a good friend.

But the thought of Arthur, holding a tiny baby to his large chest. Smiling up at Charles. Arthur would be a good mama, would baby wear? Maybe he would use a backboard if he made Arthur one? Maybe fuss over the car seats and keep trying to get up at night no matter how tired he was. Maybe Arthur would work the ranch with Charles and their baby?! Arthur joining him for the powwow, baby dressed up with Charles in full regalia. Charles had to shake his head to get back to reality.

Right as Arthur noticed Him, Arthur tipped his hat and gave a smile. “Howdy Charles. Doin some line riding?” Arthur called out with that big smile, those blue eyes peeking out from under that black brim hat. It made Charles heart flutter when Arthur smiled like that. Arthur was a tough son of a bitch when it came to people but when it came to Charles, his family or horses the man was a angel. Arthur was known for being a rough fighter and won quite a few fights in school. Most people thought Arthur was a bull but no, a beautiful sweet dairy cow. Speaking of which Tilly was resting a fat cheek on those beautiful tits.

Charles was a bit jealous now. “Good afternoon Arthur, showing Miss.Tilly the ranch?” Charles replied with a good smile of his own.

“Ether.” Tilly said around her pacifier pointing to the eagle feather in Charles hat, a gift from his grandfather.

“Yes’ir, Hosea had to run to town. Was gonna take Tilly to the flower field? Just down the way.” Arthur pointed out as Tilly mimicked him. “If you ain’t doin anything…would ya like ta come? I gotta cooler filled with dinner and-“ Arthur was blushing adorably as he cleared his throat. Was Charles actually seeing this? Did Arthur like him? Charles stated to blush as well.

“Sure, I wouldn’t mind. I brought my bow…maybe we can shoot together? Not at the same time! Can’t hurt Tilly but we take turns?” Charles was fumbling just as bad as Arthur now.

“That’all be great, I’ll meet ya at the gate to let ya in.” Arthur lightly nudged beast to get him going as Charles fallowed. “You’re Pa let you take Tilly out here?” Charles asked as they road together.

“Ummmmm, yeah Cuse I gotta cellphone now. The ranch is big and the youngins fallow me around a lot so papa and daddy gave me one. Micha is mad as hell but he would just sell it for..” Micha was the oldest alpha son of the Van Der Linde. He was known for steal everything and selling it for drugs.

Dutch must have a soft spot of the ugly vulture because he kept bailing Micha out. “Is he still messing with you?” Charles asked voice low now.

“No, I broke his jaw. At least I hope the stupid son of a bitch doesn’t try again. Keeps sayin how he’s gonna be my alpha and I gotta learn my place. How he’s gonna sell the ranch’en.” Arthur stopped and pulled down his hat a bit. “I know I ain’t gotta right, I’m a ugly so’mbitch and I’mma hard to handle…but I won’t ever mate a man like that.” Arthur was trying to hide the fact that he was trying not to crying. Tilly patted at Arthur’s cheek cooing to him. “Thank ya Tilly.” He whispered kissing her head.

“You have every right to turn down unworthy people, honestly you would be doing us all a favor if you killed Micha.” Charles gave a snort as Taima road them through the gate Into the unending pasture. “As for ugly, why do you lie to yourself?” Charles slightly flirted enjoying how pink the cow became.

“Sure sure, forgot you where good at bullshittin’ just like pa.” Arthur road ahead a bit now.

[agonywrites]

Diane

Sweat trickles down my forehead, and as I’m about to wipe it off my phone rings with an unexpected caller.

My blood runs cold and my heart almost jumps out of my ribcage. How did he get my number…?

I contemplate hanging up but I’m not sure it would be a smart move. It could even be counted as suspicious. But then again, what’s suspicious about hanging up on a caller who supposedly doesn’t figure on my contact list, therefore unknown to me.

But I know who the caller is, I had his number without having it handed by him.

Zade Larsen.

Zade is calling me.

I answer with a hesitant calculated “hello?”

His voice, smooth, calm and deep speaks and it rings in my ears like a soft symphony. “Well, hello Diane.”

“Who’s this?” My eyes widen at the cool way he said my name. How did he get my number?

“Now, Diane let us skip the introduction part, you don’t have to tell me how you got my number and I don’t need to tell you how I got yours. That makes us even”

I try tentatively to shift the blame one last time before giving up. “I’m not sure I’m following,” I say in my most innocent voice while looking at the unconscious body before me. Almost dead.

“Drop the act” Zade’s voice shifted to a cold and calculated one, nothing like the professional one he used before.

I smile, “Oops, busted. To what do I owe this pleasure?” This is the first time in months I ever talked to him as Diane. Feels quite exhilarating.

“Where is she?”

Straight to the point, I see. “hmm? Who?”

“My fiancée” The word leaves a bitter taste in my mouth and I’m not even the one who said it.

“I wouldn’t know” I chuckle.

“I bet you would, I also bet she’s near you or in the same building as you.”

I stay silent, he figured me out that quick didn’t he? I’m curious to know how though, considering he never gave me a single full glance in the past year.

“Mr. Larsen, I’m not friends with your fiancée so us hanging out is a bit far-fetched. Is she all right? Why the fuss” I must sound infuriating since I’m using my most obnoxious tone.

“Again, you should drop the act Diane and give me back my fiancée. If you do so in the next few hours this whole episode will be completely erased from our memories and things will go back to normal.”

I glare at her unconscious body at my feet. Should’ve finished her off before he called.

I laugh, “too bad I don’t have your fiancée. I can’t just give her back, I’m not a God” My implication was loud and clear.

“Very well, is she dead?” His tone didn’t betray an ounce of shock or fear. It’s either he can keep his calm pretty well or he’s not affected by her supposed death at all.

“I wouldn’t know hmm” I say soothingly.

I close my eyes. Waiting.

“She’s not dead” He suddenly says.

“How can you be so sure,” I say softly.

My soft voice was always at odds with the disturbing things I discuss. My mother dearest used to tell me that all the time.

“I am. Why did you kidnap her?”

“That is for me to know and for you to never find out” I taunt.

He laughs and the sounds give life to a bunch of cartwheels in my stomach lightening. Fuck him and his stupid hold one me.

“I know, I very much know. But can I tell you something that you must know”

“I’m all ears”

“Getting rid of my fiancée won’t give you her place,” He says, his voice taunting and vile.

I almost lose my cool and my mind. How does he know?

“I never wanted her place, that’s quite the assumption you’re making here” I chuckle but it’s bitter. One stab and the bitch at my feet will be gone forever. However, I suppress my urge.

“Take it as you want it little psycho.”

Little psycho. I’m not smiling anymore. Is that the image he has of me? A psycho?

I’m not a psycho.

I close my eyes and force a deep breath.

“I can’t believe I gave birth to a monster!” My mother yells.

“Calm down honey, it was an accident”

I open my eyes again and I smile. Mere words can’t get to my head. Zade Larsen is a manipulative jerk who probably knows more about me than I gave him credit for.

“Are you still there?” I can imagine him arching a questioning brow as he says that.

“I will drop her off somewhere in the woods, if you’re lucky enough you’ll find her before she dies of hypothermia.” With that I hang up.

My evening was going very well so far. Fun’s over I guess.

Le sigh.

[streamafterlaughter]

Fundamental Differing

gif credit

Prologue

masterlist | companion playlist

summary: short blurb for the sake of context! this scene takes place in 1989, 3 years prior to the rest of the story.

tags: eddie munson x reader, gn!reader, rockstar!eddie, angst, hurt/eventual comfort, slow burn, pining, heartbreak, all that good stuff

a/n: welcome back to the new kid!verse my friends, i hope you missed me! enjoy the prologue to the angstiest idea i’ve ever had. Please reblog to support the author!

Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated.

Autumn, 1989

Your POV

“I can’t keep doing this, Eddie. I don’t want this anymore.” You’re pacing aimlessly around your apartment, the old wood creaking under your bare feet.

“I just don’t understand why you’re so upset. You knew this was gonna happen, I told you things would be different.” His voice cracks, but he manages to keep it together. He blocks you as you try to enter your bathroom to grab your toiletries.

“Different doesn’t mean worse. This is worse. I don’t see you anymore, and when I do, you’re mean. You’ve been at ‘practice’ every night this week, not once calling to let me know you’d be home late. I know you guys are working hard, and I get it. I don’t wanna hold you back anymore.” You bite your bottom lip and look into his eyes, for the first time in the last hour. You’re exhausted, hating to have to keep fighting for a relationship clearly on its deathbed.

“Hold me back? Baby, I-“

You shake your head. You’d been seeing it for months, the way he’d hesitate to tell you where he’s going, or all the good things happening for Corroded Coffin. You’d been supportive of his dreams this entire time, while still trying to get Death Dance off the ground. But you still made time for him, only to be stood up for his band, or his new groupies, or his manager-in-training. You felt left behind, but also couldn’t find it in you to fight. He was happy, regardless of how sad you had become.

“I am so proud of you, Eddie. I wanna make that clear. I will never, ever not be proud of you. But I can’t be your plan B. I can’t keep sitting around hoping you’ll still love me when you finally get big, or wait until you give up and resent me forever.”

“What are you suggesting, then?”

“I’m moving in with Robin, she’s already got a room for me.”

You watch as Eddie’s face falls, almost hearing the sound of his heart breaking. “Y/n …” It falls out of his mouth like a rotten tooth, and you can’t bring yourself to answer him. “You’re leaving me?”

You nod once, and shove past him, into the bathroom. You close the door behind you, sliding down to the floor where you drop your head into your hands. Losing Eddie was never the plan, the last thing you ever saw yourself doing. But your relationship had become toxic, bitter on both sides when you should have been supporting each other. It’s not what you want to do, but you’re convinced it’s the only way to heal, to grow into the person you’ve set out to become. But god, does growing hurt like a bitch.

You take a deep breath and bring yourself to your feet. Everything you own is shoved into backpacks and plastic grocery bags, and you exit the bathroom with another full bag in your arms. Not even stopping to look at Eddie, you snatch the rest of your belongings and head into the chill of the night, the tears in your eyes stinging your cheeks as the wind blows. You don’t look back.

—

It’s short on purpose i’m trying to leave u wondering!!! see u soon for chapter 1!

chapter I

taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @wiildflower-xxx @beebeerockknot @champagne-glamour @xxgothwhorexx @therensistance | send a message to be added🫶

[mellowswriting]

night shift pt. 2

part 1 

pairing || Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

word count || 7k 

summary || The phone rings, that familiar ringtone you’ve designated just for him. Only it isn’t your Batsy on the other end.

content || angst, Alfred is the only voice of reason in Wayne Tower, hurt/comfort, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it irl), oral, virginity taking

a/n || welcome to the sin bin bitches, buckle in. 

Main Masterlist  |  Bruce Masterlist  |  Library Blog

Visits from the city’s newly crowned hero become more and more common. He comes to you for everything and nothing at all; the time he thought he might have broken his wrist, the time he took a boot to the back of his head, the time he breathily admitted that he couldn’t be alone, that he just needed to see you. It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, if you’re having a bad night, he just likes being near you. He gravitates to you, powerless to the impulses you bring over him. That little bat emoji you have designated his number with lights up your screen most nights, and you always answer it the same way.

“Hey, Batsy,” You sing-song, grinning at the mental image of him rolling his eyes at the stupid nickname. “You’re early, I’m just getting home -”

The voice on the other end isn’t one you recognize and the sound of them saying your name - your full name - draws you into a stunned silence. They have to repeat it more than once for you to eek an unsteady ‘yes?’. It takes you far too long to process what the man is trying to tell you, his voice kind but tinged with a panic you have heard from your patient’s loved ones time and time again - the gut-wrenching fear of loss. The distress is thick in his voice as he stumbles through a vague explanation and nearly begs you to please come to him, to save the man you’ve come to care so greatly for.

That’s how you find yourself slipping into a sleek black town car, your medical bag tucked tightly into your side. Shock and fear whirl through you, a sickening storm of emotions that leaves you sitting ramrod straight and completely silent. The driver doesn’t seem to mind your stricken state; he just gives you a tight-lipped smile before he pulls away from the curb. Streetlights pass in bright flares of white light, illuminating the wet asphalt as the car twists and turns through the streets of Gotham. Your leg bounces anxiously; the mere thought of how close he must be to death’s door burns in the back of your throat.

The car lurches to a stop and you take a cursory glance out of the window - and your heart climbs into your throat. Through the rain splattered window towers one of the most recognizable buildings in all of Gotham, but… it can’t be. Right? The two words emblazoned in gold glint in the streetlights mock you in your stunned state.

Wayne Tower.

Oh, fuck.

There’s no fucking way. You have to be dreaming. Surely you’ve suffered some sort of mental break because there’s no way in hell this is actually happening. There’s no way in hell that Bruce Wayne, the crown prince of the City of Gotham, has been hunting down psychopaths and traipsing into your apartment for stitches.

The driver clears his throat. “Miss? They’re expecting you.”

The sight of someone hovering in the doorway has you stumbling out of the car, sneakers grinding against the concrete as you jog up the stone steps. The older woman that waits there for you ushers you inside, tears in her eyes as she directs you up the stairs. The utter panic in her voice is what snaps you into gear. She’s utterly consumed with the fear of losing someone she loves and it has you shifting into the familiar mindset you embody in the emergency room. Everything else gets pushed aside because it doesn’t fucking matter, not right now. Batman or not, Bruce fucking Wayne or not, there is a person who needs your help. Anything else has to wait for later.

You have to make sure he makes it to later.

Your heart stops when you push your way into the room and survey the sight in front of you. Bruce is spread out on a wide bed, suit half torn off to expose far too many cuts and bruises littering his skin. What really worries you is the obvious blow to the head he’s sustained. Blood soaked towels are pressed to the side of his head, held in place by a grey-haired man that looks on the verge of being sick.

“I didn’t know what else to do.” He whispers, barely able to choke out the words. “You - you have to -”

“It’s okay, you did the right thing.” You reassure him as you rush forward and rip open your bag. The familiar snap of the latex gloves has your hands steadying, your mind sharpening to the task at hand. Empty packaging begins to litter the floor as you rip open sterile bandages and offer them to the man next to you. “Alfred, right? Replace the towel with this, okay? Use your palm to apply firm pressure.”

To his credit, Alfred answers your barrage of questions without hesitation. You’re relieved to hear he hasn’t stopped breathing at all and the unobstructed sound of his lungs only adds to that - but the longer you stare at the blossoming bruises across his abdomen, the more fears of internal bleeding begin to seep into your thoughts.

“Did he tell you what happened?” You ask as you shine a penlight in his eyes. His pupils constrict, equal and reactive, and you give a quiet sigh at the sight.

“Some sort of explosion. I couldn’t get much out of him before he passed out.” Alfred sighs. “The suit is designed to absorb some of the impact, but…”

“It can only do so much.” You finish for him.  A few scans would solve all of your problems, you think wistfully. You sit back, checking through the mental list you learned so long ago, whispering to yourself as you go. Patterns in bruising, changes in his breathing or temperature, continuously palpating his abdomen. It’s a waiting game, the worst kind to play. Until he’s awake and able to tell you what’s going on, keeping a close eye on him is all you can do.

You take over for Alfred and he doesn’t argue when you softly urge him to go clean up. The cut in Bruce’s head is relatively small; only an inch or so long, just above his ear. So much blood for such a little thing. Half a dozen stitches later and a bandage later, Alfred returns with a bowl of warm water and some cloth that you take gratefully. The blood and black eyeshadow alike come off with ease and you give yourself this moment; to breathe, to let the tears well in your eyes, to feel the worry and fear that lingers in the forefront of your mind.

“You do not get to die on me, understand?” You whisper as you brush his hair away from his forehead. With a kiss between his brows, you move on to the rest of his body, gently swiping his pale skin free of blood and grime. “I can forgive you for a lot of things, Batsy, but not that.”

A broken groan has you whipping your head around so fast you nearly break your neck. His eyelids flutter, head shifting against the pillow as he fights to come through the thick of unconsciousness. You press your palm to his cheek and his eyes roll before steadying and catching yours, realization flashing in them.

“No…” He whimpers. “No, you… you can’t…”

“It’s okay. There was an accident, but everything is okay.” You try to reassure him but he still shakes his head, the movement making him groan. “Try not to move too much, you took a pretty good blow to the head.”

Bruce reaches up and grabs your wrist, and before you can feel relieved that his motor skills are obviously still intact, he pulls your hand away from his face.

“You can’t be here.” He struggles to get the words out, his voice clipped with pain. He can barely keep his eyes open, struggling to stay awake.

It stings. Even though you know he’s not in his right mind, that he probably feels terrified and horribly exposed. It still stings, a reaction you probably should have seen coming. You swallow harshly.

“I’m not going anywhere until you’re okay.” You say softly. His mouth opens again, lips forming around words he can’t quite get out before unconsciousness sweeps him away once more. You scrub a hand down your face with a sigh.

“You should probably go get some sleep.” You murmur to Alfred. “I’ll have to stay up and monitor him. There’s no sense in both of us being up all night.”

“You really care for him, don’t you?” Alfred regards you with a soft look.

The answer is easy: of course, you care for him. But it feels strangely deeper than that. Not quite love, but much deeper than care. You don’t know what the fuck you would do if something happened to him, if his presence was ripped from your life - even if he’s only been in it for a few months. You hadn’t realized just how deep that ran until now, until this. It crashes over you like a ton of bricks - the realization that you could have lost him, that you still might lose him once he comes back to himself enough to cut you off completely.

