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kombuuuu · 1 year

Note

NEEDD someone to write more about simp!miles and how he finally asks reader out. I love him w the trope friends to lovers i definitely feel like he would try to ask his s/o out and fail to so many times😭😭

Jitters.

Simp!Miles Morales x Gn!Reader

“Oh my god you’re clueless.”

THIS WAS LIKE FIVE MINUTES ADTER MY CALL FOR POST LMFAOOO OKAY BBY I GOT U ��️

2 + 1 Trope? Got that DOWN baby.

—

The first time Miles had ever met you, it had been the most bland, unimportant, nothing-burger of a day he’d ever been privy to living.

The weight of his classmates gazes settled uncomfortably, but familiarly, onto his back. The whispers they shared with one another having him strain to hear over the beating of his own finicky heart.

A boring, low effort slide show casted on a lazily erased white board was barely keeping him from falling asleep.

And yet his foot wouldn’t stop tapping, the nerves alighting something within him like sparks near a gas leak. The way his heart was beating wasn’t just from the whispers flown around he knows weren’t about him. (He couldn’t help it, what if they are?)

There was something else, like an anticipation boiling his blood vessels. Spidey-sense through the roof and heart rate accelerating.

He stanced his feet, twisting them slowly to shoot out of his seat when ready, as if a crazed, murderous version of him was going to burst the the door at any moments notice.

The handle twisted, his vision honed in, ears sharp-tuned to every movement the muse terry figure made.

And as the door swung open, the breath he was holding left him. Exasperation and amazement at the person in front of him, the harmless, beauty of a person.

“Ah. Mx.[Last Name], Pleasure of you to join us,” His Teacher snarked, adding a hasty ‘finally’ to the end under his breath.

Miles shot the man a dirty look before focusing back onto you, as seemingly everyone had.

You caught people’s attention from the get-go, aura leaking something trusting, something good. Like out of everyone in the world he could talk to, he knows you’d listen in earnest.

You made eye contact with him, your eyes glistening against the light of the projector, he almost sighed.

You looked away again, addressing your Teacher. “Sorry Sir, I didn’t exactly know where to go.” You politely laughed it off, disrespect to authority wasn’t exactly something you wanted on your track record the moment you got to this place.

“It’s—“ He dragged a hand down his face whilst you shuffled in your spot. “It’s fine. Just go sit next to uh.-“

Miles say up a little straighter, a silent competition with the other people in his class crawling for your attention.

“Miles. Morales raise your hand.”

He felt almost smug as he did Small huffs of disappointment coming from his undeserving peers. You smiled at him, waltzing over with a confidence he could only dream, and sat in the chair beside him. He watched you unpack your stuff as the professor drawled on, and when you caught his watchful eye, you waved.

He blushed. The whispers definitely weren’t about him now.

—

One.

You were putting you books in your locker when a small tap was placed upon your shoulder.

Catching your attention, you stuffed the remaining books inside carelessly and turned to face the subject of curiosity.

The boy you had sat next to your first date stood shuffling foot to foot before you. Nervously scratching his neck and kicking his Jordans.

“Hey I- Uhh.” He coughed, scared his voice would crack in front of you, he almost cringed at the thought. “I’m Miles-“

“Morales. I remember you.” You smiled sweetly up at him, you did remember him. It was no lie, he was kind of hard to forget. “Oh, you do?”

“I mean, you were the only one in that class willing to sit next to a stranger. And you were pretty nice about it too.”

“Uhuh, yeah, that’s me.” Only one willing? With a person like you showing up? The entire room was glaring at him.

“Thanks for that, by the way.”

You closed your locker and turned back to him.

“Yeah, no problem. It was no big deal, really.” He rushed out, your presence alone making him nervous.

“Anyways I-,” he cleared his throat again. “I was wondering if you’d y’know..” He looked at you through his thick eyelashes, god he was pretty. “I’d…?”

“Wannahangoutsometime.”

You stumped for a moment, trying to figure out what he’d just said before laughing lightly. He swears he saw heaven the second you’d smiled at him.

“Yeah we can hang out, right now actually!”

Grabbing his arm and walking with him as you chatted. His breathing stuttered, unprepared for your misunderstanding of his intentions, but okay with the outcome. Having your arm linked with his, pulling him wherever you wanted to go like some puppy. Giggling and whispering to him something he couldn’t pay attention to over the sweetened sound of your voice. He was pretty damn okay with it.

—

Two.

It had been around three months since you had met Miles. And although you hated the thought, you only had your mean professor to thank. So, kudos to him.

You were into the boy, no doubt. His charming personality additional to the kind of dorky thing he had going on, you loved it. A month after the initial meeting, he had finally got the courage to ask you to hang out with him. It was probably the most adorable thing you’d ever seen watching him stumble upon his words.

Now you sat with him on the rooftop of his apartment building.

A picnic blanket had been laid for the both of you by Miles himself, and his mother had made snacks.

You had just met his mother, Rio. The sweetest woman you’d probably ever met. And by the way Miles and Rio interacted, you could only think how good of a man he was.

You can always tell the intentions of a man, by his treatment of his mother.

“Your ma is really nice.”

“You think? She’s kinda protective of me.” He turned to look at you through his peripheral, leaving enough space it wasn’t obvious. “I think it’s cute, she cares for you, y’know?” You shifted yourself to face him, the Sundown light glittering against his smooth skin. He looked beautiful here, you thought. He looks beautiful everywhere.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Good, ‘s always good to know you’re loved.”

Miles’ heart stuttered in his chest, sucking in a quick breath and turning himself to face you.

“Mhmm.”

You looked up at him, leaning on your hand, drifting closer to him subconsciously.

He let himself drift as well, your voices quieting without either knowledge.

“Miles?” Your soft words questioned him, doey eyes gazing up at him, heart on your sleeve.

“I wanna—“ His sentence was cut off, a blaring siren sounding in his head, nerves.

“I think I might..—“

He huffed, mad at himself for being unable to speak.

“Do you want- Holy shit.”

You laughed, leaning back, a genuine glee in your eye.

“Do I want holy shit?-“ You giggled, he felt his heart flutter along with his disappointment (once more).

“-Not really, no.” You kept giggling, the serenity of your moment with Miles and his fumbling an apparent treat to you. He buried his face in his hands and groaned loudly. Only furthering your hysteria, “Leave me alone.” He dragged the ‘lone’ dramatically before flopping back against the blankets. Huffing and staring up at you from his spot. The smile on your face was a quick fix for his soured mood, not that it was that sour in the first place. But knowing a moment of undeniable spark like that, had you smiling and giggling after, even if it led to nothing. Had his hopes and his pulse rate rising.

—

Miles was head over heels for you. He was smitten, a total and complete dog for your affection. Sitting at home sulking when you weren’t there to hang out with him. Making you add his steam solely so he can play games with you.

A puppy of a man, god he wasn’t even ashamed.

“Dude, you just need’a ask ‘em out already.” Hobie served no help to his ever growing dilemma with you, but did serve to humiliate his seemingly non-existed romantic experience. “I’m *trying, man. They just keeps misunderstanding.” “Are they taking the hint?” “What hint?” He looked up from his slouched spot in his gaming chair. Spinning the thing in circles idly. “You haven’t given ‘em a hint?” Hobie blanched at Miles, like it was some obvious mistake.

“What. Hint.”

“Oh my god, Miles.”

—

He still didn’t get it, Hobie had explained his way of ‘hinting’ to someone he liked them. Through slight touches and subtle looks, a wink here and there. But not a cringey wink (Miles would argue they’re all cringey.), the ones where you feel like you’re part of a secret. This would be helpful to him, sure. If had hadn’t done everything with you already, except the winking, that is.

He did touch you, he did catch your eye when everyone else around looked away. He kissed your forehead and held your hand. You seemed borderline allergic to walking without you arm linked through his. All of there’s things that Hobie said were couple things, he’d already nailed. So why couldn’t you just.. date each other?

“I don’t know, it’s not like that.”

“But it is,” Hobie pointed to the centre of Mile’s’ forehead and flicked. “You guys are quite literally already dating.” “No, not really?”

“Oh my god you’re clueless.”

Hobie sighed, jumping off the bed and stretching his arms above his head. Miles grumbling a pouted ‘am not..’, Hobie settled him a look, taking a deep breath and continuing.

“Miles, mate, You both go to each other for comfort. You cry to each other, you find solace in one another. You touch and cuddle and sleep in the same bed.” He took another breath, seemingly needing a lot, “The only things you’re missing, are kissing each other for real. And calling each other your partners.”

“And if they end up saying no?”

“Then i’ll smash my guitar.”

Miles paused, considering the severity.

“Okay, okay i’ll do it.”

“Thank fuck.”—

—

+one

Miles had spent the better of an entire afternoon hyping himself up (and subsequently psyching himself out), before he finally had managed to make it your door and knock.

He was beyond nervous, the jitters in his bones crawling under his skin like spiders. Worse than normal, he observed.

A shuffle from inside your apartment had brought him back down to Earth. Everything suddenly becoming very real to him as you opened the door grumpily.

“Oh i’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“Oh, Miles!” Your pout had almost instantly been lifted, a smile grazing your face sleepily, it was so late, he shouldn’t have come.

“I’m so sorry- It’s late. I should—“

“No!”

“No?”

It was your turn to get bashful, twisting the hem of your shirt in your hands nervously. “Stay Miles.”

He softened, posture relaxing at your tone.

“Don’t want you running away again.”

That caught his attention. “Wha-“ “I was wondering when you’d finally show up outta’ the blue.” You glanced down to his lips then back. The amber in his eyes haunting your dreams, in such a welcomed way.

Miles couldn’t take it, with the way you spoke, so soft and fragile. To the things you were saying, confident and headstrong. He couldn’t fucking take it.

His hands shot up to your face, caressing the curves of your cheeks and slope of your jaw. The trails of hair behind your ears his fingers just grazed. He brought himself down to your height once more, standing on your porch step. Like some sappy rom-com.

“Tell me to stop.” He was near breathless. You didn’t, you didn’t say a thing. You simply carded your deft hands over thick curls, and pulled him down to meet you. His eyes fluttered closed and lips met yours. He felt like crying.

Like after the months of pining for you. For trying and trying for your love, for your affection, that everything in his life had only ever led to this one point. And everything farther was his happy ending. The spiders under his skin stopped crawling, settling into the crooks of his bones and finding home. He wasn’t shaking. He was still.

And as you pulled away to breathe, ogling up at him with nothing but love to give he smiled and laughed just like you did.

ITS FUCKING 3 AM I GENUINELY HAVENT SLEPT THIS IS SO CUTE

(he is ⬇️)

#miles morales x reader #miles x reader #miles morales x you #spiderverse x reader #miles morales #hobie brown #miles 1610 #2 + 1 things

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pseudowho · 4 months

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hi haitch!! do you have any works about hiromi worried about his hair getting too grey too fast? if not... could you...? 🥺

Domestic Bliss: Higuruma Hiromi #4, Silver Fox

Hiromi leant on his desk, elbows planted and face buried deeply in his palms. The stress would surely kill him. He wondered, vaguely, about making his life insurance policy more generous, in the likely event of him dying young. At least, then, you'd be looked after.

After another lost case, however, Hiromi saw it as far more likely that he'd murder the Judge and Prosecutor instead. He laughed to himself, a chuckle ringing through the empty office. As if.

Running his fingers through his hair with a groan, and gazing into his palms, Hiromi's stomach dropped. At least half of the stray hairs caught in his fingers were...grey.

Hiromi felt them in dismay, his mouth comedically downturned. Coarse. Almost wiry. Nothing like his usual silky black hair, those corvid feathers that you loved so much, now being devoured by time, and shit, I'm starting to look like an old man I can't have it she'll hate it I can barely keep up as it is fuck fuck fuck--

Hiromi stood with a groan, and stopped himself, sounding like his grandfather. He caught his own eye in the reflection of the shining gold tellers' lamp on his desk. He pointed to himself, stern.

"Get your shit together, Higuruma."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Arriving home late, you stepped straight into the other side of a striptease. A discarded black and white suit led an enticing trail to the bathroom, in the order of: shoes, suit jacket, socks, shirt, trousers. You kicked your own shoes off, following the trail with a jaunty call.

"If I get in there, and you're still wearing boxers, I'll be very disappoi--...Hiromi, what on earth are you doing?"

Hiromi sat on a kitchen chair in front of the bathroom mirror, surrounded by the sickly sweet scent of hair dye, the remnants of a box scattered around the sink. With a towel around his shoulders, and solemn eyes, Hiromi held out the prepared bottle of dye to you.

"Help me?" He begged, his voice small.

You sighed, stripping off slowly to your skirt and blouse. Hiromi waggled the bottle at you, which you took, and stepped in front of him. He would not catch your eye. You ran your fingers through Hiromi's hair, and he couldn't help but purr, leaning into your touch. Your fingernails across his scalp never failed to make his cock twitch.

"And why do you think you need this?" You asked, pressing Hiromi's forehead forwards against the plush of your belly. "I thought you loved your hair."

"Yes, quite. Loved. Past-tense." You looped your finger through the strands of silver and black, like crema on an americano.

"Well, I love it. Right now. Present-tense."

"You're just trying to make me feel better--"

"--of course I am, I'm your wife--"

"--who deserves someone not even half as decrepit as me--"

"--who deserves to see you age. And mature, like wine, or cheese, or Maggie Smith--"

Hiromi grabbed your hands, standing and pressing you backwards against the sink. His towel slid from his shoulders, leaving him in just his boxers as he glowered over you, stern and authoritative in a way you rarely got to see him. A wave of heat burst from your heart, outwards.

"Enough. I hate it. Get rid of them for me. Please, I'm...not ready yet. Not ready to get old. It feels...everything feels wrong. Something feels...wrong."

You swallowed, and allowed him to lift you onto the counter, looping your arms around his shoulders as he tried to bury himself into you. You felt an eerie disquiet trickle, cold, down the back of your neck.

"Hiromi...you're not old. Grey doesn't mean old. You've just...lived. You're beautiful. My silver fox."

Hiromi sighed, the hot puff of air from his nose against your neck. Stress rolled off him in waves. You stroked his hair again, cradling his head against you. Hiromi murmured.

"I'm sorry, it's just...what a stupid last straw." He berated himself. "My fucking hair. I knew there were a few greys, but-- just-- not that many."

Hiromi was silent again, the nuzzles of his nose growing needy, almost aggressive as they built, his lips dropping petals against your skin. You locked his hips between yours, satisfied by the shudder he rewarded you with, his cock straining against your core. He mumbled through his kisses, fragile.

"...Oe's case tomorrow. Oe Keita. I just wanted to feel...vibrant. Powerful. Not washed out, not ugly, like-- like--"

You silenced Hiromi, slipping your hand flat against the black trail of hair on his belly, your fingertips grazing the base of his cock. He swore, bucking into your touch, shoving his boxers down to free his weeping cock. You whispered to him.

"Not ugly. Yes, powerful. And you'll be amazing. You always are." Hiromi moved with urgency now, yanking your skirt up, and your panties aside. Stroking his tip between your folds, his corded shoulders heaved with the clawing need for relief.

"Even if I'm late home," Hiromi gasped, as he pressed himself inside you, gripping you before you could squirm away, "even--even if I'm late-- wait for me-- please--"

"Always." You whispered, carding your fingers through those feathers of black and grey, arching with bliss as you felt him begin to move within you. "Just...come home to me. Just as you are, now. Present-tense."

#pseudowho #higuruma hiromi #higuruma hiromi x reader #higuruma #higuruma smut #higuruma x reader #hiromi higuruma #hiromi higuruma x reader #jjk higuruma #jujutsu kaisen higuruma #higuruma hiromi smut #higuruma hiromi x you #higuruma hiromi fluff #hiromi jjk #Higuruma Hiromi angst #Higuruma angst #hiromi x reader #hiromi smut #pseudowho answers you

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tinybrooms · 7 months

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Our Last day, or maybe the first - Pt 2 Thomas Hewitt x fem Reader

NOTE: Since part two was very acclaimed, I want to clarify that I have gained confidence and will bring more than a second part, I also want to say that this is an adaptation of the movie but with changes made by me so that the character fits better with the environment, I hope you enjoy my work, love for all here ♥

Summary: Is Thomas last day on the slaughterhouse and a pretty girl is going to help him today...or forever

Warning: Murders, Workplace Harassmen, hard vocabulary, Stockholm syndrome

Part 1 here!

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Tears were rolling down your cheeks as you looked out the dirty window of the police car, you knew there was no escape, there would be no way for you to run away from the Hewitt's without getting killed and you had to find a way to make everything as good as possible for you and for them

-You're very quiet, honey - the old man looked at you in the rearview mirror with a sarcastic smile - Nothing bad is going to happen to you, Tommy wouldn't let someone hurt you, right?

Your eyes barely looked at him and quickly returned to the window trying to control your sobs, you felt more than insecure in that car with that disgusting man, for some strange reason you knew that Thomas was also someone dangerous, his hands could break your bones with a single squeeze if he wanted, but his mere presence made you feel safe, as if you had this giant beast in the palm of your hand who would be willing to do anything you asked, everything except let you go.

-We have arrived, come down before Thomas arrives, we don't want him to find you here and get angry, do we? - The man smiled opening your door in a sarcastic way of being a gentleman.

You had no other option, so you went down carefully, the visibly overgrown grass scraped your legs as you walked behind him towards the huge house, many questions were running through your head while your eyes looked everywhere looking for a quick way to escape but everything seemed useless, Thomas should be nearby and could reach you at any second and end your life.

The house was dirty, there was dust everywhere and stains on the wooden floor that seemed to have never been polished the footsteps sounded as you entered a room where a man even older than the one who had brought you to that house was looking the television

-Go get ready Uncle Monty, we have a beautiful guest today and we will have a great feast for dinner - the disgusting man smiled looking at you touching your chin to which you only reacted by turning your face in disgust.

-Who is she? ..- the old man with glasses sat up looking at your body from head to toe while he scratched his crotch.

