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polarisbibliotheque · 7 months ago

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Can You Hear The Rumble? - Vergil x Reader

Music Inspired Fics (Devil May Music) - Cirice, by Ghost

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: Everyone knew the kind of demon a hunter should be wary about is the one who plays with their victim's minds. You and Vergil were very proud on the outside - but how would it be when having to save each other on the inside for the first time?

TRIGGER WARNING: A lot of blood, cuts, bruises, scars and suffering on both Vergil and the reader's sides. The reader also struggles with perfection and self-loathing - in a "I'm never going to be a good person" kind of way, because I needed to get more intimate on the reader's part as well - and there are scenes with the reader covered in cuts and bleeding, though not self-imposed, it could be read like that. Those scenes are the reader's and Vergil's internal images of themselves. Reader and Vergil meet each other on their imperfections and the darkest parts of their souls, so BE WARNED. This might not be everyone's cup of tea and there are lots of potential triggers.

Author's Note: @tokkis-shelf asked me if Vergil's part of the Halloween special was inspired by Cirice, and here we are now. It is what kickstarted the song-fic requests! As with a lot of people, I think, Cirice is pretty personal to me.

In the video, it was so comforting to me seeing the black sheep being represented hahahaha and I guess that's why people love it so much. The part where they hold hands? I died, I'd never let go, I cry my soul out upon watching. (I did a very similar drawing to that scene when I was in school around 15 years ago, so it drop-kicked me out of my body xD)

Now, when writing this, I kept in mind that this song has a double meaning and can be quite comforting and quite manipulative at the same time - hence why I use the "can't you see that you're lost without me?" in two different situations, 'cause I think Cirice can be interpreted in so many ways and each person takes what they need from this song. I hope you guys like it!!

Plus, the song the reader and Dante sing at the end is The Power of Love, by Huey Lewis and The News

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Cirice, by Ghost

“Can’t you see that you’re lost…?”

It happened every time Vergil walked in the darkness.

That voice in the back of his head, silently taunting him, the hiss of a quiet viper in the hopes of taking him back to the darkest parts of his soul. Quiet, lurking, whispering… Mundus always there, somewhere in the folds of his consciousness, guiding him back into the void – luring Vergil back into his shackles.

“Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?”

As if Vergil couldn’t belong anywhere else, as if his place was in Hell. After all he had been through, after all the sins he perpetrated, he believed wholeheartedly there was no hope for him at all – only a fool’s hope; only a glimmer of a wish he wasn’t as tainted as he was… A desire to not be such a monster as he was.

Pacing quietly through the empty cathedral, Vergil had already learned not to give in to those thoughts – to keep them at bay, as only a whisper in the darkness, of trickster voices that would always remind him of how inhuman he was.

It was times like this Vergil longed for the faint glimmer of the moon, or the warm ghostly light of a candle. It was easy to get lost in the dark, but a single ray of light could help through the direst of situations. That night, though, it seemed like the moon had fallen asleep behind the curtains of the clouds – Selene hiding her tears for her earthly lover in his eternal sleep.

None of you knew what that night entailed – you weren’t even certain what you were dealing with. That was the reason why Lady strutted in the Devil May Cry, not too fond of taking a job she didn’t know if it was up to her abilities.

“Well, looks like I have a new one for you to pay your debt, big guy!” Her singsong voice interrupted the ambience of the jukebox; Lady entering the shop with Kalina Ann and all.

“Eh, I’m never gonna be free of my debt, Lady, let’s be honest.” Dante sighed, putting his feet down and throwing his magazine across the table, shooting her a serious glare. “But things have been borin’ lately, so one of your odd jobs’ not gonna hurt. Whaddya have for me?”

“You talk as if I never help you enough to maintain this place.” She lifted one eyebrow, approaching the big desk at the middle of the shop.

“Gotta give the woman credit, Dante. Last month’s bills were on her.” You shrugged as you had finally come out of your shower, happy to see Lady around, still drying your hair with the towel as you went down the stairs.

“See? Someone who has a bit of common sense.” Her smile was nothing short of devilish as she gestured towards you.

“You know where you are, Lady. ‘Common sense’ isn’t much of a thing in this household.” You greeted her by quickly blowing her a kiss while passing by, making your way towards the couch where Vergil was quietly reading.

“Ey, you’re hurtin’ my feelings like that.” Dante put one of his hands over his heart, laughing alongside you as you kept on your way. “But fine. I’ll give ya that, Lady. So, what’s up? What job do you wanna throw at me this time?”

“I am not throwing it at you.” And there it was: you could always see when Dante stroke a nerve when Lady got defensive and with that fiery stare on her multicolored eyes. “If you wanna do it, great, if you don’t, I can deal with it myself just fine. I’m here to be a good friend since you can barely afford all that pizza you keep stuffing yourself with!”

As you sat by Vergil’s side, you both exchanged a telling glare. Just like you, Vergil was used to observing people. Granted, he didn’t know Lady as much as Dante or even you, but he did know her since he was very young. That fiery, easy-to-anger personality had been there since they first met at the Temen-ni-gru – and Vergil argued it was one of Lady’s traits that would never change.

Something he was quite pleased with, if he had to be honest with himself. It was a good trait for a human demon hunter like her. Dante always praised human’s hearts and particularly their love and empathy – Vergil praised their burning anger that made them unconquerable in the direst of circumstances.

“Jeez, alright, alright, don’t shoot me!” Dante raised his hands as if he was at gunpoint, making you wheeze quietly. Vergil side-eyed you for a while – half judging, half holding his own laugh. “It’s not like I have much of a choice, do I?”

“Humpf.” Lady rolled her eyes and took a slice of pizza from the box resting on the desk, pointing at Dante with it right after. “You know I wouldn’t bring you something if it wasn’t important.”

“Actually, you would.” With those words, Dante rested his arms crossed on the table – all the while, you and Vergil watched it all as if it was a show. Who needed a TV when you had those two? “But you’re bein’ too dodgy ‘bout it, babe. What’s goin’ on?”

“I got a call from a priest in a city nearby.” Lady’s answer was uncharacteristically quiet, followed by a bite from the pizza while she seemed pensive and in any hurry to chew it. “I’ve done some jobs there, know the guy, he’s nice. All the times he called me, it was always a quick, good-paying job. He said some weird things have been happening at the cathedral for the last couple of weeks.”

“Not to sound mean, but there’s always somethin’ strange happenin’ at churches.” Dante’s eyes carried a bit of skepticism: ‘weird things’ didn’t always entail a job for the Devil May Cry – and it usually ended with all of you hunting a rogue raccoon or something.

“I know. But this guy, he doesn’t get scared easy, ok? He’s one of those types of priests who’ll try to shoot down a couple of demons with a shotgun and, if that doesn’t work, he gives me a call.” Those words, though, made you and the Spardas raise your eyebrows. Indeed, it was a rare type of priest, but a good one to keep as acquaintance. “He said the cathedral is increasingly quiet, even from noises outside, with occasional distant noises that are not done by any of those who live there. After it all started, the other priests reported having weird nightmares, of being chased by something in the dark, inside the cathedral – this thing whispering things they can’t understand. Alright if it happened to one or two, but soon all of them started waking up in the middle of the night with similar nightmares – and, catch this, the higher ups of the clergy didn’t tell the common priests about it, but they all reported the very same dream.” Those words caught everyone’s attention. Vergil finally closed his book and leaned forward, paying attention to Lady’s retelling of the priest’s misfortunes. “The priest has been trying to figure out what’s going on, but some old books appear to go missing from the library, only to re-appear as if nothing has happened. Some books are missing pages, something that never happened before. He also said the inside of the cathedral has been getting darker and darker as the weeks go by. As if something is approaching – his words, not mine.”

Vergil immediately furrowed his brows and seemed to turn into an ice sculpture right by your side. You risked a glance, finding him with his usual dark aura – pensive, somber and quiet; hunter’s eyes showing themselves in a matter of seconds.

“Rare are the creatures in Hell in search for knowledge…” He muttered loud enough for his brother and Lady to turn their attention to him. “But those who do, are usually among the worst. Haunting noises, torn books, nightmares, dead silence and total darkness…”

“What? You think those Hell Piranhas came out of their pit?” Dante’s question had a bit of fun in the words, but his eyes were serious and he didn’t allow his lips to smile.

“Could be. Could also be a demon trying to mimic them to hide something else.”

“Hell Piranhas?” You and Lady didn’t need a cue to ask at the very same time. Neither of you had ever heard of that – and both of you had heard of a lot.

“This is not their name, but it is how Dante calls them since we were kids.” Vergil almost sighed in response.

“How we both called ‘em. Mister smart-pants over here isn’t that much better than lil’ ol’ me.” Dante winked at both of you, making you giggle quietly in return. “They’re kinda like illusion demons, but they like stayin’ in the darkness and gatherin’ knowledge. Usually work for someone bigger, though.”

“And even if they don’t, they swallow up all their knowledge and that is dangerous in itself. Afterwards, they feed from the victims they have been toying for so long.” Vergil continued Dante’s thought, ignoring his brother’s previous words. The more you didn’t think about what Dante had said about him, the better – for Vergil couldn’t deny it. “They hunt in packs, and the more victims, the more powerful they become. Some call them the Pit Deceivers, others call them the Lie Weavers…”

“You call them Hell Piranhas.” You concluded bluntly, making Vergil stare at the horizon with emptiness in his eyes – he could say all he wanted, flex all his demonic knowledge, you heard the Piranhas and now you’d never forget it.

“I never heard of them.” Lady had her eyebrows furrowed, searching her memory for some story like that.

“They either don’t leave the pit that much or not many humans survive to tell the story. That’s why.” Dante pointed at a great, old book Vergil had left on one of the tables a long time ago and now it was its official resting place. “You can find it only in the likes of the Codex Daemonica.”

“So either we have them around, or it’s something else. Something bigger. Right?” As you asked, Vergil only agreed with his head as the attentions turned to you. “Or something mimicking the Piranhas.” And Vergil had to sigh at your addition. He would never have peace again. “The mimic or the master, what kind of demon would the Piranhas answer to? If they are that obscure, I take it their existence is more of a niche knowledge in Hell rather than a common information.”

“On that, you are correct…” Vergil murmured in response, falling back into his pensive demeanor. You knew he would be lost for a while.

“See? Good thing I brought this for you, then.” Lady waved dismissively at Dante, but you could sense a little edge in her playful voice. Dealing with big things was fine, same as dealing with cruel demons and the ones that played the big-scary-one persona. Unknown demons were another kind of monster – one only Dante and Vergil used to deal with. “Plus, they always pay well.”

“Eh, I won’t be seein’ much of that money, if I know ya well.” Dante scoffed, having a small smile hidden in the corner of his lips; his tone and demeanor, though, were quite somber and you knew the red devil was taking it seriously.

“If you don’t mind, Dante, I would like to take over this one.” Vergil finally declared while getting up from the couch. “I know some of the hellish creatures who might make use of the Weavers or mimic them.”

“Fine for me, I’m needin’ some time to rest.” Dante sighed, but looked right back at you while Vergil rested his book on the big Devil May Cry desk. “But I’m gonna feel a lot better with someone around to keep an eye on ‘im, pretty thing.”

“Well, I didn’t intend on letting you guys deal with this all by yourselves anyway.” You got up from the couch, immediately receiving a glare from Vergil. “I’m going, blue devil, whether you want it or not. I want to get acquainted with these Piranhas.”

Vergil only closed his eyes, letting out the longest and most regretful sigh you ever heard in your life.

And there you were – although Vergil lost track of you quite a while ago. He knew the stirrings rippling through his heart when you were in danger; and being the fierce human you were, Vergil wasn’t worried about having you search for the demons in the cathedral.

There was, though, a slight uneasiness. That voice echoing in the darkest parts of his soul, it always came as an omen – causing nothing but destruction, inside or outside of himself. Vergil never could really say which one would be, but both were devastating.

“Veeeeergil…”

His steps came to a dry halt in the middle of the cathedral. The night outside the colorful stained-glass windows was pitch black, robbing the colors of their warmth and light – the fire on the candles, long dead in that cold night. The whisper that crept to his ears, like stark chalk on a chalkboard, dragged itself through the marble floor and took a hold of his soul in its clutches.

It was a different kind of sound – different from the ones inside himself, calling him to the darkness. It was from the outside… The Lie Weavers. Slowly coming up, finding him as their next victim. He was close to one of the places they were certainly lurking in the shadows, patiently waiting for someone they could consume.

Vergil never feared the darkness. Tightening his grip around Yamato, his steps resumed his way, approaching the places in the cathedral the faint light of the night could barely touch. Those demons should have known their end was near, and he was the harbinger of their demise – he expected all kinds of trickery, of resistance, of fight from them.

He did not expect to hear a familiar voice, filled with uncertainty.

“Vergil…?”

Halting his steps once more, this time his silvery eyes lost their predatorial gaze as his heart jumped in his chest – even if for a slight second.

“Mother?”

His answer was but a whisper before he was swallowed by darkness.

When engaging with illusion demons, one should be aware of not falling into their element: when engulfed by it, those demons were more powerful than expected, able to subdue even the strongest of foes. Breaking from their control required mental and emotional discipline rather than brute force.

It was a slight second – a foolish slip from his human soul, disarmed by the trickery of Eva’s voice – and Vergil was surrounded by a sea of darkness and turmoil. His heart stirred with anger towards himself for being such a child, a vulnerable stupid child, tricked by a puppet of something his heart missed so much.

Eva was long dead. There was no demon able to bring her back. And he would never see her again. All that logic was tossed aside in a spark of a second by his stupid human heart, trembling upon hearing her speak his name again. Granted, Vergil only heard his mother in his dreams, barely remembering how her voice sounded in reality, and this time he heard outside himself – but he should have seen it coming. Illusion demons, trickster demons, cruel demons… They all relied on the barely closed scars inside his damned human soul.

Vergil could always count on them to re-open those wounds, making him bleed as much as he did on the floor of that cursed cemetery so many years ago – and he was a fool to fall for it after he had been through so much.

“Vergil… Can you hear me…?”

“I can, you damned deceiver. You can stop these theatrics – mimicking my dead mother will not affect me.” His voice cut through the dark like the sharpest of ice, his predatorial gaze back into his silver eyes.

“I… Don’t understand you, son. I cannot find you.” Her voice had a tinge of sorrow and desperation – but it was exactly like Eva’s voice. Vergil remembered it with a tinge of gold, probably a result of the haze of nostalgia, but today it was grounded and melancholic – perhaps, that was how Eva had always sounded… He just didn’t remember it. “I can’t find you. You aren’t home.”

“I haven’t been home for a long while.” Vergil didn’t even try to hide the growl that raised from his chest as he argued with that creature. He was used to having a puppet of his mother parading in front of him to hurt his human soul even more, but that was already getting on his nerves. Taunting him about the fact his mother ran to find him that fateful night wasn’t part of the usual games those filthy demons played – and to say they were honing his wrath was an understatement. “And I will never be back.”

“I… I cannot see you, Vergil. Where are you…? Why…?” He could hear the weeping in her voice, faint sobbing while the desperation made her words tremble. Vergil raised his head in the darkness, holding his own heart not to quiver: she wasn’t real and it was all a gimmick to affect him. He would not be affected. He was stronger than that. “Why couldn’t I save you? Those demons they… They hurt you, didn’t they? Oh, my child! My son! They hurt you and I could do nothing! I couldn’t be your mother!”

“Enough with this, filthy, hellish creature!” His voice finally exploded from his chest, roaring in the dark and echoing through the void, finding only silence. “You have no right to desecrate my mother’s memory like this! Shut your putrid mouth and stop with your rancid lies!”

The glint of the Yamato being unsheathed made the darkness recoil for a split second, only to envelop the Dark Slayer once more. His grip was tight, his eyes fiercely looking for his first opponent to direct a very well-placed judgement cut that could end all those creatures with just one swing of his hand. Vergil had enough and all the patience he carried in his being wouldn’t be enough to stop him from overkilling those demons – he just had to know where to direct his wrath.

“Don’t say those words, Vergil… You are not… Not like this.” Her voice still trembled, and his hand was still certain around Yamato. Vergil knew quite well at that state he was a weapon of mass destruction, he just had to find his opponent. His soul was screaming for him to do that, to put a stop to all that mockery. “You are good… You are my son.”