“Of course, I care about him.” You sigh. “Not about all the rumors and legends about the Batman, or Bruce Wayne, for that matter. I just care about him. I don’t know, that doesn't make any sense, but -”

“No, it does.” Alfred interrupts you before you can spiral. “It makes sense, dear. Don’t worry. Bruce is a stubborn man but if there’s anyone who can make him see that, it’s you.”

- - - - -

Dull pain. It’s the first thing he recognizes, throbbing along with the steady beat of his heart. Bruce aches all over - his head, his stomach, his legs. His memory is in pieces, shattered flashes here and there, coming and going without sense. Alfred. Blood. You. Smiling at him, reassuring him in that soft voice that always makes him feel so safe. That couldn’t be real, just something conjured up by his concussed brain. You can’t know. You can’t.

A groan grinds through his teeth at the assault of sunlight on his throbbing head. He has to get up, get a grip, and find out just how much of this he has managed to ruin.

“Lay down.” Alfred’s voice filters through his muddled thoughts.

“Alfred?” Bruce grunts. His eyes finally start to work and the familiar face of his old friend comes into focus as he leans over the bed.

“She’s quite the spitfire, that one. I’m under strict orders not to let you leave this bed.” Alfred pushes his shoulders down gently, completely ignoring the pitiful fight he puts up. “She’ll be back by around noon with some medication for you.”

“How… how could you bring her here?” Bruce grits out. His chest feels tight, heavy with the weight of it all crashing down on him.

“I wasn't going to sit here and watch you die, Bruce, not when there was someone who could help.” Muted fear burns in Alfred’s eyes, a fear Bruce recognizes far too well. He felt the exact same all those months ago, seeing him unconscious in the hospital. Regret falls like a heavy stone in his stomach, that little voice in the back of his head chastising him for being so damn selfish. “I know you don’t care if you die, but there are others who do care. Your doctor friend included.”

“She can’t…” Bruce shakes his head and the motion sends his head swimming. You know everything. The entire sad story of Bruce Thomas Wayne, from poor little orphan boy to strange, shut-in adult. Every rumor, every salacious headline, every photo of his face splashed across front pages. “This can’t be happening. She can’t know.”

“But she does know. You can’t change that.” He challenges but before Bruce can argue, can let his bitter thoughts flow from his mouth, Alfred continues. Bruce knows that tone, the one that only comes out when Alfred is tired of dancing around the point. “I could tell she cared for you long before I met her but just hearing the way she spoke of you… She doesn’t care what your name is, or where you come from. She cares about you.”

Maybe it’s the concussion, or maybe it’s the weight of Alfred’s words, but Bruce’s head feels thick. It’s all too much. He feels too vulnerable like this - laid out in his bed, no suit to protect him, his body aching and mind all scrambled up. The very idea of being seen as anything but the titles he has lived his life under feels… impossible. An idealistic fantasy.

But even Bruce, in his infinite self doubt, can’t deny the way you look at him, the way you light up in his presence. You’ve welcomed him into your home and your life without hesitation. Fuck, he wants… he wants so badly to just let this be, to let something play out in his favor for once. It’s in his nature to fight everything, the good and the bad and everything in between - but he’s so tired. Keeping up the charade when the very thing he wants is right there in front of him, just waiting to be accepted into his stubborn arms… he doesn’t want to do it. Not anymore.

The throbbing in his head has him buffering, already mottling his vision with splotches of darkness as he overworks his already strained mind.

“Let yourself rest, Bruce.” Alfred’s hand brushes his forehead, a comfort from his childhood that he hasn’t realized he missed so much. “She will be back with you soon enough.”

- - - - -

Trudging up the stairs in Wayne Tower doesn’t feel all that surreal anymore. The exhaustion of working a ten hour shift and then sitting vigil at Bruce’s bedside has left you too wiped to really care about how strange the situation is. Arms full of bags and coffee in hand, you push your way into Bruce’s room to find him fully awake, propped up by pillows against his headboard.

“Hey.” You breathe. Seeing him clear-eyed and conscious is such a fucking relief that you can feel yourself physically deflate a little. You drop the bags on the foot of his bed and set the coffee on his nightstand, automatically lifting the bandage to check the stitches behind his ear. “How are you feeling, Batsy?”

Bruce huffs at the stupid nickname and you can’t help but smile. It feels like before, even as he bats your hands away from him. He mumbles out, “‘M fine.”

“Oh, I’m sure. You’re still going to let me check you over, though.” Your insistence is something he’s all too used to at this point. “I brought you some pain killers for the wicked headache I’m sure you have. Plus, your ribs are bruised and you have a ton of other minor injuries. Does your stomach feel tight at all? Any problems moving?”

“I’m fine.” Bruce insists, grabbing your hand when you try to flash that damn light at him again. You watch his throat bob as he swallows harshly. “You know.”

“I do.” You expect him to push you away, to tell you to leave and never tell anyone what you’ve learned about him - but his fingers tighten around yours and your breath catches in your throat.

“I never wanted to drag you into this.” He sounds so solemn and it breaks your fucking heart, as if he’s burdened you with some knowledge that damns you right along with him. “I - I don’t want this for you -”

“Oh, don’t bullshit me.” You sigh. His eyes meet yours, taken aback by the firmness of your words. “You want me here with you, or you wouldn’t have started this in the first place - and that’s okay. You’re allowed to have the things you want.”

“What I want puts you in danger. You have no idea what could happen to you because of me. Do you think I could live with that? Knowing it’s all my fault?” Bruce argues. Hypotheticals have already run through his mind a thousand times - you can tell by the distant look in his eyes.

“Well, your first mistake is assuming I can’t keep myself safe. There are a lot of things you still don’t know about me, Mr. Wayne. You’re concentrating on some distant, vague possibility instead of right now. I’m here. I’m safe here, with you.” You squeeze his hand and he locks eyes with you for a second before focusing on the blanket he’s picking at. The edge of the bed shifts as you sit, your body desperate for a little bit of rest. “And I’m not stupid. Do you think I intentionally involved myself in this without realizing the risks? I’m well aware, thank you very much. I still want you.”

“...you do?” He sounds almost… timid, reluctant yet hopeful at the same time.

“I do.” You whisper. “I want to kiss you, too. Can I kiss you, Bruce?”

“Fuck, please,” He whispers and you can’t resist him. The kiss he gives you is so soft, so full of appreciation that he can’t quite put into words, but you know. You feel it, too. Your tongue teases his lower lip and he groans, pulls you closer with surprising strength for a man who got laid out by an explosive not a day ago. You break away at the reminder, dragging a displeased whine from your lover. “No, wait -”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You promise him. “But you have to rest. You have a mild traumatic brain injury, so if you think I’m letting you exert yourself at all in the next week, you’re dead wrong.”

“Keeping me locked away in a tower like some fairy tale, hm?” Bruce teases and the little smile on his face is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. You give him another kiss, a short little peck on his lips that obviously leaves him wanting more.

“You bet your ass I am.” You pull a bottle of water from one of the bags and push it into his hands. “Drink some for me. Do you want some Tylenol? I brought some, just in case.”

“I think I just want to sleep.” He admits after a few long sips of water. “You look exhausted, y’know.”

“Well, I haven’t slept in almost forty-eight hours, so it tracks.” You reach for the coffee but Bruce takes your hand again.

“Take a nap with me.” He offers, voice soft. You can’t lie - it sounds like heaven.

“Only if I can steal some clothes. I’ve had these scrubs on for far too long.” It’s no surprise that he’s completely on board with the idea of you in his clothes. He lets you rifle around in his dresser until you produce an old Nirvana shirt - which you find so very on-brand for him.

Stripping out of your dirty scrubs is a relief. You crack your neck and stretch your arms high above your head, sighing as your spine pops and realigns. With the stress and worry of the last day finally eased, the full weight of your exhaustion crashes over you. You stifle a yawn as you pull the borrowed shirt over your head, the well-worn fabric soft against your skin. It smells like him, a hint of his cologne mixed with laundry detergent. Bruce shifts in the sheets, his nervousness warring with his ache for intimacy, but you don’t give him long to fret before you’re settling next to him with a sleepy sigh.

It doesn’t take long for sleep to take you both. The warmth of your skin against his melts his tension and within moments, Bruce gives in. He lets his arm drift up over your shoulders to hold you close, his fingertips tracing patterns along your collarbone. The steady thrum of his heartbeat under you lulls you to sleep in his arms.

- - - - -

Bruce has learned a lot of things about you in the last two days. You haven’t left much, just to feed your cat and grab a few things from your place, and that gives him all the little things he hasn’t quite gotten to see yet. You tend to pace when you’re on the phone, one hand gesturing as you speak and the other holding your phone to your ear. He’s already well aware of how dedicated you are to your patients - the fact that you’re still here with him is proof enough of that. But watching you pace the length of his bedroom as you check in on one of your patients is something else, entirely.

“Don’t be afraid to remind Dameron that you’re usually right, Jess.” You chuckle, bare feet brushing along the hardwood as you go. “Yeah, you can tell him I said it. He knows I’m usually right, too.”

You pause, nodding to yourself as you listen. Bruce peers over the top of his worn copy of Pride and Prejudice; you’re a welcome distraction from the words he already knows by heart. The shirt you’ve stolen from him flutters around your thighs, the late morning sunlight illuminating your bare skin. You look beautiful. You catch his eye and give him a smile.

“Alright, perfect. I just wanted to check in and make sure she pulled through okay.” You deviate from the path you’ve been walking along and climb up onto the bed, kneeling next to Bruce where he rests against the headboard. His hand drifts to you automatically, his knuckles brushing the outside of your thigh. “Glad to hear it, I’ll see you guys soon.”

“Everything okay?” Bruce asks as you toss your phone onto the bed.

“Good. They miss me but they’re surviving.” Your fingers run through his hair and the simple touch sends shivers through him, even though you’re just trying to check his stitches. You give those gentle touches so freely - Bruce loves it. He closes his eyes, presses into your fingers, and you chuckle as you rub his head gently. “You’re healing up nicely. These stitches don’t have to stay dry anymore, so… you wanna take a shower?”

That perks him up. He looks up at you but before he can utter the question burning at the tip of his tongue, you beat him to the punch.

“With me, I should add.”

The biggest thing he’s learned, though? Nothing is better than your touch. Bruce lets you lather his hair with your shampoo - since you were so dismayed by his bottle of two-in-one shampoo and conditioner - and he truly believes he has ascended into heaven. You’re careful over the still-healing cut in his head but everywhere else, your fingertips massage his scalp, diligently working the grime and blood from his hair. You tilt his head back into the stream of water and rinse the soap out, humming some quiet tune he doesn’t recognize.

It’s nice. The burning heat of the water feels amazing against his sore muscles and Bruce likes smelling like you - but he can’t focus on that. Not when you’re standing there in front of him, steam curling around your naked body. He can’t stop himself - his fingertips skim your waist, memorizing the curve of your hip and the way you jerk a little when he brushes against your ribs. It must tickle, he thinks with a small smirk.

His fingers trace your jaw, tender and mesmerized by the smile his touch brings. Bruce kisses you and you melt into him, anchoring yourself with your hand at the back of his neck, pulling him closer. The reciprocation always gets to him, leaves him shuddering with delight. Feeling so wanted, so craved - it makes him vibrate with need. You look like a work of art in his arms, far more impressive than any of the million-dollar paintings hung in the tower. He can’t even think straight with all of the ideas of what he wants to do with you - to you - floating around in his head. All of the first times and new experiences that always terrified him feel exhilarating rather than petrifying.

Your thumb presses to the crease between his brows. “You know, you aren’t supposed to be thinking so hard after a concussion. It’s called cognitive rest for a reason.”

“I can’t help it.” He grumbles. Your eyes light up.

“I can.” Before he can ask, you slip down onto your knees - and Bruce’s mind goes entirely blank. That hard working, constantly whirring mind of his stutters to a stunned stop. His mouth opens and closes, trying and failing to form words - any words. “Shhh, it’s okay. Just let me do this for you.”

The feeling of your hand is enough to have him twitching and the glide of your tongue as you slowly lick the head of his cock rips a choked sound from his throat, his hand flying out to steady himself against the tile. You smile, a provocative little thing, but it vanishes as you take him into your mouth. It’s almost too much immediately, so warm and wet that he can barely keep his eyes open - but he wants to watch. Your lashes flutter as you gaze up at him, clearly proud of the hold you have over him.

Bruce can’t stop the instinctive jerk of his hips as your nose brushes his groin, heat flushing up his chest at the way you gag around him.

“I-I’m sorry,” He grits out.

You just hum a forgiving sound and the vibration of your throat has him already on the verge of finishing on your tongue far too soon. Bruce anchors himself with his hand curled in your hair, simply resting at the crown of your head. For the first time… well, ever, his mind is empty. Every thought, every ache and pain, every worry - gone, replaced by the heat of your mouth and the bite of your nails against his thigh. Let him be lost like this forever, taken by your touch and affection, drowning in you.

He can’t even choke out a warning when his orgasm crests - you’ve stolen his voice along with everything else. He doesn’t want this to end, not yet, but there’s no way he can stop the overwhelming surge of pleasure crashing through his body. You just take him as deep as you can, your throat fluttering around him as he comes. Even in his dreams, in all of the fantasies he’s entertained about having you like this, on your knees with his cum in your mouth, he never thought it would be this good.

You tug on his hand as you climb to your feet and he stumbles forward slightly, humming in surprise as you pull him into a kiss. Bruce sighs against your lips, his mind pleasantly blank. Yet another thing he’s learned about you today - you’re usually right.

- - - - -

Bruce likes watching you sleep. He hasn’t had a normal sleep schedule in years but it’s worth keeping such strange hours if he gets to see you in his bed, the picture of pure relaxation. His eyes burn from rereading the same few paragraphs over and over but he can’t help but be distracted when you’re next to him. His gaze drifts from the pages in front of him to your prone form, tracing the curve of your waist, the soft rise and fall of your chest.

You look good in his clothes. It stokes something possessive in him, something base and writhing with an animalistic urge to make you his. The hem of his shirt has ridden up as you slept, exposing the intricate design of your black lace underwear. He has to adjust himself in his sweats at the sight. Resisting the urge to touch isn’t easy. The thought of pushing his hands up the old Nirvana shirt that you look so fucking good in consumes his tired mind. Bruces shifts and forces his eyes back on his book, determined to keep his hands to himself.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

You wake with a quiet groan and stretch out of the ball you’ve curled yourself into, blinking up at him sleepily. Your eyebrows scrunch together as you take in the sight of him, propped up on his elbow and dressed only in some old sweatpants. “How long have you been awake?”

“A few hours,” Bruce murmurs, discarding the book onto his nightstand to give you his undivided attention. His fingers brush along your cheekbone before tucking a displaced piece of your hair behind your ear. You’re all soft and messy and sleepy, and Bruce can’t get enough of it. He presses closer and draws you in for a slow kiss in place of saying good morning. You hum a surprised little sound but there’s no hesitation in the way you yield to him, letting him explore your mouth as if it were the first time all over again.

Every reaction his touch brings emboldens him, every sigh and soft whisper of his name encouragement to go further. Bruce gives in and finally lets his hand drift under your shirt and over your belly, but the first brush of his fingertips along the curve of your breast makes him falter. You break the kiss and stare up at him with those disarmingly loving eyes.

“It’s okay,” You whisper and guide him to palm your chest. “I want it.”

A broken sound filters from Bruce’s throat as he lets himself relish in you. He’s careful as he caresses you, keeping his touch delicate enough that hurting you isn’t even a vague possibility. The gift you’re giving him is something he could never betray. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself. He brushes over your nipple and you breathe a soft sound of pleasure that has him doing it again and again, even tentatively rolling the peak between his thumb and forefinger. You arch into his touch, distracting yourself from the intensity of it all with your lips against his throat.

The possibilities are overwhelming. Bruce finally has you where he’s wanted you for so long, an idea he always thought to be purely impossible, and now that it’s his reality? He wants it all. Everything all at once. What you said a few days ago echoes in his head.

You’re allowed to have the things you want.

Bruce groans and shoves the shirt up your chest, and you take his cue to pull it off the rest of the way. It barely leaves your hand before he presses a kiss to your collarbone, then along that long since faded scar down your sternum. He’s far too consumed by the taste of your skin and the way your fingers tug at his hair - and it finally hits him. A surge of need rips through him and Bruce moves without thought, without hesitation. Like a man possessed, he tugs your underwear down and you kick them the rest of the way off. You sigh, spread your thighs for him in an invitation he could never refuse.

Nervous excitement roils through him as he settles between your thighs. He’s never done this before but he knows - he’s read enough, watched enough to at least know the basics. He just needs you to show him what you like. The simplicity of his touches was enough to already have you wet, glistening with need and aching for more, for him. He kisses the soft curls of hair before moving lower.

That first glide of his tongue makes you both groan. The taste of salt and sweat and girl blooms across his tongue and Bruce needs more like he needs oxygen to fucking breathe. He seeks out that one spot that made you quiver around his fingers before, curls his tongue until your fingers dig into the sheets and twist, and he knows he’s got you. He tries to go slow, truly he does, but he can’t stop himself from seeking out more. His tongue flicks against your clit over and over until your hips arch off of the bed. Your fingers abandon the sheets in favor of carding through his hair, brushing it back away from his forehead and twisting.