-She is Tommy's girlfriend, pretty don't you think? The boy is very lucky - they both laughed looking at you and then felt something cold on your arm which made you turn your head noticing how the now ''sheriff'' was pointing a gun at you - walk pretty girl, we don't want Thomas to arrive and found a hole in your beautiful body, right?

Your eyes widened as you walked in front of the man, guiding you to where he told you, climbing the long stairs towards a corridor that was barely illuminated by the poor rays of sun that came through the windows.

-Here, this will be your room come in now - the barrel of the gun pushed you in the center of your back, making you enter a room arranged in a feminine way but even dirtier than the rest of the house, it was obvious that no one had entered to that place in a long time, there was dust even on the bed and spiderwebs on the night lamps - make yourself comfortable, Tommy will arrive soon

The man closed the door leaving you standing in the middle of the large room and after a few seconds making sure he didn't come back quickly you ran to the window to open it and look into what seemed like an abyss, if you jumped out of it you wouldn't get out without a broken bone if you weren't lucky enough to be killed by hitting the floor.

You were trapped by that family of murderers, there was nothing to do just wait for them to end your life.

Your feet slid against the floor, sitting against the window while you hugged your legs crying, your tears wet your skirt, you could only hear your own sobs and heavy breathing losing track of time until you heard the door open, your wet eyes trying to focus was he the disgusting old man? or maybe Thomas?, you could notice a small, plump figure taking slow and careful steps approaching

-Don't worry, I won't hurt you - a kind, feminine voice sounded as the woman's hand extended so you could take it and help you get up from your place on the floor - tell me your name little one.

-y/n…my name is Y/n…please don't hurt me - your voice was broken between your cries of desperation and fear.

-I'm not, come to bed with me - the woman walked slowly guiding you to the bed while she made a gesture of disgust when she saw all the accumulated dust and sat you down next to her - I'm mama, Thomas is my little boy ya'know, he's my Baby you must be the girl from the slaughterhouse right?

-Yes, I worked with him in that place-your free hand carefully cleaned your cheek while your other hand held it Luda caressing it slowly with her thumb

-I see, you are a pretty girl and you look like those educated people who are not stupid like we are - her eyes looked at you with little kindness - I know what you are doing, you are kind to Thomas so you don't end up like his boss right?

-No…I…I don't - your head shook quickly, looking at her - I would never treat Thomas like everyone else treated him, I was just kind and…and I ended up here, I don't know what I did wrong, I didn't want to hurt him, i don't want to hurt no one - your crying again made Luda soften her gaze realizing what they had put into you.

-Don't worry, you see Thomas won't let you go soon, it's the first time I've seen him be different from how he's always been and I don't want you to break his heart, try to get to know him, my boy is a sweet man, give him a chance and we'll give you a chance

Her hand delicately patted yours, standing up looking at you from the doorway giving a deep sigh.

-You better remember what I told you, dinner will be ready in a while, get ready to look good.

What was happening with that woman's words, they seemed to go round and round in your head, should you give them a chance?

You walk to the bathroom and was disgusting, clearly the same as the room, so with just a little water you cleaned your hands and face, just the thought that you would be downstairs surrounded by strange people made you feel nauseous but something even deeper made you miss Thomas, he hadn't shown up all day or maybe not in the room and you were curious to know where he was.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the figure that was looking at you from the bathroom door which you could see in the reflection of the mirror and made you jump in fear.

-I see that you are getting pretty for dinner, mama wants you to come down and join us, we put another plate for you - the old man dressed in a police uniform smiled at you, rudely looking at your body to which you could only respond with your gaze towards him the floor settling slightly.

You followed him through the dark corridor barely lit by a couple of lamps and then up the stairs that made every step you took sound with a creak in the wood.

-Look who has arrived, our beautiful guest will be with us tonight - the old man moved a chair away from the table, inviting you to sit down, you just approached with fear, sitting down without saying anything, looking at everyone around you, there was the old man with glasses. and the woman who looked at you through the strands of her blonde hair.

The plate was in front of you, empty and cleaner than you expected, the song that played on the old radio in the distance made you dissociate from the speech that the man was giving until you heard his gratitude to the ''sheriff for accompanying them that night on the table'' your eyes traveled quickly to the casserole, just as everyone was in disbelief at what they were going to have for dinner that night.

-Don't worry doll, just like in the slaughterhouse, meat is meat - the man smiled sarcastically, serving you what looked like a stew on your plate.

-I'm not hungry…thank you - you looked at him with fear, regretting your words when everyone looked at you with some annoyance.

-Food is sacred and we must be grateful for what the Lord gives us, now eat - Luda looked at you, scolding you apparently she had taken what they had told her very seriously, now you were her ''little girl''

It was after a few minutes when you heard a door open but no one came in, it just stayed open until the policeman looked and smiled a little excitedly, moving his hand inviting whoever was in the shadows to come through.

-Come here boy, we don't want you to miss this first dinner with your girl, right? - The old man served another plate, placing it next to yours.

Thomas doubted it a little but after sighing (which almost sounded like a growl) taking courage, he entered with his head down, sitting down sadly and despite being next to you, he took his distance.

Your eyes stared at him, as if his face had a magnet for you, he looked different, he was no longer wearing the bloody apron, his clothes were clean as were his face and his hands, even his nails looked clean and with a pink color that you had never noticed

-Don't they look cute together mama?

-Shut your mouth Charlie, stop bothering them and eat once and for all - The woman looked at him, annoyed, eating from her plate.

-Hoyt mom, Charlie is dead now my name is Hoyt

The tension could be felt in the air, despite the conversation that the other three were having, you felt their gaze on you as if waiting for you to make a mistake in something so they could kill you but there was no way that was going to happen, your mind was somewhere else while Your hand slowly turned the spoon inside the plate, playing with the food, losing your appetite more and more, sometimes you felt your eyes get wet but you took a deep breath and convinced yourself that everything would be fine, at least for a couple of days in what you found how to escape from that place.

Your trance was broken when Luda took your plate pushing it away, scolding you again for not eating anything.

-I'm…I'm sorry, I don't feel at all well - you looked at her embarrassed and afraid with your hands in your lap - can I go and rest?

-It's been a long day, hasn't it? Come on, go rest honey - the woman patted your shoulder lightly and then took another plate and walked to the kitchen.

As soon as you heard those words you stood up as quickly as you could, almost running to the stairs, the only thing you wanted was to get out of that place and be alone, but when you got to the room and made sure that the door was closed properly you realized the problem which you had gotten yourself into.

Being careful not to make noise, you began to clean the place, at least dusting the nightstands, removing the spiderwebs and also arranging the sheets, leaving only those that looked cleanest, you opened the window wide so that the breeze from the night could enter and when you were ready you sat on the bed.

You carefully removed your heels that, despite being low, made your ankles hurt, then you removed the bun from your hair, feeling a relief in your skull and finally you opened the buttons of your blouse, opening it completely to take it off but something stopped you making you close it quickly with fear when hearing the door suddenly open.

-Thom..Thomas hi - you looked at him embarrassed, closing the blouse in a hurry, your hands securing the fabric, looking at him nervously.

He just approached slowly, with his gaze everywhere but on you.

-What are you doing here? -Despite the little light in the room you could see his eyes through the long strands of his hair.

But the huge man only stretched out his arm towards you, offering you something that he was hiding in his giant hand and making you copy his gesture but in your case offering your palm to receive what he was going to offer you.

-What's that? -You looked at him curiously, his fingers barely touching the palm of your hand as they opened, letting an apple fall out- oh…is it for me?

Thomas just nodded, looking at the other side of the room. Over the years he had learned to be careful and alert to every situation that happened around him and with you, his sensors worked harder than normal, noticing every millimetric gesture you made. He knew that you had not eaten anything and the humanity that still remained inside him made him know that that was not fair for you, after all you were there because he wanted it that way, not because you chose it.

-Thank you, I'll eat it before going to sleep - you smiled shyly, taking the apple with both hands, looking at it carefully, trying to look for any defects but it was perfect - are you going to sleep too?

He just shook his head, playing with his hands as they grabbed the fabric of his pants and after so many months you could notice his arms, which now that they were clean showed scars and wounds that still looked open.

-Thomas, what happened to you? are you hurt? - Your natural state of worry made you leave the apple on the bed, approaching him, but he just rejected your touch, moving away, making you also walk away from him in fear - I'm sorry, I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, it's just… you are injured

He shook his head, looking at his arms, quickly lowering the sleeves of his shirt covering himself and before you could say anything else he quickly left slamming the door so hard that it made the nightstands shake.

Had you done something wrong? His rejection made you feel something inside your chest, a pinch that made you sigh as you sat down and took the apple again, looking at it carefully with the night light.

What was it you felt? After all, you weren't there for pleasure, but strangely he made you feel it.

Part 3 Soon...

Tag List: @leslie-sawyer @nonfunctionalmf @multy-fandom-lover @trainboom @not-neverland06 @venussinsreblog

#slasher #slasher community #slasher fandom #texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw massacre the beggining #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt fluff #thomas hewitt x reader #slasher x reader #tcm #thomas hewitt smut #texas chainsaw the beginning #the texas chainsaw massacre

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iveleftitwithyou · 5 months

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casual | paul lahote x reader smut

NSFW | 18+ | minors DNI | word count: 2.38k

warnings: smut, dom!paul, slight angst, mention of fighting, i think that's it?

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i asked you guys if i should post this now or incorporate it into ruderal, and the result was overwhelmingly to post it now, so here it is with some plot adjustments! i've been OBSESSED with this song by chappell roan and knew i needed to make it into an imagine, although this song is probably about a woman lol. highly recommend listening to the song as you read this. this is my first time EVER writing smut so i hope its not too bad - as always, let me know what you think :)

ALSO this is in an alternate timeline where the guys are all like 21+ and so is y/n :)

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Paul’s hand lingered on your thigh as he drove the winding road back to Forks, his thumb rubbing small circles on your outer leg. the radio hummed with a song you couldn’t manage to pay attention to, instead focusing your gaze on the motion of his finger on your bare thigh. while you assumed the gesture was meant to comfort you, it did a lot more than that. you hoped that the darkness would obscure Paul’s peripheral vision enough for him to not realize you were ogling his muscular arms and unusually large hands. his veins protruded in a way that drove you crazy for some reason, and as much as you were still upset with him, you couldn’t help the rush of hormones that flooded at the sight.

Embry had made some stupid joke about you at the bonfire at Emily's that night, a common occurrence when you hung out with the pack. he didn’t mean anything by it, you joked around with each other like that all the time, but Paul had been extra sensitive for the last few weeks as he spent more hours on patrol. Victoria’s looming presence and the mystery murders happening around Washington meant the reservation needed increased protection, and the men in the pack had to step up. Embry’s comment led to a fight where the pair both phased, snarling and snapping until they both came to their senses and things went back to normal. you hated when Paul shifted because of you, even if it was just indirectly your fault like it was tonight.

you two were meant to be casual, despite Paul having imprinted on you, as you had just gotten out of a long-term relationship and weren’t ready to commit to someone again. you’d been seeing each other casually for months, hanging out, and getting to know each other better. as much as you were hesitant to let him into your life completely, you couldn’t deny your attraction to Paul. he’d been nothing but a gentleman thus far, bringing you flowers on dates, opening doors for you, and following your boundaries to a T, terrified to mess anything up with you. of course, his physical form was unlike anything you’d ever seen - you were lucky that he preferred to hang out without a shirt on. things had gotten hot and heavy between you two a few times but hadn’t gone farther than some very intense making out. though, the way Paul’s hand touched you now was enough for you to throw those boundaries out the window; you wanted him - no, needed him.

you focused your eyes back on the road in front of you, only being able to see as far as the truck’s dim headlights illuminated. breathe in, breathe out, you reminded yourself, trying to calm down the butterflies in your stomach. you were unsuccessful, and it didn’t help that Paul’s hand was inching closer and closer to your hips.

suddenly, his hand snaked further inward and his grip tightened, engulfing your inner thigh. your breath hitched, and you unsuccessfully tried to mask it as a cough. you saw Paul smirk out of the corner of your eye, but he didn’t look over at you.

you once again reminded yourself to breathe as the ache between your legs became more apparent. his hand loosened its grip and continued its journey towards your core. half of you thought about stopping him purely as punishment for fighting with Embry, but the much louder other half wouldn’t dream of it right now.

you couldn’t help but let out a small groan as his hand finally reached your jean shorts, his fingers tracing the seam that ran between your legs. the slight pressure he applied drove you absolutely crazy as you wished for more friction.

the sound that escaped your lips seemed to do something to Paul as he let out a breathy groan of his own. “alright, that’s it,” he mumbled, turning the wheel toward the side of the road. he must have known exactly where you were because he easily pulled the truck behind a set of bushes that obscured most of it from the road. any passerbys, which were few and far between at this time of night anyway, wouldn’t notice the vehicle.

almost as soon as he slammed the gear shift into park, his lips were on yours. he kissed you with a passion you’d never felt before. you melted into his lips, reminding yourself for the third time that night that if you didn’t start breathing, you would pass out. he gripped the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair as you continued to make out. his other hand traveled down your arm, to your hip, and unbuckled the seatbelt you’d been wearing. in one swift, but slightly awkward motion, he disconnected your lips for a brief moment and grabbed each side of your hips, pulling you across the center console onto his lap. you were careful not to lean too far and hit the horn with your back as you settled onto him, silently thanking Paul for owning such a spacious truck. your knees settled on either side of his legs.

as you sat down on his lap, you brushed his hardening length with the same seam of your shorts his hand was just on, eliciting a quiet moan from both of you. impatient, Paul once again gripped your scalp and slammed your lips together. you allowed your hands to slip underneath the hem of his shirt, feeling the outline of the muscles on his bare abdomen. this feeling, combined with the warmth radiating from his bare skin, drove you insane.

“take- it- off-” you mumbled in between kisses, tugging the hem upwards. you were unsure of where the forwardness came from, but you didn’t stop long enough to be embarrassed.

“you don’t get to tell me what to do,” he snarked half-jokingly but obliged.

the moonlight streaming in from the windshield was just enough for you to be able to see the outline of his pecs and abs, and you really couldn’t help but stare.

“like what you see?” he chuckled, noticing your eyes widening at his physique.

you nodded, unable to form words, instead opting to smash your lips back together with all of the strength you could muster. you’d had enough of looking flustered - you wanted to take initiative.

you raised your hips again, pushing your abdomen against Paul's and lowering yourself onto his member. you rocked your hips back and forth as he moved his lips down your cheek, then your jaw, and eventually to your neck. the friction as you continued to grind against him elicited a low growl against your neck as his lips attached to your skin. you moaned embarrassingly loudly as he sucked at the delicate skin, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be sheepish. in fact, the only emotion surging through your body right now was pure desire for the god-like man leaving a series of hickeys on your neck.

“Paul, that’s gonna leave a mark,” you whined. you knew you’d regret letting him do it in the morning but right now you wanted nothing more than for him to mark you as his. you wanted to be his.

“don’t want anyone else getting any ideas. you’re all mine,” he retorted, lifting his head up to look you in the eyes. his were almost completely black with lust. “say it.” he commanded, holding your jaw tightly in his hand. “say you’re mine.”

“i’m all yours, Paul” you panted, your hips continuing to move back and forth on Paul’s lap as you stared into his dark eyes. despite your relationship still being undefined, truer words had never been spoken.

“good girl. now shut the fuck up and get back in the passenger seat.” his harsh words did nothing to discourage you from obeying as you scrambled to sit back where you were a few minutes prior. this was a side of Paul you had only seen when he was angry: dark, commanding, dominating. usually, you would have to try to calm him down when he got like this, but right now, you were very much enjoying him telling you what to do. you already missed the warmth of his body on yours as you climbed back over to the other seat, but you instinctually knew better than to voice your complaints right now.

Paul leaned across the console, reaching his hand between your knees and under the seat to move it back as far as it would go. once he was satisfied with that, he reached across your lap and pulled the reclining handle, his other hand helping to lower the seat back slowly so you weren’t sent flying backward.

“scooch back” he ordered again, and you moved your hips backward on the seat, supporting yourself with your elbows on the very edge of the seat near the headrest.

you were confused as he opened the driver-side door and hopped out of the truck. you watched as he opened the passenger-side door, it becoming clear now what his plan was. you pulled your knees towards your chest as he climbed back in, kneeling on the floor mat in front of you. god damn, this truck was spacious, and you were incredibly grateful for that right now.

his large hands fumbled to unbutton your shorts. he pulled the zipper down and you lifted your hips, followed by your legs, so he could slide them off. not wanting to wait another second, he pulled your underwear to the side and connected his thumb to your clit. you let out a loud gasp at the sensation and he chuckled proudly, knowing how good he was making you feel. Paul rubbed small, tight circles on the sensitive nub for a few seconds before you felt a finger dip into your wet folds. a guttural moan escaped your throat as you finally got the sensation you had been waiting for since his hand had rested on your thigh earlier in the night.

he added a second finger shortly after and continued to pump in and out of your heat, his thumb continuing its circular motions on your clit. you could feel your orgasm building inside of your core, and it was almost euphoric knowing it was Paul making you feel like this.

“Paul, i’m gonna-” you moaned, getting close to the edge. “what the fuck?” he’d removed his fingers altogether upon hearing this and you were not happy about it.

“patience, princess.” he chuckled, making eye contact with you once again as he raised his fingers to his mouth to taste you on them. you were still pissed at him for teasing you like that, but the sound he made as he licked your wetness off himself almost made it worth it. almost.

“let’s take these off, shall we? or should i rip them off?” his fingers slipped under the waistband of your underwear.

“don’t you dare,” the one rational brain cell you had left replied, lifting your hips for him to slide them off like he did the shorts. you liked this pair. Paul held your hips back down as he spread your legs open, leaning his torso over the seat until you could feel his breath between your legs, amplified by the wetness that had come with the teasing.

“god, you look so fucking good” he took a second to admire the sight before him before he groaned lustfully and connected his tongue to your cunt. he made quick work of finding all the right spots to hit, causing your legs to tremble and your eyes to roll back in your head. at this rate, you wouldn’t last long, but you never wanted this moment to end.