Vergil would have sliced that demon into a thousand million pieces without flinching, even if it took the form of his mother – but his eyes widened as a soft, warm hand touched his face. In all those years being taunted by demons, being tricked and mocked, seeing so many puppets of Eva, Sparda and Dante, none of them had touched him… And none of them genuinely felt like them.

It had been so many lost years he hadn’t felt his mother’s touch – last time, she could cup his entire face, thumb lovingly caressing his innocent eyebrows, but now her thumb could only reach his cheekbones. Nevertheless, it felt like her: not like a golden, nostalgic lost memory of how she felt, but exactly like Eva’s hands, even with the slight roughness of her continuous gardening.

“It took me so long to find you… I am so sorry.”

“You are not my mother.”

“Don’t say that.” Her answer was a sorrowful whisper, her thumb now carefully caressing his sharp cheekbone. Vergil closed his eyes, unable to move, convincing himself all of that wasn’t real and not allowing his heart to sway – forcing his arms to remain frozen by his side, fighting the urge to embrace her. Reminding himself: his mother was dead, killed while trying to save him, a long time ago, and nothing could bring her back. “Your heart hasn’t hardened as much as not to recognize me. You…” Her voice once more became soft, as if trying to do the same with his soul. “You are not a monster… You are my son, my Vergil.”

With those words, Eva’s hand was finally met with a tear – melting the ice from those silvery eyes.

There was an impending storm rumbling inside your chest.

Whenever that turmoil took ahold of your heart, you knew Vergil was in trouble. You had just finished checking your side of the cathedral, finding some things out of the ordinary but no demons, when the waves became aggressive in your chest. Your steps were already taking you to meet him, but you found yourself walking even hastier – the sound, though, eaten by the shadows that seemed to only grow around you.

Neither of you had calm seas of feelings: they usually raged like a maelstrom of emotions you could barely get through without some destruction – be it internal or external. But there was a certain note of melancholy and desperation in your heart at that moment that made you know Vergil was hurting – and that hurting, you knew quite well.

It was almost ironic how you apparently despised each other at the beginning, but after a while you came to understand; that aversion was there because you, in a certain way, were a mirror of each other. You could see in him the traits in your soul you disliked the most, and Vergil did see in you the same thing – those traits, however, were the same ones that brought you together, and made both you and Vergil feel seen and understood for the first time in your lives.

He didn’t judge your sins, as you didn’t judge his. To your eyes, he was never a monster, and to his, you could never be as crooked as you thought you were. You found each other in imperfection and, in that, you managed to talk and feel on the same level – after that, every feeling of admiration, care and love was easy to blossom.

You understood that storm, that thunder rumbling inside your chest at that very moment. You could feel it exactly the way he felt – and you knew Vergil needed help… Even if he would never say so himself.

You couldn’t hear or see him, though. You found yourself exactly at his area of patrol in the cathedral, but there was no clue as where your blue devil had gone – and for him to completely disappear, imposing presence and all, was quite an achievement in itself. The air was stiff, heavy as if the windows had never been opened, eating up any sound from the inside and the outside. The darkness was heavier than the one you had previously patrolled, shadows allowing only a few glimpses of the opulent decoration and the path in front of you – although, you couldn’t see more than a few meters beyond your feet.

If you couldn’t trust your sight or your hearing to find him, you could trust your heart: the storm would guide you. Closing your eyes, you allowed your feelings to take over, following with your footsteps in the direction you could hear his soul calling.

Those shadow creatures wouldn’t be able to hide him from you: no matter what happened or where you found yourselves, you would always be able to feel Vergil’s presence and find him in the darkest of hours.

And as the thunder in your chest cracked violently, your feet came to a halt and you opened your eyes.

Right in front of you, there was only darkness. Not like in the shadows that took the cathedral little by little, but pitch-black darkness, that no light could cast aside. To enter it would mean to be completely bare: vulnerable, lost, without guidance, naked – but the screaming in your soul made it very clear Vergil was in there.

Contrary to your lover, you were afraid of the dark. You always preferred to have a little light by your side, for you never knew what could be lurking alongside you, ready to pounce and drag you to certain suffering and death. You protected yourself by being forever vigilant, as you always did – a trait that exhausted you, yes, but luckily, in the last few years, you had Vergil around to keep a light by you when your body started giving out.

For that reason, you would never fear entering the darkness for him.

And with a deep breath, your bold steps took you inside the dark.

Your feet were cold, bare, stumbling over a sticky floor. Even if your eyes could see only darkness, you felt the freezing air of that night slicing your skin: you were shirtless and something was hurting… Oozing. The cold wind mixed with a faint warmness that leaked from the open wounds on your skin.

Blood. You were bleeding.

Your arms immediately wrapped around you – those scars, they were showing. They never showed before.

Running your hands quickly over your body, you could feel the warm blood slipping through your fingers; some wounds barely holding themselves closed while others still poured as in the day they were created.

That was the version of yourself you used to fiercely hide. None of those wounds were physical, none of them could be seen… But whenever you looked in the mirror, you saw them there, under your skin, under your soul, quietly resting until you couldn’t hide them anymore.

“You are lost…”

It was always the same voice, of something dark, something inside you that could break your soul if you didn’t shove it back into the darkness like you always did. That was why you were afraid; that was why Vergil always kept a faint glow by your side whenever you couldn’t hold yourself together. The dark was dangerous to you – to both of you.

“You are lost without me…”

“I can survive quite well without you…!” You growled to the darkness, keeping that part of yourself at bay. The part that gave in to the pain, that bathed in the blood and didn’t want to get up… And the part that would bathe and rise in rage, making you survive at great cost to those around you.

You were past that. And you didn’t need that to survive. You didn’t have to survive, you could live.

“Can’t you see that you’re lost…?”

“Vergil!” Your scream was a roar in the dark, looking for the one you plunged into the darkness to find. You wouldn’t give in to the trickery of those Piranhas – and you would get Vergil out of there.

They would learn they shouldn’t fear only the son of Sparda: they should also fear you.

“You think you can find him…?” After the mischievous ethereal voice questioned, you heard a giggle rippling around your feet as you stumbled on the sticky floor to find your lover. “You think you are that good? You think you aren’t a monster?”

You furrowed your brows, doing your best to ignore the voices. You knew it was that part inside of you that always taunted how broken you were, how imperfect your soul was. For the longest time you believed there was nothing good in you, nothing to save you from a life of loneliness, until you crossed paths with Vergil.

He was broken too – and he would never judge the things you did to survive your lethal wounds.

“Vergil! Can you hear me?! I’m here to find you!”

“How chivalrous, how heroic! What are you trying to accomplish?” The giggles pooled around your feet, threatening to drag you inside that pool of viscous darkness. “Trying to prove yourself? You’re never going to be perfect. You’re a black sheep, an outcast, remember? The likes of you aren’t heroes.”

“Oh, I’m no hero…” You growled back, fighting against the things trying to pull you back; fighting against the pain of the freezing cold and warmness of blood. “I’m a fucking fighter. You’re messing with the wrong kind of monster, fucking Hell Piranhas.”

“Piranhas…?” A faint whisper in the dark broke whatever control those things were trying to have over your body, starting at your feet. It was Vergil’s whisper – followed by a louder speaking tone. “Y/n! I can feel you, where are you?!”

“Trying to find you!” You screamed back, immediately dragging your feet towards Vergil. You couldn’t see him, but you could feel where he was – and there was nothing those demons could do against that.

The darkness seemed to shift for a couple of seconds. You couldn’t understand what was happening, but you saw a faint, ghostly pale glow in the dark – almost imperceptible, but your heart knew, you could finally see Vergil.

And, in return, he could see you. Moving his feet, Vergil dragged heavy shackles through the floor, screeching in a horrid, soul scratching sound as he willed his body to move towards you. You could hear him grunting with the effort, another set of chains being dragged as Vergil moved his arms – slowly, but surely, wearing all of his strength to get to you.

You felt the viscous ripples of the floor creeping up your legs, almost on your knees, doing their best to pull you away – back into the darkness, back to the taunting voices, to the doubt, the hurt, the self-loathing.

“Vergil! Let me hear your voice! You’re still there, right?!”

“Yes. I am always here.” His answer came with grunts of effort, barely above the noise of the chains screeching around him.

The darkness shifted again, and his form became even more visible, as yours did to him – followed by a scream that rumbled in his chest, Vergil managed to get even closer. That made something spark inside yourself, that thundering storm breaking in your soul cracking in a scream that broke the insidious tentacles holding you back and making you lunge forward.

Once again, the glow you diffused only to each other seemed to get stronger as the darkness wavered.

“Y/n…” He growled once more, the shackles screaming on the floor as he reached out to you.

“Vergil…!” You reached out in return, barely making out the form of his fingers in the dark.

As you were almost touching each other’s hands, the heavy, muffling darkness faltered once more. You could finally see one another, as you were in that godforsaken place.

Vergil was shirtless, his body covered in wounds – new and old – bleeding profusely. His silvery eyes were red, sunken in deep shadow, surrounded by a deep purple mist on his dry skin. You could see his bones under his pale skin covered in so many lacerations you wouldn’t even know where to start healing him. His knuckles were battered, showing the flesh underneath, as well as his wrists covered by heavy iron shackles – wounds from fighting against them for so long. His hands were still long and elegant, but bony and covered in bruises.

You had never seen Vergil so hurt, so broken, so… Vulnerable.

In return, his eyes took in shock the vision of you: as shirtless as him, as battered and wounded as he was. Even if not locked in the shackles he wore for so long in Hell, you walked barefoot leaving a trail of blood behind you. Those scars, those wounds, those bruises… He knew they were there, but he had never seen those. You looked weak and tired, bloodshot eyes under dry skin, as if you hadn’t slept in ages… And those things you fought so much to conceal, now crystal clear in front of him.

Those were the scars you carried inside yourselves. The wounds you had to fight against every day – that you had to try to heal, even if sometimes it seemed impossible. The things you would never show, but, somehow, you managed to sense it in each other… Now you could see it, clear as a bright night.

And, even if you wouldn’t admit to yourselves, those were the very same breaking thunders that would keep you moving – fiercely fighting, fiercely surviving.

As you took in each other’s internal selves, Vergil’s silvery eyes finally found yours.

A loud thundering noise shook the floor underneath your feet twice, as your hearts rumbled alongside the devastating sound. You lunged forward, holding Vergil’s hand as if your life depended on it. Never breaking your eye contact, Vergil held your hand with the strength you would expect of the legendary Dark Slayer. You made each other stronger, and there was nothing that could come between you now.

His shackles immediately screeched back, pulling Vergil violently away from you. At the same time, you were grabbed by the viscous darkness – your knees, your legs, your abdomen, your arms. It pulled you back with vicious strength, doing its best to drag you away from him – back into the darkness.

“Don’t let me go!” You screamed back, tightening your grip around his bony hand.

“I will never let go!” He growled, doing the same, trying to drag his body forward – failing to notice you willed yourself towards him as he pulled you into his arms. Those silvery eyes never moved away from yours.

“You are lost…! Lost…!”

The voices chanted and screeched around you, doing their best to drag you apart. For a moment, your hand slipped and you let out a desperate scream, hurting your lungs as you were almost pulled back into the void. Vergil’s cry resembled a roar as he willed his body to move and tightened his grip in a way he didn’t hold even Yamato.

He hadn’t held his brother’s hand once. This time he wouldn’t make the same mistake. This time, he would hold you even if that damned the both of you to the darkest pits of Hell.

“Can’t you see…? Can’t you see that…?”

“I am lost…!” You barked back to the voices, still staring into Vergil’s eyes, trying to catch your breath while your lungs stung as if you were inhaling a thousand knives.

As Vergil looked into your eyes, though, he knew exactly what you were going to say – and he could safely say it was the very same thing he struggled to find the words to.

“Without you.” His answer came in a dark tone, ragged from the effort he too made to be able to hold your hand.

The thunder rumbled twice again – the voices shrieked and you suddenly found yourselves being launched into each other’s arms as the forces that bind you broke into a million pieces.

Vergil’s arms wrapped around you, one of his hands holding your head close to his chest, as you wrapped yours around his waist, keeping him as close as you could. His head rested on top of yours, and you kept your eyes closed – washing away the blood above his heart with the tears that streamed down your face.

“Don’t ever hide from me.” Vergil’s voice was uncharacteristically shaky, somber but reassuring. You had never been so vulnerable in front of him – and even upon seeing you like that, his reaction was to take you in his arms, to welcome you. “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

“And I’m not afraid of your darkness.” You tightened your arms around his cold, bony body as you felt tears running through your hair. “I can see beyond your glimmer, and I’m not afraid of what’s in the dark.” Your voice shook as you took a deep breath and Vergil’s arms held you even closer – his body shaking with the tears falling from his eyes. “It’s you. And I’m never afraid of you.”

“Neither am I of you.”

His answer was but a whisper – a whisper enough to break the darkness into a memory to be kept away in the deepest pits of Hell.

I can feel the thunder that’s breaking in your heart I can see through the scars inside you

“You killed the Piranhas from Hell with the power of love?”

Vergil wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. Or die. Or both.

Probably both.

The whole crew was there as you and Vergil never came back from the job as quickly as expected – and when you did, it looked like you hadn’t slept in days.

The priest was more than happy with the result of your work – even though you never discovered why the Weavers decided to come out of hiding nor what they wanted. The congregation was just happy they were gone and the whole reason behind it would be a long-term thing for the Devil May Cry to work on – or to keep an eye on; maybe something bigger was approaching.

You and Vergil didn’t feel like going back to the shop, though. When you were hurt physically, things were very much ok to deal with, but when the wounds were emotional… You needed time for yourselves.

Unlike his brother, Vergil was a little more responsible with his money – and you, a lot more than the two. You managed to find somewhere to spend a few nights… Which involved the both of you talking out everything you felt and saw. It was harrowing at first, something neither of you were versed in and honestly were terrified of, but it eventually brought you even closer together.

So, to say you had defeated the Lie Weavers with the power of love was something that killed Vergil inside.

And you could almost see his internal self, glaring at you with a ‘really, after all of this you say this kind of foolishness’ look in his sad, silvery eyes, as Lady stared at both of you and made the question everyone was thinking.

“Yep. Power of love, it’s a curious thing.” You shrugged, making Vergil physically groan by your side while Dante slapped his table with a huge grin on his face.

“Make a one man weep, make another man sing! Hell yeah, Back To The Future, babe!” He winked back at you as you smiled in response.

“Of all the people you could end up dating, Vergil…” Trish sat on Dante’s desk, crossing her long legs while sporting a devilish smile on her rosy lips. It was interesting how her voice could never really sound like Eva’s. “It had to be someone who references the same songs as your brother.”

“Alas, fate plays many games…” Vergil rolled his eyes, but as they rested on you, there was a vulnerability you saw only once in that pitch black darkness. “But it is kind enough to give us what we need.”

No one ever really understood what he meant, but Dante was the only one who managed to see something inside his brother’s silvery eyes that could only reflect in yours – and that made him genuinely smile.

Indeed, you would never be the romance of a fairy tale book or a romantic comedy – but you could see what lied beyond each other’s scars; taking a glimpse at the worst of each other without fear and finding whatever light was left inside. You could understand – and that was much more than most lovers in the world would ever have.

#devil may cry #devil may cry imagine #dmc #dmc imagine #vergil x reader #vergil imagine #devil may cry fanfiction #dmc fanfiction #dmc vergil #vergil sparda #devil may music #song fic requests #cirice #cirice ghost #there aaaaare a few references to other things sprinkled here and there #the nostalgia and haziness from secular haze and ghuleh/zombie queen #but the whole Eva thing was the zombie queen nostalgia #never let go? that's from Titanic #the two thundering noises being the thundering drums from the song #the holding hands from the video from the scene that killed me in Matrix and my drawing when I was 15 y/o #seriously it's a recurring imagery in my life and I'm always ??? so it's in here too #I won't suffer alone #for some reason I sometimes sing 'I can see through the stars inside you'#and that's where the reader's 'I can see beyond your glimmer and I don't fear the dark' comes from #and that silly little ending at the shop was just a thing to tie it all together #OH! THE HELL PIRANHAS! Totally inspired by those shadow piranhas from the library planet episode in Doctor Who #the whole concept of those things just creeps me out #if some lost soul from the Ghost fandom fell here by chance or mistake do apologize #I need to tag things properly in this blog to update my masterlist forgotten in the abyss so finding it by cirice will be easier #Youtube

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halfmoth-halfman · 2 years ago

Text

viii. but i can't help falling in love with you

Pairing: Mob Boss!Price x F!Reader Word Count: 5.6k Warnings: bruises, injury, medical inaccuracies, blood, scars, scar mention, talks of abuse Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters. prev | next

“Everything about it says it was just a random break-in—”

Price hums, clearly not happy with the answer.