“Oh my god,” You grit out. “Fuck, Bruce, I -”

Whatever you were trying to say is cut off by a rasping moan as he eases two fingers inside of you, his other hand clamping down on your hip to curb your writhing. You drench his fingers, your cunt tightening around him, trying to draw him back in as he slowly thrusts his fingers. Just imagining that feeling around his cock makes his eyes roll his hips grinding into the mattress. It’s heaven, pure bliss to feel you crumbling to his whims. Bruce presses his fingertips into that spot that makes you cry so prettily for him and your fingers tug at his hair, the only encouragement he needs to add that little bit of suction that forces you to give in. Your cry of his name echoes through his room, washes over him as he works you through your orgasm.

Bruce leans back and carefully eases his fingers out of you. You are the picture of perfection. Your body trembles beneath him, shattered in the after of the pleasure he brought you. Pride sings in his veins, pure and light and good. You meet his heavy gaze as he rubs your thigh, trying his best to ease you back, and you smile. A genuine, bright, almost drunk smile. He hates to kiss it away but he’s too drawn to you to stop himself. You’re all loose and content, giving him those slow, sloppy kisses he loves.

Bruce settles closer, his hand braced next to your head so he doesn’t crush you beneath him. The neediness in the way you paw at him has his cock twitching, begging for relief, and despite the orgasm he’s already given you - you aren’t any better off. Your hand drifts down his side and toys with the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Please,” You whisper. “Fuck, Bruce, please fuck me.”

The way you plead with him sends a shiver of need down his spine. Bruce draws in a deep breath as he sits back just far enough to get those damn sweatpants out of his way. For the first time all morning, there’s a slight tremble in his fingertips. He’s been wanting this for so long, imagining it while he stroked his cock in the shower - it's hard to believe this is finally happening.

Bruce sinks into you in one deep thrust and his hips jerk, already overwhelmed by the tight heat he’s never felt before. Your nails dig into his shoulder, a sharp gasp ripping from your chest, and a spike of panic shoots through him. The mere thought of hurting you like this makes him back off, trying to pull away - but you stop him, your hand pressed to his lower back, thighs tightening around him as you whisper a broken, “Don’t stop.”

He has to press his forehead to your shoulder. He can’t look at you, can’t see the blissed out expression he knows you must wear. It would send him over the edge, ending all of this before it could truly begin. Bruce stills with his hips flush against yours, and you cling to him, your fingers tangled in the soft hair at the base of his head. He isn’t the only one struggling. He can feel it in every pulse of your cunt around him as you try to adjust to the stretch. It’s almost enough to break him. He growls out, “Fuck, stop,”

“I can’t help it,” You choke out pitifully. Bruce has to steady himself with a shaky inhale as you slowly tilt your hips, grinding him even deeper. “You - oh fuck, you feel so good.”

The praise curls in his belly, encourages him to finally move. Bruce eases back and buries himself inside of you just as slowly, your soft cry only spurring him on more. He may not have much experience - any experience, outside of what he has already shared with you - but Bruce is a quick learner. Instinct takes over and Bruce sets a slow pace, finally finding himself in this heady, intimate moment.  He chances a glance at you and the sight you make takes his breath away.

Your head is thrown back into the pillow, fingers dug into the sheets as he fucks you. The pleasure, the need, the passion - it’s all plain on your face as he fucks you into his bed. Bruce pulls your hand out of the chokehold you have on his sheets and laces his fingers with yours, pressing your joined hands against the bed firmly. The little show of affection, maybe a hint of possessiveness, has a smile curling your lips. It has him fucking you deeper, burying himself as deep as your body will accept him, some base instinct urging him further.

“Oh, fuck!” You cry out, your free hand flying to the back of his neck, clinging to him as his pace turns rougher. “Please, I - I need… ah!”

“Tell me.” His voice has gone gravelly.

“Kiss me,�� You beg.

It devolved from there. Bruce kisses you, just as rough and sloppy as his thrusts, and the way you tighten around him has his teeth catching your lip in surprise. He soothes the little mark he made, the faint tinge of blood on his tongue egging him on. Your nails dig into the back of his hand. All you can do is hold on to him, cling to him as he drives you both closer to oblivion. He never knew - fuck, he never fucking knew how good this could be, so far beyond the physical release. There is no expectation, no forcing him to tamper back those impulses to fight and fuck and ruin.

The headboard cracks against the wall with every brutal thrust but you still beg for more, breathy pleas of harder whispered in his ear. As if he could ever resist giving you anything, everything you could ever want. His free hand braces against your hip and he gives you just what you want. Your thighs start to shake, eyes fluttering shut as your impending orgasm looms over you. Bruce has never wanted - no, needed anything more in his life than to feel your cunt coming around his cock.

The filthy, slick sounds of sex and pleasure surround him, stokes a fire in him that blazes hotter than anything he has ever felt before. His thumb presses against your clit and you go rigid, your calves hooking around the back of his thighs. All it takes is a few swipes against your clit and you scream his name, your cunt tightening around him over and over, like you’re trying to pull him impossibly deeper. The feeling sends him over the edge, his hips flush against you as he empties himself inside of you with a guttural groan.

Bruce melts into you, forcing your breath out of you with a huff as he lets his full weight press you into the bed. You don’t seem to mind. You just let out a long, exhausted sigh and rub little circles into the back of his hand where your hands are still joined. Pure relaxation washes over him. It’s like his mind has been completely wiped clean, left only with the feeling of you all around him. You shift slightly underneath him and Bruce groans quietly at the feeling of his cum leaking out of you.

“Oh, fuck,” He murmurs, voice still slurred with the aftermath of his orgasm. Bruce leans back, bracing himself up with one hand. As much as he loves the way you look with his spend leaking out of you, he didn’t even think when he did it. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I wasn’t even thinking. I should have -”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You reassure him, motioning to your upper arm. “It’s okay, I have an implant.

“...what?” Bruce has no idea what you're talking about.

“It’s a birth control method? Here,” You grab his hand and probe your bicep with his fingers. There’s a thin little rod, about the size of a match, just beneath your skin. A little wave of relief washes over him and you chuckle. “Don’t worry, I would have told you, otherwise.

“I still should have asked.” He grumbles. It can’t be a comfortable feeling, even though it does stroke that strangely possessive side of him to know he’s marked you in such a way.

“It’s a good thing I liked it then.” You say with a shrug.

Bruce buries his face back in your neck, just so you can’t see the blush rising up to his cheeks. He’s come to realize that this is his favorite way to hold you - his arm slung over your belly and his face in the crook of your neck. Just feeling you so close to him, every part of you pressed against him - it settles his restless soul. Your skin is so warm, so soft, so very plush. He likes tracing his fingers over your belly, even though it makes you shift and laugh. The late morning sunlight warms the room and he finds himself drifting, dozing off in the post-orgasm bliss.

“Bruce,” You murmur some undefinable time later.

“Hm?” He hums.

“Get off of me.” The humor in your voice is obvious, but he still frowns.

“No.”

“C’mon, I have to pee!” You poke his ribs and Bruce jerks in surprise. He relents and flops onto his back with a disgruntled sound. “You’re so dramatic.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response - probably because you’re right. He watches you slip away into the conjoining bathroom, your bare skin littered with his marks. Despite the glare of light irritating his eyes, he can’t help but relax back into the pillows.

Bruce may have no idea what is coming next but for the first time, the prospect doesn’t leave him utterly terrified.

Because he knows you will be there with him, no matter what.

[peachycoreroo]

i was thinking, what about boys from haikyuu losing game and taking their anger on their s/o in bed to the point s/o is saying safe word, crying? if that's too much, just make them really angry, hurting s/o with words.

i was thinking about Suna, Kita and maybe Shirabu?

characters: suna rintarou, kita shinsuke, shirabu kenjirou

genre: smut, slight angst, fluff at the end

word count: 1.8k

warnings: fem!reader, angry boys, established relationships, spanking, one (1) face slap, choking, vaginal penetration, oral m!receiving, usage of ‘whore’, ‘bitch’ and ‘slut’, heavy degradation, semi-public sex, pretty harsh words are said, safe word is used

authors note: uuu this is my first darker piece for hq, but it does end in fluff!! i tweaked it so it fits the timeskip, but just a friendly reminder that this is pure fiction, your favs love you and would never hurt you<3 here's a link to my masterlist

pt.2: kuroo tetsurou, oikawa tooru, tsukishima kei

suna rintarou:

it wasn’t often that your boyfriend resorted to pounding the living shit out of you immediately when you had sex, usually opting for teasing you till you couldn’t take it anymore and begged him to fuck you or took the reins in your own hands and rode him till you were both shaking from overstimulation.

this time, was bad though.

the japanese national volleyball team just lost the finale of the olympics, resulting in them only getting the silver medal. no matter how amazing the second-place sounded, it still hit hard to miss the big gold by a hair.

just like how hard suna was currently hitting your ass, as he fucked into you in the empty changing room of the team. you only wanted to check on him when you saw how dejected he looked as he left the field with the team, when the tall brunet just ripped down your clothes and bent you over, fury dancing in his greenish eyes.

you knew how hard rintarou and his teammates worked for this. it was only natural they couldn’t celebrate. losing is still losing, no matter if you’re getting a medal.

“f-fuck, rin, it hurts”, you wailed, tears already streaming down your face from the full-force slaps that were delivered to your sore ass cheeks. being bent over with only the locker in front of you and sunas’ hands on your hips as a leverage to not fall face first on the floor, slowly took a troll on your tired body. it also didn’t help that your legs were barely able to keep you up with how powerful his thrusts were.

“shut the fuck up and take it, worthless whore”, he growled furiously, thrusts only increasing in speed, and a hand sneaking to your front, wrapping itself around your neck. the cruel comments that usually caused your cunt to flutter and eyes roll back, suddenly made your heart sink.

you knew he was angry at being defeated by the opposing team and not at you, but you couldn’t stop the heavy feeling in your chest, or the tears that seemed to multiply at his cold remark.

when the adjustment of his hips caused him to hammer his fat tip painfully against your cervix and his hand tightened harshly around your throat, your knees gave out and you tried to scream only for nothing to come out of your mouth.

“useless, fucking bitch, can’t even stand upright. why do i even keep you around?” he aggressively huffed, not paying any attention to your comfort. you couldn’t take this anymore.

your body went completely limp, as you whispered a small, choked ‘silk’, not even being sure if he heard, when his mind was so clouded by rage.

but he did. and his heart painfully clenched when he recognized the hurt tone in your voice, instantly letting go of your bruised throat and ceasing his thrusts.

guilt filled him as he pulled out and finally looked at you to see you sobbing uncontrollably, arms wrapping protectively around your form as if you were afraid of him hurting you.

“hey… hey, y/n, sweetie, look at me.” suna’s gentle tone had you looking up at him, your vision blurry as your pained expression met his tender one.

“’m s-sorry i couldn’t help you, r-rin’. ‘m sorry y-you lost”, you stuttered out helplessly.

here you were, crying and in pain, but still thinking about him. the brunet was sure he didn’t deserve you.

“no, i’m sorry, pretty. i got carried away”, the tall volleyball player whispered softly, his large palms cupping your cheeks, “i love you and i never want to hurt you. please, forgive me.”

the guilt etched into his handsome face showed you just how bad he really felt, your lips lifting in a small smile. “’s ok, rin’. i love you too.”

the tall male breathed out a sigh of relief as he embraced you tightly and kissed your forehead. suna rintarou would never get carried away like this again. that, he promised himself.

kita shinsuke:

when kita got home, all dejected and upset because some assholes decided to trash grandma yumie’s precious crops in the darkness of the night, you opened your arms with love and understanding. what you didn’t expect however, as you asked how you could help, was to end up on your knees with your boyfriend abusing your throat for what felt like hours.

your knees were aching from the uncomfortable position on the hardwood floor, throat painfully contracting around his thick length as he pounded your mouth as if it were your cunt, jaw hurting from holding it open for so long.

you felt like you would pass out any minute, and while normally kita would immediately sense any of your slightest mood shifts when you were being intimate, he didn’t this time.

where there was usually a caring boyfriend who wouldn’t take his gaze of your face and always asked if you’re doing okay, was a guy who had a far away look on his frowning face, only using you as an outlet for his anger.

the white-black haired male was almost scarily quiet, only occasional grunts and growls escaping his lips. your gurgling and gagging sounds as he hit the back of your throat with every forceful thrust were painful to listen to, and you couldn’t wrap your head around your boyfriend not realizing what he was doing to you.

as tears streamed down your numb face, you weren’t able to stop your teeth from grazing his fat cock, your throbbing jaw not cooperating with your brain anymore.

kita let out an animalistic growl as he pulled out of your wet mouth at once, a sudden slap to your tender cheek startling you.

“you asked how to help and you’re doing exactly that, but can’t even do that for me, huh?”, he spat almost hostilely.

the hurtful words, the harsh slap and the rage painted on his usually calm and kind face made your heart ache, as you sobbed out a ‘peach! shin’, please! peach!’

kita suddenly felt as if he awoke from a hypnosis, when he heard you cry out your safe word. as his -now clear- gaze fell on you, he couldn’t help his chest from painfully tightening. you only offered to help, and he’s gone and hurt you like never before.

falling on his knees in front of you, he pulled you into his strong arms, rocking you both side to side as he apologetically murmured ‘i’m so sorry, angel’ and ‘i love you’ over and over again into your messy hair.

“m’ okay, shinsuke. just wanted to help", you sniffled against his chest, making kita close his eyes out of pure shame that he did that to you.

“let’s get you into the bathtub and i’ll cook your favorite, how does that sound love?”, he whispered softly, as if afraid that any of his next movements would make you break.

the next few weeks you barely got to do anything, kita shinsuke always glued to your side and immediately taking over any task that was thrown at you.

shirabu kenjirou:

being a med student was fucking exhausting. shirabu had spent months writing a very important thesis about certain brain tumors on newborns, only for his professor to give him a c. something about it not being detailed enough.

“fuck you”, shirabu spat as he was sitting in front of the fire place in your shared apartment, throwing all 80 pages of the “not detailed” dissertation into the fire.

“ken’? what are you doing?”

“burning this fucking nightmare. ’m gonna drop out, fuck this shit”, he almost growled furiously. coming up behind him, you wrapped your arms around his neck from behind, leaning down to ask lowly: “you want a better way to deal with your anger?”

that’s how you found yourself bent over his lap with your panties dangling at your ankles. the spanking wasn’t new, your boyfriend being super pissed while doing so, was.

the first few slaps went as usual with you clenching around nothing and enjoying the rubs to the tender flesh shirabu hit a few seconds prior. after, it suddenly went downhill.

all at once, the soft caresses ceased to a stop, his calloused palm from years of playing volleyball coming down on your ass with full force and the copper-haired man spewing some of the most degrading stuff you’ve ever heard.

“fucking slut, getting off to this. you like it when i use you to let out my anger? i’m having a hard time while you’re just being a horny, selfish fucktoy”.

at the last sentence, you froze. did he really think you were using him? you only wanted to help, but his cold words continued. “gonna beat your ass till it’s sore and aching, you won’t be able to sit without remembering what a useless fucking girlfriend you were while i needed support.”

the logical part of your brain knew, that your boyfriend didn’t mean it. the anger got the best of him, and he just threw around accusations like he wished he could do at his asshole of a prof.

but the bigger, sensitive part of your brain convinced you that he meant every single hurtful word. you weren’t even hearing what derogatory stuff was spilling from his lips anymore, vision blurry and ears ringing from the pain you felt in your chest as well as your ass cheeks.

was this your fault? was it wrong to try and help? maybe you should’ve given him some space.

a particularly hard spank brought you back to reality, suddenly tasting the salty wetness of your tears seeping into your mouth as you cried out a loud ‘pumpkin!”, trying to push yourself out of his lap and landing on the floor with a loud ‘thud’ as his hands instantly let you go.

shirabu could only look at you wide-eyed when he saw how you were choking on your sobs and crawling backwards, just to get away from him.

“please don’t hit me anymore!”, were the words, that would haunt kenjirou for the rest of his life. he could feel himself tear up when it hit him what he did to you, his precious girlfriend, just because he was angry at a prof.

“baby, i- please i would never hit you like that on purpose, i- “, the male felt his throat tighten up and with a quiet sniffle he embraced you tightly, craving the warmth of your body. “forgive me, i love you so much, please don’t go.”

as you started to calm down, your arms wrapped themselves around him, wanting to be close to him as well, because no matter what, he was your biggest comfort and you still loved him.

“’m not going anywhere, kenji’. just… please don’t do that ever again”, you murmured against his temple.

“never.”

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords, pt. 6

Summary: Losing someone can make you realize what was already there and the Darkling is about to find that out the hard way.

Warnings: angst, violence, swearing, bit of fluff

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four // Part five  

=================================

Five days have passed and the Darkling had never stopped looking for his wife. His men never saw him rest, sleep was simply never on his agenda. He barely ate at all, merely giving time for the rest of them to gather their strength.

He was restless, constantly questioning how this could have happened. No matter how he looked at it, the Darkling felt guilt consuming him. Without his rage, he worried the guilt would have paralyzed him. Had he not went on a pointless hunt for something that’s likely a tale, she would have been right by his side, antagonizing him.

It’s been hundreds of years since he felt this way, as if his heartstrings are being pulled by someone other than himself. In this search for Y/N, he realized she is consuming. After all, she might have been right – a part of him may actually care for her. He cursed that part of himself over and over again as result.

They’ve tracked her toward Fjerdan borders. Every now and then, they would find bodies on the road, their throat cut or stabbed right through the heart. Sometimes, he found them alive still. He never refrained from calling on his shadows, trying to draw useful information to close in on their whereabouts.

Y/N never saw him use his shadows before. He couldn’t help but wonder if she’d disapprove of the means he’s using to find her. After all, she called him a demon on their wedding night. She would never accept him as he is, he had no doubt about that.