“oh, fuck,” you moaned as he continued to circle the sensitive nub with his tongue. you had never felt this connected to someone before, not any of your exes. no one had ever made you feel as good as Paul was in this moment. as he continued the motions of his tongue, you realized Paul was perfect for you in every way, including this one. it was like pre-nut clarity.

you felt the pressure building up again, somehow even stronger than last time, unable to contain your moans. “fuck, Paul, i’m gonna cum” you groaned, arching your back against the seat as Paul continued to hold your hips down harshly against it. you figured there would be bruises there tomorrow, and the thought of him marking you up even more only exacerbated your growing orgasm.

“cum for me, princess” Paul mumbled against your clit, giving you permission to let go. it only took a couple more swipes for you to come completely unglued against his mouth.

Paul gradually slowed down his motions, guiding you through your orgasm as your hips attempted to buck against his face, craving the stimulation. eventually, your brain started to function again, and the first thing you thought was that that was definitely the best orgasm you’d ever had. you couldn’t tell Paul that, though - it would boost his ego way too much, and he already had a huge one to begin with. the second thought that went through your head was that you were ready for Paul to be your boyfriend. no man could eat you out that good and get away from you.

he admired his work as you panted in front of him, a smirk of pride on his face. he loved knowing he was the one who made you feel so good. he raised himself up on his knees to hover over you, one arm resting on the seat to support himself as the other snaked behind your back to pull you to his chest. you wrapped your arms around his back, settling your face in the crook of his neck. your breaths were soon in time with each other, basking in the body heat radiating from the both of you.

you could have stayed like that forever, but after a few minutes, Paul pulled back slightly to look you in the eyes. he seemed deep in thought before he smiled and opened his mouth to ask you a simple question: “is it casual now?”

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part 2 here :)

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heartpascal · 6 months

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i was born waiting

▹— joel miller x daughter!reader

▹— summary: you’ve been looking for your dad for as long as you can remember, is this really him?

▹— a/n: hi! i started writing this september ‘23, so it has. it’s been a WHILE. so if this seems jumpy / not consistent then that is why! sorry!!! i have done my best!!!

▹— warnings: canon-typical violence and themes, weapons, parental death, witnessing parental death, aka insane amounts of trauma, death in general, she/her pronouns, reader is biologically related to joel but no mentions of appearance, no mention of her bio mother’s appearance either, fantasising about being dead (sorry), all hurt zero comfort, attempted murder, unrealistic expectations of someone you never met — please let me know if ive missed anything!

▹— taglist: @rhymingtree @sleepygraves @wnstice (everything), @auggiesolovey @just-kaylaa @evyiione @lemonlaides @fariylixie0915 @faceache111 @randomhoex @canpillowscry @pedropascalsrealgf @star-wars-lover @coolchick333 @soobsdior @rvjaa @sunflowersdrop @definitely-not-a-seagull-i-swear @miss-celestial-being @hqkon

MASTERLIST

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

There are certain things from your childhood that you can remember vividly. Though, really, childhood is a bit of a stretch, isn’t it? It’s hard to find the right word to encompass the way you had grown up, because you didn’t have much of a chance to actually grow.

From the moment you had been born, your life was a battle of staying alive to see another day.

That’s not to say that your mother didn’t do her best for you, obviously. But it was hard to raise a child as a child in the midst of a global apocalypse. You were bound to end up the way you did — moulded and hardened by the world around you, by having to pick up a gun at seven years old and use it to protect your mother. By never putting that gun back down.

For the past few years, you had known your mother was suffering. The world had been anything but kind to her, and age was hitting her harder than she had expected. More than the physical aspect, you knew it had been destroying her, the fact that you were now the one protecting her and not the other way around.

But what choice did you have? Her aging body had left her fragile, prone to falling and breaking even more frail bones. You could see the strain on her muscles, as they slowly decayed and shrunk, until they were barely there at all. You couldn’t let her carry the burden for you anymore, because you knew her body couldn’t handle it.

You had been preparing yourself for that moment, though. Making sure that you were ready, that you were strong enough for the both of you, strong enough to shoulder the burden she had been carrying for years.

When you were growing up, your mother had told you tales of your father.

She had told you all about how strong he had been, how he had been the best man she had ever known. She told you how he had cared for his daughter before you, how he had been the best father to that girl. When you were old enough to comprehend these things, you’d asked what had happened to him. “Is dad dead?” You had asked her, watching the way her face fell.

“I don’t know, honey. I hope not.” She had responded, smiling sadly at you, and patting her hand against your cheek.

It was hard for you to let go of that.

The uncertainty had haunted you for the rest of your life since that very moment, leaving you wondering for hours at a time where he could possibly be, why he would ever leave your mother to carry this responsibility alone. And in your more selfish moments, you couldn’t help but wonder why he wasn’t here to care for you as he had his daughter before you.

For a long time, you had convinced yourself that he was dead, despite what your mother hoped. And sure, you felt that loss, something like mourning weighing you down, but it was the only way you felt you could accept his absence. He had to be dead, because otherwise, why wasn’t he here?

But as you grew up, getting taller, stronger, you felt like you could rationalise his absence even if he wasn’t dead. After all, the apocalypse wasn’t exactly family friendly. You figured that if your mother didn’t know whether or not your dad was alive, that the same could go for him. He might just think that you and your mom died, years ago. After all, how many pregnant women survived the end of the world?

You have a feeling that the answer would have to be not many.

So, really, you and your mother being alive by now was nothing short of a miracle. It was a testament to your mother’s strength, her ability. She had succeeded where so many others had failed, and she had managed to keep both herself and you alive.

It’s a bitter kind of irony that you can’t do the same.

The last dredges of autumn fall away, leading into the coldest and harshest part of the year. Winter is hard — it’s full to the brim with fresh Infected, the ones not yet frozen solid, and resources are more scarce than ever. And this winter feels like something tangible, something which sends unending waves of dread through you.

Your mother gets weaker by the day, spending more time resting than moving, and you spend as much time as you can keeping her warm, finding food and water and pain relief for her broken arm that didn’t heal right. She’s exhausted, you can see it in her face, in her every movement. And you’re pretty sure it’s not just from the lack of rest. She watches you with dulled eyes, something like heartbreak reflecting in them.

For a long time, you pretend not to notice.

You pretend that you don’t see the way she lags behind, just watching you move away from her with speed she can’t quite manage any longer. You pretend that you don’t see the way she hesitates before taking her painkillers, or her food, or the last sip of water.

This year, the winter brings something worse than the cold. A bug, spreading across the state in a way that was familiar to so many. Not quite the Infection, but still able to take out people with ease.

When your mother catches it, you physically felt your heart clench in your chest. You felt it squeezing all of the blood around your body so quickly that you became dizzy with it. There’s a panic so deep that you can’t climb your way out of it. For days, weeks, you’re certain that you’ve lost her. That after everything, everything you’ve done, everything the two of you have been through, a cold would be the end of it all.

But then, she gets better.

The little strength she had before the sickness returns to her, bringing some colour back to her skin, some ease back to her breathing.

Religion wasn’t a thing in the apocalypse. Not really. But if you had believed in God, you would’ve thanked every one that might’ve existed for giving you this. This miracle. This small mercy.

The two of you are in an abandoned barn when it happens.

You’re dozing away, not quite asleep, but not awake either, when you hear the sound of old hay crunching underneath boots. If you weren’t so familiar with the lightness of your mother’s footsteps, you might’ve passed it off as her wandering. But these boots are heavy. They’re purposeful.

The gun in your hand means nothing when you jerk upwards, eyes snapping open and squinting through the light let into the barn by the rising winter sun. It’s an image that has since been ingrained into the back of your skull, replaying each time you close your eyes.

There, right in front of you, is your mother.

Behind her, a man, a gun pressed to the back of her skull.

Your stomach lurched suddenly in that moment, the small rationed dinner you had before dozing off trying to rise to the back of your throat, trying to race the rapid beating of your heart to see which would kill you first.

“Put down the gun.” He said, voice cold, throat dry from the winter air. The sound of his voice is printed in the base of your brain, echoing every time things around you still, go quiet.

He could be bluffing, you thought in the moment. His gun could be unloaded. It didn’t take you long to notice that the safety was off, but in those few moments, he had pressed the end of it harder into your mother’s head. You dropped the gun to the floor without another moment of thought.

You were nauseous, waiting to wake up, to realise this was all some twisted nightmare.

But you could see a look in your mother’s eyes. Acceptance. Defeat. It was almost familiar to you, so closely related to the look she had been giving you for months.

All this time, she had just been waiting to die. Waiting for something to come along and kill her off, to free you from having to take care of her. She knew that if it was up to you, that you would look after her for the rest of your goddamn life. If she lived any longer, she might just live long enough to see you die.

“Slide it over.”

You barely registered the cold pinch of metal against your palm as you pushed the gun away from you, sending it skittering over the rough ground and into the side of an old hay bale.

“Now your pack.”

There was a numbness to you as you gripped the backpack you had been leaning against, and chucked it towards where he stood behind your mother. It hit the front of his boot, but his eyes didn’t stray from where he stared at you.

“Turn around.”

You stared at him, teeth gritted together.

“No.”

There was a beat where both him and your mother just watched you. And then the surprise flickered across his face, apparently not expecting any resistance from you.

“Turn. Around.” He told you, firmer this time.

“No.”

“Okay then,” He relented, after a moment of consideration. His eyes drifted down towards your mother, who stared forwards at you. “This your daughter?” He asked, jerking his head towards you despite knowing your mother couldn’t see the movement.

“Yes, she is,” Your mother said, voice shaking, her breath clouding in front of her face as it reached the cold air. “Please, just let her be.”

He hummed, dropping his free hand down to rest heavily on your mother’s shoulder, his fingers clamping around it and not helping the way she trembled.

“So, your momma, huh?” He asked you, a smirk drawing up his face, showing smile lines around his murky blue eyes. His hair rustled in the wind, a piece falling down across his forehead. He stared at you, and you stared at him, not daring to say a word, still hoping that this whole thing was a dream. Muscles in his cheek twitched, pulling his skin taut and showing a scar across his left cheekbone. “Good.”

There was a moment where the sound didn’t register. A moment where you didn’t even realise it was your mother when the body slumped forwards. A mere moment where you didn’t think about it being her blood that splattered across your face.

The moments after that though, become blurry, hazed over, and you’re not sure it actually ever hit you that the body before you was your mother.

You’ve always had a hard time remembering that bodies were once people, that they once had lives and loved ones and thoughts and feelings. That they weren’t just bodies. So seeing her like that, as a body, not her, was wrong on so many levels. It didn’t feel real. Nothing did.

You heard the second gunshot, just a moment later, followed by a snickering laugh that you would never forget, before the pain bloomed in you.

It was buried by the shock, the complete disbelief, and you only felt the pain for mere seconds.

His gun — the one that killed your mother — was whacked across the side of your head a moment after, and that was the end of that.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Three months passed by, judging by the way the seasons turned, and you were on your own.

It was a strange feeling, really. Throughout the entirety of your life, you had never actually been alone. At least, not really. Your mother was always a small ways away, a mere shout from running to you. There had never been any true distance between the two of you until that day.

A sort of ache claws your throat each day, when you realise that it’s easier like this.

The only back you have to watch is your own, the only life you have to worry about belongs to you, and you have nothing to lose in this world. There was no terrible outcome if you were caught. Nobody else would be hurt, or suffer because of it. And you’re less likely to be caught now, when you don’t have your mother slowing you down. You don’t have to stop for the frequent rest breaks she needed, you can try to outrun Infected without worrying about someone lagging behind, and you only have yourself to feed.

If your mother had known how much easier survival was when alone, you hope that she would’ve abandoned you at birth. Because perhaps, without the burden of you upon her shoulders, she wouldn’t have fallen apart so quickly.

Sometimes, you like to think of a world where she was spared all of this. Never pregnant with you, for a start. So when the infection broke out, she would’ve only had herself to worry about. You think that maybe, one day, she would’ve been able to reunite with your father. If she hadn’t been carrying a child, she would’ve been able to manage the journey to where she believed him to be. You look at the picture that had been in the pocket of her coat for your whole life, the papers folded and clipped to the back of it, one word underlined: Boston.

You had reached a store in the weeks after that day, and when you found a map, it wasn’t difficult to notice that the direction the two of you had been heading in was to that very city.

It’s a long shot. More than a long shot, really, but you find yourself continuing in that direction regardless. You don’t know what you hope to find in Boston, whether it was your dad, or the man who had killed your mother, or perhaps just somewhere to take shelter for a while. You try not to hope for anything. You try not to focus on the fact that you might not even make it that far.

It keeps you up for days.

The uncertainty of it. The unknown. The fact that you’re walking your way to a city you know nothing about, almost certain that your mother’s killer was already there, and more than that, consumed by a fever that might kill you regardless of the where the journey took you.

The only sleep you get results in fever dreams, rippling, warping images that make your perception falter, feeling all too real until you notice that it’s not. And when you do wake up from them, it’s as if you haven’t slept at all. An exhaustion weighs heavily upon you, and your shoulders hunch over with it. There’s almost nothing you wouldn’t do to get rid of that endless feeling.

You hope—or wish, maybe— that if you reach Boston, the journey there will have tired you out so much that your body will have no choice but to rest. It’s a distant thought in your mind, though. You’re almost certain you won’t make it that far, because if the fever doesn’t get you, surely the Infected will.

It’s not as though you’re trying to get killed. But there is a kind of peace that comes with the thought. There’s an idea of rest behind it, hiding within the shadowy depths that make you scared. Would not having to fight in order to survive really be so terrible? You have this image in mind, of a never ending blackness, a void, somewhere that your thoughts and worries can just fizzle away. The small part of your fever-fried brain that has retained its rationality reminds you of the unknown. It reminds you that death could be worse than this.

You don’t like the thought. Not after that day. It’s a shuddering feeling, wondering if your mother is in some kind of unreachable hell.

By the time you’re even close to Boston, a few hours out at most, you’re out of ammo in the gun you’d found along the way. Out of food rations. No knife, no resources. You’re barely standing on two legs, kept up by the adrenaline, the knowledge alone that you’re this close.

When the tall walls of the QZ finally come into view, you start to feel some amount of hope. Which is a dangerous thing, but especially in a situation as dire as your own. You couldn’t afford any adrenaline fading, couldn’t afford to lose your cautious nature. You couldn’t make a mistake. One wrong move, one slight misstep, and you’d be as dead as your mother. Or worse, infected. Though this close to a QZ, you had some amount of relief at the knowledge that they should’ve cleared out any nearby infected. Runners, and clickers alike.

Your steps don’t falter for a moment. Partly because of your worry about the fever taking you out, but mostly because you’re certain that the FEDRA guards on watch on top of the wall will have spotted you, and you don’t want them to think you’re Infected, just because of your sickly appearance, and shoot on sight. Though, with FEDRA’s track record, it wouldn’t surprise you if they just shot you down regardless.

For a while, you’re not sure if you’re even awake, or if perhaps you were stuck in yet another fever dream. Everything felt so real and so not real simultaneously, it felt impossible to believe that you had actually made it.

Soldiers met you on your approach, calling out for you to get on the ground with your hands up. You called back some sort of response as you did so, practically collapsing to your knees and squeezing your eyes shut at the pain that followed. But despite all of it, despite the pain and the rough hands that grabbed you and pulled you forwards, through the gates and straight into a building, you had made it to Boston.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

It was maybe three weeks into being a resident of the Boston QZ that you caught wind of him for the first time. Or, at the very least, somebody who might be him. You didn’t know how common the surname Miller was, being a child of the apocalypse, but you kind of hoped the answer was uncommon.

“Goddamn Miller, again.” A man had muttered as you walked through the trading market. You paused almost instantly, pretending to peruse the feeble amount of clothes a woman had to trade. “Said we gotta go through him and Tess if we want anything, as if we gotta listen to them.” He practically spat out, glaring around as he spoke to the woman beside him.

“They’re the most well established smugglers in the whole goddamn QZ. Don’t have to tell you how, do I?” She asked, sounding more annoyed with her companion than she was with whoever Miller and Tess were. “Joel is as nasty as they come, Darren. Don’t get on the wrong side of him.”

Your heart practically stuttered to a stop in your chest, and you had to remind yourself to keep breathing. Could it possibly be a coincidence? Could there be another Joel Miller? One who wasn’t your father? Sure, it was possible. Plausible, even, considering the fact that you had absolutely no idea if he was here. Not any concrete idea, anyway. Your mother had believed as much, but who was to say she was right?

Besides, whoever this Joel Miller was didn’t sound like the man your mother had told you about. As nasty as they come didn’t have any relation to the heroic and kind and amazing father and man your mother always spoke about. Though, you knew as well as anyone what the apocalypse could do to people.

Darren didn’t say anything else to his companion. So, after a few more moments, you continued on your way, making the journey to the tiny box apartment that FEDRA had elected to you.

But even as you got there, sitting down on the poor excuse of a mattress, you couldn’t shake the conversation out of your mind. After everything you had been through to get here, what was it all for? Could you really make this journey and just never try to find Joel Miller? Your father? You could still remember the anxiety that had come when you first arrived, when you were strapped into a chair and scanned for the fungus that had taken over so many. You didn’t know what you were more scared of: the idea that it would flash red, and you’d be killed, or the idea that it would be clear, and you’d be sent out into the QZ, where you may just find the other half of your DNA.

You don’t even know if you want to find out anything about him. Don’t know if you could face that, especially after losing your mother. That’s been the hardest thing since being here, since having your own place, the fact that you’ve gotten it all without her. It feels… empty. For your whole life, she had been there at your side, making every short stay at whatever accommodation you could find feel like home.

Plus, even if you did consider trying to find him, and if it was him those people were talking about, then who the hell was Tess? What if she got upset at your appearance, your claim as Joel Miller’s surviving child? You’re not sure you can lose another parent.

Sure — Joel Miller wasn’t exactly your dad, he couldn’t be classed as a parent in the way that your mother was, but if you never met him, that could’ve been for any number of reasons. He could be dead. He could’ve thought you and your mother were dead, all these years. You didn’t want to face a reality where you met him, and he wasn’t present for you and your mother because he didn’t want to be. You’d rather live your whole life thinking him six feet under, than know he was out there, and just didn’t care about you.