“—the guy’s prints weren’t in the system, and he didn’t have any affiliated markings or tattoos,” Ghost continues, hands gripping tight around the back of Soap’s chair.

“We asked around on our ends,” Alejandro sighs, gesturing between himself and Valeria. “No one recognizes him.”

“We haven’t heard anything either, but I have Ayah keeping a lookout for anything new,” Farah adds from Price’s left side, trying to add some small amount of comfort to a clearly upset Price.

“It was probably some guy looking to score,” Kyle reasons from the chair across her. The dining room lapses into silence as Price sits in thought, arms crossed and fingers drumming against his bicep.

“We should ask the bird,” Nik cuts in. “If it’s someone she knows, this could be a targeted attack against her, not the club.”

“Let her sleep,” Price says, leaving no room for argument. Nik gives him a questioning look but nods and stays silent.

“We could keep a set of eyes on the hotel for a few weeks, see if anyone comes lookin’ around?” Soap suggests.

“We can’t spare anyone right now,” Ghost huffs. “Not with the way things are.”

“But—”

A soft knock draws the room’s attention to the door leading to the sitting room.

It’s the worst anyone has seen you look. Dressed in leggings and a maroon sweater that’s a little big on you, you look exhausted and run-down, with deep purple bruises lining your neck.

“He-ey—” you croak out, wincing as you give a haggard cough.

Rudy’s on his feet immediately, guiding you to the closest chair, the one directly opposite Price’s seat at the head of the table. He sits you down as you try to clear your throat.

“I told you, no talking,” he chides, gently tilting your head back to lightly press his fingers against the bruises, just like he had when Price brought you here last night. You sigh through your nose, giving a quick sorry in sign language.

“How are you feeling?” Alejandro asks. You open your mouth to answer and shut it promptly when Rudy sends you a warning look. You shuffle, reaching into the pocket of your leggings to pull out your phone.

You type for a quick second before your phone chimes, and a robotic voice answers for you, “Like I almost got choked out by a man twice my size.” That earns you a few chuckles, though Price looks less than amused.

You type again, a quiet beat before the voice in your phone asks, “What did you do with him?”

There are a few glances around the table, most landing on Price as if they’re unsure whether they’re allowed to answer.

“He’s taken care of. No need to worry,” Price answers. You nod, trying not to hit Rudy’s fingers with your chin.

“Did you…recognize him at all?” Roach asks. “Maybe you’ve seen him around the hotel or…?”

“Roach,” Price warns.

“It’s a fair question,” Nik scoffs. “We need to know if this was random or if someone’s going after her.”

They go back and forth while you type, waiting for a lull in their argument to answer. “I didn’t get a good look at him, but from what I saw, I don’t recognize him.”

“And…do you have anyone who might be after you? An old co-worker? Friend?” Valeria presses.

You swallow tightly, fingers hesitating over your phone. Rudy catches that, pulling back from you to give you a curious look.

“Canary?” Rudy asks softly, his quiet voice loud in the room's silence. “Is someone after you?”

It’s too late to lie now.

Think, think, think.

You type again, “The cops? The ones who interrogated me when I covered for you after Hasan. They seemed pretty mad, and they knew where I was staying.”

You give your best worried look, setting your phone down to fidget and pick at your nails.

“That could explain why we didn’t find anything on him,” Alex says, looking at Price.

“Shepherd wouldn’t risk one of his guys like that,” Kyle disagrees. “Especially not to go after someone who’s barely involved with our business. No offense, Canary.”

“None taken,” you sign, giving a casual shrug.

“It wouldn’t hurt to look into it,” Farah sighs. “Can you ask Kate to check around and see if she can find anything on her end?”

Price, silent until this point with his eyes fixed on you, takes a deep breath. He sits up in his chair, the room lapsing into a tense silence as everyone looks toward him.

“Rudy, how’s her neck?” Price asks.

“Still swollen, but it looks like it’s going down,” Rudy answers before turning to you. “You’ll have to take it easy for at least a week. Minimal talking and no singing.”

You give him a salute and a thumbs up.

“I’ll call Kate and see if she finds us any information,” Price sighs. “We’ll close the club tonight while the rest of you find out what you can and put out feelers—see if any of the other families are trying to branch out. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”

Price stands, and the others follow suit, taking their leave with gentle goodbyes and smiles aimed toward you.

“König, hang back a second,” Price calls as he walks to your end of the table and takes the seat next to you, pulling the chair closer to fit you between his spread legs. König nods, lingering near the door as Price gently traces his finger along the bruises on your neck.

“Any news from Majka?” Price asks quietly.

“Nothing yet. Conor said he’d let me know if he heard anything,” König answers. Price nods, a brief flash of disappointment across his face.

“Okay, thank you. Keep me updated.”

“Yes, sir,” König says, giving you a nod before leaving the room.

The room sinks into a comfortable silence as Price looks over the purple and blue of your neck. He’s as gentle as possible, fingertips barely ghosting over the swollen skin.

“How are you?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper as he pulls his fingers away to slide his along your cheek and cup your jaw. You set your hand over his, squeezing softly with a small smile.

You shrug half-heartedly, trying to reassure him without talking, lest you incur Rudy’s wrath.

He nods in understanding, leaning forward to kiss your head softly. When he pulls away, you lean forward, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

“Gaz and Roach brought your things over last night. You can pick whichever room you want, and we’ll move your stuff there,” Price says, perching his head on top of yours with a comforting hand rubbing up and down your back.

You reach for your phone, keeping yourself attached to him as you type, “The room I was in last night…?”

“My room,” Price chuckles.

You pull back to look up at him questioningly, tilting your head. “Then where did you sleep?”

“In one of the spare rooms,” he shrugs. “We got done late, and you needed the rest.” You roll your eyes, clicking your tongue in disappointment.

“If you like the room that much, you’re welcome to it,” Price teases.

You narrow your eyes, glaring playfully at him before you type out your answer, a smirk on your face as your phone says, “I’d prefer the room with you in it.”

Price’s brows raise as he smiles down at you, but there’s a hesitance in his eyes. “You’re sure? I don’t want you to feel like you have to after what happen—”

You set a hand on his chest to stop him. Setting your phone down, your hand slides up to rest on his cheek, gently pulling him closer and closer until you’re barely centimeters apart.

“You make me feel safe,” you rasp before you move forward and close the gap.

For a brief moment, Price stills, and anxiety rockets through you at the thought you’ve overstepped.

You move to pull away, and he lunges, warm hands coming up to frame your face as he kisses you with a year’s worth of bubbling tension finally boiling over.

You don’t know how you feel as you kiss him. It’s a combination of emotions you haven’t felt in so long: relief, desire, comfort, joy. They all swirl together into the one emotion you’ve been chasing since your wedding.

Safe.

Living with John is suspiciously easy.

It feels as if you've known each other for years, and that same familiarity extends to the rest of the club.

You remember nights with your father as a child, listening to him tell you old war stories from his chair while you took and apart and cleaned his guns in front of the warm fireplace. Those memories bring a fondness to your heart that you always thought was the peak of what familial love was meant to be, but it’s nothing compared to your life in the manor.

Dinners with Kyle, Farah, and Alex are filled with laughter and teasing and almost always made by you and John. There’s no tense silence as everyone picks at their plates, no stilted conversation about business and only business, no large work dinners that force you to parade around in an uncomfortably tight dress while you serve your guests.

When Soap and Ghost stay the night, you sometimes run with Soap in the mornings, turning morning exercise into a friendly competition. There’s no pushing on his end, no yelling at you to pick up the pace, or warnings about falling behind. It’s all encouragement and jokes and teasingly elbowing each other as you walk the rest of the way back to the house.

Sometimes Ghost joins you instead, the two of you enjoying a quiet run around the property. He indulges you in the few questions you have about the flowers you find. The answers are short, as you expected, but he’s surprisingly knowledgeable about the flora around the manor and has a cute eagerness to his voice when he explains a flower’s meaning to you.

After a month, Nik finds you one afternoon, grinning at you as he wipes the black grease from his hands onto his overalls. He leads you to the garage, where he shows off the extensive collection of cars he’s worked on, both classic and modern, and tells you to take your pick. You try to assure him you don’t need anything more than your beat-up car—it may be falling apart, but it’s wormed its way into your heart.

“That’s fine, but you’ll have to drive something else while I fix up your piece of shit,” he tells you. It’s then that you notice the back of the garage where his workshop is set up, and he’s got your broken baby up on a lift with the tires taken off.

So, you pick a new one—something practical, efficient, and baby blue—and thank Nik when he tosses you the keys.

Alejandro visits often, mostly to talk with John about happenings with the club, but he always makes a point to find and say hello to you. Sometimes, Rudy or Valeria will join him. When Rudy does, he checks in with you, asking how you’re feeling and making sure your throat isn’t bothering you anymore before joining John and Alejandro. When Valeria visits, she skips out on business talk entirely, insisting on taking you out to go shopping or see the city.

“There’s no point in sitting through a bunch of information Alejandro will tell me about later,” she laughs with a dismissive wave.

You don’t see König or Roach at the house much, and when you do, it’s usually late at night, just as they're leaving John’s office. John never tells you what they come for, but he’s always a little more tense after their visits.

You don’t know how to describe John. The best fitting word that comes to mind is welcoming.

He lets you have half the space in his massive walk-in closet, even though you barely have enough clothes to take up one of the shelves. He has you pick one of the spare bedrooms, telling you to redecorate it and turn it into whatever you want. You’re allowed anywhere in the house, save for the few rooms belonging to the other club members, to do anything you want.

The freedom is almost overwhelming.

When he senses your hesitance, he assures you that he wants you to feel at home, that this space is as much yours as it is his.

You let yourself explore over the weeks but do your best to stay out of the way of club business; it’s not that you’re not curious, you just…don’t want to know, don’t want to be involved in the stress of it all.

You’ve dealt with that enough in your life. It’s a new era for you, and you’re determined to hold on to it for as long as you can.

When Rudy gives you the okay to perform again, you nearly tackle him in a hug. Even if it’s only for the first half of the show, you’ll take what you can get.

Farah switches out with you during intermission, and you head for the bar, where Alex already has a stool open for you.

“Feel good to be back?” he asks, smiling wide as you take your seat.

“It feels amazing,” you laugh. He slides you a glass of water, briefly turning to tend to another patron.

Someone clears their throat behind you, tapping you on your shoulders. There’s a dull thrum of pain, but you ignore it and spin in your seat to find König staring down at you.

“Boss wants you upstairs,” is all he says before turning and walking away.

…okay?

You finish your water, giving Alex a quick wave before heading to the club’s second floor.

You pass a few private game tables, not finding John at any of them, and head towards the few closed-off rooms.

You don’t need to guess which one he’s in when you turn the corner and find Ghost standing guard outside the door.

“Everything okay up here?” you ask as you approach.

“Nothing unusual,” Ghost gives a slight shrug, his shadowed eyes flitting about the hallway.

“Then, mind if I…?” You point to the door behind him. He nods, taking a step to the side to let you through.

The room is dark, low-lit, and filled with cigar smoke and laughter. You make your way through the haze to the poker table at the center of the room, where John sits with Nik and a few other men you’ve never seen before. A couple of them have women with them, barely dressed and making more effort to distract the other players than paying attention to their companions.

Something tightens in your chest, fight or flight buzzing around the back of your mind.

Sitting in a dark room, shoved in a barely-there dress, put on display to distract the other players. The threat of being left to wolves should you fail looming over you.

John wouldn’t that to you.

He’s not the same as—

“There she is!”

John reaches out to grab your hand as soon as you’re near and kisses the inside of your wrist.

“Care to join us?” John asks, staring up at you with a look of adoration that sends a shock of straight want down your spine. “Could use my good luck charm.”

Nik barks out a laugh, “With the way you’re playing, you need more than luck.”

“You don’t have to,” John murmurs, while the others are too busy with their laughter and jokes.

The softness in his voice puts your anxiety at ease. Of course, he’d never force you to be somewhere you didn't want to be.

“Why not?” you shrug, smiling as he tugs you forward and pulls you down to sit across his lap. A hand settles around your waist, a soft kiss pressed along the curve of your neck, and the cards are dealt.

You watch while they play, bets higher than anything you’d be comfortable with. They’re pretty good, but you’ve spent a lot of time around poker tables and even more time around liars. You wait until the final community card is flipped, and the man directly across from you—the last one left in the game against John, older with dark, greying hair—blinks three times and makes his bet before you lean into John as if to kiss his neck.

“He’s bluffing,” you whisper, following it with a kiss before you straighten up. John doesn’t acknowledge you, blank face trained on his cards, but you feel a small squeeze of your hip where his hand rests.

John calls, and the two reveal their hands. It’s not even close, your observation correct, as John wins by a landslide.

He presses an appreciative kiss to your shoulder. You catch Nik smirking at you, and you wink back at him.

The game continues well into the night, and you don’t leave your place in John’s lap. The two of you take it easy, letting John lose a few games while still winning a majority. You play the part, batting your eyes at the others with a flirty smile so they think nothing more of you than John’s arm candy while you lean in to pepper kisses along his neck and whisper hints in his ear.

By the time they call it quits, the left side of his neck is covered in your lipstick, but he’s a few hundred-thousands richer.

“Quite the good luck charm you have there, Price,” one of the men next to Nik—red-headed with one of the scantily dressed women pressed against his arm—laughs, drinking you in with a leer that sets you on edge. “Maybe next time, I’ll try her out.”

John laughs, but you can feel how hard he tenses beneath you.

“She’s spoken for, I’m afraid,” he says with a polite smile, pressing you just a bit tighter against him.

“Sure,” the man laughs before turning to mumble to the others, “Must be all that good luck she’s rubbing off on him,” The others laugh along, save for Nik, who focuses on gathering the cards on the table.

“Go wait outside for me, Dove,” Price speaks quietly. You nod, standing from his lap.

You lean down to kiss him on the cheek before smiling to the table. “You girls want something to drink? It’s on me!” The three women glance at each other before noticing the tension rising in the room and nodding. They follow you out, and you direct them toward the bar before turning to Ghost.

“You might wanna head in there,” you tell him. He nods, waiting until you’ve turned down the hall to go inside.

You spend the next hour with the women at the bar, having a fantastic time as they drink and dance and tell you all about how awful their men are in hilarious detail, probably having their first taste of freedom in a while.

You understand. You’ve been there before.

They leave for a fifth dance, and this time you decline, far too exhausted to keep up with them.

As soon as they’ve disappeared into the crowd, you let out a long exhale, letting yourself lean against the bar.

“Tired?” a baritone voice murmurs into your ear, strong arms sliding around your waist.

“A little bit,” you sigh, turning to face John. “Everything go okay?”

He hums, one hand pulling off your waist to wrap around yours and bring it to his lips. He leaves a lingering kiss on your fingers, eyes holding your gaze as he allows you to see the dried blood and bruising on his hand.

“Probably should go home and wrap this,” he sighs, trailing kisses down the side of your hand to the inside of your wrist.

“Is he still breathing?” you ask, giving your best attempt at a look of disappointment despite the smile slowly growing on your face.

“Unfortunately,” John scoffs, pulling you closer so his mouth can continue its path up your arm.

You click your tongue at him, rolling your eyes in fake annoyance as you pull your hand out of his embrace to set your hand on his cheek. “You don’t have to do that whenever someone says something like that to me. It’s bound to happen.”

His brows knit together, concern and confusion drawn across his face.

“Not to my girl, it isn’t,” he says, firm and final.

“John—”

“Get a room, you two!”

You’re startled apart as Soap and Kyle reach the bar.