Did she want to be found by him?

The first body they found, the Darkling smiled. He didn’t question it was her hands who have taken the man’s life. There was no concrete proof, but he was certain of it. Every body found felt like her own version of breadcrumbs.

Closing his eyes, he exhaled heavily. If she managed to set herself free so many times to leave what was now five dead men behind, he couldn’t help but worry for her safety. What was the price of each crumb she left?

It wasn’t just the exposure to snow he worried about – and he did worry as she got cold too quickly and he was the one to warm her up before. Who’d warm her up now?

The darkness of the forest gave him cause to worry too – she may have tried to hide it, but he knew she was afraid of the dark. He realized it when her breathing turned shallow and fast their first night together just as she extinguished the candlelight. The next night, he left his candle to burn long into the night.

Something stirred inside him, a beast has awakened. Despite the war his heart and mind waged, he wondered if he’s his own worst enemy. Maybe it was time to let someone in. For too long, he had been alone in the shadows of his past lives.

Why is he repeating the same mistakes?

How can he be afraid when he married a woman who never blinks in the face of danger?

His heart was ice and stone until she came and now the ice has started to melt. All he’s done is hurt and destroy, but he wanted out of the loneliness that clings to him.

She was right, as hard as it is to admit it. He’s a demon, a devil that walks the earth and he cares. Because of her he hopes he might love again and he can’t let anyone take that from him – hope is the only thing stronger than fear. And when a devil falls in love and discovers hope, it’s the most hauntingly beautiful sight. They should fear him as he will go to the depths of hell to protect her.

While his eyes may have been closed, his heart jumped as a bright flash forced him to open them again.

He was never given a chance to be soft. His hands had to be bloody, to have people fear him. Only when they feared him, they wouldn’t hurt him. Now was the time to show them just why they fear him.

“Where?” He growled out, looking to Ivan and Fedyor who were looking at the sky.

“East”, Fedyor replied hastily, ready to follow Kirigan who set off in said direction without a second thought. He didn’t order anyone to follow, but they did.

Ivan and Fedyor walked two steps behind their general, alert as the flash had awakened them from a deep slumber. They weren’t the only ones shaken, unsure what they’re walking into but none showed fear as their general lead them straight to the source. Their loyalty, their belief in general Kirigan runs deep.

Except for David. He was afraid. He didn’t want to be in that forest and he didn’t want to be in danger, but he trusted Kirigan. Besides, Y/N was nice and Genya seemed to like her. So he came along too.

Kirigan walked in strides, the snow didn’t slow him down. His hands formed fists, his face twisted in anger, but his heart pounded in his chest as he had no inkling what he might find. All he knew was that he had to get there, fast.

As if made of darkness itself, the Darkling emerged on what looked like a battlefield. The trees surrounded a small clearing covered in snow that melted under the spilled blood – still warm as it poured from the dead surrounding her.

She’s on her knees, two Fjerdans chaining her up as if she’s a wild animal.

“You think you’re scary, huh?” She spat at the Fjerdan’s feet – a crimson liquid, Darkling realized. She’s bleeding.  

“That’s adorable”, she chuckled maniacally as she held her fierce gaze on the Fjerdan stood before her. They pulled her left hand behind her back and her right hand in front as they tightened the chains that were secured over rope that laid just beneath.

Darkling’s blood boiled. It is fear that brings rage, that hot burning anger that seeks to harm. Once again, he was afraid, not of her but for her.

Four more Fjerdans came from behind the trees, all covered in blood. “Fucking bitch”, one of them kicked her in the ribs and he couldn’t take anymore. He could kill them easily for what they’ve done – he’s killed every one of them he ran into in the past five days without even blinking, regardless if they were involved in her disappearance or not.

“Mister, I’ve seen scary and you don’t have his handsome smile.”

Licking his lips, the Darkling nearly smiles at her remark. There’s no possible way she means anyone else but him. Looking at his Grisha, he found them nearly all in position. They would attack in a minute, swiftly and deadly.

Yet in a moment of carelessness, he missed the Fjerdans realization they’re being watched. Too quickly, more of them appeared. The pitiful human managed to land a few consecutive blows to Darkling’s face before drawing a dagger.

Angry, dark eyes showed the Fjerdan that the Darkling’s brain is in a different mode, that he has switched gears from empathy he had for his wife to cold emotional indifference. Never once has he directed this mode in Y/N’s direction, yet it emerged when he sensed a threat to her life, letting out a part of him that was full on protective.

Grunting, the Darkling’s eyes narrowed at the human who dared to sink the blade into his heart. Despite his immortality, he could still hurt. The pain of a stab wound felt just as it would if here as fragile as the human before him.

But he’s not human at all.

Connecting his hands, the Darkling lifts his head as he summons the darkness that spills from every corner of the forest. “Foolish”, he sneers, “Attacking me in the dark?” The Darkling smirked, walking past the petrified Fjerdan, allowing his shadows to administer a thousand cuts for his transgression.

As he walked toward the middle of the circle, his shadows followed, aiding his Grisha in taking the rest of the Fjerdans so quickly that Y/N gasped.

Looking around in shock, she found Kirigan kneeling beside her.

“You have a knife”, she coughed into her shoulder, “A knife in your chest.”

“I promised”, he gasped for breath as he pulled the knife from his chest. “That I would protect you and I intend to keep the damn promise.”

On the brink of tears, her lips quivered before she laughed. “I thought you’d let them kill me.” Better to laugh than cry, she thought.

Frowning, he shook his head. “That would be too easy”, he waved David over who stood at the tree line, wide eyed. “If anyone’s going to kill you, it should be me.”

Even with tears blurring her vision, she giggled at his stupid remark. She had tried so hard to free herself.

It wasn’t the first time she had been captured by enemies, she knew what to do. But there were so many of them. Each time she freed herself, they would descend upon her. She managed to run, twice, each time they dragged her back kicking and screaming.

Despite his words, Y/N didn’t believe Kirigan would come for her. She had to be her own hero and she tried. In the end, she used everything at her disposal – everything.

Feeling the chains drop, Y/N glances at David, “Thank you.” The ropes were cut as well, but she didn’t move. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure if she could stand on her own and asking for help would wound her. Rubbing her bruised wrists, she reluctantly looked at Kirigan.

“Here”, Kirigan offered his hands. Truth be told, he wanted to carry her, but he knew her pride wouldn’t allow it.

Hissing, she forced herself up despite Kirigan’s offer. “I am perfectly capable of walking on my own.”

He’d have asked her again because she trembled when the wind blew. Her hair was matted with blood, her face red and not from blushing. He could see the damage they’ve done more clearly now as she bent to take a deep breath as if the simple act of breathing hurt her.

Staring at her, he nodded despite his better judgment. Her breathing was ragged, dragging her feet as she walked. She felt his eyes on her, it unnerved her. All she could do is hope her legs don’t give out, but it felt as if they would betray her any moment now.

“Go and make camp ahead”, he ordered his Grisha to speed up as he realized her stubbornness would kill her. Stepping before her, he wrapped an arm around her waist. There would be no asking her for permission this time, he’ll not allow her to deny his help. Hoisting her up in his arm, he held his breath as she cried out in pain.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

How could he not bring any healers? How could he have been so stupid?

Groaning, she sent him a stern glare yet found no anger in his. His eyes are like the ocean - they have the potential to destroy, yet when the waves reach the shore, they dissipate, leaving soft designs in the sand as a gentle reminder of its presence.

Leaning into his embrace, Y/N let out a gentle sigh of resignation. She’s been caught in the riptide and for once, she doesn’t want to fight it.

“I really thought I’d die”, she admits reluctantly.

Feeling him stiffen as he held her in his arms, Y/N frowned. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said that, or anything at all. This isn’t what they do, they don’t bare their hearts open.

“And when I faced death”, she continued regardless. Tilting her head to look up at him, she let out a shuddered exhale. A shy smile adorned her lips as their eyes shared a gaze so tender, an outsider would believe them to be in love.

“I thought how silly it is that I don’t know your first name.”

Snorting, Kirigan raised his eyebrows, “Really?”

“Yes”, she breathes out.

Looking at her now, the Darkling couldn’t believe this is his wife. The woman who infuriates him so often seemed so small, so fragile in his arms. Her gaze held remains of the horrors she was cast into and yet he never saw her as earnest before.

“I married you and I don’t even know your name.”

Licking his lips, he stops. Truth be told, no one actually knows his name. His name was long forgotten, a piece of his soul he had left behind in the fold. He promised himself he’d never utter it while he lives. He had promised he would never be that man again.

Unfortunately for him, he seems to be breaking his promises lately.

He promised her he’d protect her and he failed, just as he promised himself he’d never care for her and yet he does.

“Aleksander”, he mutters, still unsure if it’s the right decision. He placed one of his greatest secrets in the hands of a woman who’d see his world burn. He gave her power she never should possess and yet he’s not afraid. No one could make him fear anything after the ordeal he was put through since she decided to tear down his defenses.  

Smiling softly, she closed her eyes. Resting her head on his shoulder she felt satisfied. It may be small, but finding out his name felt like a victory. She was born to play this game, it was her destiny. He is her destiny.

Waking up, she found herself wrapped in several blankets inside a tent. Grunting, she struggled to sit up on her own. It seemed to be dark still, but she had a blue light lantern lit inside. She may not know who left it there, but Y/N was thankful. Despite her fear of dark, she found it odd she did not fear Aleksander’s darkness at all.

When his shadows nearly encased her in the clearing, she didn’t fret or worry. She smiled.

As contradictory as it may seem, she wished he was with her now. Her entire body ached and still, she was more bothered by the empty spot beside her. Shaking her head, she bites her lower lip. Would it be so bad if she showed a sliver of vulnerability for a single night? Would making a small concession such as this truly take away her power?

Before she has a chance to change her mind, she’s already outside of her tent. The cold chilled her to the bone, biting every inch of exposed skin. Teeth chattering, she looked to the tent next to hers as it was the only one so close – seemingly intentional.

Trying to open it in the cold seemed impossible as her fingers shook violently. Feeling faint, she wondered why she couldn’t just stay in her own tent for the night. Surely it would have been a better idea than to admit she’s scared to be alone.

A warm liquid trickled down her lip and she nearly laughed at her own idiocy. The darkness and cold and her own injuries have all been fairly good reasons for her to just sleep and try to recover and she still tried to find her husband who showed so much disdain for her in the past.

Just as she was about to give up, a familiar head of hair peaked through.

Shivering, she wipes the liquid from under her nose with the back of her hand. Looking at it, she realizes it’s blood. There’s a slightly dazed look in her eyes, the blood loss suffered over the past days leaving its mark.

Looking up at Kirigan, her lips tremble and she sways slightly as her legs threaten to give out. “I didn’t know who else to go to”, she mumbles meekly before collapsing into Kirigan’s arms.

No…Aleksander’s arms.

Pulling her inside, he wrapped her in his arms as she shivered. Covering her with blankets didn’t seem to help either, but he had confidence it would soon enough.

She closed her eyes, clinging to him and selfishly, he smiled. It brought back memories of the night she climbed atop of him to warm up, he assumed. She didn’t know he was awake then, but she did now. She trusted him enough to seek warmth and as her shivers stopped slowly. That’s when the Darkling realized he would never deny her anything she asked of him.

“Fuck”, he whispers under his breath and her eyes open.

He looked at her in a haunted way, a shadow of a bruise marred his jaw and she reached up to touch it, her chest aching when he nuzzled into her palm. They have never been quite as tender with one another, never so intimate. It felt surprisingly nice.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” She asked, feeling so emotionally raw. Physical pain and lingering fear of impending death must have weakened her for a short while. Surely, she can allow herself a few moments of humanity?

He caught her wrist and pulled her hand down to press flat over his heart. “Here.”

Drawing a shuddered breath, her eyebrows knitted in worry. That’s where the knife was, she remembered with guilt. He could have died for her. Hating him requires too much energy; one she had little to spare. For the night, he can just be her husband and she will just be his wife. What harm can it do?

“Why did you come for me? Didn’t you say you wouldn’t fight for me?” Her confidence wavered as he sighed, brushing his fingers along her cheek. Not only did he come for her, but he murdered men for her.

Blinking slow, half in a daze as a low-grade fever began to grip her too, she had no more strength to deny how beautiful he is or how disarming his charm is. He may never love her, but she could…she could love him. If she ever fell for him, she knew she’d never be able to unlove him. She wouldn’t want to and that…that felt oddly comforting. For once, she was too tired to listen to her mind that preferred to set the world on fire rather than care for him.

As her eyes closed and her face relaxed, he stayed awake. He didn’t understand it, but he embraced the warm feeling spreading in his chest as she fell asleep.

“I’d burn this world for you.”

=============================

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PART 7

[just-a-creep-babe]

Boy Toy

(BEN Drowned x Reader Smut)

Commissioned by anonymous, tysm luv 😘

~Requests are closed~

Masterlist: x

“(Y-y/n)~”

His voice trails off in a pathetic whimper as he throws his head back, his hips hopelessly gyrating up into nothing

The self-satisfied grin on your face widens at the sight

His face is flustered, the tips of his pointed ears a bright red in color, and he’s panting so hard it looks like he could’ve just ran a marathon

He’s so fucking cute

“Awh, what’s wrong, baby boy? You want something from me?”

You coo the words out while circling your index around his bellybutton, watching his cock twitch eagerly in response to the simple beckon of your touch

He practically mewls like a bitch in heat, squirming beneath you, already losing his mind with desperation

And you savor it entirely; savor how needy he sounds and how nice and riled up you’ve gotten him over the course of your little session

Not to mention how cutely dumb and horny he looks as you play with him for your own amusement

“What was that, pretty boy?” you hum, biting back a laugh, “C’mon, use your big boys words—how else can I know what you want?”

You don’t fail to notice the way his fingers dig into the mattress below, like he’s trying to steady himself but he can barely hold it together

“(Y/n), fuck!” he pants, whining, “Please! P-pretty please, touch me, (y/n), I-I can’t take much more—“

His breathless begging earns him a few playful smacks to the cheek as you tut condescendingly

“Tsk tsk tsk, stupid boy,” you chastise, “who gets to decide when you’ve had enough, hm? Aren’t you supposed to be a good little obedient toy for me? Huh?”

It seems he can only manage to whimper in response

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to ground himself, but that isn’t a good enough answer for you

You quirk your brow

“Well? You gonna answer my question?”

Your finger trails down his navel as you challenge him, edging ever so closer to his throbbing member

His response is immediate

He swallows thickly and nods frantically, eyes growing wide at the prospect of you finally touching him again

“Y-yes! Yes, I’m your good little toy, please! I’m your obedient boy, I promise!”

You chuckle at his sudden burst of enthusiasm

“Oh yeah? You think you’ve been a good boy?”

He nods again, his hips rolling up involuntarily

“Yes,” he gasps, choking the word out, “yes, p-please~”

It’s hard to resist touching him when he looks this perfect beneath you

His cock is throbbing, precum dribbling down the tip as the hints of a vein wrapped around his shaft pulses lightly

You decide you might as well give him a taste of what he wants

Ever so faintly, you trace over the vein with the tip of your finger

He bucks his hips again, wriggling, all too eager to feel more than just that teasing, practically non-existent contact on his cock

“(Y/n)~!”

The way he mewls your name almost has you feeling bad for him

“Shh, it’s ok, baby. Stay still for me~”

His whole body tenses as you gently wrap a fist around his length, and it’s all too cute how hard he’s trying not to move in order to obey you

You keep your grip light as you slowly jerk him off at your own pace

Up to the tip, you rub your thumb around his slit, and then you move down his shaft, squeezing him, before returning all the way back up and starting over again

He keeps shuddering and whining beneath you, his cock twitching in your hold as more precum beads up

“H-haah, fuck~”

Eyes screwing shut, his head rolls back, fingers digging into the mattress once again in an attempt to restrain himself from bucking up

“Such a cute little slut for me~”

Sweet filthy nothings drip from your lips as you toy with him at your own leisure

And, despite how slow and gentle you’re being, you can tell he’s already growing close

But you’re having way too much fun to let that happen just yet

“If you do as I say, I’ll give you a reward, baby. You want that? Hm?”

His eyes widen, knowing without a doubt what you’re referring to, and he nods frantically

“Y-yes, yes please. I’ll be a good boy, I promise,” he whimpers, his thighs already trembling in anticipation

You chew back a smirk at the sight of him so hung up on your every word

“Yeah? You promise you won’t cum until I tell you to? Promise you’ll be my good little toy?”

When you get the answer you want from him, you hum pleasantly

“Good boy~”

Some more pats to his flustered cheeks, and then you’re pulling away from him and moving off the bed

You know he’s watching you intently, his heart beating frantically in his chest with his breaths escaping in uneven pants as you make your way to the drawer

Grabbing what you need, you take your sweet, sweet time making a show of the sway of your hips as you return to the messy bed

His tongue flicks out to lick his swollen lips, vivid red eyes never once leaving your form as you attach the toy around your waist

His arms are tensed by his side, and you know he’s trying extra hard not to touch himself while he waits

Which makes it all the more amusing as you teasingly jerk off the strap-on cock right in front of him to coat it with lube

His own cock twitches at the sight, and his hips stutter like he can’t take much more

His desperation’s delicious

“You think you’re ready for it, baby?” you grin knowingly, one hand still jerking at the toy absent-minded

“F-fuck, please. Please (y/n), I need it so badly”

He bundles the sheets between tense fingers with a groan, looking up at you with lust and need written all over his face

“Good boy,” you praise, chuckling

Your hands tease along the inside of his thighs as you spread his legs apart

He lets you control his position whichever way you please—like a good little fuckdoll~

When you have him right where you want, you bring the tip to his entrance and gently grind against him

He releases an adorable mewl, hips buckling like he’s trying to just feel you inside him already

But you simply tut, unimpressed, and keep teasing the head of the toy around his entrance

You know he’s losing his mind

And while part of you feels bad for being this demanding, another part can’t help but revel in how badly he needs it

How badly he needs you

When you finally, finally think he’s endured enough torture, you gently ease your hips up all the way in, pushing until his thighs are pressing up against yours

He releases one of the sexiest moans you’ve ever heard, the sound of relief loud and clear in his voice as he throws his head back against the pillows, and his whole body seizes up at the feeling

“F-fuck, feels so good~” he whines

He keeps squirming and gyrating beneath you as you stay still and watch him trying to get himself off against you, an amused smirk present on your face

“Yeah baby, you like that?”