The more you think about it, the more certain you are that Boston was a mistake.

It would all be different if your mother was alive. If she had brought you here, if she had been the one to hear the chatter about Joel Miller, if she had been the one to seek him out. But she was dead, and the only living connection you had to Joel was, too. Hypothetically, if you did seek him out, you didn’t know enough about him to prove your claim as his child, and without your mother, how could you make him believe you?

They had been a family, once. They being Joel, your mother, and your deceased half sister. You’d heard the tale of how Joel and your mother had met, of how it took months for him to finally feel comfortable introducing her to his little girl. Hell, you had heard almost as much about Sarah as you had about Joel. Your mother had certainly adored his daughter, and you’re somewhat sure that they had planned to have you, despite Sarah already being a teenager.

You don’t want to have to mourn a family you had never actually had. Perhaps, Joel and Sarah were out there, living their lives certain that you and your mother were dead, just as you and your mother had done.

Not that any of this even mattered — you didn’t even know for sure if it was the same Joel Miller! And even if it was, it’s not like Boston QZ was small. There’s absolutely no chance you run into the man who might just be your dad. No way.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

You find someone else, before you hear anything more about Joel Miller, and it immediately sends the thought of your biological dad to the very back of your mind.

After all, it’s not every day you see the man who murdered your mother.

It wasn’t exactly a surprise. You had guessed that this was the place he was heading, all those moons ago. But to actually see him, here, in the flesh, alive and well despite all of the pain and heartache and devastation he had caused you? It was surreal. You had to practically pinch your skin from your body to make yourself believe he was real.

And it only really hits you now, that this man killed your mother. You had been so focused on surviving, on living to see another day, on healing and moving and getting away from her body, buried in shallow dirt outside of some abandoned barn. You can vividly remember the strength it had taken to pry the frozen dirt from the ground.

Sure, you had felt the guilt over it, the guilt over the ease that came with surviving without her, guilt over your very existence, but you’re not sure you had ever actually grieved over her. Not sure if you had ever let yourself be sad, be angry, be anything about what had happened.

But now, seeing him, you feel… almost too much.

All of the rage and grief you had squashed in favour of surviving another day, all of the sadness and fear, all of it. It all comes rushing towards you at once, hitting you in the chest, winding you. You gasp for breath on the street, ducking away for a moment, gripping your chest like you could physically hold your heart steady.

When you look back out at the street, you see him as he nears the corner. Panic grips you at the thought of losing him, of never seeing him again, of failing to avenge your mother. You follow after him before you can think better of it.

It’s strangely easy. You fall back into the life of a hunter like it’s the most natural thing you’ve ever known — and maybe it is. You’re healed up, by now, or about as healed as anybody gets in this world, and your shoulder only bothers you when you move it too much. Even with that, you’re pretty sure that you could take the man on. Now that you’re not hazy with sleep, caught off guard, held back by any sort of earthly tether.

You’re strong. And despite FEDRA’s harsh reign, their dire consequences for rule-breaking, you have a switchblade stuffed into your shoe. You could do it. You could kill him.

There’s no question about it in your mind, especially as you follow him from a distance, and he remains none the wiser. He takes a left, and a moment later, so do you. He’s clueless. It’s almost painful that he was the one who managed to get the jump on you. How could you have let this man kill your mother?

He skids to a stop outside of a doorway, so you slide down the wall of the building opposite and listen. He pays you no mind as he knocks twice on the door.

“What d’you want, Colin?” The man who opened the door asked gruffly, seemingly inconvenienced by the man. He sounded tired, or out of it, maybe.

“I need the supply.” Colin answered, and the sound of his voice sent a shiver down the back of your neck. It echoed in your ears, the words he said that day. Good. Everything in you itched, like thousands of critters had dug into you and made a home scuttling around your insides. You wanted to kill him. You wanted to end his life, and you wanted to make it slow. Brutal. Painful. Even if it meant you were hung by FEDRA tomorrow morning. It’d be worth it.

The man at the door sighed, as if deeply bothered by getting Colin what he needed, and disappeared inside. He emerged a moment later, empty handed. “I’m all out. You’ll have to go across town tomorrow.” The man said flatly, saying nothing as Colin swore, before stepping away.

You ducked your head down as Colin passed, all too aware of the man in the doorway watching you suspiciously. After a moment, he sighed again, and retreated inside, slamming the door after himself. It took almost no time at all for you to push yourself back to your feet, and take off after the man who had left.

Despite your pounding footsteps against cracked concrete, he didn’t pay you any mind as you caught up to him. He seemed focused on getting to wherever it was that he was unknowingly leading you to, glancing up at the darkening sky every other step. FEDRA’s curfew would be coming into play soon enough.

To your disappointment, he walked into an apartment building, about three blocks away from your own. It seemed that, unless you were willing to risk being caught and stopped, today wasn’t the day you would be avenging your mother. You vowed that tomorrow you would do it. You would kill Colin. No matter what got in your way.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

By the time curfew was lifted, you had been waiting by the exit of your building for an hour.

The switchblade in your shoe felt heavy with every step you took towards the home of your mother’s killer. It weighed almost as much as the picture in your pocket. All of it was heavy. But you acted as normally as you could manage, passing by patrolling FEDRA guards without them so much as glancing towards you.

You were waiting by his building when the door opened, when he stepped out, and headed determinedly in the opposite direction from which you had come. You followed without a moment of hesitation.

He made his way around town, trading with a few people on the side of the streets, handing them small wads of ration cards in favour of various items. Nothing dangerous, though. Not to you. He clearly was oblivious to your loitering figure, standing a few metres away, like some omen of death. Despite your shadow reaching for his shoes as the sun rose, he didn’t flinch.

It was irritating you, just how easy this was. You had been following the man for two days now, and he hadn’t even noticed. How had he gotten the drop on you? How had he managed to kill your mother? How had you allowed him the opportunity to do so?

There was nothing remotely special about him — no reason that he should have survived over your mother, no reason that he should have been granted mercy over the last twenty years. He didn’t deserve it. Not like your mother had. She had done the best she could, for years, for the only daughter in her care. And she had done it all alone. This man, Colin, he was alone, and he had no reason to hurt her. You were going to make sure he regretted it.

You loomed at the entrance of an alleyway as he walked down it, finally stopping at a dead end, leaning against the brick wall as if he was waiting for something. Or someone. You knew it wasn’t you he was waiting for, so you bided your time, cautious of someone happening upon the two of you. If they had business with him, they would care. If they didn’t, then nobody but FEDRA would care.

By the time you finally decided to move, almost an hour had passed, and Colin was facing away from you at the entrance of the alley, head pressed to the bricks.

It was strange, what the innate desire to hunt and kill could bring out in you, that it could make you move silently without thinking about it. It could make you reach for the blade in your shoe, without so much as a rustle of your clothes.

With a final glance back at the entrance of the alleyway, you grew impatient, and you attacked.

From an outside perspective, you probably looked like some kind of wild animal. You jumped at him, tackling him, pushing him sideways and landing on his back as his shoulder smacked the asphalt, and he howled in pain. It was like seeing a cheetah hunt an antelope, the way you bored down on him. If you could have widened your jaws, and ripped out his insides, you think you would have.

But without that ability, you could only press the cold metal blade to his throat, and feel him go still.

“Do you remember me?” You asked, voice flat and still, despite the way your heart felt as though it would beat out of your chest, and splatter down in front of his face. You were quieter than you had expected, too. You thought that the words would burst out of you, vicious and unending, but they were quiet. Calm.

Colin shook his head, as much as he could with the side of his face pressed to the ground, and a blade to the soft skin of his neck.

“Think about it.”

His eyes strained to try and get a look at you, and they widened as you leant sideways slightly, allowing him to gaze at your blank face. “Oh, shit,” He said, mouth fumbling around the words.

“Yeah, shit.” You repeated, waiting for satisfaction to seep into your chest cavity, waiting for the grief to fade away.

It didn’t.

Nothing changed, even as you pressed the blade closer to his throat, even as you watched his eyes dart back and forth, as you watched him try and formulate a plan to survive. “Listen, kid—” He started, throat bobbing against the knife, drawing the tiniest line of blood. You watched him bleed, and expected to feel more than numb.

He threw your weight backwards, sacrificing more skin on his throat to your knife. You went flying off of him, but you flung yourself forward faster than he could stagger up, and dug the knife into his calf as he tried to stand. His yell pierced the air, louder than any of the commotion yet, and likely drawing attention of people out on the street. You just hoped, distantly, that FEDRA wasn’t around.

His flesh and muscle moved as you pulled the blade free, and you didn’t flinch at the squelch of blood that left him alongside it.

Colin fell back to the floor, resulting in crawling along the asphalt without care for how the small stones cut into his palms, leaving streaks of blood. “You don’t gotta do this, man, chill out!” His voice had more emotion in it than it had back when he killed your mother, which was infuriating. “It wasn’t personal!” He insisted, crawling further as you got to your feet, prowling after him similarly to the wild animal you felt like.

You’d disagree with his statement, though.

He already had your pack, you had already relinquished your gun — the only thing you refused to do was turn so you could be executed. If you were going to be killed, you were going to look your murderer in the eye. Instead of that, though, Colin had decided to make it personal. He had decided to kill your mother, to spread her brains out on the ground in front of you, to cover you in her blood, rather than spare her. And then, worse, he had let you live.

That seemed pretty personal.

“You killed my mom.” You stated, getting closer as he turned so he was facing you, watching you get closer. “D’you remember what you said to me?”

He shook his head.

“You said good. You were glad that it was my mother. Admit it, Colin. Tell the world all about how not-personal it was.”

More than anything, you wanted to feel satisfaction for how badly he was trembling beneath you, for how scared you were making him. But you just didn’t. Fear wasn’t enough. Not for what this man had done to you.

“I’m—I’m sorry.” He said, shaking, still shying away from you,

“No, you’re not. You’re sorry that I’m here, that you’re going to die. And that isn’t something to be sorry for.”

“Pl—Please, I have a daughter—a son, you don’t need to do this.” He begged, tearing up as he watched your grip on the switchblade tighten, watched you continue to approach. He was pathetic. Everything about him was pathetic.

“She had a daughter, too.”

His eyes widened as you leaped at him once again, digging your knife as deep as you could get it into his shoulder, feeling it graze bone as you pushed the hilt firmly against his skin, until you could practically hear the blood vessels breaking. He howled, a wounded animal, prey. And he did nothing as your fist descended against his face, once, twice, a third time.

It was just as you were losing count that somebody grabbed you, hauling you up and away from the body sprawled out on the floor, the puddle of blood slowly expanding beneath him. His chest was stuttering, but he had stopped groaning minutes ago.

“Well, shit.” A woman’s voice said, not sounding particularly authoritarian, so you figured she wasn’t FEDRA.

The hands grasping onto your arms released them shortly after, and you dropped to the asphalt, watching Colin’s chest closely, waiting for his breathing to stop. It didn’t seem to be slowing much, and you could feel that unending wave of rage coming back to you, overruling the numbness, and enhancing your need to have him dead.

You moved the slightest bit, about to launch yourself at him, but as soon as your foot was pushing you from your spot on the ground, the hands wrapped around your arms again.

“Fuck! Get off of me!”

“We can’t let you kill the guy, for fuck’s sake. We got business with him!” The woman spoke again, sounding increasingly irate as she moved to get between you and your mother’s murderer.

“He deserves to die. He deserves to be killed. Get off!” You practically roared, resorting to a state not unlike a feral cat, spitting and hissing, spine curling, trying to claw at the hands holding onto you. They stayed steady, even when you managed to scratch one of them deep enough to break skin.

The woman swore again, “Everybody deserves to die, get a hold of yourself!”

“Tess, ‘s probably best if we get him out of here.” The man gripping you said, voice straining slightly as he focused on keeping you restrained. He couldn’t do anything but hold on to you and watch as Tess dragged the guy, by his ankle, down the alley slightly, banging on a side door that you hadn’t even noticed. It opened, and the man inside swore before helping Tess grab the guy and haul him inside.

As soon as the door was safely shut, the man released you.

You walked to the end of the alley, gripping at the back of your head, swearing the whole way. You were probably screaming, given the way your throat was grating on every word, but the sound didn’t register.

“Joel, you’d better get in here.” Tess called, poking her head out of the door. You could hear the irritation in her voice, but it was immediately sent to the back of your mind as you realised what she had actually just said. You whirled around.

He wasn’t exactly what you were expecting.

But he was… familiar.

You couldn’t help it — you laughed, almost hysterically.

“Are you kidding me?” You said, voice strained with laughter, “You are Joel? Miller?” You asked, wanting him to say no and be done with it all so badly, but you knew that he wouldn’t say that. It was ingrained in your blood, in your very DNA.

He stared uncomprehendingly at you, as if expecting a spark of recognition to go through him, but it didn’t happen. You saw Tess step cautiously out of the building, apparently prepared to have Joel’s back, no matter what your next move was.

“Who are you?” Joel asked, instead of answering your question, or even making a move towards where you had begun to cry. If only he fucking knew — he had just saved the man who had murdered your mother, who had murdered the woman who was, once upon a time, his wife.

You reached into your pocket, uncaring of the way they both reached for what you assumed were weapons, and pulled out the photo. The moment you unfolded it, revealing him stood next to your mother, it was certain. This man was your father. You held the photo out towards him.

“Joel—” Tess warned, as he stepped forward, but he dismissed her with a look, clearly communicating that he could handle himself. He wasn’t worried, despite the state Colin had been in when they had arrived.

He stared at the photo, brows creasing, face drawing blank, before he reached out and took it. His finger ran across the image of your mother, her bright smile, not a slither of grey to be seen in her hair. “How did you get this?” He asked, clearly in disbelief, denial, maybe.

You pointed to the woman in the picture. “That’s—was my mom.”

It could’ve been funny, months, maybe years ago, the way his eyes flickered between you and the image of her, as if trying to put together how much of the statement was true. You vaguely noticed Tess shift uneasily behind him, before approaching.

“Was?” Joel decided to ask, eventually, instead of whatever else was going through his head. He said nothing to Tess as she took in the photograph he was still holding onto.

“That man, he—he killed her. A few months ago.” You said, smiling, because you couldn’t do anything else. This was all too much. First, your mother is killed. And then when you finally find somewhere potentially safe, you hear about your father. And then before you could do anything about that, you see her killer! And then, before you could finish the job, your biological dad, Joel Miller, saved his life. It wasn’t funny, but you didn’t know how else to react.

You stepped back, sliding down the brick wall behind you until you were sat on the asphalt, and could hang your head between your knees.

“Oh fuck,” Tess said, connecting the dots as she looked between you and Joel rapidly, brows furrowed as she became increasingly concerned. “Don’t tell me that she’s—” She shook her head, turning away from the photo and Joel and you, running a hand through her greasy hair.

Joel was still processing, or at least that’s what it looked like to you. He was staring at the photo, strangely still, seeming blank of any and all emotions.

Tess paced for a moment more, before releasing a heavy breath. She walked past Joel, over to you. “Okay, c’mon.” She said, holding out a hand for you. When you hesitated, she waved her hand and barely refrained from putting it in your face. “C’mon, we’ve gotta get you out of here before Colin goes to FEDRA.” You take her hand, surprised by her strength as she hauls you to your feet in an instant, releasing you immediately. She shook her head again. “Joel, time to go.”

He looked at her, and then towards you, nodding once. You said nothing when he put the picture in his own pocket, instead of handing it back. You hesitantly followed after Tess, wondering what your next move should be, and Joel followed after the two of you, looking stricken.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

None of you had said anything, the entire time Tess had hurried you through borders and to what you assumed was their apartment. It felt like it was miles away from your own.

The wallpaper was yellowed with age, slowly drooping down the walls, peeling away at corners, but it wasn’t the worst state it could’ve been in. The floral pattern didn’t really lend itself to the vibes of the apocalypse, though. Nor did it match either Tess or Joel’s stoic and tough demeanours.

You had no idea what to expect from this.

For as long as you could remember, your mother had told you tales of your father, of the great man he was, the great father he was. But here, on the other side of a worldwide outbreak of infection, you couldn’t quite match the image in front of you to the man in those stories. You had spent so long thinking of him as being dead, unable to do anything to find you or your mother from a grave, that to learn he was alive, and with Tess, it was a shock to your system.

Where was Sarah? Where was the half-sister you had heard so much about from your mother?

Despite Joel matching the name, and the photo that your mother had kept, it just didn’t feel like he was the man you had been imagining as your father. He didn’t seem kind or caring, he didn’t look like he had any love left in him. And maybe, you could have accepted that, if he had other aspects to him, if he hadn’t let your mother’s killer live.

“What happened the day of the outbreak?” You asked, finally, despite the way you ached to run away and cry, for your mother, for yourself, for the father you would never have. Joel just looked at you, rarely blinking as if you were a figment of his imagination, clenching and unclenching his jaw.

“No, we are asking you questions.” Tess responded, clearly taking the lead on the situation, despite having no connection to you. It really shouldn’t have been her business. You scoffed. “Where did you come from?” She asked you, unblinking in the face of your disbelief.

You shook your head, “How is that even relevant?”

“Because I said it is.”

“I don’t care what you say. He’s my dad. You’re not my mom.” You replied, roughly, angrily, and you’re only more irritated when Tess doesn’t even react. You become furious when Joel says nothing. “Are you going to say anything?”

Tess went to speak, but you spoke again before she could utter a word.

“Not even about how you let my mother’s killer go? You don’t have anything to say about that?” You questioned, stepping towards him where he had taken a seat on the couch in front of that god-forsaken wallpaper.

There was an awkward lull in the room, each of you waiting for Joel to speak. He seemed unsure if he was going to speak at all, his brows furrowing further, and he pulled the photo out of his pocket to look at once again.

“She died, years ago. My—my kids…” Joel swallowed, and shook his head. He placed the photo down beside him. The photo meant nothing. You could’ve been to his house, and brought it here with you, never having met the woman he hadn’t seen since the day the world fell apart.