“Hey, let the old man have his fun!” Alex scolds through poorly held-back laughs. John groans, head falling into the crook of your neck as the three burst with laughter.

“Ready to go home?” you laugh softly. John nods into your shoulder, stepping back from you with a long sigh and deep reluctance. He takes your hand in his, pulling you away from the bar as the two of you are followed by cheers and shouts of:

“Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do!”

“Take it easy on him, Starling!”

“Have fun!”

Your first priority will be taking care of John’s beaten knuckles. The fun can come after that when you thoroughly thank him for defending you.

It isn’t unusual for John to be up late, either busy at the club or in his office.

Just as it’s not uncommon for you to go to bed alone. Of course, he makes up for it by making sure you never have to wake up alone, but you still miss him on nights when work comes first.

To make up for his absence, you take to wearing his shirts as pajamas, melting into the rich smell of him that lingers on the fabric as you sleep. When he’s finally done for the night, he often finds you lying on top of the covers, snuggled down into the fabric of his shirt. It’s a sight that fills him with equal parts adoration and want, something that he will never get tired of seeing.

You always wake up whenever he finally joins you for the night, moving so you can get under the blankets and let him pull you into his side. Sometimes, he talks to you about his day until you’re lulled to sleep by the soft vibrato of his voice, and sometimes, the sight of you in nothing but one of his shirts leads to even longer nights spent touching and feeling and worshipping until your voice leaves you.

Sometimes, it leads to nights like tonight, you laying beside him with your head on his chest, listening to the rhythmic beating of his heart while he trails his fingers in nonsense shapes across your back.

Things are fine, content, even downright serene until he skims over a ridge of the scar on your shoulder, and you tense instinctively, hissing softly under your breath.

He pulls back immediately, “Sorry, sweetheart.”

One thing about John: he never pushes.

He knows about the scar, knows how you go out of your way to cover it up, how you flinch whenever someone touches on that side. He observes, stores the information away in his brain, takes care to avoid touching you there, but he never asks you about it.

“It’s alright,” you sigh, rolling your shoulder, trying to get the ache to leave.

You want to tell him. You have for the last month, but every time you think to bring it up, something catches in the back of your throat, gnawing at you until you back out.

It leaves you with an awful sort of guilt, one made worse by the fact that you don’t have anyone to confide in about it. No one to bounce your ideas off of. No one to reassure you that John’s opinion of you wouldn’t change if he knew.

You trust him implicitly.

He’s never given you a reason not to.

You can’t keep complaining about being haunted if you won’t let go of your ghosts.

So, in the quiet darkness of your bedroom, you suddenly sit up, throwing one leg over him to place yourself in his lap, and set your hands flat against his chest.

“Did Kyle ever tell you I was married?” you ask softly.

John goes still beneath you.

“Things were good at the start. Or he made it seem like they were so I wouldn’t realize what he was actually doing, but over time that façade he put up melted away, and I—I realized how big of a mistake I actually made.”

He doesn’t speak, but John’s hands settle on your thighs, gently kneading into the bare skin.

A small attempt at comfort.

A silent I’m here.

“He never hit me or anything like that. He found other ways to hurt me, ways that would be harder to prove if I ever left, and he had this…charisma—he was so likable and charming that whenever he’d say no one would listen to me, I’d believed him. One day, he—” Your voice catches, and John’s hands slide up to your hips as he sits up and sets his forehead against yours.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he whispers.

“I want to,” you reply. It takes a second for you to collect yourself, and you’re still not sure you’re ready, but you push yourself to do it anyway. “One day, I just snapped. I couldn’t take the snide comments, the vague threats, the constant anxiety—I couldn’t do it anymore. I tried to leave, and he tried to stop me, and we got into this huge argument. He grabbed my arm, and I pulled away too hard, not watching where I was going…and broke my shoulder, falling down a flight of stairs.

“I try not to think about it a lot, but my shoulder never really healed properly, so sometimes even the smallest touch just makes it ache, and all I can think about is that day, lying at the bottom of the stairs, wondering if it wouldn’t have been easier to have broken my neck instead.”

The pain lingers, but there’s a considerable weight that lifts from your chest.

There’s a beat of silence before John moves again, gently grabbing your hand and setting it on his chest, guiding your thumb along the skin where you feel a small raised circle underneath the hair.

“One of the first deals after I’d just started the club,” he sighs. “Went in all cocksure and arrogant, thinking I knew everything and that no one could touch me. The dealer we were meeting with had this idea that we were overcharging him, which we were, but we weren’t going to tell him that.

“Well, I got mouthy, and his men got violent. He pulled a gun, and the friend I was with, the man I’d started this club with, shoved me out of the way. Bullet tore through him but slowed down, going off kilter just enough to miss my heart. The Hell I unleashed after my recovery is what laid the foundation for what the club is today, but sometimes…Sometimes, I think about him, and I wonder if it was a fair trade. If it wouldn’t have been better for me to have taken the bullet and let him be here instead.”

A trade. One painful memory for another.

An implied confession: you’re not alone.

You lean forward, a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

I’m glad you’re here.

He pulls you into him, lips colliding with yours.

I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.

Your hands wind their way around his neck as he flips the two of you, laying you down against the bed. He hovers over you for just a second, blue eyes gazing down at you with far too much emotion for you to handle. You pull him by his hair, and he follows your lead, closing the space to pour all that emotion into a kiss that you return with the same intensity.

I love you.

If there’s one thing John loves more than surprising you, it’s spoiling you.

It starts with jewelry, small boxes of simple, elegant bracelets and necklaces left on your vanity during your performances.

Then it extends to clothes, your half of the closet slowly filling with pieces you find when he takes you shopping. He carries your bags for you, and you repay him by modeling every piece of lingerie you buy when you get home.

When it’s his turn to handle date night, there’s always some outrageously fancy restaurant or sold-out showing waiting for you, everything complimentary, and the staff exceptionally welcoming to the two of you.

Spoiling you isn’t restricted to expensive gifts, either.

When you catch a cold in the middle of spring, John takes the day off—something Kyle says he apparently never does, and something he can’t afford to do, says Ghost—to tend to your every need.

He overhears you talking with Valeria, telling her how you’d love nothing more than to sink into a hot bath, and you come home to a candle-lit bathroom and a tub filled with warm water and bubbles. He washes your hair, massages your shoulders, and whispers in your ear all the things he plans to do to you once you’re out of the tub.

You appreciate every single thing he does for you and tell him so often. He shrugs it off, saying he’s happy to treat you the way you deserve.

In truth, there’s something else, something far more selfish, that drives him.

He loves you. He loves to see you smile. He loves the way your eyes light up when he takes time away from the club to spend it with you—something he finds himself doing more of recently, an attempt to escape the stress and paranoia that’s been building.

He loves it even more that it’s him that’s making you happy, that he’s the only one who can make you smile like that, laugh like that, moan like that. You’re his just as much as he’s yours, and he has no intention of ever letting you go.

"Zip me up?"

Especially not now, when you’re standing in front of your bedroom mirror, half-dressed in a gown he bought for you, trying to get ready for a gala.

You look like a dream, dress hanging off your figure as you gaze at him over your shoulder with that beautiful look on your face. The one that always makes him feel like a shy teenager stumbling over his words.

John steps up behind you, and you turn a little more to meet him with a soft kiss. You turn back to the mirror, standing up straight to give him access to the zipper of your dress and the bare expanse of your back.

You wait patiently, adjusting your jewelry here and there. So distracted. So trusting. It tugs at something in his heart how vulnerable you allow yourself to be around him, a man with so much blood on his hands, they're stained down to the bone. Yet here you are, allowing him to touch you, to stain your skin with that blood and violence and danger that will follow him for the rest of his life.

He doesn't know what he's done to deserve you, but you meet his eyes in the reflection, giving him that stunning smile, and he knows it doesn't matter.

He'd burn the world to the ground if it meant he could have you in the ashes.

It’s the middle of the night when Ghost walks into his office unannounced, carrying a small, black folder.

“Bit late for you, isn’t it?” Price asks, looking up from the journal on his desk.

Ghost doesn’t speak, walking up to the desk and setting the folder down. Price sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before picking up the folder.

“Are you going to tell me what this is, or do I have to guess?”

“Tried calling you.”

“Phone’s in the bedroom.”

“You’ve been gone a lot.”

“Is this late-night visit for something important or just so you can tell me you’ve missed me?” Price doesn’t mean to snap; the irritation that he’s having this conversation instead of finishing up his work so he can join you in bed grinding against his nerves.

“We found the man that attacked Canary. We know where he’s from.”

Price’s eyes shoot up to meet Ghost’s. Ghost looks about as tired as he does, and Price can’t blame them. Things have been tight for months, walls slowly closing in around the club.

There’s something else in his face, something that sets Price on edge.

Price knows Ghost, knows the man who’s been by his side for years, helping to take care of every dirty deal the club’s had to deal with.

Ghost has a certain detachment, no care about what he’s doing or who he has to hurt to do it.

It’s not Ghost he’s talking to, but Simon who’s staring down at him with sadness and pity.

“Look in the folder,” Simon sighs.

Price doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to know about whatever’s in here, what information he’s about to have to deal with. He wants to throw the folder back at Simon and bury his head in your neck, ignoring the rest of the world.

But he’s the Boss for a reason.

He sets the folder down, steeling himself with a deep breath, before flipping it open.

A stone sinks into the pit of his stomach, and his heart shatters.

“Oh.”

The mask slips back on, Ghost’s protective nature taking over as he watches Price visibly deflate.

“How do you want me to handle this?”

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#captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #price x reader #captain john price #captain price #john price #modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #mw fics #moth writes

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago

Text

Carpe Noctem 18

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, gaslighting, manipulation, violence, blood, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (short!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You gather up the remnants of your stint as a personal nurse. As you do, you feel a tug on your shirt hem. You look down as Lloyd pulls on you, trying to urge you closer.

"You just going to leave me like this?" He mopes.

"You're fine, you just need to chill--"

"Pfft, I can handle a few bruises," he scoffs, "I'm talking about what you did to me."

He looks towards his crotch and you follow his gaze. His bulge is made more obvious as he wiggles his hips. You have to stop from rolling your eyes as his juvenile behaviour. He might be a bit immature but he's not cruel like Johnny.

"Let me get this cleaned up--"

"But I need it now."

"Lloyd," you squeeze your handful, "enough."

"Oh yes, use your mommy voice--"

"I told you not to call me that," you tear away from him.

You glare at him, irked, a roil of agitation you've felt like no other. No one's ever made you feel so riled. Not like him. You fight to tamp down the strike of fire in you.

"Now, if you don't stop being so needy, you won't get anything at all."

He arches a brow and smirks, drawing his hand back to rest it on his stomach.

"And what do I get if I'm good?" He wonders.

You narrow your eyes. You don't want to say it out loud. Just the thought of appeasing him is exhausting. You really just want to lay down but you know you owe him. He kept you from spending the night in a cell with Johnny taunting you.

"Be a good boy and you'll find out," you reply tersely.

You see him quiver in excitement, like a puppy told he can go out and play fetch. You almost laugh. You turn and carry out the rubbish and the first aid kit.

You put everything away as you chew your lip. All you have to do is get him off and you'll be free to go hide under a blanket. The more you think about that end, the wore your eyes want to droop. You suppress a yawn and return to the living room.

Somehow, you're not surprised at how you find Lloyd. As bold as ever, he lays stark naked across the couch cushions, his anticipation rigid and twitching. Right, not talking him down.

"Come on, sugar cookie, get your man," he looks back at you with a wink, folding his arms behind his head against the couch, "your turn."

You stomp over to him and feel another stir. It's a confusing mingle of intrigue and irritation. You both want to strangle him and ride him. You don't understand him. More so, you don't understand yourself. You've never been driven by that part of yourself.

You sit on the edge of the couch by his hip and he reaches to grope you through your shirt. No patience, no shame, he kneads you with a growl.

"What's on the menu first, mom--"

You cover his mouth with your palm, smothering that word from his lips. He grunts but doesn't fight it. You push his hand from your chest and put on your fiercest face. It's probably ridiculous.

You grab his dick with your free hand and squeeze. He squirms and lets out a more pathetic noise. His eyes go wide as you keep your palm sealed over his mouth. You hush him as you stroke him to his tip and back down to his base.

His forehead ripples as you work him slowly. There's something you enjoy about watching him struggle, about the tension in his neck and jaw, and the way his voice seems to slip from him without control. As you pump him, his chest flexes and the muscles in his stomach tighten, defining each more clearly beneath the skin.

You can't help a grin as his lashes lower and puffs through his nose. You feel the tingle deep in you, brewing to a storm as your hand quickens without a thought. You let yourself sink into his shock and desire. You pretend your someone else, someone who know exactly what they want and takes it.

He wraps his hand around your wrist but you don't let your hand move from his mouth. He growls and pushes his hand back, muscles clenching as he arches into your hand. You stroke him faster and faster, your power over him encouraging your pace.

As you bring your hand up, your rub your thumb over his tip. He lets out a squeak and you do it again, each pump adding a swirl around his head. He squeezes your wrist and grunts.

He spasm and shakes and a sudden warm deluge spills over your hand, slickening your palm as you continue to work him. He lets go of your arm and whimpers, grabbing at your other hand as he stops you. He cups your hand between both of his and rips his face out from under your other.

"Woah, woah," he gurgles, "that's-- too much--"

You tilt your head and let out a snort. Really, he's telling you it's too much? This man who has been nothing less than more than enough since you met. You lean forward and slide your hand out from under his and cradle his sack. The vein in his forehead surges and he coughs.

"That's not your choice, baby," you say, carried away in the heat of the moment, the coil in your stomach, and the awareness of the mess on your hand.

"Baby cakes--"

"Ah, I don't wanna hear you," you pull away from him and stand, almost in a trance as the words come to you as if written in some unfound part of your mind, "get on your back," you demand as you unbutton your jeans.

He stutters and nods, sliding down so he's flat on his back, watching you with eagerness as he runs his hands up his stomach.

"What are you going to do to me?" He asks with a wide grin.

You step out of your pants, your fingers curling and opening again. You come closer and grab a hand of the hair on the top of his head and pull him down. You lift your knee over his face and press it to the cushion. You slip your other leg up, straddling just above him.

"Oh, yes--"

"If you're not going to shut up, then I'll just have to make you," you snip and lower yourself, sighing at the melding of cool and warm as his mouth opens to your cunt.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #the gray man #drabble #series #the club au #au

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bellabean24 · 1 year ago

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You Look Better When You're Crying

Kinktober day 5 Tsukishima Kei x Fem!Reader

Word count:556

Tags:NSFW, Modern AU, Darcryphilia, piv, overstim, squirting

Synopsis:You and Tsukishima have been fucking for hours and you can't help but cry from pleasure

Kinktober Masterlist | Haikyuu Masterlist

Tears stream down your face feeling Tsukishima long thick cock fuck you insides, your cunt numb from his hard thrusts. Your clit is swollen the bed is soaked under you from the previous orgasms, “Fuck you were made for me baby,” he grunts into your shoulder nipping at it as you moan your nails dragging down his back leaving red marks in it’s tracks.

The sound of his hips meeting yours fills the room, his cum filled balls slapping against your ass with each thrust, “Keep crying for me baby.” He puts his hand on the side of your face cradling it as the hand on your hip squeezes you so hard that it will leave a bruise.

Arching your back into him, you can fill his dick poking your womb, the feeling sending you to a bliss. Your mind hazy as he fucks you into being cock drunk, “All you can do is cry for me baby huh? Can’t talk? Dick too good?” he teases with a smirk on his sweaty face.

You moan and whimper his name loving the way he feels inside you, tears leaking from the corner of your eyes and dropping on the pillow, “You look so pretty when you cry for me baby.” Tsukishima runs his hands up and down your shaking body, feeling your smooth skin against his palms has him speeding up his pace. “O-oh fuck Kei,” you mange to sob out.

His brutal pace has your cunt squeezes around for the fourth time tonight, your nails digging into his back possibly drawing a bit of blood, you gush around his cock your fluids landing on the bed and his lower stomach.

Both your breathing is getting heavier by the time Tsukishima cums again his hips slowing down the coming to a stop, “Shit, with you crying like that baby, makes me so fucking hard.” You whimper at his words, more tears falling from your eyes, Tsukishima leans down to kiss your tear stained face, he peppers kisses along your face and neck watching as you grind into him looking for more friction.