As you ask your question, you bring up a hand to weave through his blond locks, pulling and tugging against his scalp to get him to expose his neck

When he does, you attach your lips next to his Adam’s apple and suck—hard

You’re harsh enough to see a deep red bruise already forming on his pale skin when you pull away

He’s so horny that he’s got tears welling up in his eyes

And dear god, it just makes you want to fuck him all the harder

But, patience being a virtue, you force yourself not to rush into things

No, you want to savor this, you want to enjoy it and make it last for as long as you can

So you’re painfully slow and gentle when you start rolling your hips into him

Every push has him squeezing his eyes shut as a slew of profanities drip freely from his mouth

“M-more! More—please, I need more!”

A hard smack! to his thighs has him biting back his eager cries

“What was that?” you ask sharply, “don’t you know who’s in control here, silly boy?”

You don’t even give him time to answer before you suddenly ram into him at full force

He practically screams your name, crying out as you pump the silicon toy into him over and over and over again

He lets himself gets fucked and used by you as hard and fast as you like

With every thrust connecting you to him, his cock twitches, smearing precum across your stomach, and his whole body squirms and writhes from the intensity

It’s obvious by the way he keeps tensing up and shuddering that he’s desperately trying not to cum until you let him

But he just looks so gorgeous in the heat of the moment that when he begs for permission to release, that cruel grin returns to your lips

And you stop moving, slowing down your pace until you’re only grinding balls-deep into him

You hum, acting like you’re thinking over his request before coming to a decision

“Hmm… no, I don’t think you should be allowed to cum just yet, baby boy~”

[lazysimp]

Normal Again /// Bakugou x Fem Reader (18+)

✧Click HERE to read Male version ✧

Rating: Explicit

Summary: A sequel to fine. You never expected recovery to be easy but you never thought it would be nearly impossible. In the weeks since your torture things between you and Bakugou had only grown more strained. Will you be able to save your relationship or is it a lost cause? 

Word count: 8.7k 

Warnings/tags: TW: Self hatred/violence, degradation (not in a sexy way), Angst, Explicit sexual content, Oral sex (giving and receiving), Anal play, She/Her pronouns, All characters are adults, SMUT 18+ Only

masterlist┃AO3

A vicious laugh filled the air as Bakugou’s boot connected with your cheek sending your body flying towards the ground. His deep red eyes were full of glee watching you spit out blood from your busted cheek. He crouched down, looking at you as if you were filth. 

“Look at you,” he sneered. “Just lying there taking it all. You are pathetic, honesty how did I ever see you as more than an easy fuck.” 

“Stop it Bakugou,” you beg weakly. You could not bring yourself to understand how such cruel words could come from the same mouth that used to worship you. 

His boot connects to your head once more sending blinding pain shooting through your skull. “Did you really think you were going to be with me forever? That I would tie myself to someone who can’t even stop themselves from getting kidnapped by a B-ranked villain.” 

His boot rests on your face, its thick rubber sole indenting its print into your cheek. “The only reason I kept you around this whole time was that you spread your legs whenever I wanted. You are easy, too easy and the whole office knows it. They all laugh at you, at how much of a whore you are.” 

Tears begin to leak from your eyes as he brought to light all your insecurities. You would rather he kept beating you than continue to torture you with his taunts. After every night of the same torture you had grown numb to the physical pain but no matter how hard you tried you could not escape his words. 

“If it wasn’t for you I would have already climbed my way to the top. All you can do is hold me back from my dreams with your constant failures. You make me despise you.” 

His heel digs into your temple creating an agonizing inescapable pressure. You were helpless to stop his merciless assault and you were not sure you even wanted to. All you really wanted was for all of this to stop. The constant pain and guilt had worn down your spirit, it was as though you had nothing left to even lose. 

“Look at you just lying there taking it. Why don’t you fight me you pathetic bitch? Why don’t you ever fight?” He screamed, emphasizing each with a blow to your head. You reach up to cover your ears not wanting to hear anything else but your arms were trapped down at your side, held by some invisible force. 

You try again to lift move your arms and then your legs but a warm tight hold tightened even further. Needing to escape the suffocating warmth you thrash around, lashing out at the invisible force. 

“Shh, baby it is ok,” Bakugou said above you his boot still on your head. “This is all just a dream.” 

You slam your eyes closed needing to escape the glaring red eyes that only brought you pain. 

“Mimic is dead and will never hurt you again I promise,” Bakugou’s voice grows closer to your ear. This was your chance! You manage to free one arm and reach up, blindly scratching at any body part you could reach. 

Your nails scream for mercy as you drag them viciously down his arm, their gliding made easy by blood. Despite the pain you know you must have caused, the invisible hold only tightened, trapping both of your hands. 

“Please baby open your eyes, you are safe I promise.” Bakugou’s voice cooed softly trying to pry you away from your own mind. 

You shake your head not trusting the voice, after all, it was the same one that had just been hurting you. With both your hands held still you are left with no choice but to use your teeth. You bite down on one of the arms holding you, sinking your teeth deep into the flesh until a rusty taste fills your mouth. 

“Open your eyes my beautiful girl please,” Bakugou’s voice grew clearer, the malice you had been expecting surprisingly absent. 

Reluctantly you relax into the warm hold and crack one eye open. A sweet smelling black tank top was the first thing you recognized. You blink your eyes a few times to clean them and get a better look around. 

The cold dark room you had been in only moments ago was gone, replaced by a soft bed and warm blankets. The tight suffocating grip that had held you earlier is now a warm embrace. 

You look at the strong arms holding you to your fiancé’s chest and wince. Deep red scratch marks littered his muscles and an already bruising bite branded his shoulder. With you no longer resisting he released your hands and started to run his fingers up and down your back. Despite his mask of relaxation, you could tell he was shaken up. 

“I did it again didn’t I?” you ask weakly already knowing the answer. 

Bakugou let out a sigh, “Yeah, it took me nearly ten minutes to get you back this time.” 

Overwhelming guilt filled your mind for the second time tonight. You had hurt the man you loved because of some stupid dreams. It had been months since your rescue and still every night without fail you dreamed about it happening. It was like the torture never stopped. 

“It is getting worse,” Bakugou says, continuing to pet down your back. 

You nod weakly. He was not wrong. Neither of you had gotten a full night’s rest since the incident. No matter what pills you took without fail you dreamed about Bakugou. Logically you knew it was not Bakugou who had been the one to hurt you. He was your hero and his reward is you flinching from his touch and attacking him in your sleep. None of this was fair. 

Bakugou’s lips softly pressed against your forehead as he pulled you in even closer. You ignored the spike of fear being close to him caused and tried to remember this was your Bakugou, not the sick twisted version Mimic created. 

“We can’t keep going like this baby,” he says weakly. “I think I need to leave for a little bit.” 

Absolute panic grips your heart, “No! Please don’t leave me. I’ll get better I promise. I will find another sleeping pill that one doctor prescribed worked for the first couple of weeks. We can figure this out, please don’t-” 

“Shh,” Bakugou pulled you in closer. “Right now I am not good for you.” 

You open your mouth to protest but he places his hand finger over our lips. “Baby you flinch every time I look at you.” 

You wanted to deny his claim but remember how his eyes felt on your skin and shutter. 

“My face, my voice, hell my smell are all triggers for you. I am hurting you by being near you. I am causing you pain by serving as a living reminder of your pain and I can’t do it anymore.” 

Hot tears start to fall from your eyes. You hated how everything he is saying is not wrong. He is a walking trigger for the memories of that night and you had no idea how to get over them. 

“So this is it,” you say, defeated. 

“No, baby god no. You and I just need some time apart until you are ready to see me again. I am planning on staying at Deku’s for a bit, the nerd offered me his spare bedroom.” 

Despair was the only thing you could feel. All of this was your fault and he should hate you for it but he doesn’t. Why doesn’t he hate you like you hate yourself? He should be screaming at you for causing all of this. The blame is yours and yours alone. If you had been just a little stronger you would never have been taken in the first place and none of this would have happened. 

“Until I can get you to talk to me about how you are feeling I can’t help you. All I am doing is making this worse.” His arms started to loosen their hold around you and for the first time in weeks you wanted them back. 

His arms pulled away completely, taking his warmth. “This is not permanent,” he assured. “It is just until you are ready for me to come back and I will wait as long as you need.” 

You start to reach out for him, to beg him to get back in bed but the silhouette of him above you sent a chill down your spine. You wanted to rip everything apart, every time you made progress there was something dragging you backward. 

You watch helplessly as he quickly dresses and leaves the bedroom, not looking back. You can’t blame him, you want to be free of yourself too. You could hear the front door to the apartment open and quietly shut, the lock clicking into place. 

Life moved slower when you did not have your angry gremlin by your side. It had been a few weeks since he left and you had never been more miserable. At first, you had agreed to the separation, after all, he was a giant trigger but you were quickly realizing it was worse without him. 

The anxiety of being alone at night had you reaching for your phone nearly every night, wanting to call him. It was a miracle you had managed to resist. With you not there to bother him maybe he would finally be getting some sleep. 

The only communication you had gotten from him was a couple of texts letting you know he was still alive. You know he was trying to give you space but the longer he was away the more you wanted to drag him back home. 

Your therapist had still not cleared you for fieldwork so the only thing you could to distract yourself was binge a couple of shows and try some cooking. Of course nothing you made tasted half as good as Bakugou’s cooking. By the end of the the first week your life consisted of sleep, tv, and takeout. 

Your glazed-over eyes half focus on the tv in front of you as you are lost in your thoughts. You hear a knock on the door and rush over to open it. Could he have changed his mind and come back? For the first time in a long time hope filled your chest but it was quickly shattered as you look through the peephole. Uraraka stood still outside your door holding a few grocery bags. 

You try to plaster on a fake smile and open the door. Uraraka did not wait for an invitation and barreled her way into your apartment. 

“Hello to you too,” you mumble, closing the door. 

She sets the floating bags onto the counter and releases her quirk. “Whew, you would believe the line at the store this morning. All the old ladies were fighting their way into the store for the 20% off sale. Of course none of them could beat me from being first in line.” 

You snort, no matter how many brand deals and hero contracts Uraraka had she never stopped being frugal. 

“How was your morning?” She asked, unpacking the many goods from the bags. 

You shrug, “Same as always, watched some tv and pretend my life isn’t falling apart.” 

Uraraka pauses and gives you a look of understanding. “You know he hasn’t forgotten about you, not for one minute.” 

You look away, “What does it matter, our relationship is practically over. I have not seen him in weeks and even if I did see him I would make everything worse with my stupid fear.” 

“You fear is not stupid, you went through something traumatic and need time to heal.” 

You scoff, “I have had time. But every time I make any progress something triggers me and I fall right back down to where I started.” 

“That is normal though! It took me weeks to even look at Deku without crying. You are both being too hard on yourselves.” 

“I am tired of waiting!” You yell, finally letting your anger out in the open. “I miss him so much it hurts. I miss how he would hold me every night after he helped me bathe because I was too sore to even lift my arms. I miss how he would pack my lunch every day because he could not stand watching me go hungry. I miss my Bakugou.” 

Uraraka wraps her arms around your shoulders pulling you in tight against her chest, letting you sob. It was the first time in weeks anyone had touched you. Her soft hands traced up and down your back, trying her best to soothe the pain. 

“I miss him so much,” you cry between hiccups. 

“So why don’t you call him? I am sure he would be happy to hear your voice.” Uraraka pulls out her phone and starts to dial his number. 

“No!” You snatch the phone from her hand and toss it over your shoulder. You wince as you hear the phone connect with the hardwood floor. 

The hand on your back stills, “You are going to replace that you know.” 

You nod, a worthy expense if it meant you did not have to confront reality just yet. At least with him gone you could pretend your relationship was not over. 

“Stop saying that! Your relationship is not over. What the two of you need is a good conversation.” 

You must have said the last part out loud. “What does it matter, even if we have a conversation and he moves back in I will end up having nightmares and keep him up for weeks. It is not fair for him to suffer through that for me.” 

“Ugh!” Uraraka shoves you off her chest and stands. “Both of you keep pushing each other away based on some convoluted idea that you are actually protecting each other. It makes me want to pull my hair out!

You cross your arms over your chest, “Well I am protecting him.” 

She rolls her eyes, “Sure.” 

“Hey, don’t make me regret teaching you sarcasm. I’m being serious, my nightmares were getting so bad I started to attack him in my sleep.” 

“No offense but Bakugou can handle you with his hands tied behind his back.” 

“But he shouldn’t have to! It is not fair for him to have to worry if his fiancé will attack him in his sleep every night.” 

“News flash, life is not fair. It was not fair when I watched the love of my life get skewered in front of me. It was not fair when I could not look at him for weeks without crying. And it was not fair when Mimic tortured you. None of this is fair or just, it is all shit we are given and sometimes it is more than we can handle.” 

She holds your chin in her hands, “The only thing you are doing wrong is pushing away the person who you need the most.” 

“But I hurt him when he is close,” you argue weakly. 

Uraraka’s eyes softened, “You hurt him more when you push him away. His quirk is not mind reading, he has no idea how to help you, how you can both help each other.” 

You knew she was right, that what you were doing was not working. But you were stuck, unsure how to even start talking to him again. Even so, you had to try. 

“Alright, I will try giving him a call-” 

Behind you, Uraraka’s phone rang, its piercing ring tone cutting you off. Your heart sinks, that ring tone only went off when a hospital was calling. Without a word, Uraraka bends down and picks up her phone from the floor. 

“Hello, this is Uravity speaking,” she said into the phone. 

You watch her face for clues and your heart grew even heavier as worry danced in her eyes. 

“Are you going to transfer him to the Hero’s hospital in Tokyo?” 

Your breathing stops. No, the world could not be so cruel. Your hearing grows fuzzy making it impossible to tune into the rest of Uraraka’s conversation.

“Hey,” someone said in the background. “Hey, I need you to focus. Bakugou is hurt, I am not next of kin so they won’t tell me anything about his condition. I am going to drive us over to the hospital, he should already be there by the time we arrive” 

You nod, too stunned to speak. He was hurt. Your Bakugou was hurt and you were just standing around. Ignoring the pain in your chest your mind finally snapped into action. 

Wordlessly you and Uraraka rushed down to her car below. The drive to the Hero’s hospital was short, only a few blocks from your apartment. The front entrance was already packed full of reporters trying to catch a glimpse of your injured hero. 

You bite your tounge to stop yourself from cursing the reporters out. Those nosy assholes wanted to broadcast Bakugou’s pain to the public for a quick buck. Luckily disappeared from your sight as Uraraka drove past the and into the private parking lot. 

Uraraka had not even put the car in park when you shoved open the door and ran to the sliding doors. You could hear her yell to wait behind you but you kept running until you found the front desk. 

You skid to a stop in front of a shocked receptionist and slam your palms down on the counter, “Where are they taking Hero Dynamight?” You ask, holding your hero license out so she would know you were not a reporter. 

The receptionist winced, “I am sorry but only allowed to disclose information to the family of the patient.” 

“Well I am his wife and I am demanding to know where he is.” You retort, not caring about the implications of the claim. 

“Dynamight is not married, his paperwork states he is a single but nice try.” 

“Listen here you-” your rant was cut short by a soft hand on your shoulder. 

“It was a private ceremony, they have still not made it public yet so there is now paperwork. I know that is not protocol but won’t you please let it slide this once ” Uraraka smiles sweetly trying to play cute to get what she wants.

The receptionist shook her head, “ I am sorry but I cannot allow anyone who is not documented family to visit any patient.” 

You open your mouth to yell but Uraraka beats you to it. 

“That is fine, thank you for doing such a great job protecting our heroes.” She gently grabs your bicep and pulls you away from the desk before you could say another word. 

“What are you doing she is our only way of figuring out anything about Bakugou.” You hiss trying to pry yourself free from her hold. 

“No she’s not,” Uraraka turns her head to look at you and smiles. “I spent a few weeks coming in and out of this hospital while Deku was recovering. Going through the main entrance is the easiest way but there is a locked side door. With enough force, it can be wiggle open.” 

“Won’t it have an alarm?” 

“Of course it has an alarm this is a heavily secured building. Luckily they have a well-trained hero there to investigate the disturbance,” she winked. 

You laugh, being a hero did have its perks. It only took a few more turns before she found the small door. 

“Now when I open this door a blaring alarm will go off and two security guards will come rushing from either end. I will handle the one on this side but you will be on your own for the other. Try not to hurt them too much.” 

With that Uraraka wraps her hand around the door handle and pulls, her arm muscles bulging from the effort. You stand still, stunned to watch your friend pry open the solid steel door.