“Did you even look for us?” You asked him, head tilting, eyes stinging, wanting desperately for him to say yes, to say he scoured the world but missed you somehow. But looking at him, covered with scars, you could see he was nothing like the man your mother remembered. He didn’t care, not like she thought he had. The man in front of you wasn’t your father — he was a disappointment. He was your father’s shell.

Joel didn’t speak, swallowing harshly, seemingly unable to form any words.

“You’re nothing like she said you were.” You told him quietly, shaking your head, reaching by his side and taking the picture. You wanted to rip his half off, throw it at him, denounce him, tell him he wasn’t your father, that he was never worthy of your mother, but you couldn’t. It was the only thing that you would ever have of the father you should’ve had. The man your mother had loved. She’d already had so much taken from her, you couldn’t, even after her death, take Joel away too. He could live on in the memory. In pictures.

They didn’t say anything when you turned your back on them, shoving the picture in your pocket, and walking out of their door. You slammed it behind you, felt the walls of their apartment tremble with the force, and kept walking.

Part of you, a big part, wished that Joel Miller would have stayed dead. At least that way, you could have kept pretending.

743 notes · View notes

shaisuki · 8 months

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hello! Your writing amuses me a lot. Could you write a story where gojo, nanami, toji or Geto find out that their partner was kidnapped and they find her with some blow and they get furious?

Thanks and greetings from Argentina 😘

BRUISES AND DEAD BODIES

ft. gojo satoru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, geto suguru

content warnings ─── injuries, murder, gore, assault

ᝰ synopsis .ᐟ there's lines that cannot be crossed with them and involving you is a dumb way to die.

GOJO SATORU

enemies are easier to make than friends and since his birth, danger followed him everywhere. from bounty hunters to curse users and being related or being significantly special to the six eyes and limitless user, danger was just around the corner.

satoru is strong. unbelievably strong. he has the power to tip the balance of the world and thus, he have the power to protect especially to you.

but sometimes, fate would place a cruel situation to him. you disappeared out of the blue. it's not like for you to tease him with something serious knowing he can be dramatic at times and his instincts isn't he ignores and alas, he was right. you were a captive. some group bounty hunters had ganged up for the price of his head. if he kills himself you live. that's why they have said. a negotiation but there's no such things as a negotiation for him.

only an idiot would mess to gojo satoru and they are. they think using you as a hostage for someone like him would be an easy way to get what they want but gojo proves them wrong.

he sees you bound in a chair. sound asleep. soft breaths adding to your state while your chest heaves. you're alive and it's relief not until he sees the damage they had done to you. blue eyes shimmering. casting it's glow to the precipitants and it's too late to back now for underestimating him.

adding to his hidden rage was the visible bruises and the welts to your skin. they have chosen death. no room to think as his hands cups the head on one of them before twisting it off. the hard skull was no match for gojo's strength. the head pops like a can being crushed in his bare hands and at the blink of an eye. there was nobody breathing except for him and to his lover.

he gently scoops you in his arms. your soft, plump frame against his hard ones and gojo loved the position if only it was under normal circumstances.

footsteps echoes in the silent building where once rowdy bounty hunters had gathered. it's only a shell of the former building while their corpses filled the entire space.

fluttering your lashes open, you were instantly greeted by the soreness of your body. added by the bruises stinging in your skin and a tuft of white hair is the first thing you've noticed about him.

“satoru?” blinking your eyes to adjust in your surroundings and to confirm if it was him and you weren't wrong. it was him. “glad you're awake now.” he says cheerfully. “what happened to you? me, your amazing boyfriend had to save you from the bad guys.” puffing his chest and you weren't sure how you would take his boasting.

tired and defeated. you admitted your weakness. “i'm sorry. i let my guard down.” your face casting a solemn look and gojo ignores it. partly it was his fault and you got dragged into it. since the start of your relationship with him, you're already marked as a target. knowing you are gojo's achilles hell.

“don't worry about it. let's get you to shoko.” you shaked your head. “can it wait until later?” you ask him. “why?” he replied. “i'm hungry.” gojo chuckles at your predicament. bruised and tired and you wanted to eat and of course, gojo accepts it.

“okay, okay. let's get you something to eat and we're going to shoko.”

all the things he can do for you and there's no such thing as denying the things you want.

NANAMI KENTO

veins desperately clawed to the surface of his skin. they look like kernels of corn ready to burst at any moment and it isn't the only thing that is ready to burst.

he's calm and composed. he always is. this is how he handles his profession as a sorcerer. merely a bit of being teetered to the edge isn't enough to break him. of course there are times where he loses composure but it is nothing when it comes to you.

there's drips of bloods staining your face and you're unconscious body is sprawled to the floor and nanami isn't a saint to forgive for such animosity and he breaks.

his muscles bulge while wrapping that necktie in his palms. the perpetrator stumbles out of panic and in fear. nanami's raging from inside and outside.

his fist collided in the cheek. there's a crack can be heard as the one who assaulted you was planted on the wall. coughing up blood and skull was dented like a can being crushed in a hand. it wasn't enough and nanami punches again until only a bloody pulp of a body is only way someone can recognize it as a former body. if it is what is it

“mmm... kento. 'm sorry.” you weakly mustered to speak to him. “no. don't apologize for it darling.” his once face that was clouded with rage clears up. his features softening while he tended to the wounds he can heal.

inside nanami was scared. he didn't show it. how close you are for being parted to him and he can't accept if something happens to you again. it looks like nanami have to make sure this won't happen again even if it's the last thing he will do.

FUSHIGURO TOJI

“oi, oi.” toji began to get irritated. inspecting your face in his hands. moving it left and right to assess the injuries that you had taken from your captors. “a pretty face is all she had and you come destroying it.” even with that heightened senses of his, could he not tell you can hear him.

the sorcerer assassin's eye came twitching in irritation as he looks at your state. toji wouldn't care if someone would get beat up for his fault but it is different when it comes to you. “now which one of you assholes would go first?” the cursed spirit worm vomits one of the weapons in his arsenal and toji stretches his limbs. waving his weapon like a fan and hell broke loose.

“i just wished you didn't come and get me if you're just going to insult me.” rolling your eyes at him and you winged as he pulled your arm. “i did you a favor and you need to repay me.” he casually tells you. ignoring the remarks from you.

fuck. he's toji fucking fushiguro and you know how stubborn this man is when it comes to his selfish needs. you already forgot that it was his fault that you got dragged into his dirty business. “and i'm right princess. you're face is only the redeeming quality of yours.” good heavens. you just wished you were already dead. you can't fucking stand him and yet, you're here.

“come on now.” toji grabs you. not minding your injuries and how you squirmed against him. licking the shell of your ear. “you know what i want.” he whispers. taking the reward in his own hands.

GETO SUGURU

his expression unreadable. staring at your figure that is bound and bruised. how did it resulted to this when he got you locked and guarded all the time and some bloody monkeys took their revenge on him by using you.

geto's fuming inside and he smiles. although it doesn't reach his eyes and a wall appeared out in the thin air. humongous and hideous creatures began to pry the walls to open. with a flick of his finger, they began to attack whoever their owner desired to kill.

the screams. they were loud. screeching as they begged for their lives. it was like fork being rubbed in a surface and only to produce the most irritating sound but for him. that is what he calls a music to his ears. if they have chosen to leave you alone, this wouldn't happen. anyways it was bound to. considering how he was a threat for them in a long time and it would come soon for them to target you and he hated himself for that. getting dragged by the filthy hands of the scums.

all is fine, now. he have you in his arms now and those who dared to harm you again will face him and the hell he is about to unleash him. no one would be safe from him.

he kisses your forehead. you were sound asleep from all of that. gently patting your head to soothe you was comforting enough for him.

geto walks away with you in his arms and the pile of corpses behind him.

#♱ ⋮ shai's works⸝⸝#chubby reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x chubby reader #plus size reader #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #toji x reader #geto x reader #gojo satoru #nanami kento #toji fushiguro #geto suguru #jjk scenarios

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spngi · 2 months

Text

My tears ricochet | mafia!carlos sainz jr x reader

Prologue | part 1 | part 2 | Part 3| Part 4

part 5

summary: Mr. and Mrs. Sainz lived in a dream for many years, now everything is falling apart and they need to deal with their feelings

warnings: Grammar mistakes, mentions of violence, Carlos is an idiot, mentions of cheating, sexual content, angst.

---

It’s the first morning I truly wake up happy after a long time. I feel ready for a new beginning when I wake up embraced by Carlos’s body. It’s perfect to share the little things with him, his presence filling me with joy.

I watch him through the door; he’s on the phone now, and Paco is jumping on his legs, begging for attention.

We were having coffee outside, enjoying each other’s company, when his phone rang. Things are not like they used to be; we still have a long way to go to regain each other’s trust, but we are happy with the small steps we are taking.

The conversation my husband is having doesn’t seem good. He looks tense, defensive, and even without hearing his conversation, I can tell it’s a serious matter. He is standing in the middle of the room, phone in hand, head down, his abdomen bare, and wearing sweatpants. Every domestic scene warms my heart more, like him making pancakes for breakfast earlier or the large bouquet of peonies that miraculously appeared this morning.

I knew that just these gestures wouldn’t erase the pain Carlos and I had caused each other, but they were a good way to start this new journey.

I see him hang up the phone in a single, explosive gesture. He takes a breath while putting the device in his pocket.

“What’s your problem?” His voice echoes coldly in the room. I don’t understand who he is referring to or why he’s looking at me that way.

“What are you talking about?” I ask him, still confused as I approach his tense figure. The contrast with the relaxed figure he had before the phone call is clear. “What happened?”

“I tell you I love Martina, and you try to kill her? Is this how you want to move forward?” He explodes, his tone loud and desperate.

“What are you talking about? You think I tried to kill that girl? Are you out of your mind?” I ask him, my words stinging. Carlos looks at me as if I were a monster, and it hurts to be his first suspect. It hurts to know he thinks so poorly of me.

“What a great coincidence, isn’t it? I tell you how I feel about her, and today someone hits her car and flees.” He points at me as if he’s about to warn me. “You’re lucky she’s still alive.”

“Does it not occur to you that it could have been just a drunk idiot? Do you think so poorly of me that you believe I’d do something like that?” I exclaim, anger exploding from my body. That bitch had to ruin my life without me even doing anything to her.

“You lost the benefit of the doubt when you decided to killed those men.”

A car accident? I wouldn’t even have thought of that, and I had thought of many ways to get rid of the girl, but none involving her death—only involving putting a package with absurd amounts of drugs in her car and house, along with a call to the police.

Carlos’s words drive me crazy. I feel insane for hearing them because it can’t be true. His eyes look at me with disgust, as if I were a murderer.

“I don’t know how serious the accident was, but if I were you, I’d pray for her to be okay. It would prevent you from finally becoming a monster,” he says, and Paco runs away scared by the shouting.

I don’t think much after what I hear; my body is overtaken by rage, and I can only remember all the times Charles taught me to aim and shoot. That’s what I think about when I grab the closest object to me, a crystal vase, and throw it at Carlos.

The crystal shatters upon hitting the top of his head in small pieces. The noise is loud, and the whole house goes on alert before returning to its routine upon seeing the scene.

“Are you crazy?” He yells in shock, with glass shards all over the place, including in his hair, and small drops of blood running down his forehead.

“Maybe, but I’m not a murderer,” I say through clenched teeth. “Believe me, if I wanted her dead, there wouldn’t be any pieces of the car left to tell the tale, but I would never dirty my hands with someone as insignificant as her.”

The room turns into a chaos of shouting and arguing. Even though I love Carlos, I’m almost ready to throw another vase at him. I decide to stop arguing with him; it wouldn’t help when he’s so blinded by believing I would do such a thing. I turn around, leaving him to argue alone, and head back outside.

“You should leave, Carlos… I can’t stand looking at your face right now,” I say finally before leaving. “And don’t you dare ask anyone to clean up the mess you made,” I point to the floor and walk out.

I sit in a chair, not allowing myself to cry this time. In fact, I can’t even remember the last time I spent a day without crying, so I forbid myself from doing it today! The scene that just occurred felt like it nailed the final stake into our marriage. There was no more unity, no more fidelity, respect, or love.

I couldn’t love for both of us alone, not when it was destroying me. When it was already destroying me.

“Your foot is bleeding,” I hear a voice pull me out of my thoughts, and when I look up, I see Charles.

“Oh,” I have no reaction. I look down and see the small pool of blood forming underneath the injured foot I hadn’t noticed before. “I must have stepped on one of the glass shards. I’ll take care of it…”

I try to reassure him and spare him from my melancholic company.

“Let me take care of it for you; just wait here, please,” he smiles, looking tense, possibly having witnessed the situation.

Just as I didn’t notice him leave, I didn’t notice him come back, this time with a first aid kit in hand. He kneels in front of me and gently takes my left foot.

“I can do this, Charles. Thank you,” I thank him and try to get rid of his presence.

“No, no, I insist,” he smiles worriedly, his eyes on me. There’s something there I can’t decipher; it’s not pity, but definitely something shining.

He opens the significantly large first aid kit that is necessary when someone with a gunshot or knife wound shows up at the house from time to time.

“Do you need anesthetic?” he asks, laughing.

“Although I would love to be high right now, it won’t be necessary,” I say, and he laughs lightly.

He pulls the glass shard out in one precise, smooth movement, and I watch as he cleans the wound with cotton and alcohol.

“To save you the trouble of investigating the accident… I didn’t do it,” I say to Charles.

“I know,” he replies, not bothering to look up at me, appearing certain of his opinion. “And I think if Carlos had a bit more reason and faith in you, he’d know that.”

It’s funny to watch him work with such calm and gentleness on a simple injury, contrasting sharply with all the memories of when he taught me to shoot and defend myself months ago.

“I didn’t teach you to do a job halfway and to leave traces. I have faith that you were a good student.” He looks up and smiles. Charles is the same age as me, but the difference between us is apparent. He’s lived and witnessed many things to be where he is now and still tries to be as gentle as possible in my company.

“Thank you,” I say, watching him as he wraps my foot with a bandage. It’s large and silly for the size of the cut, but the gesture enchants me.

I let my eyes wander away, to the garden or beyond it, my thoughts drifting. I don’t want to cry, not for Carlos. Just thinking about his name makes me sick, and I wonder why I did all this. Why did I sacrifice so much of my life for him? Why did I fight so hard for this marriage when it was destroying me?

It’s ironic how life presents things to us. Throughout my life, I’ve always loved art, preferring romantic ideals and works that depicted routine and brought peace. Now my life would be painted in a dark and melancholic canvas.

“If you could choose to be anything, what would you be?” I ask Charles, who is still kneeling in front of me, his hand gently touching my injured foot.

“What do you mean?” His green eyes look confused.

“I would have my own art gallery, or rather, I think I would like to work in a museum…” I let my mind wander, to what I could be if I weren’t here.

“In which museum?” he asks.

“In Washington,” I reply without thinking. “I think there cuz my favorite art is there, a beautiful Monet. I would be the happiest person to see it every day,” I smile at the scene in my mind, a genuine smile. “And you?”

“I think I would be a Formula 1 driver,” he laughs. “My childhood dream was to drive the red car around the world.”

“In another universe, I’m sure we’re doing that,” I smile at him, laughing. It’s silly to think about it, but it helps me calm down. “Please sit down.”

He closes the first aid kit and sets it aside, then sits in the chair next to me. He seems awkward or even embarrassed to do so.

“I don’t want to get divorced, Charles,” I murmur, scratching my forehead. I thought I would have more strength for this, that I wouldn’t give up so easily.

“He will find out it wasn’t you eventually” he murmurs.

“The problem isn’t the accident, or even Carlos. He isn’t that desperate about the divorce, and if he were, he would file for litigation” I sigh. “She wants the divorce; I just took a while to realize it… Carlos getting divorced is just a red flag for all his business, and it will make his life much more difficult… I just don’t know if I can handle it anymore.”

“Y/n…” the man calls me, then says, “You are the strongest woman I have ever known. You’ve been through so much and endured it as if it were just another normal day at work. You handle all the problems better than anyone here among us. You could be Carlos, but he could never be you.”

It’s the first time in a long while that a man makes me cry with joy.

One more part! I hope you guys are enjoying it!

Leave your comments and opinions ❤️

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #cs55 #cs55 x reader #angst #carlos sainz au #f1 fic #máfia!carlos sainz #mafia!f1 #mob!carlos sainz

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fangswbenefits · 1 year

Text

Breaking Point

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: You’ve teased Miguel beyond his already thin breaking point, and now you’re left to deal with the consequences.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’hara - spider-woman/reader

𓂅 𓄹 Warnings: 18+!!! Possessive and jealous Miguel. Love bites featuring his fangs. Sexual tension. Dark Miguel.

𓂅 𓄹 Word count: 932

Thanks to @sapphire-and-ruby for the request! Screenshot below.

“Oh, bloody hell… he’s starin’ at us.”

You didn’t have to ask who Hobie was referring to, because you knew. Everyone knew. Besides, your heightened senses had long alerted you to his presence.

Miguel O’hara.

You twirled the straw inside your spider-man themed tall glass and took a sip. “That’s his problem.”

Hobie, however, didn’t share the sentiment and clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Yeah, and he’s gonna make it everyone’s problem now.”

“Relax, Hobie,” you waved your hand dismissively, even though you were beaming inside from the sudden attention. “How’s Miles and Gwen?”

Hobie was known to be extremely chill even when the occasion didn’t call for it, but if there was one person he didn’t want to antagonise it was Miguel.

“Yeah… he’s comin’ over,” he said, leaning back on his chair as if the mere fact that he was too close to you was dangerous.

And it could be.

Miguel’s tall frame cast a shadow as he halted by the bar table.

“Can we talk?”

You didn’t even spare a glance at him, and kept smiling endearingly at Hobie who had visibly gone tense.

“Oye, I’m talking to you.”

You took yet another sip and paused before answering. “Is this work related?”

“No.”

“Then it can wait,” you shrugged, knowing fully well Miguel wasn’t going anywhere.

“It can’t.”

“I’m having a conversation with Hobie. Don’t be rude.”