“I need more, Kei” you whimper into his kiss as he reaches your lips, he gives you a quick peck before he moves his hips again. Beads of sweat cover both your foreheads when Tsukishima moves again, you can feel every inch of cock in cunt, every vein when he moves in and out of you. His and yours cum dripping out with each thrust, your eyes roll to the back of your head when Tsukishima’s cock repeatedly pokes you sweetspot.

Your warm pussy hugs Tsukishima’s cock making it twitch when you subconsciously squeeze your hole, “Quit squeezing me Y/N” he groans, his hard thrust making more tears fall from your eyes but Tsukishima is quick to wipe them away.

He slowed his pace down pulling is cock out only leaving the tip in before roughly thrusting it back in, and doing it again and again. “Fuck Kei, you’re so fucking rough,” crying into your hand embarrassed that you’re crying from how good his dick feels, “Cum with me sweetheart,” he whispers to you kissing your cheek “fuck I’m coming,” you squirt and cream on his cock, Tsukishima following soon after, his thick warm load filling your hole up.

“One more Y/N”

“WHAT”

©Bella2023

#Bella writes ʕ•̫͡•ʔ #kinktober 2023 #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima x you #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima kei x you #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima Kei x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you

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eldritch-nightmare · 1 year ago

Note

howdy!! hope you're having a lovely day! may i request ticci toby and any other creeps of your choosing reacting to someone harming their s/o? thank you in advance!

a/n: hi!! thanks for sending the request!! hope you enjoy <3

reacting to someone hurting their gn!s/o.

includes: toby, nurse ann, homicidal liu + sully [separate], the bloody painter, and laughing jill.

warnings: reader gets injured, murder, blood, the murder isn't detailed but some of them may be a little graphic maybe, near-death experiences, it's implied that the reader doesn't know helen kills people.

TICCI TOBY.

He would not be a happy camper, that's for sure.

Toby has already had so much taken away from him, so if someone were to try and take away the one person he allowed himself to love? Yeah, no, not happening.

Toby has taken so many lives he doesn't even know the exact number, and he doesn't normally draw out their death unless it's something Slender wants him to do.

But seeing you passed out on the ground because some sick fuck decided to take their anger out on you... it brought Toby back to darker days, and all he could think about was eliminating the danger to keep you safe.

And let me tell you, Toby draws out your attacker's death. They hurt you, so therefore they deserve every ounce of pain he gives them.

Honestly, if he could, he'd probably keep the person alive over the course of weeks just to get it through their head just how badly they fucked up deciding to hurt you, but he needed to get you help as soon as possible so he leaves your attacker to bleed out.

Once the anger he feels subsides, it'll be replaced by panic and guilt as he rushes you to the nearest place you can receive medical attention, be it the mansion or the hospital.

He won't feel better until you wake up, and even after, this situation will definitely cause him to become a bit paranoid over your safety. He really can't lose you. That's not a pain he can go through again.

It'll probably take you weeks, maybe even months, to reassure Toby that you were okay.

This situation will definitely make him more aware of your safety. If he's not off completing tasks for Slender, he's keeping an eye on you. He's not trying to be clingy or overbearing, he just doesn't want to see you covered in your own blood ever again.

NURSE ANN.

Ann can't remember anything that happened before her death and... proxification, but she does know that you've been by her side through the entire process. You're one of the very small handful of people she trusts and likes, so there was no way she'd let anyone take you away from her.

So when she sees you on the ground, bloodied and bruised because some dumb group of wanna-be urban explorers she was hunting down freaked out thinking you were her? Well, let's just say there's nothing that can calm Ann's burning rage at that moment.

Not only have these people trespassed into her hospital, but they also dare to hurt the love of her life as well? There's no fucking way she'll show them mercy now.

You're barely clinging onto consciousness as you watch your girlfriend mercilessly slaughter the people who dared to even put you in such a state. It's not because you wanted to watch, you were just too exhausted and in far too much pain to look away.

The amount of blood alone was nauseating, and at some point, you couldn't even tell what color the floor was anymore.

But once Ann has dealt with the intruders, she'll oh so gently pick you up from the ground and carry you to the nearest (and cleanest) hospital room so she can treat your wounds.

Ann doesn't speak much, but you can hear her softly apologizing to you as she takes care of you. She tries her best to be careful, not wanting to make the pain worse than it already is. She doesn't feel as if this is her fault, she knows it isn't, but she still can't help but feel bad.

This experience will definitely make her realize just how much she cares for you. It's a little scary, to be quite honest with you. It's weird being attached to someone.

She isn't going to become overbearing when it comes to your safety, but she'll definitely be more careful about hunting down trespassers if she knows you're in the area.

Don't worry, a situation like this will never happen again.

HOMICIDAL LIU.

Oh. Oh boy, what have you done?

Liu is, as we all know, not the type of person to take another's life in cold blood. He only hurts others when it is self-defense because he doesn't want to be anything like his brother.

But keep in mind that Liu is also very protective and he has a lot of pent-up anger (among a variety of other emotions) that he keeps under tight wraps. So, believe me when I tell you that you really do not want to be on the receiving end of that anger.

Unfortunately, some sad soul was completely unaware of this and decided to hurt you.

Now, for Liu, he honestly blacked out the moment he saw you bleeding out on the ground. You, however, witnessed the carnage that was about to take place. Honestly, for a moment, you thought that Sully had taken over because of how violent it got. But no, it was all Liu.

Liu doesn't make quick work of this. No, by the time he came out of whatever stupor of anger he got put in, he was drenched in blood, and the person he killed didn't even look like a person anymore.

He didn't use his gun. He used Sully's knife. You've never seen him use a knife before. He always avoided them, he only ever used guns. But he used a knife. He broke the fucking knife.

Right. Well. You'll just have to sit him down and discuss what transpired later. Preferably when you aren't bleeding out. Luckily for you, Liu has taught himself medical care. He's pretty damn good at treating wounds like this as well, so you're in really good hands.

Just... keep pressure on the wound for a moment while he quickly washes off all the blood on his hands.

You'll be okay. He'll make sure of it. He won't lose you.

SULLY.

Now, I bet you're expecting me to tell you that Sully would also go absolutely ham on the person who hurts you. No. He doesn't. Unlike Liu, he doesn't become overcome with pent-up rage.

He does get angry, don't get me wrong, but that anger isn't important. You're hurt, and you need immediate assistance, so Sully doesn't even spare the person a glance as he pulls out Liu's gun and shoots them in the head.

Sully is... less good at treating wounds. He tries his best whenever he sustains an injury, but Liu is always the one who has to take care of it.

But he does know where a certain eyeless man tends to lurk around, so he won't waste any time taking you to get treatment from him.

He'll keep the conversation topic light as you get treated, joking around with you and talking about anything and nothing at the same time. It keeps a smile on your face, and it keeps you distracted from the pain you're in.

It also keeps Sully distracted from the fact that his hands are shaking.

For a moment, he's not really sure why he's shaking so much. You're safe, and you're getting treated. It's only when you knock out after taking some pain meds that Sully finally realizes that he was scared.

You could've died, realistically. You probably would've if he hadn't been there.

He's never been so close to losing someone before. The thought alone was making his stomach churn. He's... he's never felt scared like this before.

This is probably when he realizes that he loves you.

THE BLOODY PAINTER.

Now, Helen isn't the most emotionally expressive person out there. Just one quick glance at his default expression and you'll come to the conclusion that he's a pretty apathetic person.

But you know him. You've learned how to identify his microexpressions. He had dropped by your place and walked in to see you treating a pretty bad cut on your arm. It was just a very slight shift in his expression, one that only lasted for a fraction of a second, but you could see the worry and the underlying anger.

It's actually pretty awkward as you explain to him what happened, going into detail about how some guy had just randomly decided to attack you when you were in town today.

Helen seemed to be taking in every detail you provided, and when he finally spoke up, it was to ask if you could describe the guy for him.

You had just assumed he was going to sketch the guy's face to give it to the police or something, so you didn't see any real issue with telling Helen, doing your best to describe what the guy looked like. You were honestly over the entire situation. The cut on your arm was bandaged and it didn't hurt much anymore.

The situation ended there for you. It was never brought up again, and Helen stayed the night to help you with anything that may be an inconvenience to do with an injured arm. It was sweet seeing him worried for you, if you're being honest.

It may take a few days, but Helen eventually did track down the person who had hurt you.

He treats them like any other victim, though it's obvious to authorities that this person had a particularly cruel death.

There is nothing tragically beautiful about this person's death. It is not a piece of art like all the other deaths were made out to be. This one still had their blood.

Honestly, their death feels so out of place for the case of the Bloody Painter that authorities are hesitant to consider this another one of his victims. It could be a dispute that led to murder, and in a panic was staged to make it look like a serial killer did it.

And you stay oblivious to this, none the wiser.

LAUGHING JILL.

Look, Jill truly felt as if she would never experience happiness ever again until you came into her life and made her realize that she can still feel such a thing.

You've basically become a source of joy for her, so there was no way in hell she'd ever let that go.

And when someone hurts you? When someone makes your face screw up in pain? It's an image that Jill never wanted to see. She's already lost someone close to her, stolen away from her by a monster. She can't lose you too. She just can't.

She also makes quick work of whoever hurt you, slicing them with her chainsaw once or twice before tossing it to the side and hurrying over to you.

You'll have to reassure her that you're okay as she lets you use her as a pillar of support. Even if you aren't okay, you need to reassure her that you are.

Jill doesn't know how to treat your wounds, something that will definitely change in the future once you're able to get actual treatment.

Honestly, she'll probably burst into tears and apologize profusely even though you getting hurt wasn't her fault. She still should've been there by your side. If she had been, you wouldn't have gotten hurt in the first place.

She'll definitely be hyperaware of anyone who comes near you now. It doesn't matter if it's someone you're close to or if it's a complete and total stranger.

She'll immediately tense up and view them as a threat, sticking close to you just in case something happens.

It'll take months, maybe even years for her to move past this.

#anon #ticci toby x reader #nurse ann x reader #homicidal liu x reader #sully x reader #the bloody painter x reader #laughing jill x reader #creepypasta x reader #ticci toby x you #nurse ann x you #homicidal liu x you #sully x you #laughing jill x you #creepypasta x you #scheduled.

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4jax4jax · 2 years ago

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To Bleed and Bruise

Sub Ajax Petropolus x Dom Reader

Summary: Ajax has never looked better than when he’s covered in his blood and your bruises.

Warnings: 18+, M x F, sub ajax, handjob, blowjob, sadism, blood, biting, scratching, marking, praise.

Word count: 1.2K

It had been an excruciating day, so the moment that classes ended, you made a run for Ajax’s room. You barely let him have time to process what was happening when he opened the door and you walked through it, quickly shutting it behind you.

You wasted no time in dragging him over to his bed and laying him down on it.

"I've been thinking about you all day, need to use you.”

He looked up at you with a smile as he started to unbutton your shirt. You give him a stern look as you grab his wrists and pin them against the sides of his head.

"Keep your hands to yourself, Ajax. Don't be bad for me”

Your tone both scared and aroused him. He blushes and nods softly.

“Won’t do anything bad.. I promise I’ll be good for you.”

You ignore his words as you straddled him and practically rip off his shirt. Once discarded, you lean down and begin to lick his chest up and down. The drag of your tongue making him shiver.

His body quivered from the sensation of your lips touching his skin. You brought your hands to the sides of his chest, dragging your sharp nails down the skin, leaving red marks behind.

The feeling of your fingers on his chest makes him want more. He tried to get out and get more stimulation, but you kept pinning him down so he couldn’t move.

"Stay still, or you get nothing, and I leave you here desperate, do you understand me?"

You almost growled out the words, teeth baring against his skin as you unclench your jaw to bite into the soft skin of his neck.

He let out a high pitched yelp as you bite into his flesh, blood seeping out of the wound as you suckle on his neck. You make quick work of lapping up the dripping blood from the wound, sucking on it gently to leave even more of a mark.

He moaned quietly as you continue to feed on his blood, the taste filling your mouth.

"You taste so good, baby."

You mumble quietly against his neck, moving to create more marks on his sensitive skin. The tone of your voice sent shivers up his spine.

You bit down harder onto his skin, causing him to gasp in pain as you draw even more blood as you moaned softly at the taste. You licked your lips in arousal as you leaned back and watched his wounded neck drip with thick dark blood.

He'd no doubt have people asking him for the next week what animal had attacked him, oblivious to the torture he had endured just by being with you.

"You look so beautiful like this, gonna be a good boy and let me mark you up more?"

Even through the pain he nodded happily, loving how much you loved to hurt him. The stinging in his neck just another reminder of who he belongs to, and who controls him.

You smirk wide down at him before getting off of him, now sitting next to his laid out body. Your hands reached out to grip at the belt loops of his pants, one hand going to unbutton them, and the other teasingly tugging at them.

"Help me get these off of you, love."

He reaches over to help you remove his pants, exposing his sharp hips and large member. You can't help but bite your lip as you watch him pull off his own pants, eyes immediately diverting to the problem between his legs. It was red, wet, and almost pulsing, you had him right where you wanted him without even touching him.

As soon as his pants were removed, he could feel the heat radiating from his cock, the tip already glistening with precum.

You reached a gentle a hand out, loosely wrapping your fingers around his dick. Your teasing touch was gentle enough to be barely enough stimulation, making him cry out at both the first encounter of contact, and the lack of sufficient contact.

He shudders as you slowly stroke his shaft, a quiet sucking sound being made from the suction of your fingers and the self-made lubricant he couldn’t stop producing.

"Feel good, baby?"

You softly coo, a fake sweet tone adorning your words as your movements become faster and stronger.

“Mhmm..”

He barely managed to whimper out. His breath was coming heavy and fast, the sounds of pleasure escaping his throat.

You leaned over towards his face to kiss him. He kissed you back eagerly, although he could barely kiss you for more than a few seconds before his jaw dropped and he started moaning into your mouth.

"You're such a good boy, Ajax."

You praised against his lips, making him whimper and writhe in your hold. His noises only got louder when he felt a familiar tongue roughly lick over the dried blood that had dripped down his neck.

The sensation made him moan loudly, the pain causing his hips to buck wildly as his member twitched. Your hand began to stroke him faster, making sure to slow down everytime you reached the head, circling it with the pad of your finger, teasing him.

His breathing became heavier, sweat dripping down his brow as he moaned and grunted uncontrollably, trying to resist your touch. You lowered your head towards his soaked member and wrapped your soft lips around the tip, sucking lightly.

He let out an incoherent scream as he felt himself being sucked into ecstasy, not caring about how loud he was or how much noise he was making. All he cared about was how good you were making him, and how absolutely owned by you he felt.

You moved your head up and down quickly, one of your hands roughly gripped the base of his dick to prevent him from cumming, and the other hand was pressed against his hip, to prevent him from moving. You knew he was approaching his orgasm soon enough by the way his moans got whiner and more desperate.

His eyes rolled back into his head as he came, the suddenness of it making him shake violently, almost knocking you off of him. He held onto you tightly as he spasmed uncontrollably, feeling like he would never stop.

You smiled down at him as you watched him whine and moan like a slut. His entire body shook and his hips thrusted aggressively as he covered his stomach and hips in his release. You softly stroked him through his orgasm while kissing his neck, helping him through it.

After what seemed like forever, he finally stopped shaking, panting heavily as he rested on top of you.

You ignored the grossness of how he was pressing his cum onto the both of you as he laid on you, and pulled his head so it was resting against your chest. You ran your fingers over his beanie then down to his neck to softly massage the bite marks.

He looked up at you with tired eyes, nodding slightly before laying his head back down.

"Thank you."

You kissed his forehead and felt as he nuzzled into you.

"Of course, anything for you."

He sighed happily and hugged you tighter, holding onto you until he fell asleep.

#ajax petropolus #ajax wednesday #ajax x reader #ajax petropolus x reader #ajax petropolus smut #ajax petropolis x you #sub ajax #sub ajax petropolus #wednesday

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robinsnest2111 · 6 months ago

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what if....

combining the moment in the Mick in a miniskirt fic where Nikki imagines following Mick into the restroom to suck him off with the pet play idea I've been toying with for while...