The door finally gives sending out a blaring alarm but you had already made it past the first couple hallways, hiding in a small doorway as a guard runs past. You wait another minute to make sure the coast is clear besides casually walking down the hallway until you found a nurse’s station.

“Excuse me,” you say, trying to sound as polite as possible. “The front desk told me to ask you which room my husband is in.” 

The oldest nurse looked you up and down skeptically, “What is your husband’s name?” 

“Bakugou Katsuki.” 

“Uh-hu sure, wait here a minute for me while I go find his nurse.” She turned and disappeared into the room behind the station.

Fuck, she was onto you. You slowly walk backward away from the door’s line of sight and rush down the hallway looking desperately for Bakugou. He had to be here somewhere but the hospital was a maze of hallways and doors with no names on them. 

You could not yell out for him that would only alert security to your position faster. You spin on your heels looking frantically for any sign of him but the more you look, the more lost you become. 

“Hey! You cannot be back here,” A security guard yelled, a taser already armed in his hand. 

You put your hands into the air, looking to your side for an escape. You could handle one petty security guard but you did not feel like explaining to the commission why you beat a guard. Sucking in a deep breath you run towards the officer who was too shocked to pull the trigger on the taser. Sticking your leg out you kick his feet out from under him sending his back to the floor. 

Without looking back you run down the hall taking as many turns as you could to find a hiding spot. One of these rooms had to have no camera in it. 

In your frantic looking, one door stood out. It was off to the left in a dead-end hallway. It had to be a good enough hiding spot as any. You sprint to the door and swing the door open into a pitch-black room. 

You felt bile rise in your throat at the thought of entering the darkness but you had no choice, security was hot on your heels. You close your eyes and step into the darkness, closing the door behind you. 

Your back rests against the door and you listen to the guards run past the hallway. For now they had no idea where you were. You let out a sigh of relief and feel around the wall for a light switch. 

Mercifully, you find it and switch it on. The room looked like any other hospital room except for one thing. There was someone in the bed and they were about to look up. 

Shit! You duck under one of the tables in time to hide from their view. 

“Oi, I thought I told you people to leave me alone! I already took the damn pills and agreed to stay the night.” 

Your breathing stops at the deep rough voice of Bakugou. You found him; he is not in a coma fighting for his life. He is in bed resting safely just feet away from you. A sob of relief climbs your throat, and you have to slap your hand over your mouth to mute it. 

The rush of blinding fear to find Bakugou suddenly turns into fear about seeing him. What if he did not want you to visit? Fuck you should have thought about this more before you left. 

“I can hear your breathing! Don’t make me get out of bed or I will kick your ass.” 

Not wanting him to hurt himself by standing you relent and force your weak knees up. You keep your eyes to the floor not daring to look at his face, “Surprise,” you tease weakly. 

“W-what?” Bakugou said, his voice high and full of confusion. 

“I-I heard you got hurt, no one was telling me anything, so I decided to come and check up on you myself. But I see you are fine so I will leave you alone. I am sorry for barging in.” 

“Wait! Don’t leave,” Bakugou winces as he sits up in bed, his abdomen covered in bandages. Instantly you rush to his bedside. 

“Don’t move that fast you will hurt yourself!” You lecture, gently pushing him back down to the bed. Bakugou looks down at your hands with shock, you had not touched him caringly since the incident. 

You quickly realized your hands were still on him and snatch them back to your side. You stand there awkwardly, unsure what to do. It was like the months of being together had been erased since he had left. 

“W-what happened?” You finally ask to break the silence. 

Bakugou looks down at his hands, “Some stupid kid ran out in the middle of the fight and almost got themselves killed. I didn’t have enough time to get them out of the way, so I had to shield them instead. Damn villain managed to shoot me.” 

“You got shot!” 

“Yeah, pathetic asshole knew he could not take me without a gun. Lucky for me he had terrible aim and managed to only graze my side. The only reason I am still in this stupid bed is because Rescue Girl is on vacation and refuses to come in and heal me.” 

The heavy weight on your heart lifted slightly knowing he was not seriously hurt but you still worried about his current condition. Bakugou was not one to sit around until he felt better. In the time the two of you had been together he only got sick once and it took tackling him to the ground and tying him up in bed to keep him from working. 

You knew him and Deku were on good terms now but dealing with a hurt Bakugou was a full-time job. “How long did the doctor say you have to be off work?” 

Bakugou scoffed, “She thinks I have to wait at least a week even with Recovery Girl. As soon as I can escape this bed I will head back to the office I have a villain to hunt down.” 

You put your hands on your hips, “Oh no you won’t. If the doctor tells you to wait a week you will wait a week.” 

A mischievous grin spreads across Bakugou’s face, “Oh, and how are you going to enforce that?” 

Blood rushes to your face making your cheeks feel like they were burning. To keep him from fighting his restraints the last time he was sick you had to fuck him until he was too tired to care he was chained up. By the time he had recovered from being sick you could barely walk and he had to be the one to take care of you.

“Don’t look at me like that when you are hurt.” 

“Then answer the question, how do you plan to keep me from working this week.” 

“What are you five? Do you really need an incentive to be good?” You taunt. 

A wolfish grin spread across his face, “Yes.” 

You throw your hands up in the air, “Ugh, you are terrible!” 

His hand reaches out and grabs your wrist to pull you in closer to the bed and for a second fear flashes in your eyes. All of the teasing had made you forget your fear but his touch brought is all back. 

Bakugou sensed the change in your demeanor and opened his hand to free you from his touch. 

“Wait, don’t move your hand,” you suck in a deep breath. “Just give me a second.” 

His warm long fingers wrapped themselves back around your wrist, holding still as you try to calm your heart. You were stronger than this fear. You could do this. 

“Baby, you don’t have to push yourself, I understand-” 

“No!’ You yell, taking a step closer to his bed. “This is ok, I will make this ok again.” 

You avoid looking at his face, needing to build up your strength before testing your limits. Being separated from him had helped your memories heal some but it was still difficult to see him. 

Forcing the tight fear in your chest down you intertwined your fingers through his and pull them up to your lips, gently kissing his knuckles.

“It is easier when I control where you touch,” you mumble to him, trying to follow Uraraka’s advice. 

“What?” Bakugou asked, unsure what you meant. 

“When you are the one controlling the touching, it makes me nervous because I don’t know what will happen next. It makes me feel like I have no control and that is when I start to freak out.” 

You look down to where your hands were joined, “When I am leading the touch I have some idea of what will happen next and it is easier to not feel scared.” 

“So you have to be in charge?” 

“I don’t have to always be in charge, I just need to know what you are thinking, what you are doing before you do it or I need to be guiding it.” 

Bakugou smiled, “So if I told you to sit on my face would that work?” 

A few incoherent words fall out of your mouth as you try to process what he just said. 

“Well, maybe, but you are hurt and need your rest. Besides, you should not be thinking about that while you are lying in a hospital bed. When you are discharged, we can try something like that.” 

Bakugou sat up straighter, “Oh no you don’t. I have gone without your taste on my tongue for too long. You are going to get that sweet ass over here and sit on my face.” 

“No, Bakugou. Look at the state of you. I could seriously hurt you.” 

That was the absolute worst thing you could have said, in seconds his teasing eyes filled with fiery determination. The last time he gave you that look was when you rejected going on a date with him. A week later he had your legs wrapped around his waist. 

He lifts his finger and points to you and then his face, “Come here.” 

You stubbornly shake your head, “This is not happening Bakugou. You could tear your stitches and have to stay in the hospital even longer.”

He shrugs, “Fine with me as long as you are here.” 

This damn man must be suicidal. “We need to talk more about our relationship before we dive right into sex.” 

“Your mouth will be free and clear to talk.” 

“This is an awful idea. What if I get freaked out in the middle of it all?” 

“That’s easy, we stop,” he gently pulls you in closer his face now only inches away. 

“Please baby I have missed you; I promise I will stop if it gets too much.”

You were conflicted. Neither of you were in a state where you should be fooling around. But the feel of his hand on yours was so calming and warm that you wanted more. 

“Alright,” you whisper. “But If you are in any pain you need to let me know.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I promise. Now get that pretty ass up here,” he pats his shoulders. 

“This is such a bad idea,” you mumble to yourself as you slip off your pants while Bakugou lowered the head of the bed. This could go wrong in so many ways but the longer you thought about his tongue on you the less you cared. 

“Fuck baby,” Bakugou groaned, “Climb up, you won’t hurt me.” 

You toss your pants to the side and do as he said. Climbing up onto his bed and carefully lowering yourself over his face. Your face was burning at the thought of what all he could see. Needing support, you grab ahold of the headboard. After all you did not want to hurt him. Bakugou was not having that. He wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled you down until you had no choice but to rest your weight on his face. 

“Wait, you could hurt yourself,” you protested breathlessly. 

He only laughed, his hot breath teasing your aching cunt. He sat still under you for a few minutes letting you get adjusted to the feeling of his touch, and it let him soak in the sight of you above him. 

“Such a pretty pussy,” he mumbled against the soft skin of your thighs. Not wanting to move too fast he first places a few sloppy kissing along with your inner thigh, giving you ample time to mentally prepare for his mouth on your cunt. 

You try to stop yourself from shaking but it was impossible. It had been months since someone had touched you and to have Bakugou beneath you, ready to worship your body, was almost too much for your brain to process. 

Bakugou’s mouth teased your other thigh before settling on your already soaking wet pussy.

“That’s my good girl, already wet for me. This pretty pussy knows who it belongs to, but does its owner?” 

“Bakugou stop talking to my pussy and get to work,” you growl. 

“Tsk, when did you become so greedy?” The hands on your thighs shift around until they were able to spread open your sex giving him complete access to you.

“You are lucky I miss this just as much as you do or I would tease you for hours. Tie your ass to the bed and not let you leave until neither of us could move.” 

You rock your hips trying to egg him on, “Sounds to me like you are all talk.” 

The hands on your thighs tighten forcing you to put all your weight onto his face. You try to pull yourself up, not wanting to suffocate your boyfriend but he refuses and goes straight for the kill. His soft wet tongue drags a straight line up the slit of your cunt, gathering up your juices. 

Your hands abandon the headboard and thread through his hair. Bakugou groaned, settling into feasting on your cunt. His soft lips slide through your folds, looking for your hidden button. 

“Ah please Bakugou,” you beg, “it feels so good.” 

You could feel his smile against your skin before his mouth latches onto your throbbing clit, dragging it into his mouth. 

While his lips teased your clit, one hand left your thigh to snake around under you. You lurch forward as two thick fingers slip through your folds, wetting themselves in your slick before they gently press at your entrance. 

Your hips buck away from the combined sensations fearing to be too much but Bakugou was not having it, he strengthened his hold on your thighs and pushed you down on his fingers. You sob at the feeling of being stretched, it had been so long the burn was more intense than normal. 

“Fuck baby you are so tight around my fingers, I can’t wait to have you wrapped around my cock,” he groaned. 

“Bakugou,” you whined. “You can’t just say things like that.” 

He releases your clit with a pop, “Like what? Like how I want to feast on this pussy until you are all I can taste for weeks. Like how by the time I am done with you, you will be a sobbing mess that I will have to take care of. Just listen to this sloppy pussy take my fingers. Fuck baby people would kill for even a sliver of this cunt but too bad for them it is all mine.” 

You shove a fist in your mouth to stifle a loud moan. The last thing either of you needed was someone barging in. 

Bakugou pulled your aching bud back between his lips and got to work. The two fingers inside you started to pump, curling to hit your sweet spot each time they were inside you. His delicious tongue flicked up and down on your clit driving you mad. 

Trusting you would not run away he releases your other thigh and reaches under your shirt. His large hand stroked up your stomach, caressing the skin there before latching onto one of your nipples. He pinches the soft peak between his fingers, rolling it until it pebbles. You arch your back into his hand and start to rock your hips wanting more. 

Bakugou moans into your cunt, able to tell you were growing lost in the pleasure. He loved it when you were too engrossed with feeling good to care about anything except him. 

Looking down in between your legs you could see his light blonde hair peeking out from the apex of your thighs and had a devilish idea. 

“Bakugou stick out your tongue,” you order. 

He releases you from his mouth and looks up, his chin soaking with your juices, “What?” 

“Stick out your tongue, like this,” You show him with your own mouth. 

A spark of recognition flashed in his eyes and he smiled. Good, he liked the idea too. With no delay, his tongue stuck out of his mouth. You reach down and spread yourself open, settling back over Bakugou’s eager tongue. His fingers abandon you in favor of holding onto your ass while you dig your fingers into his hair. 

With both of you settled you slowly begin to rock your hips, riding his tongue. You start off slowly, watching closely for any sign Bakugou was not comfortable but judging by his growl of pleasure you would say he is just fine. 

A red hot warmth started to grow in the lower half of your body, slowly spreading its tingle to your lower belly. Fuck, the image of Bakugou beneath you, letting your ride his face was almost too much to process. 

“Oh god Bakugou,” you moan. “Please, it feels so good.” 

He could only groan in response, his mouth too busy bringing you to your peak. When you looked down at him between your legs you could only see his bright lust filled eyes. They were intensely watching you fall apart. 

White spots started to grow in your vision and you increase the speed of your thrusts. The fingers in his hair tighten, now holding onto him for dear life. It only took a few more rocks of your hips before the white spots grew into a blinding white light.

Overwhelming waves crashed into you, sending glorious pleasure pulsing through you. Your body was not your own as the electricity ran through you making every muscle grow taunt and release in a never-ending cycle. 

Bakugou redoubled his effort, not letting you even finish your first peak before he was building you up to another. The idea that you would feel that pleasure again was enough to make you mad. 

His fingers slipped into your clenching entrance and curled forward, teasing your sweet spot. His lips returned to your clit, sucking it gently into his mouth and lashing at the tender bud with his tongue. 

You release his hair, afraid you will rip it out, and hold onto the headboard as all the clenching tension finally releases, sending you spiraling. Loud wanton moans ripped from your throat and you could do nothing to stop them. 

Bakugou toyed with you until you could no longer hold yourself upright. Only then did he gently lift you off his face and down onto his lap. You slouch over and rest your forehead on his shoulder. The world around you was fuzzy, your mind still reeling from how hard you finished. 

“Wait, Bakugou you are not supposed to be lifting anything!” You yell when your mind finally returns to reality. 

“Tsk, I already told you I am fine.” 

You fought the urge to slap him, “You idiot what if you had busted open your stitches!” 

“You did not seem too worried about that when you were rubbing your cunt on my tongue.” 

“Well, obviously I was not thinking straight,” you mumble. Damn him for being right. 

Bakugou gives you a sly smile, “You know I am feeling a little sore.” 

Regret slams into you, “Damn it Bakugou, I was worried this would happen. Where are you hurting.”

His hips thrust upwards forcing his rock-hard cock against your ass. “Right there baby.”

You flick your finger against his forehead, “I was really worried you asshole.”  

“But it aches, won’t you make it feel better?” 

“You are lucky you are hot,” you whisper into his ear before carefully descending his body. You settle in between his legs, pulling down the blankets to free his cock. 

You have to stop and stare at it. Everything about your boyfriend had to be perfect. His cock was long and proud, resting on his stomach with a small tuft of blonde pubic hair at the base. His cock had one large vein running up the length of it, pulsing with each heartbeat. God, you wanted to trace that vein with your tongue. 

Reaching up you wrap your hand around the base of his cock. He was so warm on your hand, like your own personal space heater. You shuffle your body to get your mouth a little close to his cock and then before he could say anything bring the head of his cock into your mouth. 

His reaction was instant, his hands shot down to grab at the sheets beside your head. You could feel his hips flex under you as he fought the urge to thrust up into your mouth. 

Feeling emboldened by his reaction you relaxed the muscles in your jaw and took more of his length into your mouth. His salty flavor spilled across your tongue as he started to release pre-cum. Your poor baby had gone too long without any attention. 

Redoubling your effort you bring up your free hand and wet it with your spit. Reaching under your busy mouth you slide your finger down until you find Bakugou’s tight entrance. 

“Hey, what do you think you are doing?” Bakugou growls, grabbing your wrist. 

You let his cock fall out of your mouth and look up innocently, “I am making you feel good baby, just lay back and relax. I promise this will feel good.” 

He looked conflicted but slowly the iron-clad grip on your wrist loosened enough to set you free. Not waiting for him to change his mind you begin to circle his hole with your wet finger. Before you could even try to push your finger forward you needed him to relax. You return to teasing his aching cock with your mouth, sucking on his tip just the way he likes all the while circling your finger around his hole, waiting for him to relax enough for you to slip it in. 

As you take another inch of him into your mouth you could feel him relax enough to slip your finger slip past the tight ring of muscle. You could feel Bakugou tense so you did not move the finger forward, giving him time to adjust to the intrusion. 

With your tongue on his dick it was easy enough to distract him as you slowly inch your finger in. Once you went in far enough you twist your finger around, looking for a soft spongy spot inside him. A sharp thrust up into your mouth signaled you had found exactly what you were looking for. 

“What the fuck,” Bakugou groaned, his hands going to hide his face. You smirk, finally, you were the one driving him insane. 

You benign to move your hand and mouth on his cock in time with your finger in his ass. Small pathetic whines were leaving Bakugou’s mouth and you felt like a god. You were so engrossed in bringing him pleasure you had no time to think about anything else. 

You could hear his breathing begin to grow more labored and his cock grow even harder in your mouth. “Fuck, baby I am going to-” Was the only warning you had before his cum shot to the back of your throat. 

You swallow his release down, making sure to ease your hold on his cock, now only gently pumping your hand and finger to lengthen his orgasm. 