No one would ever dare to talk to Miguel like that, and you took immense pride in knowing you could get away with it.

Or so you thought.

“I’m sure he won’t mind,” he said in his usual flat tone. “Right, Hobie?”

He straightened up really fast in his seat. “Huh… sure, mate! I was just leavin’ anyways. Wanna brush up on…” he adjusted the guitar on his lap as he prepared to take his leave. “… oh! On the rising dangers of capitalism, yeah!”

“Hobie, don’t you dare,” you warned, ready to hold him in place with your webbing if needed. “It’s our day off. Let’s chill.”

The man in front of you froze momentarily, unsure of what to do next.

“Yeah, you lot sort it out,” he ended up saying with a shrug. “I’m out.”

But before he could walk away you shot a thick string of webbing that landed on his guitar. To be honest, you had done it out of pure fun, but no one was laughing.

“Come here, Hobei,” you giggled.

“Oi! Not my guitar!” he huffed in annoyance.

At this point, everyone at the bar had shifted their attention to the rising commotion, and when a flash of red filled your field of vision you knew someone had finally reached their breaking point.

Miguel had cut Hobei free from your grip with his own digital webbing which earned a few gasps from the surrounding crowd.

The spider-punk shot you a final death glare before hauling himself from the ground and disappearing into the distance.

It was your turn to throw Miguel the best murderous look you could conjure. “Happy?”

“Not until you come with me.”

“Where?”

“Somewhere private,” he said, his handsome face twisting into something dark.

You went back to your drink and decided to push him a little further.

“Don’t. Ignore. Me.”

He then wrapped a strong hand around your wrist, careful not to apply too much pressure.

You noticed a few wary glances from those close by. “You’re making a scene.”

“Me?”

You nodded, sticking out your tongue at him, causing him to bare his fangs at you.

Fuck.

Miguel quickly lowered his head so he could level his lips with your ear. “I’m done with you. Come,” he tugged at your wrist, hoping you’d follow his command.

You should know better than to push Miguel O’hara. What he lacked in humour he definitely made up for in jealousy.

He had been circling you for weeks now. Waiting for you to finally give in.

But while he wanted you to fall for his not so subtle advances, you wanted him to crawl for you.

“What if I say no?”

You felt his breath fanning your ear once more. “Do you want to say no?”

Touché.

Truth be told, you didn’t want to admit defeat, but you also didn’t want to draw more attention to yourself.

A secret part of you yearned to know what would happen next.

“Fine,” you shot, unhooking his fingers from you.

You followed him through the exit door, flashing a few reassuring smiles at your fellow spider-men abd spider-women on your way out.

Miguel kept his determined pace in front of you as you both walked down a near deserted street.

As you were about to ask where he was taking you, you felt your body being shoved into an alleyway, before your spider senses could register what was happening.

Miguel O’hara had your back firmly pressed against a cold wall with only the dim light of a nearby neon sign allowing you to see his hardened face.

“What—”

He brought his covered hand to press your lips shut. “I’m done with your fucking teasing.”

Your eyes widened and your heart skipped a few beats as you felt him pressing his toned body against yours, effectively keeping you in place. His free hand gripped your wrist tightly.

“I’m done seeing you pay attention to anyone but me.”

You shuddered at his growl.

“Done seeing you not wanting to be mine.”

You briefly contemplated putting up a fight, but you knew silence could be equally effective.

“You’ve been hanging around Hobei too much,” his face was so close you could almost feel every word hit your skin. “Do you want him?”

Silence.

He removed his hand from your face, expecting a reply.

You gave him a smug smile instead, savouring the heat that radiated from his body. “What if I do?”

His fingers were on your jaw now. “He won’t satisfy you.”

There it was. His pride in full display. You had no doubts Miguel could be an extraordinary lover. All that pent up frustration had to be channelled somewhere.

“You’re too full of yourself, Miguel O’hara.”

His lips nearly brushed yours as his red eyes glowed in the dark. “You want me. I can feel your heartbeat. I know of your desire for me.”

“Really?”

“I can smell it,” he smiled wide, revealing his set of fangs.

He was a predator. His entire DNA had been accidentally modified and gave place to a cunning predator.

At one point, what pinned you against the cold wall wasn’t his physical strength, but rather the weight of his words.

“Let me have you.”

You shut your eyes as you felt his teeth grazing the skin of your neck. A rush of adrenaline made its way down to your clit and you soon felt it pulsing with each flick of his tongue.

“Miguel… I…”

Soon, you felt him instinctively bucking his hips against you and his tight suit left little to the imagination as his cock grew increasingly harder.

The grip on your jaw didn’t waver as he delivered open-mouthed kisses along your neck. You didn’t know what to do with your hands, so you ended up wrapping them along his forearms as if scared your knees might give up on you.

“You’re mine.”

All these weeks managing to keep your desire for him at bay had been for nothing.

“I’m done fucking my hands when I could be fucking you instead,” he growled in between kisses, pressing his clothed cock into you.

He brought one of your hand down his body and in between the two of you.

“Go on,” he nearly hissed. “Feel how hard I get for you.”

He rubbed your palm across his impressive length and you nearly moaned as he brought his lips closer to yours once more.

You wanted to taste him more than ever and tried to close the gap, but he kept you in place.

The heat from his body was suddenly gone and you watched him climb up and away from you.

“What the fuck, Miguel? You’re leaving?!”

He looked down at you, his face twisting into a devious grin. “Now you know how painful it feels.”

#miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o’hara imagine

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heartsforhavik · 9 months

Text

possession (yandere bi-han/sub-zero x reader)

warnings: mentions of blood and murder, bi-han is possessive

summary: yandere bi-han takes care of your shitty ex boyfriend. reader is gender neutral.

a/n: i haven’t written a yandere character in sooo long. i chose bi-han just bc he’s easy to write as a yandere :3 anyways next one i write will be a yandere smoke x reader so stay tuned

bi-han was always possessive over you. the moment he laid eyes on you, he knew you were his. he carefully pretended to be your friend and then court you like a normal person, hiding his true colors.

he knew he would most likely scare you away if he showed his true colors too soon. he had to wait until he knew you’d never leave him. he had to be patient. but he couldn’t hold back anymore after he saw you crying.

“love.. why are you crying?” bi-han asked, gently holding you in his arms.

“it’s just..” you hesitated to tell him, knowing that he doesn’t know about your ex-boyfriend. you haven’t told him yet.

your boyfriend held you, waiting patiently for your answer, and getting ready to comfort you. if someone said something to make you cry, bi-han would rip out their spine and bring it to you. if it was anything else, he would just hold you for hours and not let go.

“my ex. i can’t stop thinking about all the shit he did to me.” you admitted, wiping your tears.

bi-han’s gaze turned cold. “your ex? who is he? what did he do to you?”

his grip on you tightened. he needed to know who it was. so he can teach the bastard a lesson.

he was also jealous of your ex. he got to hold you first, he got to kiss you first, and he got to call you his. but he fucked up by hurting you. bi-han will not let him live with those sins.

you told him all about your ex and what he did to you. you opened up to bi-han about all the trauma you endured because of your ex. and how he was the reason you were hesitant to get in another relationship.

bi-han struggled to stay calm. how dare he hurt you...

he had the audacity to hurt you? you’re so precious. so delicate, like a flower. you were so lucky to have bi-han as a boyfriend. he can protect you. he can hold you and keep you safe from harm.

“where is he?” bi-han asked, but it sounded more like a demand.

“i don’t know? he’s most likely at his house right now. why?” you questioned.

“give me his home location.” bi-han commanded.

you looked up at him in confusion. “huh?”

“don’t make me repeat myself.” bi-han sneered.

startled by his sudden anger, you blurted out your ex’s location. bi-han immediately got up and left to find the bastard and make him pay for what he did.

you couldn't sleep that night. bi-han left and still hadn't came back yet. did something happen to him?

you were worried sick, until you heard rustling and grunting outside. that had to be him, right? nobody else is awake at this time.

you walked outside, barely being able to see anything, but you saw your boyfriend slowly dragging something behind him.

"bi-han? what is that?" you whispered. your boyfriend stopped in his tracks when he heard your voice.

you took a closer look at what he was dragging. it was a dead body... but it was unrecognizable, almost as if it was beat to death. you assumed it was just some random guy the lin kuei killed, until you noticed the clothes. that dead body had your ex-boyfriend's clothes.

"by the gods.. did you kill-"

"he cannot hurt you anymore. he was a fool to put you through pain. i simply taught him a lesson. and now, you can live in peace. with me." bi-han interrupted, as he dropped the body and held you in his bloody arms.

you looked up at him, and he had a terrifying look in his eyes. this man enjoyed beating your ex to death.

"you know i will do anything for you," bi-han continued. "if i must get my hands dirty in your honor, then so be it. you need me, don’t you? without me, more people will target you and damage you. you're welcome, my flower."

he was trying to convince you not to leave him. how could you leave, when he just demonstrated what he is capable of when he is angry?

"i don't know about this, bi-han..." you whispered.

his eyebrows furrowed. "what do you mean? you know i can protect you, so why can't you trust me? if anything were to happen to you... i would tear the world apart. if you dare defy me, then i must teach you a lesson."

you panicked. you didn't want to end up like your ex. "no! i'm not defying you, love."

"good. it pleases me that you and i can live happily together now. nobody can hurt you while i am around. i will not let that happen." bi-han mumbled.

he meant every word he said. he will keep you safe from harm. he would never hurt you, so you must stay with him.

#mortal kombat 1 x reader #mk x reader #mk1 x reader #bi han #bi han sub zero #bi han x reader #bi han x you #sub zero #sub zero x reader #yandere bi han #yandere x reader #possessive yandere #yandere mortal kombat

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adventuringblind · 5 months

Text

Entitled To You (3.6K words)

Norstaptri x Reader

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: An incident with Lance sends the boys into a frenzy. She just wants to do what she loves.

Warnings: Explicit depictions of r@pe, injury descriptions, panic attacks, Oscar plots a murder, Lando throws hands, Car crashes, Author doesn't know legal stuff, Head trauma and blood.

Notes: This one is a request from @Lily234566 I know this wasn't the original pairing but I was struggling to fit the Ferrari boys in there so I had to scale it back... I'm sorry and I hope you still like it! T_T

Side Note: Sorry to the Lance girlies reading this. AND obligatory message of I don't know these people and this is purely FICTION! HEAD THE TAGS! DONT LIKE THEN DONT READ!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

“Max!” She peeks her head into his driver's room. The bright beaming smile she receives in return after their 1-2 nearly kills her. “They want me for a media thing, apparently.” HIs smile drops into a pout. The sad puppy eyes might convince her to stay.

“Again? Don’t they know we have plans!

“No, and why would they care anyway?” She looks him up and down and whines because he’s standing in front of her with no shirt on. “Just - I’ll meet you guys back at the room. It’s something to do with being a female in F1… again.”

“I’m starting to think they have nothing else to talk about.”

She shrugs as she walks out of the hospitality, waving to Christian on her way by. The goal is to get past the Mclaren garage without seeing Lando because otherwise she is not going to the interview. His pout is worse (better?) than Max’s.

To her pleasant surprise, Laura is the one conducting the interview. “I’m sorry about this being last minute! They said they wanted you to do it with someone else next week and I offered to do it now.”

The interview passes with ease and thankfully doesn’t take long at all. The banter in-between is also entertaining.

She’s exhausted when they finish. Ready to go back to the hotel and fall into bed with her boys. Hopefully They’ve ordered food - and dessert.

The paddock is nearly empty as she makes her way through. Maybe, had she been paying more attention and not focussed on her aching body, she would’ve caught on to the footsteps behind her.

They are heavy, she assumes possibly a mechanic still packing up to continue on their way to the next circuit. That’s what she still thinks when the hand on her bicep yanks her around the corner.

If she weren’t as exhausted, then fighting would’ve been a possibility. However, that seems out of the cards as he pins her against the nearest wall. Her forehead hitting the surface hard enough to make her dizzy.

“Not so confident now, huh?”

The fuck- “Lance? What are you?-” He slams her head again and cages her body against his own. She flails, only to be slammed again. “Would you stop doing that please?”

“Not after that stupid stunt you pulled today on track.”

“You mean the one where you showed you don’t know what brakes are?-” Again, her head is sent into the hard surface. She can feel her nose starting to bleed. “Must you?!” She decided to shut up when he does it again and everything starts to go fuzzy.

His fingers dip beneath the waistband of her fireproofs. The cold evening air hits her bare skin and she panics more than before. Her head is too cloudy to fully comprehend what’s happening.

“I feel like I'm entitled to a bit of compensation after that stunt.”

“You’re entitled to nothing. You took yourself out!” She hisses through gritted teeth. Still, Lance continues to get her clothes lower. And slams her head again harder - you know - because she wasn’t disoriented enough already.

“Would you shut up?” She doesn’t say anything this time. Her mouth feels numb and her ears are ringing. Her exposed lower half is met with the bare hands of someone she doesn't want touching her.

It's - well - it hurts. He's groping at her thighs, ass, even her tits which she isn't sure how he's managing. His hands are everywhere they shouldn't be.

And then nothing.

A vague awareness of what's happening seeps through her veins and invades her senses. She tries to scream. Attempts despite the sheer pain of the snap of hips she didn't ask for.

His finger beat her to it. A hand encloses around her throat and cuts off her oxygen. The black spots dance around her vision. She wants them to stop moving; they are making her dizzy. Or was she already dizzy?

“See, it's not so bad. Don't you feel less guilty for ruining my race now?” No, she doesn't. She wasn't guilty before.

She blacks out.

~~~♡~~~

Waking up with sore limbs and a killer headache is not how she pictured this night going. She tries to yell for help, but a mere creaky rasp escapes.

When did she lose her voice? The thought makes her panic more. The sob she lets out hurts more than there is sound.

Her face and hair is sticky. At least Lance had done her the courtesy of not finishing inside of her.

Still - what the fuck even happened? The fragmented memory is trying to come back to her slowly. Each small piece remembered is another broken cry.

She can't move.

It's dark again.

~~~♡~~~

The anxiety between the three boys is certainly not something they are used to. Oscar can pinpoint the exact moment Lando started overthinking and Max had to bear hug him so he didn't pace a hole into the cement of the parking lot.

The fourth seat in their car remains empty and their messages have gone unanswered. It's getting more concerning with each passing minute.

“Max, she always responds.”

“I know Lando.”

“She always calls if she's going to be longer.”

“Lando?”

“Yes?”

“Would you feel better if we went and looked around for her?”

The Brit nods his head in a fashion that might give him whiplash. It's better seeing him feel helpful then sit helplessly. Though Oscar can't help but agree with Max's original point. that they should wait there at the car just in case since that's where they were supposed to meet.

Granted, it's only been twenty minutes. It's still long enough to be murdered.

They Methodically peer around corners and wave at the mechanics who give them skeptical looks. They were supposed to be out for post race celebrations by now.

Oscar freezes when he sees it. The human shaped lump lying on the ground. He rushes over with long strides. The closer he gets, the more familiar the person on the ground becomes.

“Max! Lando! I found her!” The other two boys come sprinting in his direction. He's on the ground trying to clear her hair from her face only for it to get stuck in the sticky substance coating her features.

“What the fuck?”

Her fireproofs are still on, but it's obvious what happened. The handprints on her neck, the blood trickling down the sides of her face. “We need to bring her to a hospital.”

Max hoists her up in his arms. Mainly because Lando is on the brink of tears and struggling to breathe through his panic. He loves deeply and with his heart on his sleeve. Oscar just hopes he can keep the Brit calm until they find more help.

“Can we at least clean her up?” Lando pleads with him. Big Hazel eyes brimming with tears.

It's always a struggle to tell him no. “We can't, not if it can help us figure out who did it.” The tears start right after that.

“So that’s what happened then? Someone really-” Oscar has to maneuver the puddle of tears that is his boyfriend into the passenger seat of their rental car. Max tosses him the keys, opting to be with her in the back and keep her comfortable.

The tricky drive to emergency is more because Oscar is too far in his own thoughts to pay attention to the traffic lights. He can hear Max moving her around, attempting to put pressure where blood still flows freely.

Oscar doesn’t bother with parking. He pulls off into some empty area and helps Max shoulder her weight inside the doors while Lando runs ahead to find help.

It’s fast after that. They take her away and start patching her up while the three of them are forced to sit in the waiting room. Oscar and Lando are left to their own devices while Max paces about on the phone with Christian.

He feels like a knife is being driven through his chest each time his mind tries to come up with what could’ve happened. Who would do something like this? Unfortunately, a lot of people. The question is more of who could’ve done it and gotten away. Someone with access to the paddock this late. Security, perhaps? Maybe even a sleazy mechanic? A driver wouldn’t make any sense… right?

“When will they let us see her?”

“When she wakes up, most likely.”

He’s not sure when he falls asleep. The exhaustion finally hit him like a truck despite his persistence. He’s awoken by Max’s constant shaking and aggressive whispering of his name.

“-She’s asking for us.”

He’s up faster than Lando when Jon threatens an ice bath. They follow the nurse down the halls with an uneasy anticipation. They creep inside the sterile room and find her staring at the wall.

Lando doesn’t hesitate to move further into the room. Always having been more in touch with his emotions then the other two boys. “Hey love, can I come closer?”

She looks at him. The bandages plastered over the sides of her head and around her face now visible to them. She returns Lando’s gaze with glassy eyes. It’s damn near shocking when she tries to pull things off her body in a desperate attempt to reach for Lando.

Lando gets to her before she can get everything off, specifically the IV, and catch her arms. Oscar and Max finally pull themselves together and manage to get her to lay back down with some coaxing.

She’s shaking violently. Her grip on Lando’s arm is sure to leave bruises. “Who - who f-found me?”

“We did, schat. We got worried when you didn’t respond.” Max drags the two chairs in the room closer and pulls Oscar down into one. Lando, against all odds, manages to wriggle his way into bed with her.

“I know who it was. I - well - does anyone else know?”

“Just Christian and us.” Oscar can feel the fight Max is putting up to not ask her more questions. The way he’s grounding himself with a hand on Oscars knee instead.