@anaalnathrakhs hope you don't mind me borrowing your fic as inspiration and a jumping off point 🙏

plot divergence, where Nikki actually follows Mick and acts so pathetic and desperate, whining like a dog, that Mick actually lets him do it after initial protests, biting his knuckles to muffle the moans so Tommy and John won't hear what they're up to.

Just.... the mental image of Nikki on his knees infront of Mick, clawing at his thighs, begging Mick to let Nikki suck him off. How desperately he needs it, needs him. How Mick is driving him wild with that damned miniskirt. And how he's acting so casual about it. How no one besides Nikki seems to be affected by it.

Mick telling him to keep quiet, make it quick, they need to get back to practice after all. Nikki so desperate and passionate, affecting Mick with his pathetic displays of submission and devotion and his own stubborn unwillingness of accepting how much he craves Mick, still unable to not bend to his own desires. That inner battle, clear as day on his face but still so set on getting Mick's dick in his mouth.

Mick having to hold Nikki back from tearing his pants to shreds, telling him to 'stay' like one would a dog to be patient and wait for its treat. Mick undoing the button and pulling down the zipper with a slight tremor to his hands. They are really about to do this. Nikki urging Mick to leave the skirt as it is, helping Mick by pulling the pants and underwear down his legs. Exposed but still covered by the thin fabric of the skirt. The sensation turning Mick on way more than he expected.

Nikki with a bruising grip on Mick's bare thighs now, searching Mick's face for approval, for a sign that it's okay for him to dive in. Mick stares back. Gives a decisive nod after a moment.

And dive in Nikki does. He surges forward with a whine, pushing his nose up Mick's thigh under the skirt, eyes screwed shut against the overwhelming sensation of finally being allowed to touch, to feel.

Just as Mick feared, Nikki is way too loud, whining and almost howling with desperation and pleasure. Mick grabs hold of Nikki's hair at the back of his head, pulling him away, not even giving him the chance to whine once more at the loss of contact. "Didn't I tell you to stay quiet? Too horny to follow orders?"

Nikki fixes him with a pleading look, staying quiet for once, breathing hard. Mick lets go of Nikki's hair as a sign to continue. Nikki keeps his silent promise but now it's Mick's turn to struggle.

Nikki is lacking finesse but is making up for it with enthusiasm tenfold. This has got to be one if not the strangest but weirdly pleasurable blowjobs Mick has received so far, and he can't help but let some moans slip past his lips. As he's about to lose the fight with his usual iron self control, he bites down on his knuckles, hard, almost drawing blood.

His other hand finds purchase on Nikki's head again, holding on tight as he almost doubles over, legs quaking, threatening to buckle under the passionate assault.

Somewhere along the way Nikki has snaked a hand into his own pants, freeing his aching dick, jerking off to one of his most stubborn fantasies finally playing out in real time.

After finishing Mick off, Nikki is still chasing his own release, desperately licking Mick's cum off his thighs where it didn't make its way into his mouth, sucking desperate hickeys into the soft flesh once it's clean and shiny with his saliva, finally cumming with his teeth burrowing deep, holding on tight, muffling his drawn out moan.

His cum splashes over the dingy floor tiles of the restroom, some drops landing on the toe of one of Mick's boots. "Dirty fuckin' dog..." Mick groans under his breath "clean that up."

Nikki obeys immediately, licking up his mess from the black leather, still floating in post-orgasmic bliss.

"Good boy"

If he were still in his early twenties these two words out of Mick's mouth would've made him cum a second time. As it is, his spent dick gives a final weak twitch, making Nikki shudder.

They clean themselves up as best as they can, Mick leaving first, Nikki joining the rest of the band a couple minutes later.

If anyone is suspicious of the both of them disappearing for a while, neither Tommy nor John let it show, the rest of practice goes as usual.

But when they're parting ways to head home, Mick turns around and gives Nikki an intense look.

Nikki knows he will come crawling back to Mick as soon as another opportunity presents itself. He's well and utterly fucked.

#OOPS MORE SPONTANEOUS WRITING. MORE SMUT #this time nikkimick flavour inspired by the miniskirt fic and the pet play idea. mashed together <3 #robin's writing adventures #okay last act of business tonight. need to sleep so i will hopefully feel a bit better tomorrow and survive work 🤞#no looking for errors straight from my mind into the text post box byeeee #nikkimick #pet play au

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leffee · 8 months ago

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hey you. yeah, you

if you wanna, give me the best physical description possible of your human interpretation of any of the main 7. character and personality details will help too.

am i going to draw them? maybe- :))

ok so, I wanted to answer it much sooner and I got sooo excited, but then I also got intimidated because my design for Vinnie is so fucking stupid. But, I will try to describe him now as best as I can. Why only him? Well, because the rest of the humanized pets in my head are very similar to already existing human designs of them from other people who drew them as such. In short, if you saw drawings of their humanized selves especially from older fandom days (so like 2013-2015 or so) you have seen how they look in my head. Vinnie however... well, of course as my favourite specialest little guy gets extraordinary treatment, sooo that's why I will only stick to him.

I will try my best of course, but since I can't draw his design exists solely in my head, so stick with me as I try to untangle this mess, and so my human Vinnie physical interpretation here goes:

white, but like, really really pale, like almost sickly-looking pale. So white in very literal sense. Basically what you get in google images when you type in: very pale comlexion

freckles everywhere! Like, everywhere. On his face across his cheeks and nose and a lot of them, not just a few (honestly like you draw Sunil with freckles, just more)

short, really really short, my little guy is literally little so yeah. Also skinny, really skinny

ourple eyes of course and eye bags, really visible dark eye bags (the best feature any character can have in my humble opinion <3 adding eye bags to a character makes them instantly 1000x better to me)

fangs/very sharp canines, another comparision to yours, but kinda like your Russell except that they're not like sticking out from his mouth, just when his mouth is open, you know? Basic ass idea but oh well, he's my prettiest white boy

hmmm what elseeeee, no facial hair, hmmm uhhh idk, I was going to add here other things that he doesn't have in my design but I can't think of anything else rn

short uneven nails because he bites them <3 not as a stress-thing, he does that just because yeee

and finally, the elephant in the room, the most important thing - Vinnie hair, uh oh. This is so hard to describe I'm genuinely lost but I sure will try. First, I will try to provide some visualization which is here , I know, it's just pixiv generated image but that's the best we have. Aside from that we also have my best try at drawing his hair ona stickman in paint multiple times, one of those times is here. So yeah, this in not 100% accurate, but that's the best visualization. I will try to add some stuff though to properly describe his hair: it's long, waist-long, green of course, straight but not like fully sticking to his body basically a combination of those two images of Vinnie from the first linked post. That's the best I can do to describe his hair unfortunately, all you really need to know is that it's beautiful ✨

covered in bruises too, everywhere because you know

covered in blood

Now that I described his body to the best of my abilities, I suppose I should also mention his outfit. Well, this is one of the things I said a lot, but a hoodie in peak character design to me so yeah, a hoodie, a green one of course. Not one with a zipper, but it has a hood. For whatever reason I also imagine it without pockets? It's not that important but whenever I think of him in my head his hoodie doesn't have any pockets. Welp.

I also imagine him with three helix piercing on his right ear, all three being silver

Nooow, to be completely honest I never quite estabilished how he looks from the waist down. I'm not sure why, but this part has always been kinda vague for me. I know his pants would be dark, black or dark gray or something and not baggy, just kinda sticking to the body kind? Not jeans however! Maybe something akin to leggings? Maybe even leggings with foot straps? Yeah, I'd say probably that. And I never thought of what shoes he would wear either. I guess just some sneakers? But that's all I have.

Oh oh and also those cool black, fingerless gloves

I think that's all? I'm analyzing him in my head now so much, but I think I said everything. As for how well I described him? You judge that I suppose xd.

Jesus that was long, wasn't it?

As for personality? Well, I will try to generalize it as much as possible, because to really understand the way I see him obviously we'd have to go through all of my headcanons for him which is an obvious no right now xD there's too many of them. But in short: silly goofy ass, NOT stupid because no, I mean he's not a genius like Russell either but he has common sense pls, outward chill going but inward there's more happening behind scenes, his first reaction to anyone is being friendly, very loyal to his closest friends and also very determined, he doesn't give up easily. He however can't control his anger most of the time and gets jealous easily plus has abandonment issues.

Idk, I could go on and on about his personality, but again, that would require a much much longer post and/or reading laterally all my previous Vinnie stuff so yeee, I suppose I will end here.

Ok, now that that's done I just wanted to thank you so much for giving me an opportunity to talk about my special guy. And absolutely no pressure about drawing him, really! Especially given that half-baked description xd. But if you do wanna draw him, then omg. In such case (or if you wanna just in general) feel free to ask about any more details that I might have missed if you need.

Plus as I said, the rest of the humanized pets in my interpretation pretty much already exist, so I didn't include them. But, if you'd still like to hear about them then feel free to ask. Though maybe in separate asks, you see how long Vinnie took >.>. On the other hand, Vinnie always takes the longest because I have most details about him in any given situation.

#lps 2012 #asks #thank you so much!

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babybatscreationsv2 · 1 year ago

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Marked ch 7

Marvel | Starker

When Tony's soul marks first appeared he was afraid he wouldn't be good enough for his soulmate. When Peter's marks appeared he was afraid of what the blood and bruises meant. Now they're left dealing with the consequences of a dangerous lifestyle and a lot of distrust.

(There will be one more chapter for this one <3)

Peter stared at the drawing on the wall. His brain couldn't seem to interpret a single line on the paper. It was a blurry, charcoal, smudge. He looked at his hands where the charcoal stained them even after scrubbing them clean in the studio's bathroom. Tony would share the marks. Just like Peter shared his bruise along the side of his right thumb. Had he broken his thumb fighting? He had a small bruise on his jaw as well. Peter had taken to covering the bruises on his face with makeup so that Otto wouldn't worry, but Peter couldn't forget that it was there.

Aside from an anxious looking delivery boy bringing him the gym bag he'd left in Tony's car, he hadn't heard from the man in a week. He tried desperately to focus on Otto's upcoming show. As his apprentice, he had a spot on the floor. He needed to concentrate. He couldn't make Otto look like an amateur by showing up with a bunch of charcoal smudges.

Peter closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. When he was calm he opened them. Finally the charcoal took shape. He clenched his jaw. Tony. It just looked like Tony. The profile of his face, long lashes against his cheek seeming to rest or maybe to cry. Did he cry after he left? He didn't seem like a man who cried easily.

A hand squeezed his shoulder. "Why don't you take the rest of the day off, Peter?"

"I should at least help clean up. That's what I'm here for right?" He turned around and smiled half-heartedly. The worry in Otto's eyes made his stomach hurt.

"You're here to learn," Otto said gently. "Not just art either. The best artists are people in tune with their own hearts."

Peter rolled his eyes. "You're the one who said he was dangerous and I shouldn't have anything to do with him."

"And I was right. But the heart wants what it wants. So you have to decide. Can you move on and let go or will you give in? Either way, you have to choose. You can't stand there all day willing things to be different. The charcoal doesn't draw by itself."

Throat thick with emotion, Peter nodded. He turned away and grabbed his bag from his desk. "Thanks, Mr. Octavius. Let me know if you need help this weekend."

"I will not. Get some rest."

Peter stopped in the bathroom on his way out. He only wanted to splash some water on his face, cool himself off so he could think a little better, but he saw something in his reflection. Something that wasn't there that morning.

The skin on his cheek was red. Was he allergic to the makeup he was using? He wet a paper towel and rubbed it away. His hand dropped as he recognized the shape. Bright red lipstick had left a kiss mark on Tony's cheek.

He dropped the paper towel in the trash and swept from the room. His hands twisted the strap of his bag as he walked home. His jaw clenched so tight it ached. Was Tony over him already? Just like that huh? Well fuck him and good riddance. He was an idiot for pining after him like this. He was the one that broke it off after all. He told him to leave. So what did he care?

Ned wasn't home yet which was just as well because Peter did not want to talk. He went straight to his room, barely kicking off his shoes before he flopped onto the bed. Absolutely nothing was worth doing, not even breathing. How could his soulmate be kissing someone else?

Hours passed in which he went from spitting mad to ugly crying and back again. By the time night came he was entirely numb. He woke the next day and dragged himself through his routines. And the day after that.

And the day after that.

He checked his phone and chucked it into the trash when Tony still hadn't called only to fish it back out again. Did he even care? Was he over it?

Peter looked at the scars on his knuckles that weren't his. He used them to wipe away the tears.

He stayed in a state of grief until the day of Otto's exhibition. Then he swallowed it all down, put a little makeup on to hide the shadows under his eyes, and marched bravely forward.

Otto frowned at the sight of him. "When's the last time you slept, Peter?" His hand squeezed his shoulder.

Peter looked down at the floor before taking a breath and meeting his eyes. "We shouldn't do this here. Everyone's watching." He put on a brave smile. "Everything's fine, see? And look how many people showed up. You're famous!"

Otto smiled. "You're right. But we will talk about this later, you have to take better care of yourself."

Peter slipped out from under his hand. "Will do. Have fun, Mr. Octavius." He joined the crowd though he avoided conversation as much as possible. He wasn't in the mood to be around people let alone talk to them, but he had a part to play so he did his best.

He was just finishing circling the room when he spotted a certain someone very intentionally turning his back to him. Peter turned away as emotion welled up in his chest and threatened to heave itself up. Why was he here? Why he did he have to make things harder?

He couldn't just ignore him. Despite everything, they were bound together for life. At the very least, they needed proper closure. And maybe Peter was a masochist, but he needed to know who Tony was seeing.

Peter turned on his heel to see Tony still very pointedly not looking at him. He set his jaw and marched forward. As he reached the man, he grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into the hallway. He shoved the bathroom door open and slammed it shut, turning the lock.

"What are you doing here?" Peter snapped. He stared at Tony's startled chocolate eyes and found some satisfaction in even being capable of startling a man like him.

Tony tucked his hands into his pockets. "I came to support you. I know we aren't together, but I know this is important so I came. Brought a few wealthy friends, too."

Peter crossed his arms over his chest. "I appreciate it. Now leave."

Tony nodded. He stared away at the stall door. "I know it's too soon. I'm sorry."

"It's fucked up is what it is," Peter grumbled.

"Fucked up?" He couldn't believe he had it in him to look confused.

"Because life is some cruel joke that I ended up with a soulmate who doesn't even want me." Peter huffed, a bitter laugh barely escaped his lips before the angry tears came.

Tony stared for a moment. When he spoke his voice was gentle. "What makes you think I don't want you?"

"I saw the lipstick on your face." Tony rolled his eyes and Peter snapped. "Do not roll your fucking eyes at me! I have a right to be upset."

Tony held his hands out. "You're right I'm sorry. That wasn't meant for you. Natasha can be a little-"

"Who's Natasha? Your girlfriend?" Blood rushed through his veins, boiling and burning. Natasha? Fuck Natasha.

"No," Tony sighed. "Can we please talk? At a normal not screaming volume?"

"Why? Is Natasha here? Is she gonna hear us yelling?"

Tony just looked at him. They stared at each other for a long moment, Peter fuming and Tony incredulous. Then Tony laughed. He laughed so hard he doubled over.

Peter stared at him, mouth hanging open at the display. How could he laugh about something like this? "What's so funny?"

Tony took a breath then he looked at him smiling. "I thought you didn't want me. You're the one who rejected me. You remember that, right? Am I having a stroke?"

Peter blushed. He turned his face away. "I just... I wasn't ready."

"And suddenly you are? Why because you're jealous?"

He pressed his lips together. "Thinking about you with someone else made me realize that I messed up."

"I..." Tony took a breath. "We can't be together just because you don't want to see me with someone else. You have to want to be with me because you want me."

Peter nodded. "I know. It's not that I don't want you. You know that."

Tony stepped forward and took his hand, wrapping it in both of his own. "I know you're scared. I'm terrified of what could happen. And I don't scare easily," he laughed. "I won't force your hand. You get to decide on your own time."

Peter looked at their hands together. He shifted on his feet. Could it be that easy? "What if we take it slow? We could go see a movie... hang out at my place. Try being friends first."