Slowly the pulsing of his cock stopped and you released him from your mouth, wiping the spit on your chin off with the back of your hand. You could not help but smile as you watched Bakugou slowly come back into the real world with a beautiful dazed look on his face. 

He slid his hand under your chin and lifted your head to meet his eyes, “Where the fuck did you learn that?” 

“Being away from you for this long made me desperate so I watched a couple of videos to make it easier.” 

“Right,” he said breathlessly, “You need to show me that shit later if it taught you that.”

You laugh, “Gladly. Now lay down you need your rest.” 

Bakugou tilts his head, “What the hell do you mean rest? I have not been away from you for too long, I can rest later. Now I am going to get my cock into that tight pussy.” 

“Bakugou you just finished.” 

“So,” he thrusts his hips up, rubbing his already erect cock against your ass. 

“How?” You ask in amazement. 

“I have been fantasizing about fucking you for months baby. Did you really think once would be enough to satisfy me?” 

Without waiting another minute his hands grab into your hips and lift you up. Lining your entrance up with the tip of his cock. In a flash you involuntarily tense your body, the memories of that night rushing back into your head. No, no, no, not now, not when you were so close to being one with Bakugou again. 

His bright red eyes meet yours as he feels you tense. Fuck, why did you always mess everything up, this was all your fault. Why could you not just be normal, that is what he deserved a nice normal happy girl. 

“Hey,” Bakugou whispered softly. “Talk to me, what is wrong.” 

You wanted to keep your lips shut, to pretend that everything was fine but that would be lying. You never wanted to lie to him. 

“I can’t stop thinking about Mimic. One minute I am fine and the next he is all I can see.” 

Bakugou’s eyebrows furrowed, “You were fine with what we did earlier? What triggered it?” 

You shake your head, “It is different every time. It is just hard for my mind to differentiate from my Bakugou and the one Mimic made.” 

“So call me Katsuki.” 

“Huh?” 

“If you are having a hard time with there being two Bakugou’s, then try calling me Katsuki. That way there is at least one easy way to tell me apart from him.” 

“You want me to call you by your first name?” 

His eyes softened, “Yeah baby, I want you to call me by my first name.” 

“Katsuki,” You test his name out, loving how it feels on your tongue. You watch his face to see his reaction and see lust fill his gaze. Oh he liked it.

You start to whisper his name over and over again, like a prayer to remind yourself you were no longer under Mimics thumb. You were with the man who would kill anything that tried to hurt you.

“If you keep saying my name like that baby I am going to fuck you,” Katsuki growled into your ear.

Oh would he now? You wiggle your hips, teasing the head of your cock with your dripping slit. Pulling him in close you whisper one little word, “Katsuki.”

“You asked for it,” He laughed, hauling your hips back up until they hovered over his cock.

The hands on your hips gripped down with bruising force and his cock slipped into your entrance. All the play from earlier had left you more than prepared enough to take his length. The familiar burn started as his cock sank deeper inside you, opening you wide for him.

“By the time I am finished with you, this tight cunt is going to be fucking dripping in my cum. I am going to fill you to the fucking brim.”

A low groan was your only response he bottomed out inside you, his cock leaving no space unfilled. You could damn near feel him in the back of your throat. Normally he would be the one to initiate thrusting but you were growing too impatient.

Bracing your hands on his chest, careful to avoid his bandages, you lift your hips up until only the tip of his cock was inside. Then you slam your hip down, marveling at the feel of him entering you again.

His cock was perfect for hitting all the sweet spots inside you. Not wanting to be left out Katsuki grab ahold of your ass and uses his own strength to strengthen each thrust.  

You look down to where you both were joined and almost came on the spot. The sight of his cock pistoning into you was mind-shattering. He looked like a god beneath you. His large muscles building with effort, the thick veins in his arms standing elevated.

“Look at me,” he ordered, his bright red eyes filled with determination. “Right now you are mine, that means the only thing you are allowed to think about is me. About how good my cock feels splitting you open. Is that clear?”

You weakly nod your head, too overwhelmed to speak. A soft smile spreads across his face, “That is my baby, so good for me.”

His praise felt like a caress on your skin. You needed to distract yourself or this would end too soon. You lean forward and press your lips onto his. His tongue glided along the seam of your lips, demanding entrance. You happily opened your mouth allowing his tongue to slip inside. The taste of his spit was mixed with your own flavor, and you still had some of his taste on your tongue. The combined flavor was so fucking lewd and hot.

The familiar tingled started to grow in your pussy, you were not going to last long. The muscles in your legs begin to tremble making your thrusts grow sloppy. Katsuki was not having it. His hips rose to meet yours, forcing your body to endure even more pleasure all the while he toyed with your mouth.

It all became too much, the different sensations all worked together to drive you up, higher and higher you were climbing until it was hard to even breathe. Then, just like that, all the pressure released sending you spiraling.

Your pussy clamped down on his cock, forcing Katsuki to erupt. The thought of him filling you only lengthened the brutal pleasure filling your mind. There was no room in your mind for anything but him. You had no care in the world but him just like he ordered. 

As the pulses of pleasure slowed you were able to finally catch your breath. You both laid still in each others arms for a few minutes, letting you come slowly back to earth. Of all the times the two of you fucked this definitely had to be in the top three. Though they did say that makeup sex was the best. 

“How are you feeling?” Katsuki asked, his voice rough. 

You rest your ear against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, “I feel good.” 

He places a soft kiss on your forehead, “Do you think you are ready for me to come home?” 

You take the time to think about it. Having him back in your life did not set off fear like it used to. Instead, it made you feel warm inside. You looked forward to going to bed with him instead of dreading it. 

“Yeah,” you smile. “Yeah, I am.” 

The arms around your waist tighten pulling you impossibly closer to his chest. You snuggle in closer, getting comfortable. Katsuki would never admit it but lying here with you in his arms safe and happy was one of the happiest moments in his life. 

Neither of you was healed from what had happened but you refused to push him away again. You will get past what happened and you will do it with him by your side. 

[the-broken-truth]

Can I request RE8 women (Lady D 、Donna...etc,you can pick who you want to write!)be protected by a human who wear full Knight's armor,use sword and sheild to fight,and they think that knight is a man.

But one day, that knight take off the helmet,and they are wrong,the knight is a woman.👩 ⚔

Sorry if I misspelled something, English is not my first language.

Broken Truth (Sharpening my sword): Hm, Dimitrescu or Donna... Dimitrescu or Donna... Hm... Why not both? Let the words weave together!

[Mother Miranda's Chapel - During A Lord Meeting]

"Thus, it would be better if you all were to... Alcina!" The Raven Winged Woman yelled out all of a sudden, causing the regal woman to jolt in her seat and almost drop her cigarette.

"Huh?! What?! Yes, Mother Miranda?" She asked as she looked at the woman in the golden mask.

"In case you forgot where you are - we are in the middle of a meeting and you are allowing your mind to wander instead of remaining focused. Care to explain why you are so distracted?" Miranda asked as she folded her arms with a glare under her mask.

"Please, forgive me, Mother Miranda - I was still...trying to analyze something that happened yesterday. You see - a few of the village's man-things decided to attack my castle." Alcina began.

"What's new about that? You report an attack on your castle once every two to three weeks; what makes this one so different that it's distracting you from the meeting?" Miranda asked.

"Well, Mother Miranda - It wasn't the event itself but the person who came out of nowhere and slaughtered all of the opposers." Alcina said with a slight blush on her face.

"Person? What person?" Miranda asked.

"Well... A Knight."

[Flashback - The Day Before - Attack On Castle Dimitrescu]

Once again - the reckless males of the village gathered again to attack the residents of the grand castle that overshadowed their home, but there were more of them than last time. The full moon shined over the castle, lighting the area around the - there were at least 50 or 60 humans there; armed with farming equipment or small handguns. Alcina and her Daughters were standing before the grand door of their castle - claws and sickles ready - the first man who held a pitchfork made a dash for the eldest daughter but before he could even get close to her, the silhouette of a caped figure shrouded the light of the moon before the figure came crashing down in the middle; acting as a bridge between The Dimitrescus and the Opposers.

The figure rose to their feet and the light of the moon made their features known to all. They were tall - at least 7 feet tall - dressed in a black metal armor that bore wolves on the shoulders and in the chest plate, the eyes of the wolves had rubies for eyes; even the helmet was in the likeness of a wolf and the back of the legs had a tail made of fur - was it real or did the wearer hunt down a beast and take its tail as a trophy. By their side, the pommel of the sword shined in the moonlight and even that was a wolf.

"Who the hell are you?!" The man said.

"Silence, you waste of flesh and blood." A deep voice came from the helmet, making the man flinch - a male was in that suit? That would explain the height. "You dare rally drunken minds to harm your masters? You have no honor and thus no worth, therefore..." His hand came over his side and wrapped around the handle of the sword before slowly pulling it out of its case, "You have no lost your privilege of life for even having the thought of harming House Dimitrescu!" He howled as he darted at the crowd of men with the speed of a beast on the hunt.

With a single swing of his sword - the first 10 men were killed. Alcina and her daughters watched in awe as this armored man slaughtered men who harm on the Dimitrescu Family. With another slash of the massive blade, 8 more were killed. He kept at it until the last man - the one who poisoned all the others to fight a losing battle; he was shivering and dropped his weapon as the tall man walked over to him, his armor and sword dripping with the blood of his lackeys.

"You are the orchestrator of this madness - the one who weaved chaos and delusion into the hearts and minds of these men." He growled as he raised the bloody blade over his head. "It is your fault that wives have become widows, children grow without parental guidance, and fathers...bury their sons; let that weigh on your mind...as you face your creator for judgment." The sword came crashing down upon the man - slicing him right down the middle.

"That...THAT WAS AWESOME!!" The excited cry of the youngest Dimitrescu Daughter as she buzzed over to the knight and began asking him questions: Where did he come from? Where he learned to fight like that? Where he got his sword and armor? If he could teach her how to fight? The Armored Man just stared at her.

"Daniela, that's enough." Alcina said as she cleared her throat and walked over to her daughter and savior, "I thank you for your but assistance but my daughters and I could have handled them." Alcina said.

"A Lady of your stature doesn't need to sully herself with dirt - it's not worth your time or the time of your daughters. Your time is precious and should be wasted with trivial matters such as this." He said before turning on his heel and jumped so high that he was once again cast in the moon's shadow before he fell in the forest somewhere, leaving the daughters and Lady of the castle just standing there...with a light blush on the lady's face.

[End of Flashback]

"HA HA HA HA HA! Lady Super-Sized Bitch has a crush! Oh, this is so rich!" Heisenberg laughed to the point he almost fell out of his seat.

"Silence, you stupid man-thing! You're just mad that he is more of a man than you will ever be!" Alcina roared at her brother who was going to shout back when...

"Hold on, ya talking that a tall dude - black armor with wolves all over it?" Angie asked from Donna's Lap; Alcina looked at her confused.

"Yes, that's my knight." She said.

The doll burst out laughing.

"Your Knight?! That's Donna's Knight! He saved her just last week!" Angie smiled.

"WHAT?!" Alcina yelled - jealousy clear in her voice.

"Yeah - it was late one night; we were looking for a plant that grew on the edge of the valley wall when..."

[Flashback - The Valley of Mist]

"AHHH!" The Dollmaker cried out as the rock under her feet broke away and she began to fall down into the misty darkness of the valley she called her home - tears in her eyes, reaching for the growing moon in the sky that seemed to get smaller and smaller with each second. She closed her eye, waiting for the sudden impact that would end her life of misery when she felt another force - an arm secured itself around her waist and she was pressed a cold chest, she kept her eye closed until she came to a stop and slowly opened them when she came face-to-face with a metal face in a wolf snarl.

"Are you alright, my lady? That would have been quite an unpleasant fall." The deep voice spoke from the metal wolf's locked jaws - Donna's eyes widened at the shining [E/C] eyes that looked back at her from the holes in the helmet.

"I...I am alright." Donna's voice came in a whisper.

"That is good to hear. Now, let's get you back to your companion." The Wolfish Knight said as he looked up and lunged himself up the wall with one clawed hand while holding Donna with the other, refusing to let her go. The moment they reached the top, Angie ran up to them.

"Donna! Are you alright?" She yelled.

"Worry not, Little Angel; your mother is safe, I was not going to let anything happen to her." The Knight said.

"Who are you?" Angie asked.

"I have no name, Little One." The Knight said as he held his hand out to Angie, "Now, take my hand and I'll get both of you back home, it gets rather dangerous around her at this time of night." He said.

Angie looked at the black clawed gauntlet for a moment before she took it and was pulled into an embrace and sat in her mother's lap before the knight rose to his full height and carried the woman bridal style before jumping into the trees - leaping through them like a Forest Cat - before falling to the ground in front of Beneviento Manor and sat them both on their feet. The knight gave them a nod before turning away and leaping away once again - gone from their sight.

[End of Flashback]

"Well...Just because she knew him first doesn't mean that she can have him." Alcina said.

"And what makes you think you deserve him? He saved us first and Donna even saw his eyes; you didn't have a decent conversation with them." Angie said.

"He is my knight and I shall not let anyone take him from me, not even my little sister." Alcina growled at Angie.

"Hey, you can't claim him for yourself if he doesn't want you!" Donna said as she rose from her seat.

"And what makes you think he wants you, little dollmaker?" Alcina smirked.

"I don't know what he wants but if he were here, I would as him!"

Oh, fate - how you be a lady.

The Window above Mother Miranda's head caved inward and two figures came crashing into the stone floor of Mother Miranda's Chapel - the first being one of Karl's Massive Lycans - The Varcolac - and...

THE KNIGHT?!

He was holding the beast by its head as it tried to sink its teeth into his armor. The Varcolac's hand lashed out and knocked the knight into one of the stone walls - making a large hole in it.

"My Knight!" Both Alcina and Donna yelled out before glaring at each other, "Your Knight?!"

A flash of black bolted out of the hole and metal arms wrapped around the beast's neck before twisting - snapping its neck. The Knight dropped the dead creature and exhaled before the wolf face he wore began cracking and broke away: revealing [H/L] [H/C] hair, [E/C] eyes, [S/C] skin with a scar across the face and...

A feminine face?!

THE KNIGHT WAS A FEMALE?!

The knight looked up at Miranda and the other lords before bowing in apology. "Forgive me for this interrupting, this beast attacked my home and I had to put it down." She said. Alcina was quick and was at the knight's side with her hand on the knight's shoulder.

"It's quite alright, cavalerul meu (My Knight). You had to do what needed to be done to keep your lady safe. If you wish, I can bring you to Castle Dimitrescu for a meal and a safe place to recover; it's the least I can do, Darling." Alcina blushed at her words while the woman in armor just looked at her in confusion before she was pulled away from Alcina.

"Hey, Tall One! It's been a while! Thanks for saving us from that thing. Sorry about your mask, Donna and I can get it fixed for you and you can stay with us while it gets fixed." Angie said while Donna smiled.

"Excuse me?!" Alcina said as she marched up to her little sister, the knight moving back. "I was the one who invited my knight to stay at Castle Dimitrescu while she heals, you can't roach on my bonding time with my future partner!" Alcina yelled at the veiled woman.

"And who said she wants you, Alcina?! Didn't you see if was uncomfortable with the way you were touching her?! It's clear she doesn't want you!" Donna yelled back.

"She does! Don't you, cavalerul meu?!" Alcina turned to the knight...only to find her gone. "What?!" She looked around, "Where did she go?!"

"She jumped back out that window while you two were arguing. Looks like she doesn't want either one of you." Karl smirked.

"SHUT UP, KARL!!!" Donna/Alcina/ and Angie yelled at him.

[End]

[missluckycharms]

What is grief, if not love persevering?

Anon asked: heyyy! i love your writing sm💕 can you write angst please? make it hurt☹

Masterlist.

Summary: in which Harry is a single Dad due to losing his wife five years ago just shortly after their little love was born. Y/N has been there through it all. Harry has a rough night filled with whiskey and tears for his late wife.

A/N: this one is full of Angst and light hearted jokes to not get you too sad … sorry in advance, it’s a real tear jerker. Enjoy!!

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, talks of alcohol and drug abuse, talks of depression and very low mental health, curse words.

—

Five years.

It’s been five years since the passing of Myla Styles, the woman who granted Harry a wish he always wanted, the woman who loved him beyond all the galaxies and the woman who never saw any wrong in anyone, not even the worst of people, she always used to say “deep down, their heart is just aching” and Harry always admired that about her, she always looked on the positive side of life.

She held that same attitude as he held her hand in the hospital room, her fragile and pale body laying on the white bed as she peered up at him, oxygen tube in her nostrils and too many machines to count hooked up to her body, she was a shell of a woman, but she still had a heart of gold, the same hear Harry fell in love with when they were sixteen years of age. He hated seeing her this way, especially when their nearly one week old baby was resting in his other arm, fast asleep as her Mum clung to every bit of life she had left, but not once did her smile fade.

It all happened so fast, one day she was pushing life into the world and eight days later her life was being taken out of this world. There was complications with birth, the doctors and nurses finding undiagnosed ovarian cancer in her ovaries when they had to send her in for an emergency c section. Myla confessed she felt off, her body didn’t feel right, but she knew if something was seriously wrong, she wouldn’t risk the life of her baby getting treatment, she would rather her baby live over her. Doctors and nurses tried their best, trying to refer her to new hospitals to get stronger chemo if she wanted, but Myla refused, she told them to let her go, she was tired and she couldn’t stick around long enough to see if these treatments would work — she knew she was dying but Harry refused to believe it.