“You don’t have to tell us.” He attempts to reassure. Maybe calm her mind by giving her an option. “Just know we’re here, alright?”

“I don’t want it to be a big story. It’s already going to be since I can’t be in the car for the next four weeks. Oh fuck - everyone is gonna know-” Lando hushes her; gets her to somehow hold him tighter.

“Christian said it’s up to you, whatever happens.” Max nods at her encouragingly. “We go at your pace.”

“They did a rape kit. They’ll know who it is. It was all over so it couldn’t have been hard to get DNA - oh fuck”

Her heart rate picks up. The nurses rush in. They send her back to sleep.

~~~♡~~~

Max wants to know who it was who touched her. The rage simmering underneath her skin is almost too much to keep contained.

On the more fortunate side, they were allowed to stay since she wouldn’t let go of Lando. Then when he did have to get up, they rotated.

The doctors and nurses learned to approach her like she’s a scared animal. The heavy footsteps seem to set her off and there is now a sticky note on the door saying to tiptoe when entering. It’s endearing to see her doctors and nurses trying so hard not to startle her. But seeing as they’ve now had several incidents where she’s panicked, they are taking more caution.

Oscar and Lando have meandered away in search of food. Max opted to stay put and made the promise to bring him back cheat foods. He’s too stressed to not eat something of comfort.

Her physio is supposed to come by today with the stuff she left at the track and get an update from the doctors themselves instead of Max’s botched attempts at repeating back. It will also be nice to see her comfortable, as the one blanket that travels with her everywhere will also be dropped off.

“Max?” He tightens his hold to show he’s listening. “It’s not fair… You, Lando, and Oscar make a mistake on track and nobody does that to you. I - It wasn’t my fault.”

The thing is, Max is smarter than people give him credit for. The only incident on track was with Lance. An incident that was his own fault. “He’s at fault, not you. None of this is your fault.”

“They are going to say I was asking for it or something.”

“In those fireproofs? The only ones asking for it are me and Oscar… for obvious reasons.” He chuckles proudly at his little self compliment.

It also manages to get her to crack something of a half smile. “Are you complimenting your own ass?”

“And what if I am?”

She doesn’t eat anything despite it being sat in front of her. Soft foods are the only thing she’ll be eating. Her throat, albeit not as bad as it could've been (thank you F1), is still damaged and needs to rest as much as possible.

They had to keep her for observation due to where the head wounds had been. It’s been a rough thirty-six hours, but they are managing.

Despite the hectic situation, Max has come to learn that the female lying in the hospital bed is a better person then the rest of them. Oscar was detailing a full proof murder plan while she was telling him not to make it a bigger deal then it is. To which Oscar politely put his ten step plan with four contingencies down and told her that it’s ‘what he had coming to him’.

Max has not had to stop someone from assassinating a rival before, but Oscar seems like a reasonable guy. “Death is too good for him.”

“Mm, you’re right, I’ll just make sure he doesn’t die then and can’t see my face.”

“Or, we make his life a series of inconveniences! I feel like daddy’s money could get him good therapy. It can’t solve every minor problem.” Lando has a gleam in his eyes.

Him and Oscar start pouring over ideas once more. The girl simply shakes her head and goes back to eyeing her pudding like it’s assaulted her. “I don’t want to leave here, Max.”

“Why not? I’d assume you want to go home? Sleep in a comfortable bed?”

“Out there, they can get to us. Here is safe.”

He considers how to reassure her. Only, there is nothing he can think of. The truth is that outside of this hospital room, there is no guarantee they won’t run into trouble.

“I can’t promise that we'll never have something bad happen again. But-” He looks to the McLaren duo brainstorming ways to make the Aston Martin garage regret existing. “We’ll be there for each other. We’re here for you. When you want us and when you need us, yes?”

“Pinky swear?” She extends her pink to him.

Max accepts and curls his pinks around hers. “Pinky swear.”

~~~♡~~~

It’s not fair really, that they had to leave to go do things. Lando would prefer he at least stayed with her so she isn’t alone. Alas, they are preparing for her discharge and he had to run around getting things together for their trip back to Monaco.

He comes back to a partially opened door and smiles at the other two boys being able to get back before him. Then again, as he gets closer he can hear the angry tone. One that Max uses when he’s pissed off about something.

Lando panics and rushes inside. Only to be met with the sight of the last person he wants around right now.

Now - he wouldn’t say he’s prone to violence. Lando prefers to keep the peace when it comes to conflict unless he’s trying to piss someone off on purpose to get a reaction. This is not one of those times.

Lando’s knuckles collide with the Canadian’s jaw faster than he can fully become aware of what he’s doing. Lance stumbles backward and holds his jaw, glaring at Lando like he’s the one in the wrong here.

“Get out!”

“We were just talking-”

“I said. Get. Out.” He’s seething. The thudding in his chest becoming louder with each second Lance remains in this room.

He’s not prone to violence.

Really, he’s not.

Yet the second crack of knuckles into Lance's chin gives him some sick satisfaction. Isn’t there something about equilibrium? Can he pin this on restoring the balance or something? Regardless, he isn’t going to dent the fact that it feels good.

The nurses come running and start asking questions. Max and Oscar have to drag Lando away kicking and screaming.

Worse is when they try to tell him that there are pictures out on social media. Christian has been calling Max non-stop. Oscar has been dealing with Zak. Their relationship isn’t a secret and neither is their current location.

“They're sending us a different car to see if we can’t get out discreetly.”

“What happened with Lance, Lan? Are you alright?”

Everyone is panting. Their eyes trained on the door. “I punched him. I restored the equal-brey-um… thing.”

“Equilibrium.”

“Yeah that!”

He’s not sure how they get on the plane. He’s still amped up about the whole punching thing and running purely off adrenaline.

They’ve been sitting in silence, mulling over their options. Creating statements they can put out. It’s hectic and they keep trashing them because nothing fits.

The female has been apathetic. The last thing she wanted was for this to get out and now it has. Seemingly everything is flashing before her eyes. Her career will be gone soon enough, so what’s even the point?

“Don’t post anything. We don’t have an obligation to confirm or deny the rumors. If anything, we can say that you were just driving me to the hospital and being good friends or whatever.” She won’t look at them. Still - Lando can hear how upset she is, the waiver in her voice. “I’m going to be kicked out anyway.”

“Christian said-”

“Damn what Christian said! He knows this isn’t going to get any better and if I say who it was then Daddy’s Money is just going to pay his way through.” She's hyperventilating now. Her body collapses against her seat and Oscar makes an effort to get her to lean against him. “It’s not fair!”