Tony was quiet. He gazed into his eyes until he had Peter shifting uncomfortably. "That sounds difficult. We're soulmates. Souls don't like to take it slow."

"I know it won't be easy. But it's worth it, right?"

Tony's hand rested against his cheek. "Of course it is. Anything is worth it for you."

Breathing as if for the first time, Peter took a step forward and wrapped his arms around him. Tony hugged him back. His arms were warm and safe and right in a way that felt like coming home. They stayed that way, just holding each other, for a long while.

Peter glared into Tony's shoulder as a knock came at the door. "What's going on in there?" someone called.

Tony chuckled. "Should we leave together or will that cause a scandal?"

Peter blushed as he realized the position they were in. Everyone was going to assume what they were doing alone in a locked public bathroom that is very much not supposed to be locked. The longer they stayed the more attention they would draw.

"Let's go somewhere," Tony said. "Somewhere we can talk more."

Peter looked up at him, still warm and comfortable in his arms. "I'd like that."

He let Tony leave the room first. He told himself he wasn't hiding behind the man, but he wasn't not hiding either. They waded through a small crowd that was gathered curiously by the bathroom door. There weren't many and Peter was grateful for that as they made their escape. Tony led him outside and up the street where his car waited.

"You didn't bring a date?" Peter asked. He couldn't help but keep trying to gauge where they were at, what he meant to Tony.

"Of course not." Tony took his hand and stopped him there on the sidewalk. He looked him in the eye, his gaze impossible to look away from. "Peter I haven't thought about anyone, but you since the day you bumped into me. I've been so caught up in you that I let an enemy get the jump on me and I would have died if you hadn't been there to rescue me." He paused, the words sinking down beneath his skin like soul marks waiting to be seen.

"You're everything. Every breath I take. I'll do whatever I have to keep you."

Peter swallowed, anxiety gripped his heart. "What if I just keep getting you into trouble?"

"Maybe I don't mind."

"What if we're not romantic soul mates?"

"I'm okay with that."

"What if-"

"Peter," Tony stopped him. "There's a million possibilities between us, but we'll never know what's possible if we don't give it our best. Can't we just ride it out and see where it goes?"

Peter chewed his lip. Then he nodded. "Okay."

Tony opened the car door for him and Peter slid inside. They drove down streets illuminated by yellow street lights while the sky was dark above. They didn't talk until the car stopped on the other side of town where the nightlife was far away. Only a couple with a dog walked along a gravel path down by the river.

"I don't come here often," Peter said looking at the park at the fireflies that twinkled around the playground.

"Me neither." Tony offered him his hand. "I figured it was quiet enough. Somewhere neutral. No pressure."

Peter took his hand. "It's perfect."

They walked down the path. The crunching of gravel was the only sound within the awkward silence.

"So," Tony started. He glanced at Peter. "What's your favorite color?"

Peter laughed. "Blue. Yours?"

"Red." Tony smiled.

"A good combination." Peter nodded his approval.

"I prefer red and gold."

"To each their own."

#starker #marvel #mafia au

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remyfire · 1 year ago

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🎲 Margaret/Trapper

(You get a gentle peck!! Ahh, this is my first foray into writing early-seasons Margaret, I think, and that was quite a minefield to be wading into, but I hope she reads okay. Thank you so much for the meme!!)

If Margaret has learned anything over the past year, it's that war will force you to become reliant on people that you never would've given the time of day in your usual life. There are moments where Frank makes that swim into dizzying clarity—she can say with one-hundred-and-ten percent confidence that if a married man kept her waiting in the wings for so long back in the States, she'd bid him a frustrated goodbye and turn her attention to the other dozen fellows trying to catch her eye. But given that the other men in this unit are below her rank, are unforgivable womanizers with the backbone of an earthworm, or have an intense disdain for the very country that sustains them, who else would she find any kind of succor with?

Sure, she'd leave Frank in her dust back home, but she'd just as happily slap Pierce across the face or break McIntyre's toes with her heel. There's very little that's redeemable about them.

Yet the closeness of proximity also forces remarkable emotions to rise in her that she would never otherwise entertain.

She has plenty of time to muse on this after the most recent shelling around the 4077th. They're fortunate in so many ways that even with the damage done in post-op from flying debris—shattered bulbs, a hole in the wall, and one bedframe broken when it was enthusiastically thrown down to provide some measure of cover—they're still able to reorient the patients on their mattresses and make sure that none of their stitches were torn out.

It's only when the door opens and Pierce is stumbling in with an almost limp McIntyre, arm thrown over his shoulder, that Margaret feels her heart skip a beat. It loses a subsequent one when she sees the blood dripping down McIntyre's cheek.

"What happened?" She flies straight into crisis mode, marching over to a nearby empty bed and making sure the mattress is properly placed and secure.

"Falling beam," Pierce spits in that authoritative way he has when he's one hundred percent focused on his duties. She hears it so rarely, even in the operating room. Experiencing it now makes her vision sharpen on the dripping wound as Pierce settles McIntyre to sit up against the wall. "He threw himself to cover Radar."

"My God," Margaret murmurs as a powerful, surging emotion floods her. She's so unfamiliar with experiencing it to this magnitude that it takes her a moment to identify it as monumental concern.

McIntyre grins up at them both. "Kid gets his brain broken, we lose the whole fuckin' war." His words slur slightly. As he turns his focus on Pierce more intentionally, his eyebrows spring up. "Hey, gorgeous."

"Concussed," Margaret diagnoses.

"Yeah, or something." Pierce shoots McIntyre a look she doesn't recognize before he gets to work. It doesn't take long, only a few moments of sponging and disinfecting and care, for Pierce to determine that he won't need stitches, but he'll have a nasty bruise and needs to keep the wound covered.

By the time they have McIntyre settled, there's more that they both need to care to—Pierce to check on others who took glancing blows or cuts, Margaret who has an entire post-op to keep an eye on—and they're able to leave him there.

But she'd be lying if she said she didn't keep glancing over her shoulder as the hours passed.

Men like McIntyre aren't worth her time, her energy, her attention. Yet he has it in spades. She can't help it. There's something about him that draws in all her nurses like moths to a flame, and...and she's noticed. She knows he's noticed. She knows because she's...told him too much. More than she ever planned to.

He summons extremes within her. She'll walk past two of her nurses comforting a third who is crying and know that he's used up yet another woman like a razor blade that's gone dull. But she'll also see how tenderly he'll wrap an arm around Lieutenant Bayliss and touch a handkerchief to her cheek in a way that Frank has never done for her. Part of that is perhaps that Margaret won't permit the vulnerability of weeping, but...but she can't deny the near ache that floods her, to see a man take a woman so gently in his arms and make the darkness go away for even just a little while.

It'll often make her wonder what it must be like to be Mrs. McIntyre when there's not a war on. Is he just another man who swears he has permission to mess around with whoever he needs to so he can get home? Is he as devoted to his wife as he is in these compassionate moments with his favorite nurses of choice?

What is it like to have a man be so...gentle?

When she catches herself lingering on these thoughts in the third hour, Margaret actually scoffs at herself aloud. These are useless time-wasting contemplations that have nothing to do with the act of medicine.

What does have to do with nursing and her solemn, patriotic duty is swinging back to check on his injury and if he has a bit more awareness.

As Margaret drops into the chair by McIntyre's bedside, he looks up at her and beams. "Hey, you're back quick."

"What?" She blinks.

"You were just here, right? With Hawk. Where's Hawk, anyway?"

Margaret breathes a sharp sigh through her nose. She buries her concern in the facts. These brief periods of memory loss are often standard, of course, and not a sign that there's something dangerously wrong. "I haven't spoken to you for several hours, McIntyre," she informs him as she continues checking his vitals for her own peace of mind.

His eyes twinkle up at her. "Musta been just running through my head, then."

I will not be susceptible to your charms, she repeats internally as a mantra.

But when she moves to check his pupils, his voice goes incredibly soft. "Y'know you look kinda like an angel with that lamp up there?"

I. Will Not. Be Susceptible. "What on earth do you mean?"

"With the light on. Makes you look like you've got a halo. S'nice. When you're being all sweet like this, it really suits you, y'know? Makes you look even prettier than normal, and that's fuckin' hard to beat."

God. She despises him. He plays women like a fiddle, even when his faculties are so powerfully affected by an injury. "What do you want, McIntyre?"

"Nothin', honest. Just enjoying the view."

She sees how it's so easy for her nurses to play into his hands. She wouldn't be surprised if he's been spinning these exact lines to every single one of them who might've swung by his bedside to make sure he'll survive the night, be on his feet soon so he won't miss their perverted dates to the supply shed.

But she feels her pulse flutter all the same. And if her fingers linger when she nudges his curls back to check his swelling, she doesn't feel a need to comment on it. "I hear those lines every day. From you, even. Perhaps you've already forgotten them all, but you'll remember soon enough."

"Louise'd like you, y'know."

All at once, it's as though Margaret was dropped naked into a frigid lake. She rolls her eyes, covers the lingering sting by checking his bandage to see if it needs changing. "You married men. You're all the same. Obsessed with keeping your wife close and your mistress closer. What kind of fantasy world do you live in that you think a woman—a real woman, with a brilliant mind and a passionate heart—would settle for living in one of your...your little apartments on the far side of town where you can invite her around for garden parties and barbecues and take advantage of her in the facilities while your wife is feeding your daughters?"

But all at once, her rushing train of thought comes to a sudden stop as McIntyre brushes the back of his fingers down her cheek, a more tender action than she's received in quite some time. Margaret turns her head to look into his eyes, suspicious, but the dopey smile on his face catches her before his words do. "No, I mean, she'd like you. Like I like you."

It turns out that at the bottom of the icy lake is somehow a blasting, deep volcano, one that bursts all at once. She stops breathing. Moment by moment, she processes his words. Understands what he's implying. Has absolutely no idea how to respond without...

When Margaret glances askance, those fingers could belong to anybody. McIntyre. Her Lorraine who isn't hers anymore.

As her cheeks blister, she clears her throat. "I see that concussion's far worse than we thought," she eventually murmurs. When she leans down to finally lift the bandage away and check his wound, there's tiny touches on the back of her neck, and just the littlest bit of pressure.

Turns out that's all he needs to come up an inch and kiss her.

It's there and gone, and then he's collapsing back down with a huffed breath like it took all his effort to pull that off, but as Margaret flies to her feet, he's grinning even wider. "Promise me if we make it out of here alive, you'll look us up, okay?" he's asking.

"I cannot believe you!" Margaret blurts. She touches her mouth, brings her fingers away, somehow finds herself staring at them as though there'll be evidence of his actions right there on her skin. "Wh-What is the matter with you?"

If it's possible, McIntyre's gaze goes softer, those pretty hazel eyes that haunt her when she's alone in her tent and nursing irritation at Frank for finding yet another reason to make her feel small. "Sorry," he whispers. "You're even prettier when you're fired up like this. Can't help it."

"Major?" It's Lieutenant Kellye behind her, her voice soft and searching. "I could change his bandage, if you want to go check on bed four?"

It's a gentle out, the kind that her nurses so rarely give her. She can't imagine what the entire post-op tent can read on her face, in her voice, for one of her own subordinates to have enough compassion for the hated ice queen to offer her an escape.

"I'll check on him right away," Margaret eventually replies. She throws her shoulders back and starts walking as commandingly as she can.

And if her lips are still tingling, well, that's something she'll deal with later—or bury at the bottom of that lake when she shoves down a boulder, something that can plug up the volcano before it can irreparably harm her.

#margaret houlihan #trapper john mcintyre #houlintyre #my writing #ask meme answers #m*a*s*h

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chxrrysangel · 3 years ago

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Matt x Frank x Reader headcanon

Relationship | Matt Murdock x Frank Castle x gender-neutral reader

Warnings | 18+ MINORS DNI, orgasm denial, overstimulation, dom/sub relationships, threesomes, some fluff because I can't help myself, blood kinks, double penetration, degrading kink, praise kink, cum play, some role play if you squint.

Imma just let y'all know that this is self-indulgent more than anything bc why tf wouldn't it be (jk I do take requests don't fret)

I for one have a sick love for injured characters and sex. I don't know, there's just something about them battered, bruised, and horny.

Matt and Frank, in my head, are both pleasure doms/switches. They love getting you off. Watching you squirm from overstimulation, barely able to speak just does something to them.

Matt, due to his heightened senses, knows your body like every scripture in the Bible. He knows the sounds you make when on the verge of orgasm, which makes edging his speciality.

I feel like they definitely have a good cop/bad cop kind of dynamic. Frank is the softie (possible unpopular opinion but damn let me finish before you throw knives). Frank, after what happened with his family, really struggled to open up to people. Then he found you, and he just melted. In the streets, Frank is one to be feared. He takes shit from no one, except you. You wanna bounce on his cock? Just say the word. You want his head between your legs all day? Say no more.

It's Matt, on the other hand, enjoys your suffering probably more than he really should. Matt is Mr. Nice Guy in his daily life. His smile and way of words can help him into any room he pleases. Being a lawyer with charisma opens many doors. But at night, when he comes back from drawing the life from the world's scum, he wants "Yes, sir. No, sir."

Anyways, back to the main event. Imagine both men coming back from a long night on the New York City streets. Kingpin, being the major dickwad he is, enjoys making their lives as hard as humanly possible. That lowlife wakes up with a thirst for vengeance and it's utterly pathetic. You retired early for the night, knowing that neither Matt nor Frank would be happy to see you pacing by the doorway for when they come home. It pisses them off more than anything.

Sometime around 2 in the morning, you hear the sound of military boots being dropped and the doorway being shut. It's your boys. And all they can think of right now is how badly they need you. It doesn't matter that they're covered in blood and bruises, you're the only thing on their mind. With the ugliness of the world, being reminded that you exist untainted by the darkness is their greatest comfort.

They wanna feel every inch of your body, fucking you into the mattress and watching you tremble orgasm after orgasm. They love how you plead to be filled up, nothing more than a hole for them. Cum play is probably one of their favorite things to indulge in with you. And spitters are quitters, just saying.

They enjoy nicknames as well. Matty and Franky, sir, daddy, baby, my love, sweetheart, and once in a while they'll let you call them by their vigilante names.

Also, the suit/gear stays on during sex. I DON'T CARE I DON'T CARE. It could be hanging on for dear life, soaked in the blood and tears of their enemies, and not a zipper comes undone except for the one on their pants. That's non-negotiable.

#matt murdock #frank castle #the punisher #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #frank castle x reader #marvel smut #matt murdock x frank castle x reader

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mish-ka · 2 years ago

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Chandani Se Noor Ke

A/N: Sorry ji, sorry for posting after such a long time — and I would like to apologize for the poorly written try at a steamy scene. It’s my first time writing it.

PREVIOUS || Chapter 5 || NEXT

Growing up in a home where Freedom fighters were frequently sheltered, Y/N has seen a lot of things. Seen things that kids should never be exposed to. However, Y/N was unfazed by it; in fact, it strengthened her resolve to bring down the British.

But. For the first time in her life, Y/N is scared. Scared not for herself, but for the man in front of her. The man, who lives next door to her. the man with whom she shares her meals. The man, who has warmed a place in her heart.

Ram. Her Ram is covered in wounds all over his body, his eyes swollen from what looks like a blunt force. His uniform covered in blood, ripped off and torn apart.

As he limps closer to her, Y/N examines the bruises that litter his handsome face. Blood trickles down every inch of his face, and it physically hurts her.

Without a second thought, Y/N is supporting Ram upright. She places Ram’s arm around her shoulder, and uses her other hand to hold his hand.

A million questions swirl in her head, yet she knows that now is not the time. She needs to get Ram’s wounds treated and get him to his bedroom.

“Y/N?” Ram’s voice is barely a whisper, but with the intimacy between the two, Y/N can hear him clearly.

In his subconscious state, Ram manages to peer at Y/N, noticing the worried look on her face. It is clear that she is shaken by the sight of him like this, but he cannot do anything about that. He wasn’t in the state to do anything, but watch.

Watch as she struggles to hurl him to his bedroom. As his weight sags from losing his equilibrium, he watches as she runs into doors and walls. Watches as he almost crushes her with his body weight.