The day she left, was the day Harry felt like his whole world stopped, like the curtains were shut and he was left in a dark room with no way out. He promised Myla he would do his best to take care of their love, who they named Honey. He was dealing with the loss, Honey taking his mind off it a little and giving him reasons to pull himself from bed even on the days when he wanted to lay around and wallow in his own darkness — she pulled him out of those days, but two months later it all came crashing down on top of him.

He slipped into a wrong mind set, immediately knowing that Honey had to be taken away from him because he was living in fear he would hurt her, one day he woke up and he looked at her and just cried, he held her and he felt nothing, he didn’t even sympathise with her when she would cry for food, he felt nothing towards Honey and this scared him, terribly. Anne, his Mum took Honey in, letting Harry to relax and blow off some steam and get some help, his and Myla’s family all agreeing and saying he needed help and it wasn’t something to be ashamed about — he just lost his wife, they can’t lose him either.

Harry took the wrong route of clearing his mind and getting help, he found his therapy at the end of a bottle and a line of cocaine. He slipped into an endless spiral of week long benders and debts for drug money along with risking losing his home due to him quitting his high up job at his Fathers Law firm, he completely crashed and burned, he couldn’t live without her, he couldn’t stop his mind racing and the only way for it all to stop, and let him feel numb — was when he was drunk and high, passing out in every room of his home and in his garden, the neighbours finding him sometimes in their yard in a mess. They were the ones who got him help, they called up his family and they all rushed him off in an ambulance to get him sober and conscious again. Here is where he made the decision to sign himself into rehab, accepting the help the hospital offered and a few months later, he was out and clean, he stayed with his Mum until Honey turned one and that was the year Harry found his smile again, found his life and purpose again.

Looking back now, he doesn’t know how he ever made himself believe it was Honeys fault Myla was no longer here, he doesn’t know how he’s even alive because of all the drugs and alcohol he ingested every single night for three months solid, but he knows why everything turned around, it was his Angel looking down on him, guiding him and kicking him in the ass to get up and look after their little love, just like she asked him to do before she left, always look after himself and Honey.

It’s been five years since her passing, Harry is doing better than ever, he started working for his Dad’s company again and now he’s the president of the law firm, alongside his Dad who is the CEO, Harry being second in command and then being the CEO when his Dad retires from the firm. They kept their family home, even if it was just the two of them, they loved the home and it still felt like Myla was living here, her makeup still tucked away in her unused vanity in Harrys bedroom and her favourite paintings still hung up around the home. Harry even hired a nanny, she has been working for him for two years now, she’s even working alongside Harry in his office being his receptionist during the day and she’s Honeys afternoon and night nanny when she’s done in work and Honey is home from school.

Y/N is Honeys nanny, she takes care of the little lady and feeds her daily, even taking her to the playground and to the movies when Honey asked her could she go. She would do anything for Honey and Honey loved her endlessly, she loved the way she would allow her to eat sneaky chocolate bars after dinner every now and then and how she would always play dollies with her, kneeling down on the floor of the den and playing with the small girl until they were both in fits of laughter. Harry also adored Y/N, her passion for her job at the law firm along with her passion for looking after Honey is something he admires, she never once complains about being exhausted even though he can tell when she is, she didn’t have to think twice when Harry offered her the job as Honeys nanny, she knew the little one from her being in the office every now and then, and Honey was instantly drawn to her, the way she was so kind and the way she cared for Honey.

Tonight is a hard night for Harry, it’s Myla’s death anniversary and he’s been having a bad day, his mind racing and his heart breaking all over again, but this time he’s stronger, he’s able to power through until he could be alone and just let his emotions go, have a glass of whiskey and just cry a little flipping through old photo albums — he does this every year on her anniversary. Honey is tucked up in bed and he’s sat alone in the den on the sofa, the photo albums on his lap and his hand clutching a small glass of whiskey as he sips on it flipping through many photos from their wedding and from when they were teens and drunk in love in high school — so many memories can be attached to one person, and Harry knew one day they would be memories, but he didn’t know it would be so soon.

“Honey is fast asleep, left her door cracked open so she can shout if she- Harry? Are you okay?” Y/N stops suddenly, her eyes landing on her boss who was hunched over a photo album on the sofa, curtains drawn and the only light coming from a lamp beside a framed wedding photo of him and Myla on the table by the sofa.

“Yeah, thanks for putting her to sleep” Harry says weakly, not turning around which alarms Y/N, she’s seen him like this last year, she let him be as she was only new to it, but this year she’s determined to sit with him all night if he needs — he needs to have some company.

“That’s you?” She asks sitting next to him, Harry not moving or telling her to leave, he accepts her company as she looks down at the photo his eyes are laid upon — two teenagers at a party.

“Yeah, m’hair was a curly mess” he says with a low laugh, looking over the photo of a seventeen year old version of himself, smiling cheekily clutching a red solo cup and Myla wrapped under his other arm holding him around his waist, both their smiles wide and cheeky and their cheeks flushed pink from the alcohol in their bodies.

“I think it looks cute, pitty it’s not as curly now” she says with a light laugh, watching as his ring clad fingers turn the page, taking a sip from his whiskey as he goes.

“This was our prom, she made me wear a pink fucking bow tie — absolutely hated it” he laughs, the crinkles by his eyes evident as Y/N laughs along, looking down at the curly headed teenager in a black suit, white shirt and a bright pink bow tie, matching Myla’s floor length dress next to him, a shawl over her shoulders matching as the corsage around her wrist match the pink of her dress also.

“She hated that dress a year later, she was packing up for college and I was helping her when she found it, immediately burst out laughing” he says laughing loudly, remembering back at the memory he has, Y/N beside him happy at how joyful he sounds speaking of the memories.

“Oh here we go, Frat boy Harry!” Y/N says with a loud laugh, pointing down at a shirtless twenty year old Harry, backwards cap on his head and “Myla’s Bitch!” Wrote on his stomach in paint, two beer bottles in his hands and Myla on his shoulders cheering with her hands up in a red bikini, matching his swimming trunks and baseball cap.

“Some of the best years of m’life, raging parties and no more curfews, we were two hormonal teens absolutely smitten for one another” he says shaking his head with a laugh, his eyes bright as he flicks them over the photos ranging from Harry dancing, Myla being pushed into the pool by him and Harry passed out with a mustache drawn on him with Myla next to him holding the marker with a bright smile mid laughter.

The book is filled with their college days, to their graduation day from college, their photo in their first apartment, Harry on his first day of work and Myla on hers. They took photos of small things, but at the time they meant the world to them, they were milestones in their lives and they never wanted to forget them. Harry is forever grateful that Myla had an obsession with photography, otherwise he wouldn’t have these to look back on and hopefully show Honey one day what her Mum was like, even if she’s drunk and half naked in some of them at college parties.

Harry and Y/N are in fits of laughter, tears falling from their faces as Harry explains every single memory behind each photo, one photo containing a memory of Myla at her bachelorette party, Harry coming out as a stripper and giving her a lap dance as she slaps his ass and throws money all over her husband — that one will definitely not be shown to Honey. Harry is like a whole different person when he speaks about her, his laugh becomes louder and his eyes become brighter, he even ditched his whiskey after one glass to speak about his late wife, Y/N looking at him with pure amazement and proudness of how far he’s come, how he pulled himself from a hard time and carried on life for the sake of his baby girl. He’s truly inspirational in her eyes.

“It should be easier than this by now, right? Like I shouldn’t be still grieving” he says when their laughs and stories come to a stop, their eyes hooded with sleep and faces hurting from laughing.

“What is grief, if not love persevering? You were both childhood sweethearts, you’ve loved her since you can remember and you always will, she’s your whole world, of course you’ll still grieve her, you still love her, and that’s okay” Y/N blurts out, her words quick as she blabs on while Harry watches her, a smile on his face as she explains and accepts his feelings.

“Never knew you were Shakespeare” is all he says, she rolls her eyes laughing, slapping his bicep a little as he shuts the album, tucking it away in the drawer again before turning his focus back onto Y/N beside him.

“Seriously though, never tell yourself you’ve been grieving for too long, it’s okay to grieve and cry yourself to sleep some nights, I get that, I do. You lost a person who made you who you are, but don’t forget, you still have a little one that will need you to be the person who makes her who she is”

Harry thinks she’s amazing, she’s smart and she’s so empathetic towards everyone and anyone. She has a heart of gold and she will never let anyone explain hers or anyone else’s feelings for them, she always allows people to express who they are, heck, one night she brought Harry to a gym after hours, explaining how her brother is a trainer there and he gave her the keys on the condition that she does his laundry for a month, she let Harry rage out and punch the shit out of a punching bag one night because he was so upset. She cheered him on and he was smiling as he was punching towards the end, she helped him release the emotions that built up and would of lead him back down a dark path.

She’s been an Angel sent from above, he knows Myla sent her to him because of how much they’re alike, Harry knows for sure they were sisters in a past life, their kind hearts and understanding natures alike but they have their differences, Myla was very out spoken and loved to party but Y/N is reserved and would rather stay inside with a hot chocolate and her crosswords while watching TV, but that’s another thing that Harry finds fascinating about her, she’s younger than him by eight years, when he was her age he was partying.

“Thank you Y/N, I needed this tonight” he says with a smile, her own smile on her face as she nods leaning over to rub her hand over his in a comforting manner, the pair looking at one another as they soak in their presences.

“It’s getting late, I should go” she says realising it’s nearly midnight, Harry and her need to be in work tomorrow morning and Harry has to wake up to get his little lady ready for school also. He gets a bit saddened when she says this, he secretly wants to hear more of her own college years and her own prom much like he told her earlier.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow” he says with a smile, watching as she gathers up her bag and throws it over her shoulder, car keys now in her hand as she smiles at him once more before heading for the den door. She pauses and looks back at him, his eyes meeting hers as they hold contact for a few seconds before she speaks up.

“See you tomorrow, Harry”

[amara-scott]

Movie: Divergent Characters: Eric Coulter x f!Reader Categories: Anger, Fluff, Eric

“Again.” Another jump, down to the ground, push up followed by another jump. Kick, kick, uppercut, hook. My hands fall to my knees, hunched over I try to gulp down the pain in my burning throat. I don’t know if it’s tears or sweat but it’s covering my hot face.

“Again.” He sounds more and more stern. I blink a couple times, standing up straight and am about to do the whole circuit for the- what, 40th time? I lost count long ago. My bones shake and muscles ache. It’s past the point where only numbness is left and I am scared I won’t feel anything anymore after I am done today. If I will ever be done. If he lets me.

I jump and am about to go down to the ground, my hands planted on the cool mat, feet ready to kick back into a plank but my arms shake before they give out and I fall to the ground face first. The ground cooling my cheek. I close my eyes and only hear my breathing, it's loud. Just as my thumping heart. Sweat stinging my eyes now.

“What are you doing?”

My eyes snap open at that question and I feel full of rage and hate. Just- frustration spreading inside every fiber of my being.

I twist my head around, supporting myself on my elbows. “Taking a break maybe?” I say, trying not to sound ironic or rude- but I do. I really don’t care though. I am past the point of just sucking it up.

“What did you say?” He challenges, his cold orbs boring into mine as he folds his arms and shifts in his stance, glaring down at me. His lips twitching into a not so amused smile before sneering down at me.

“I said- taking a break, maybe.” I repeat and twist, sitting with my knees angled up, placing my arms atop. Eyes now down between my legs on the ground. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. He still is a leader. Someone I should respect and who's orders I have to follow.

“Stand up, now.” I sigh with closed eyes and stand back up, looking at his arms, chewing my lower lip.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

I gulp and look up, trying not to forget to breathe. My heart calmed down but once I meet his eyes, my heart rate picks right back up.

“You’re not here to take breaks. You understand?” I nod quickly, not really having enough energy to even form words. He keeps silent for a moment longer, knowing that I struggle to keep up the eye contact. He smirks at the end, moving his head a bit closer, leaning forward.

“I’ll see you here tomorrow. Same time." I force myself not to close my eyes and sigh in frustration.

"-Actually, for the rest of the month. Every day.” My eyes grow a bit wider and I want to reply, talk back- but he just raises his pierced eyebrow, daring me. I gulp down my pride and nod once.

“Go.” His jaw is clenched and I quickly, dizzily grab my bottle and move past him, walking quickly.

Why, of all people, does he hate me so much? Am I doing that bad? I didn’t feel like I was. I rarely lost a fight and Four even complimented me after a few. I can’t say the same about Eric though. He never spoke. Only to correct or mock. Nothing kind ever left his lips.

With a sigh I fall into bed after my shower, not even in the mood to go get any food. I’ll just eat more tomorrow at breakfast. My eyes sealed shut and I doze off.

Eric is back at it, yelling at an initiate for losing and telling them to go back to the punching bags. He scoffs and turns around, his eyes wandering around the room and landing on me. I quickly turn away, holding the knife tightly between my fingers and focusing on the target ahead. The clashing of knifes the only sound I hear until he stands next to me.

“Throw it.” He commands and I take another deep breath, throwing and hoping I hit anything. But the knife just bounces off the wall and lands at the bottom of the target.

“Pathetic. Go get the knife.” I whip my head around and look at him with wide eyes.

“You mean- right now?”

“No, after practice. Of course now, go!” I flinch as he ends his sentence and turn back around, looking to the side as a couple people stop and watch.

“Did I say stop? Keep going, all of you.” I squeeze my eyes shut for a second before taking a deep breath and not looking back as a few knives land in my way, only making me stop a few times. Don’t look back- don’t look back- don’t-

A knife whips right past my ear, I feel the wind brushing my hair away and I stop, watching it emerge from the target I practiced at. I grab the knife off the ground and turn around. Eric standing there with another knife in hand and throwing it up a couple times.

“Next time I won’t miss.” I can’t move my legs after that and Eric frowns, sticking the sharp weapon into the wooden box it’s usually stored in.

“Come on, get back here. You’re not done practicing.”

I want to say anything but I can’t, my feet also glued to the ground. I want to lift anything but I’m frozen.

“(Y/N)? Come on.”

“(Y/N)?”

“Stand up, hey!”

I gasp, sitting up in bed, breathing heavily.

"You looked exhausted, I just wanted to let you sleep longer." Emma sits down next on my bed, giving me a sad smile.

"Thanks, I probably needed that." I mumble, clearing my throat and sit up next to her, head in my hands.

"I brought you some food, don't tell anyone." She whispers and unpacks a sandwich and an apple, handing both to me.

"Wow, thanks, you're amazing." I side hug her, taking the food and gulping everything down with water. Emma giggles watching me and stands back up.

"You shouldn't eat so fast, you'll get a stomach ache- we have to be in the training room in ten." She turns around, smiling one last time and walking off to join some others on their way to the training room.

I sigh, remembering what will happen after training. The dream- it felt so real.

I get ready quickly, jogging down the hall and entering through the tall doors. Everyone is gathering in a circle and I join in, blending into the back of the group to maybe not get noticed.

"This week will be all about your aim. Especially throwing knives and shooting guns." I roll my eyes, shaking my head to myself. This is ridiculous.

"Any complains?" My eyes shoot over to Eric, who's stare is fixed on me for a second longer before wandering around the group. Some are shaking their heads or mumbling no. He saw my expression. I will suffer even more today. If that's even possible.

"Let's get ready then, the targets are back at the wall, pic one and start throwing." Four tells us and we make our way to the targets. I jog up to Emma, sending her a smile.

"You think you're any good at this?" She asks and I shrug.

"Well it's not like I would have a lot of experience so- I can just hope."

"I actually did throw knives a lot back in Amity." I frown, my eyes boring into the side of her face as she smirks.

"Well, more in my head but still. Not the first time I'm thinking about it. Maybe that helps." I chuckle and shove her lightly, both of us finding a spot and trying out the knives, holding them, turning them.

"You have to take multiple aspects into account when throwing a knife. The weight, size and distance to your target. Have a go." Four says and starts pacing behind us hands behind his back and observing. I glance around more, trying to find the piercing blue eyes and I find them, a few steps further down the line but he turns, as if he felt me watching him.

I get ready and try to mimic someone who just hit their target. Legs steady, slightly parted- arm leaning back and then- I close my eyes until I hear a clashing sound. The knife fell down, not even close to the target. Wow.

I try a few more times and get closer and even hit the target but the knife never sticks fully.

"What are you doing?" I flinch at his voice, nearly dropping the knife in my hand. I turn to the side, watching Eric.

"Trying to hit the target?" It sound more like a question as I'm not in the mood to come off as a smart ass or the ironic bitch I usually am.

"Well, you're not doing a great job then." He states and I nod, agreeing with him. There is a small pause before he raises an eyebrow with folded arms.

"Could you maybe- help me out?" I say before thinking about what I actually just said. I hear Emma snorting beside me, trying to cover it up with a cough. Eric's eyes find her for a second before coming back to me.

"Turn around." I frown but quickly follow his order.

"Angle your hips." I shift, one foot forward the other further back, trying to stand sturdy.

"Further." His hands find my waist and he twists it more, my breath hitching as I glance down at his fingers sitting atop my hips.

"Look up." He says, his breath hitting my neck before he steps back again. I focus on the target, reaching my arm back and twisting my shoulders.

"Don't just reach your wrist back. The whole arm." He pulls at my elbow, correcting my stance and I feel my skin burning from where he touched me. My skin tingling.

"Twist your whole body while throwing. Full force." I take another deep breath and do as I'm told yelling out this time, not closing my eyes, too curious if it changed anything.

It did. I hit the target. It sticks. I grin and turn to Eric- but he's already gone further down. I turn back forward and want to do it again. And again.

Maybe I'm actually looking forward to after-practice today.

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