lando Can’t help but share her feelings.

~~~♡~~~

She stays holed up in the Redbull garage the next weekend. The appearance is hard, people want to ask her questions. Her boys had been caught in the middle of the riptide and haven’t come back to shore yet.

At least she’s here. She’s trying her hardest to look stronger than she is. On the inside things are falling apart.

The team knows to give her space and not ask about the ordeal. She takes refuge in Max’s room when things are too much and the other drivers keep their distance.

They know it was one of them. She’d been adamant on not saying who it was, but it’s obvious there are sixteen who it could have been, given her partners insistence that none of them go near her garage for the time being.

She just wants this whole thing to blow over. She wants to lay in bed with her lovers and not flinch when they go to touch her.

She knows, however, that until she deals with things that healing can’t happen like it should. Or at least, that’s what her therapist says. The one she is now required to see.

Things get worse when she’s back in the car. Her media duties are limited so she can focus on driving and ‘listening to her body’ as her physio likes to say.

She can’t hear her body over the sound of her mind going staticy as Lance closes in on her. The catalyst for everything. She panics and ends up in the wall. Not the worst crash ever, but certainly hurts her pride more than it has already.

The thing is, it keeps happening. Even as she’s able to let her boys back in. As her podium finishes start to come back. Her fireproofs (which they’d gotten her all new ones) start to feel comfortable again and she doesn’t feel the need to be out of them the second the race is done. Still, Lance is using this to his advantage.

Finally, after he almost killed her on track (again), she’s had enough.

The trial goes better than she thought it would. Despite the money differences, Lance won’t be able to race anymore. It’s not some grand spectacle either, just an announcement like usual. It’s more the closure she needed versus the publicized drama it could have been.

She wins the next race.

“If I ever see him again, it will be too soon.”

“It’s been over a year now, Lan. I’m getting better.” There is a genuine smile on her face. The car awaits to take them back to the hotel. It was here that it happened. She almost considered not racing because of it.

“Lando got a taste of blood and now he’s feinding for it.” Max has a comforting hand around her waist. A grounding presence.

“I mean, I never threw away my murder plot…”

“You’re a genius Oscar!”

She shakes her head. It’s not like any of this has been easy. It never is. Still - her boys are here and they’ve been so patient.

“There’s her smile.” They all beam at her.

She smiles back.

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daycourtofficial · 10 months

Text

Hickeys and The Marks We Leave

Summary: You and Cassian have been sneaking around for a year now, keeping your relationship hidden. You’re tired of hiding, but Cassian doesn’t want to tell everyone yet, so when his brothers accidentally see some hickeys you left on him, you want to tell everyone, but he doesn’t.

Author’s note: this is heavily inspired by Hickeys by @lalacliffthorne so I highly suggest reading that as well!!

Cassian didn’t think anything of the delightful morning sex the two of you had before he had to go to training. Despite keeping your relationship a secret, it was really easy to find ways into each other’s rooms throughout the day and night. A rigorous training schedule was one of the reasons you two slept in Cassian’s bed every night - you could slip out easily while him and Azriel were at training.

Cassian had, to his misfortune, cleaned the scent of you off of him, as he did every morning the two of you had sex before his training. He wasn’t ready to tell his brothers he was seeing someone, especially not that it was you. His brothers adored you, Mor and Feyre adored you, even Amren was somewhat fond of you.

The problem is once he tells them, it becomes very real. And once it becomes very real, he could mess it all up. Cassian was in love with you, no doubt about it, and you were in love with him. But Cassian was always afraid, waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for something to go wrong.

His thoughts whirled and swirled, consumed by you, which is how Gwyn’s voice catches him by surprise as she shrieks, “Cassian is that a hickey?”

Cassian stops stretching, looking down at his bare torso, finding a trail of hickeys down his chest that extend into his pants. He looks back up to see all of the valkyries and Azriel looking at him.

He thinks quickly, “I fell coming up here.”

They’ll buy that, right?

“This one has teeth marks,” Azriel says, pointing to one close to his belly button. He swats his brothers hand away, “besides you have no marks anywhere else, unless you want to drop your pants to prove they don’t go further down.”

Cassian was going to murder his brother in front of these priestesses, he just knew it.

Fuck, he thinks, Azriel never lets any information go. If he suspects anything serious, he’ll follow Cassian around for months, years even to figure it out.

Damn you and your beautiful mouth.

“Fine, I saw someone last night, happy?”

Azriel keeps his stare on Cassian’s face, “then they would have healed by now, or at least be more healed. These are fresh bruises, probably an hour or two old.”

“Okay, fine, I stayed with someone last night and we had sex again this morning. Now, let’s get back to work.”

Azriel let it go, but Cassian could see in his eyes all the lingering questions he has.

Cassian returns to his room in desperate need of a shower, only to find you still in bed asleep. He sits on the bed next to you, and kisses you nice and slow, waking you.

“Mm, morning Cass,” you drawl sleepily.

“Ah, good morning my little vixen. While you were sleeping here all nice and peacefully, I was getting grilled by my nosy brother for the beautiful trail of hickeys you left down my chest.”

You freeze, not realizing you were going to leave a mark on him. “I’m sorry Cass, really I am. But maybe this is an opportunity to tell them about us?”

He huffs, “we’ve talked about this, no. I’m not ready to tell them.” He gets up off the bed, heading towards the bathroom.

“Oh so it’s just ‘no’ and that’s it? I don’t get a say?” You reply, sitting up straighter in the bed.

“Not when it comes to my brothers you don’t.” He starts angrily looking around the room for fresh clothes.

“Your brothers? They’re also my friends? Anyway so what? We’ll never tell them?”

“We’ll tell them. Eventually.”

“Eventually? Cassian it’s been a year. What are you waiting for?”

“To feel ready,” he replies, wanting this argument to be over.

“What if you never feel ready to tell them?”

“Then they won’t know.”

“Cassian I’m starting to think the reason you won’t tell them is because you’re ashamed of me.”

Cassian doesn’t respond, standing stock still in the doorway to the bathroom, seemling confirming your deepest fear. This secret relationship was fun, yes, but you were always afraid he was either ashamed of you or that he didn’t see a future worth telling his brothers about.

“Well then, I guess there’s nothing for Azriel to find out then. If you’re so ashamed of me, you’ll be glad to be rid of me.” You reply curtly, storming out of his room, not letting him get another word in.

You’d been avoiding Cassian for three days since your fight. He hated what he said and what he didn’t say as soon as you had left, but he wanted to give you space to cool off so you could talk like reasonable adults. Except you’ve decided to not be a reasonable adult by avoiding him at all costs.

If it didn’t piss him off so much he’d be incredibly impressed. His family has still seen you, you haven’t completely dropped off the face of the planet. But you haven’t been in the same room as Cassian since your fight. He’s hardly caught your scent, but he knows you’re around.

“What’s wrong Cassian?” Rhys asks, Cassian’s distress the past few days impossible for him to hide or cover up.

Cassian sighs, rubbing his hand over his face. “I think (y/n)’s avoiding me, I haven’t seen her in days.”

Rhys has a ghost of a smirk cross his face before it turns into concern. “And why do you think she’s avoiding you?”

“We got into a fight and I said some things I shouldn’t have and I haven’t seen her since.”

“And when was the fight?” Rhys asks.

“Three days ago,” Cassian responds.

“So the same day we teased you over your hickeys at training.”

Despite having known Azriel for hundreds of years, he has always been able to sneak up on Cassian.

Cassian turns to the shadowsinger, grinding his teeth, “it might have been the same day.”

“Curious,” Azriel says, not even looking at Cassian. Cassian knows Azriel’s figured it out, he has the look on his face he gets during interrogations when he’s waiting for his prey to tell him what he’s already figured out.

The three of them stand in silence while Cassian weighs his options.

“Okay fine, we’ve been together for a year now and she was tired of hiding it and wanted us to be public about our relationship but I kept telling her I wasn’t ready. The hickeys were an accident, but I blew up on her over it and she might have insinuated I was hiding our relationship because I was ashamed of her. I didn’t deny it and she ran out before I could say anything.”

Cassian puts his head in his hands, trying to bury the shame he feels for how he handled things.

“A whole year?” Rhys asks.

“Yeah, things started happening around solstice last year.”

“I didn’t realize you guys had been sneaking around that long,” Azriel states.

Cassian snaps his head up at his brother, “you knew?”

“Of course we knew,” Rhys responds, “she hasn’t slept in her room in months. The maids complained to me that she doesn’t have to make her bed every morning. And I know she hates no task more than making a bed.

So I figured she was seeing someone and sneaking back in. I had Azriel figure it out. His shadows caught you two taking a bath together.”

“Well,” Cassian sighs, “there are much worse things they could have caught us doing.”

Cassian’s laugh dies as Azriel turns to him and asks, “Are you ashamed of her?”

The look on Azriel’s face reminds Cassian that while Azriel was his brother, he was also incredibly fond of you. Both his brothers were, they both loved you dearly, but Azriel especially.

“No, I’m not. I’m an idiot because as soon as she said it I couldn’t believe it! Me? Ashamed of her? She’s the best thing in my life, how could I be ashamed of her?”

Azriel backs down a little, his temper satiated by Cassian’s admission. “Then why keep it hidden?”

“Because if I told you two, it would become real. And I could fuck it up if it’s real. If it’s hidden, it’s our secret. It’s fun. But telling all of you makes it real. And when it’s real, the stakes are higher.

“I’ve had my heart broken before, I’ve survived it. But I couldn’t survive if we became real and it ended.”

Cassian’s silence hung in the air until he felt Rhys’s arms pull him into a hug.

“But what if it doesn’t end, brother?” Rhys loosens his hold on Cassian as Azriel chimes in.

“Whether or not you tell us, it was clearly real. And you really hurt her. Fix it,” he says, before walking out of the room.

Cassian and Rhys watch him walk out, confusion coating Cassian’s face.

“Ah, he’ll come around. He’s just upset he didn’t figure it out without my prodding. And the fact he views her like a little sister.

“No doubt he’ll kick your ass in training tomorrow, especially if you don’t fix things.”

That night, after you skipped family dinner, Cassian decided to go straight to your room. You answered the door, wearing one of his shirts, clearly upset.

“Hi,” you squeak, knowing he’d come around eventually to come talk to you, maybe even take his shirts you had stolen back.

“Can I come in?” He asks, a look of sadness on his face. You open the door, allowing him entry and he closes it softly behind him.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you, having to get the words he had rehearsed out as quickly as possible, afraid you’d shut him out again. “I’m not ashamed of you. I was terrified if I told anyone it meant this would become real and I could mess it up, but I messed it up anyway.”

You open your mouth to respond, but Cassian cuts you off. “I love you, and Rhys and Azriel know, which means Feyre probably knows, which means everyone likely knows. I don’t care who knows anymore if it means I can have you. If you’ll have me back.”

The past few days of ignoring Cassian were torture. You were in love with him, but he was also your best friend. Being mad at him felt awful, but feeling like he was ashamed of you was worse.

His confession makes you soften, reaching your hand out to his. “So you’re not ashamed of me?”

He clasps your hand in his, rubbing his thumb across the back of it. “Absolutely not. I didn’t respond because it took me off guard,” he looks into your eyes, reaching up to cup your face, “I could never be ashamed of you. I’m sorry you thought I was. I just couldn’t believe you would think that.

“I’ll shout from every rooftop in Velaris that I’m in love with you if you’ll have me.”

His gaze was piercing, an intensity you’ve hardly seen from him. You smile at him, reaching to touch his cheek, “can I pick the first rooftop?”

Cassian snorts, “what do you say? Will you let me grovel for you to take me back?”

You smile, pressing against him, “I’ll allow it.”

#acotar fanfiction #cassian #cassian x reader #cassian x you #cassian angst

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orphicrose · 7 months

Note

I got bit by a spider a while ago and it made me come up with this request idea, imgiane Alastor x reader were they were already together and one day they come to him with a spider bite and then he aboustly looses it on Angel even tho the reader persists it wasn't him it was an actual spider and AL is like "doesn't matter! I'm not letting any spider harm you!" And Angel is like "HEY! IM A SPIDER DEMON NOT A SPIDER! AND I DONT BITE...unless ya want me too, and what are ya a spider racist?" And its a stupid argument but Alastor is still mad at Angel for a spider bite he didn't cause and Charlie and Vaggue have to break it up. 🤣

Tiny spider

This was really fun to write. Thank you so much for the suggestion

_______________𖤐

Alastor was always your night in shining armour when it came to bugs. Hearing your squeals of terror from the room next door to him, he could always safely assume it was because of some sort of mutated beetle or spider. And he was right 90% of the time. He’d swiftly eliminate the threat, sometimes letting it outside. Sometimes calling over niffty to have her fun with it. This time, though, he was too late. It got you. Seeping into your skin with its sharp fangs before you had the chance to notice it was on you.

Flinging your hand about in sheer panic, you let out a cry for help. Alastor assuming someone had murdered you, materialising into the room next to you hearing his hands. Ready to smite someone with his black magic at any given moment.

You turned, showing him the tiny red mark at the end of your finger. He calmed down, posture adjusting itself. He took your hand in his, moving his monocle closer to his eye to get a better look at the microscopic mark the even tinier perpetrator had left on you.

“What happened my love? A paper cut?” He mindlessly questioned to the sobbing face in front of his.

“It got me…” you almost wept from the panic.

“What got you, my darling” his arms slithered around your waist to pull you into an embrace.

“A spider”

His pupils dilated at the sentence, his beloved was hurt and his instincts tell him to seek justice. Arms pushed you away and within the blink of an eye, was on a search for said spider. There is was, all of its arms waving about in front of him, golden teeth bared ready to attack its next victim.

“Yeah so, now I have to work all day to make up for it tomorrow” angels arms waved around, exaggerating his story to the cat behind the bar in front of him.

“Uh huh.” He responded nonchalantly , cleaning a glass in his hand with a mouldy cloth. His face slowly lifted to see the spiders face, but his eyes widened when he saw the enraged Alastor behind him. Thinking it was for him, but almost relieved when Alastor reached for Angels neck from behind.

Angie screeched in a mix of confusion and fear, managing to twist his flexible body around in the deers clench. Soon being thrown to the floor “What the fuck are ya doing there, Alastor?” His voice was nervous, backing away as he was planted below him.

“You bit my darling y/n. Spider” he walked slowly toward the spider, before he burst out laughing. Leaving the confused Alastor with a tilt in his neck. “You think this is funny?”

Angel struggled to form a word between breaths of air. “Let me guess. Y/n got bit by a spider and you’re automatically gunning for me?” He got up, hand on his knee to help him.

“That’s a bit discriminatory to us spiders, we don’t all have 8 legs yanno?” He dusted his blazer off and wiped away a tear from his eye. Alastor losing his temper the more he spoke. Someone needed to pay for the harm, he thought.

Within seconds hell broke loose. Charlie and Vaggie rushed to the lobby after hearing something break. To be met with glasses being throw at the wall, a black tentacle slapping husk around the face, angels golden tooth glaring as he shot anything that moved and a fire In Alastors eye that said “death to all”. It was mayhem.

Before they had a chance to react, another scream came from the living room. Stopping everyone from what they were doing… except for niffty. Niffty was still cleaning up after everyone like a mad man.

Rushing to the room next door, the group stopped in their tracks to find you hiding on the mantle piece above the fire place.

“My dear? What’s the matter?” Alastor spoke first, stepping into the room.

“SPIDER!! ITS BACK TO FINISH ME OFF!” You screamed, pointing at the tiny black spec on the floor.

“Oooohh…” everyone in the door way collectively hummed, realising the mistake.

“what have you got to say to me now,huh?”Angel poked his shoulder, the demon gritting his teeth as his head snapped back.

“There’s still time to kill you, Angel dearest!”

#hazbin x y/n #hazbin x reader #Hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #request #reqs open #alastor fluff #alastor x reader #hazbin angel dust #angel x reader #fanfiction

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morwap · 2 years

Text

WITH ONE FLAT FOOT ON THE DEVIL’S WING

➸ danny johnson x fem!reader

➸ smut | some dark! content | pre!entity

➸ nav | d.j m.list | part one

➸ dom!danny, sub!reader, p in v, unprotected sex, stalking, breaking and interning, mask kink, degradation and praise, spanking, oral m!&f! receiving, filming, head pushing, creampie

Opening your nightstand drawer and pushing around the junk that you throw in there from time to time, finally finding what you were looking for.

It was a little damaged, the corners bent and a piece of the left corner ripped. You stared at the picture, one hand playing with the hem of your panties. the same ones he was using in the picture, of course, now they were clean. All the DNA that covered them was now stripped away and gone.

You haven't heard from him in weeks, the sexual encounters you’ve had after that day seemed dry and didn’t really hold your interest. Your job was even more boring, being a secretary at the Roseville gazette was not the most entertaining job but you do get a few laughs from your coworkers, especially jed, he’d come to your desk a lot to joke around and ask if you had heard things around the office, he loved hearing your gossip since people often thought you and him were the type to tell their secrets too since you both had an inviting aroma, you liked hearing the drama he had to tell which left you both giggling.

Two of your work friends invited you to drinks at walleyes, this was something unusual since the ghostface murders started so you agreed.

three shots in and holding who you think is tessa’s bag, you were ready to go home and no matter how many people were hitting on you, you knew it wouldn’t be what you wanted.

it was late and you were really not wanting to have a hangover on a work day, you couldn’t call off if you wanted that vacation time in june.

you made sure tessa’s bag got to her before leaving, your house wasn’t too far and you were barely feeling the shots. you debated on grabbing food while you were out but decided not to since most places were closed and the only food that was super close to you was gas station food.

you pulled into your driveway, hurrying to get your house keys out of your bag before you turned off your car. you didn't know what it was but as soon as you shut your car door you had this eerie feeling, your house was the last on the street and then beside you were trees for miles so this feeling washed over you sometimes during late nights but this felt different.

making your way to your door while constantly looking behind you just in case was something you had been good at, stopping in front of your door, trying to find the right key.

your bag slid down from your shoulder onto your forearm, it knocked into your door making it creak open.

you knew damn well you locked your door.

your mind fought between it being him or it being someone else.

taking a deep breath, you walked in, not closing the door all the way. you walked towards your living room.

there sat ghostface, his gloved fingers tapping on the arm of the chair he sat in. you sat your bag on your couch, tossing your keys onto it.

“didn’t think you were gonna come back,” you said, you played with your hands nervously.

“i keep my promises, i gave you back your panties as much as i wanted to keep them didn't i?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

you let out a soft laugh and shook your head, “what took you so long?” you asked.

“can’t spend all my time with you bunny, i'm a busy man and i came as soon as i was free” he said and shrugged. “but let's see if you keep your word since you were so cocky on the phone” he added as he spun the camcorder that sat on the table beside him.

you smiled as you walked closer to him, sinking to your knees once in front of him. you reached over to the camcorder, bringing it to you and turned it on then hitting record. you handed it to him.

“i keep my promises too,” you said, touching his cock through his clothes. you looked at the camera as he made sure to focus on your face, sometimes moving it to your hands but it always ended back onto your face.

danny was grinning ear to ear under his mask, he knew you’d be perfect since the day you started working where he did, he just knew there was something behind your whole nice persona plus he didn't spend all that time watching you for him to be disappointed.

undoing his pants and pulling out his cock was thrilling, it was something you’d thought about since the phone call, it was all you could think about at work and it was certainly the only thing you could think about at night.

danny’s chest moved up and down as his breathing got quicker and the mask sure didn't help.

your hand went up and down his length, looking from his tip to the camera.

“put your mouth to work” ghostface demanded, you looked at the black fabric that covered his eye before licking up his cock and then licking around his tip.

danny let out a pleased hum, he took the camera into his left hand and his right came to the back of your head, he didn’t put any pressure.

you took him into your mouth, moving your head up and down, over and over. you’d look up at him or the camera from time to time and each time it made you want him inside of you more and more.

“oh you’re good at this, bet you have so much experience” he groaned, his hand holding the camera starting to get a bit shaky. you answered him with a disagreeing hum around his cock.

“you don’t gotta lie doll i know you’re a fuckin’ whore” danny scoffed, he knew everything, absolutely everything about you. danny pushed your head down this time, making you gag around him and making him laugh silently.

you looked at him as you deepthroated him, your hands gripped at his thighs. his hand didn’t apply any more pressure and let you move your head freely. you let off him, catching your breath before sucking him off again. you took him back into your mouth, licking a vein that was near his tip over and over making his hip shudder and buck up. your tongue swiped over his slit a few times then you swirled your tongue around his tip.

danny was close, his hips bucking up and his balls tightening, his hand now guiding your head as you looked up at the camera.

“good girl, you’re such a good girl” danny moaned out, jerking off with your panties was good but not as good as this for sure. you hummed around him, rolling your eyes back as you continued pleasing him. ghostface was a lot thicker than you imagined and your jaw would surely be sore by the time you woke up in the morning.

you could hear him cursing under his breath, the pulsing in your cunt was almost unbearable.

“m’gonna cum bunny, fuck- you better swallow it” he said through gritted teeth. his abdomen tightened as his cock twitched in your mouth, you moaned around him which made his hips buck up harder.

danny’s hand pushed your head down to his base as he came into your mouth. he tried to keep the camera steady as he groaned.

you looked up at him, tears coming to your eyes as you tried to not choke on him, he could feel you rubbing his thigh in a weird comforting way. his hand let off your head and you made your way up to his tip, practically sucking him clean.

danny focused the camera on your face, “open your mouth” he ordered as you got your mouth off his cock.

you tilted your head back a little and opened your mouth, his gloved hand grabbed your jaw gently as you waited for him to tell you to swallow.

“fuckin’ swallow it” he demanded, pushing your mouth closed and then moving to your neck, he wanted to feel you swallow.

you obeyed, taking it all down in a gulp.

“good little bunny,” he praised and pat your cheek, “get on the couch” he added in a serious tone. you wanted to kiss him but you knew he wouldn’t take off the mask. danny put himself back into his boxers for the moment.

you got off your knees and made your way to your couch with ghostface not far behind, you moved your purse and keys to the floor before getting on your knees on the couch, waiting for his instructions.

danny set the camcorder onto your coffee table before walking over to you, tilting his head to the side as he rubbed your cheek with his thumb then moving to unbutton your shirt, the same shirt he had seen you wearing at work that was just a little too tight for your figure.

“you’re so pretty, doll” he complimented. it made you smile as you stared up at him.

you half expected him to just rip your shirt off instead of treating it carefully, before you knew it he was taking your shirt off you and tossing it to the floor. danny pushed you to get on your elbows and knees on the couch, your skirt was riding up and your shoes had fallen off and onto the floor.

danny got behind you, his gloved hand running up your leg to your waist, your skirt was tight, it was one of the ones you wore to work but it was just a little too long for danny’s liking; he reached for his knife that was by his thigh.

he grabbed the fabric with one hand and cut it off of you. you gasped and turned your head to him. before you could talk he started.

“calm down doll, s’just not one of my favorites,” he said, taking the now destroyed skirt and tossing it to the ground. you playfully rolled your eyes, you weren’t gonna fight him about it. danny put the knife back before touching your legs again.

you had on mint-colored panties with white lace, his fingers sliding under the fabric and pulling them down your legs.

“i’ll be keeping these bunny” danny said as he stuffed them into his pocket, your cunt was on full display for him.

“please touch me” you whined, you wanted him so bad, you didn’t if he fingered you or ate you out you just wanted him inside of you.

danny laughed, he knew you were getting needy, “i'll give you what you want bunny” he said as he moved his mask up and to the side to where it just perfectly hid his face. he held you still as his tongue made contact with your cunt, he kissed your clit before sucking softly making you moan into the cushion.

you arched your back as he lapped at you over and over, his hands massaging your skin as he kept you still.

“ghostface-“ you started, stray hair was in your face as you wished he would go faster.

“you can call me danny” he interrupted you, his mouth leaving your cunt for a second then going back, circling his tongue over your clit.

“danny please fuck me” you begged, you dug your nails into the cushion.

danny left your cunt, moving his mask back to his face.

“such a needy fuckin’ whore, so impatient” he muttered which made you whine and move your hips back a bit, he slapped down on your ass, making you jump. danny palmed himself before taking his cock out of his boxers again, he rubbed himself on your slit.

danny hummed as his tip teased your entrance, you tried to press back onto him but his free hand stopped you.

“be a good girl and wait” danny said, correcting your behavior. He tapped his cock on your clit before going up and down your slit again, just teasing you.

“you’re just being mean” you huffed as you took his teasing, this has been the only thing on your mind and now he just wants to torture you. danny laughed, leaving his tip at your entrance.

“oh- i’m mean, bunny?” he asked humorously and just when you were about to respond he thrust into you making you gasp, he filled you up so nicely. danny’s hands grabbed your waist and pulled you into each thrust.

“c'mon doll, am i mean now? since you couldn’t fucking wait” he scoffed, the fabric from his pants scratched the back of your thighs.

“no” you stuttered out, his balls slapping against your clit. danny grabbed you by your hair and lifted your head to look back at him.

“what was that?” he asked, you wanted this so bad and now you just felt like jelly and already cock drunk for him which would definitely make you embarrassed in the morning.

“you’re not mean!” you whined out, danny pushed your head down and kept his hand there, his thrusts got faster and rougher.

“i’ll show you fucking mean” he gritted, his hand that was on your waist moved to your ass, smacking down on your skin as you looked at the camera.

you moaned his name a few times as he spanked you over and over, your orgasm was coming and it was coming hard, you were so excited, you hadn’t had sex like this in since you didn’t even know when but there was something about this that made it so exciting.

your body rocked as he used you, his grunts and moans was something you tried to focus on. his gloved hand squeezed your ass before moving his hand back to your waist. metal from his pants prodded at your skin.

danny wanted to fucking ruin you, make to where you’d never expirence something like this with anyone else.

he rutted into you roughly you had no idea how you could keep up, your eyes rolled back as he just kept going, you didn’t think it could feel any better but it just amazed you.

“danny- danny- please i’m gonna cum” you told him, you could barely get out your words, you were trying to catch your breath.

“you wanna cum? after being mean to me?” danny snarled, shaking his head.

“please! i’m so sorry! please i didn’t mean it i promise” you cried you, you reached to his hand on your head, holding his hand, your fingers pushed up his sleeves to feel his skin.

“you’re such a sweetheart when you beg, my sweet little thing” he cooed at you, you were so close, his cock felt so good inside you. “rub your clit angel” he added.

your free hand moved to your clit, rubbing with two fingers in circle motions. you moaned and dug your nails into his skin.

“cum when you’re ready doll” he said, giving into your begging and pleading which wasn’t normal, he would’ve made you hold it but maybe it was just the goodness of his heart and influenced his decision.

“thank you” you whimpered as your fingers went faster, danny’s abdomen was tightening as you clenched around him.

you came with a loud whimper, squirting all over his cock and your fingers, soaking the cushion underneath you as well. you mumbled incoherent things as danny moaned out loud.

“fuck- bunny” he breathed out, danny tossed his head back a bit.

“cum in me, please danny” you begged, taking your fingers off your clit and wiping your hand on the cushion.

“if that's what you want bunny” he said smugly. danny’s cock twitched inside of you, he bit his cheek as his balls tightened, a few final thrusts and he was spilling inside of you.

it felt like he would never stop cumming, he left go of your hair not even realizing he was tugging so harshly, your hand held his hand there and you didn’t let go.

danny took deep breaths as he recovered. you let your eyes flutter shut as you relaxed, danny moved his hand from your head and leaned over you, he moved his mask to the side and kissed your head, you let out a pleased hum as he fixed his mask.

danny pulled out of you, watching his cum drip from out of your cunt. there was a deep desire to eat you out until you were so overstimulated you would cry but it was time to go. danny got up and grabbed the camcorder, bringing it to your cum covered cunt.

“you’re so pretty bunny” he complimented, you smiled as he started to stroke your thigh. “you did so good for me” he added as he ended the recording, he got up to clean himself up in your bathroom.

the last thing you heard was “i’ll give you a call bunny” then silence.

you woke up two hours later, your eyes focused on your coffee table, a new set of clothes, a glass of water, two wet rags and your birth control all sat on it.

the next day was work, the back of your thighs stung a bit when you sat in your chair. nothing interesting happened except for jed coming around shit talking your coworkers and asking if you had an alright night.

people came in and out of the place, interns and people trying to get in touch with your boss or coworkers and it finally had gone dead when night came, you only had two hours till you could leave so you relaxed.

when you came back from the bathroom you found something on your desk, a yellow mailer with your name on it sat beside your keyboard, you looked around to see absolutely no one in the lobby, you were alone.

you were quick to open it, grabbing what was inside, a flash drive. you were used to people sending pictures in on flash drives for others but you had never gotten one with your name on it.

you looked around again before putting into your computer and clicking the pop up, it only had a video on it, you looked around again.

he was here. he dropped this off and had to have had the mask off. you were excited but you knew you shouldn’t watch it now, not on the clock at least.

you gave in and clicked it, making sure the audio was off, it started playing and you watched as you handed him the camera.

you looked at the yellow mailer and shook it, a polaroid fell out. your eyes went back to the video.

a noise came from beside you, you panicked and exited off the video and turned to the side.

“y/n, what are you doing?” jed whispered as his eyes were wide and you just knew he saw.

“nothing” you whispered yelled at him, squeezing your eyes shut.

“that didn’t look like nothing, i didn’t know you were so naughty” he poked fun at you.

“oh my god, stop it, it’s not like that” you cringed, jed rolled his eyes. he leaned against your desk, his sleeves rolled up his forearm.

the nail marks on his wrist caught your eye.

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