As he senses the comforting sensation of his bed underneath him, Ram feels a little more stable. Due to his weight, Ram somehow manages to pull Y/N down with him.

Now, with Y/N over him on the bed, Ram cannot help himself but admire her beauty as the two become more and more engaged in a passionate eye lock.

Ram gently approaches Y/N while lifting a battered hand and moving a curl behind her ear. She was warm in contrast to his icy touch.

Ram's chilly fingertips brush Y/ N's warm cheeks, sending a shudder up her spine. When his left hand touches her left cheek, she can't help but lean into his touch.

“Ram?”

Ram might not be in the correct frame of mind, because it is inconceivable that he would have felt the urge to ravage Y/N only because she spoke his name.

Her lips. Oh, how he starts to get closer to them, his pulse racing with the need to taste those cupid's lips. Something dark swirls inside Ram when he realizes that he wants to see them swollen from his kisses.

The same darkness carries over to how Ram wants to spend every night ravaging her voluptuous body. Make sure she can’t walk in the morning from being with him. Mark her body so she knows she belongs to him.

Him. He wants her to belong to him. Only him. He wants her to only pay attention to him. Care only about him.

Ram’s bruised hand travels from Y/N’s cheeks, to her waist. Y/N trembles and her breath catches in her throat. "Ram?"

With awareness of his injuries, Y/N lifts her hand and lays it on his face, brushing her thumb down the delicate edge of his mouth. Her probing eyes linger for a while over his, searching for any indications of pain or discomfort.

With a hazy mind, Ram begins to rubs circle on her waist, lazy fingers trailing down the length of her sternum. Her skin prickles at the touch, and Ram melts at the moan he draws from her.

The moon witness their intimacy, blowing gentle breeze with an intoxicating scent. The rain that pours matches the rhythm of their hearts.

The sheets tangle with their legs and the bedsheet crumbles when Ram slowly turns the two over, with Ram on top and Y/N beneath him.

Ram doesn’t whether it is the pain from his injuries or his feelings for Y/N that make carnal desires to course through his body at the sight of Y/N under him.

With half lidded eyes, Y/N swallows, peering deeply into his eyes.

His eyes which are a puzzle to his soul. The puzzle that once you solve it, you have access to his soul that shoulders many burdens. All through the window of his eyes.

A puzzle that Y/N is willing to solve. A burden is ready to help him out with. A window that she is ready to peer through. All to get a look at his beautiful soul.

The sight of Y/N gulping latches Ram’s eyes to her neck. A hiss escapes his lips when he finds a small black mole on the side of her neck; presumably her sweet spot.

Ram drags his hand over the lenght of Y/N’s stretched arms, intertwining his hands with hers, almost binding her to spot with his tight grip.

The translucent curtains dance to the winds of kama, casting the perfect veil of privacy and security on the couple.

Ram tries, yet fails to control himself from lowering his face into her neck. His hot breathing fanning her hair away from the neck.

A chortled falls from Y/N’s lips just as Ram’s beard comes in contact with the skin under her chin. He feels Y/N shift below him, her hand tightening her grip on his.

Ram’s lips peck tenderly over the small mole on her neck, her breath catching in her throat. “Ram…”

Ram watches as Y/N’s eyes roll back into her head when she experiences pleasure like she has never before. It only urges him more, fueling the fire of his desire for her.

Continuing with his task, Ram peppers Y/N’s soft neck with kisses, tender and gentle — some feeling like a brush of his lips against her skin.

The moonlight, the rain, and the wind all are witnesses to the two lovers burning in the fire of their passion and true love.

Letting the souls unite is the task of tonight’s romantic weather. Fire and Earth coming together to help one’s ferocity and the other’s gentleness.

However, it seems that the Gods have other plans. It seems that tonight is not the best night for the reunion of Fire and Earth, when water isn’t in the equation of their lives.

So when Y/N, who was previously feeling a knot of pleasure in her stomach, feels a sudden weight thump on top of her, it startles her out of her sensual state.

Slowly opening her eyes, Y/N is faced with the sight of a mop of black hair. Lifting her head, she notices the sleeping form of Ram on top of her.

His head is nestled in the crook of her neck, one of his hand intertwined with her own and the other underneath, wrapped around her waist. His legs lay between the partition of her own legs.

Sighing heavily, Y/N lets her arm swaddle the back of Ram’s head, softly scratching his hair on the back.

Turning her head to side, she watches as the moon filters the beauty of her face. Under the noor and protection of the chand, she closes her eyes, slipping into slumber.

The strings of their lives becoming more interesting with the moon’s light as its beautiful witness.

Dhaage Tod Lao

Chandani ke Noor ke

A/N: Please Chapal mat marna, I only know how to write this much smut for now. When I learn I promise I will write more.

Tagging: @bromance-minus-the-b @shreyalokesh @iamhereforthefanfics @thewinchestergirl1208 @voidsteffy @ramcharantitties @anyavaramyr @ronaldofandom @budugu @shawty-writes-a-little @saanjh-sakhi @nyotamalfoy @chaanv @obsessedtoafault @ronnoxandlumoss @maraudersbitchesassemble @dumdaradumdaradum @bibi-birdy @its-pinkfunny-blog @phoenix666stuff @ramcharanobsessed @iam-siriuslysher-lokid @yehsahihai @aasthuu @deeznutsssssblog @juhiiiiii @moonyrox @nerdreader @rosayounan @dreqmwonders @purplelandsworld @cescosstuff @hailraykin @sabi5 @guywholovestowrite @voidofdarknessworld @kaashvi-agarwal @mathy-u @ramcharanobsessed @honeybeetiny @ramayantika @ray0112 @bitchy-bi-trash @army24--7 @desibtsarmy27 @dayandnightcoffee1 @ramarajusimp @rosabella-santos @goldenharrysworld @shaktimarvel @sukitaee @rathourrakshit @desi-brownie @meownique @piku-07 @indianaestheticsblog @shadowsandsorcery7005 @amnmich @zoeladyprincess @thatonequietkid0987 @anjalis-ennui @chaoticqueenlovee @browneyesromantic

#desi tag #komuram bheem #ram x reader #rrr fanfic #jr ntr #ram charan #ramaraju x reader #rrr #rrr film #rrr movie #rrr tarak charan #rrr x reader

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darkdevasofdestruction · 3 years ago

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Hello, I saw tha your now writing for baki how bout a Jack x reader nsfw :)

I never imagined I'd be writing for Jack, let alone something like this, but this is gonna be fun x

Remember how he was created? Not out of love.

Although he doesn't exactly see his mum anymore, she is still the one who loved, raised and protected him through and through, so I'm sure he'd respect the woman he'd be with much more than his father ever did with anyone.

He's better than that.

It's a huge feat on itself that he actually allowed himself the distraction of having a lover considering his only love were the pills he took, training and all the extreme and painful procedures that made him taller and heavier.

He's tragic with words, but Jack will actually try to be civil and a normal guy, just like his little brother is with girlfriend - Hell, in a way, he'll kinda find it a one-sided competition of who treats their lover better.

And Jack is ready to win.

First of all, he knows he's a huge brute, quite literally about twice his height and 5 times his width, so he really does everything in his power to be gentle with you.

After all, being only raised and taught to fight and kill means that despite always using his full strength, he has an impeccable grasp on how to distribute his strength overall, so he wouldn't leave bruises all over your skin just by holding your hand or grasping your hips.

He's very careful with your body, despite his urge of getting rough, but even if you let him let loose, he'll be very careful because if he isn't, who knows what could happen.

You're just so small and delicate and vulnerable in his arms that he can't take it, how could he possibly ever hurt such a lovely human being?

His father once said that men are meant to be fighters, and he's very fine with that - He'd pulverize anyone who'd even think about looking at your the wrong way - But he wouldn't want you to watch him do bad things, instead, he'll tell you to turn around and cover your eyes or something... At least at the beginning.

He'd be too concerned to try missionary with you, but he wouldn't let you be on top either - No way in hell - Instead, he'll have you against the wall or on a table or on the kitchen counter.

That way, he can have you flushed against his chest, watching you desperately cling and claw away at his arms, shoulders or back, trying to get a grip when he goes too fast or too rough with you so much that you lose yourself in pleasure and your face twists so lewdly.

It plays perfectly on Jack's ego because it's him making you feel so perfectly fucked that you can't help but moan out his name so sinfully.

He loves it so much when you manage to draw blood while in your glossed state when all you can do is squirm, yelp incoherent things or his name, tell him how good he feels -

On another note, he'd forget the nice guy act when he sees you so lost in pleasure and would tease and taunt you with some dirty talk and praises, telling you how good you take his cock, how you feel so good, how you're so tight and that your pussy is begging for him so shamelessly.

Not only that, but this vulnerable state of yours makes him want to see you beg for him so he'd slow down his pace to one that was excruciating to you while urging you to plead to him to go on and tell him how you feel.

He'd pin your hands above your heads, legs over his shoulders as he shamelessly looks down at you, and if you dare look away, he'd put one of his hands on his neck then grasp your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

"Go on, baby, tell me what you want. Tell me how desperate you are for my dick. Tell me how nothing makes you feel as good as I do. Go on, be a good little girl and beg for me to continue, otherwise I'll just get up and leave you like that... But don't think you'll be allowed to touch yourself. No, no, this pussy is mine." he'd tease you as he'd get out of you and lightly tap your clit with his palm.

If you're a good girl, he'd let you suck on his fingers like the needy kitten that you are. He'd a bit scared that you may end up dislocating your jaw trying to take him in your mouth, but if you're sure, he'd urge his little kitty to get his milk.

He likes cumming either inside of you, your mouth or on your face, but that's only if you're on your knees, sucking him off and you're desperate for him, so he takes your head away from him and finishes himself off on you, telling you to keep your mouth open - God, that face of yours, so lewd, so absent-minded, so fucked - He lives for it.

Jack is strong and has infinite stamina so he can go all night long - But poor you, he knows he'd easily tire you out, so he minds you and your strength.

Also, just a thing, Jack loves to bite, but he's actually terrified to do that with you because of that impossible strength of his that may or may not do more damage than good.

He'd get used to your tender skin though, and when he's sure he's got it all under control... You'll be painted in hickeys and love marks.

When all's said and done, he'll actually be very gentle and caring with you, offering to shower together and changing the sheets while you take the time undressing and what not.

Damn, he loves you so much.

#baki #baki x reader #baki imagine #jack hammer #jack hammer x reader #jack hammer imagine #jack hanma #jack hanma x reader #jack hanma imagine #baki hanma imagine #baki hanma x reader #baki hanma #baki the grappler #baki the grappler imagine #baki the grappler x reader

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kpop-dungeon-dark · 3 years ago

Text

ALPHA HYBRID!JONGIN X YOU

•TRIGGER WARNING•

Warning(s): Semi-Noncon, breeding, claiming. Both characters are of legal age in this. This does not represent Kim Jongin nor anyone affiliated in any way and is purely a work of fiction. Browse at your own risk, you've been warned.

Request: Your mate Alpha Jongin claims you on a full moon against your will.

Y/n rolled her eyes at the eldest son of the Kims, Jongin, before she sipped on her drink and walked to the other side of the hall where the party was being held. She was only here because her mom forced her to do so, saying the whole family was invited and it'd be rude. The annoyed girl was standing in one of the many big balls of his mansion. And Jongin was so damn cocky, arrogant, proud and fucking smug.

The Kims were an elite wolf hybrid family and Jongin's father was the current mayor of the city. Humans and wolf hybrids coexisted throughout the whole world with almost all the hybrids being elite, the specie almost a class of its own. Currently, Jongin was showing off some project he was working on for the city whilst literally eye fucking Y/n who was the daughter of his father's human bestfriend.

She wondered what girl would fall for him. He was way too fucking over confident in himself and his abilities. The man carried himself like he was above everyone else around him and probably thought that too. How could anyone like him? Ugh. He was too much to bear with.

"You seemed bored during my speech." Y/n broke out of her trance, jumping a bit when she heard the familiar deep voice behind her. Rolling her eyes she stood up straight now as she was leaning against the railing of one of the many balconies of the mansion, staring at the full moon. "Tsk… isn't this kind of weather cold for you humans? What if you get sick, you foolish little girl…" Before his warm coat was draped over her naked shoulders.

Clenching her fist, the girl turned around to glare up at him. "I am 20! I am not litt-" she stopped abruptly when she came in face to chest contact with the taller, gulping at how he was staring down at her. "J- Jongin…" She whispered, throat dry.

"Hm…?" He casually sounded like he didn't have her trapped against the railing like that. Looking down at her soft curly locks, he softly pushed them out of her pretty face, tucking the strands behind her ear. "Better now that I can see that beautiful face fully."

Y/n felt her legs trembling. She had never been this close to another man let alone Kim fucking Jongin! "Y- Your eyes… t- they're… r- red…" The girl had always found the fact that they could shift into literal wolves terrifying, that was also one of the many reasons she avoided interacting with hybrids as much as she could.

"They are?" Putting his hands on the railing on the Y/n's either sides, the man leaned down and levelled their gazes, staring down at her calmly. He liked how her cheeks were red and pupils shook with fear. Good. "It's a full moon after all. They get like this on such nights. But don't worry, doll. I won't hurt you. I've trained plenty to keep Kai under control. He doesn't bite" before he grinned, his own words contradicting his body because his teeth looked sharper and longer.

"O- Oh alright… I- I'll go then~" shrugging his coat off, the girl tried to escape but oh no.

"Did you think about what I said, little one?" His bigger hand grasped her smaller one before he pulled her right back into him. "My confession… the other day." Jongin raised an eyebrow and spoke before she would try to play dumb. "You're my mate, baby. I need you on these nights… But you're always so busy running away from your Alpha… your mate… your guardian…" His voice was sickeningly low and sweet, plump lips grazing against her cheek. "Your protector and owner."

Angered from his last words, the girl furrowed her eyebrows and glared up at him. "I- I can protect myself just f- fine! Thank you! N- Now let me g- go! I already told you I like someone else! Y- You're a hybrid! I am human! Do you really think I am t- that stupid?! NO. We can't be mates! We are different species!"

The male sighed and shook his head. "Not when you stutter like that. Tsk. You just have to make it so much harder and complicated than it actually is, right? Little brats like you just won't learn until they're taught. And luckily your Alpha is here to teach you all that you need to learn."

Usually, he'd be able to keep his wolf under control much more as well as his anger. But the moon shining so bright right in his face was not helping. And then this little girl right here, huffing so adorably in her top cut low dress was looking so damn beautiful. Her constant denial wasn't helping.

"Thinking your Alpha is a liar…" Throwing her over his shoulder, he smacked her ass. "Tsk. You deserve to be punished harshly for that, my little human" before another smack landed on her ass as the man entered his bedroom, locking the door before he threw her struggling form on the bed.

"L- LET ME GO! Y- YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!" Before she tried to take her heels off to hit him with that, making him throw his head back and laugh loudly.

"What a pathetic little mate I have!" Smacking her hands out of the way, the man ripped her shoes off before ripping her dress from the bottom all the way up to the top, causing her to squeak and try to hide herself. "Fuck! You're so beautiful, my little mate!" Catching her kick mid-air, the man crawled on top of her and smacked her lips softly before kissing her. "Trying to hurt your Alpha? Bad baby."

Y/n was constantly running her mouth while crying but the Alpha turned a deaf ear to it. "Just give into the way of the moons, my pretty one, you'll be so much better." Trapping her hands that she was continuously hitting him with above her head, the male started kissing her face all over, tasting her tears and getting hard on them. "So good…" Before Jongin pulled her underwear down and gagged her mouth with it, the girl's screams were muffled now.

"You're so pretty with your mouth stuffed by your underwear, baby." Holding her hands tightly in a bruising grip, the hybrid unzipped his pants, holding her thighs open with his knees before his fingers started to rub against her pussy lips, pushing them open and now playing with her folds, making her sensitive body jump up in his chest from the sudden stimulation, her slit leaking.

Jongin chuckled. "You tell me no but your body can't deny me, huh? Seems like it is much more obedient than this dumb little girl here, tsk." Y/n whined and tried kicking her legs when he pinched her pussy lips painfully. "Look at this wet cunt, tsk!" Before he smacked her folds, causing the girl to scream in pain, his cock standing up painfully hard. "You want another man?!" His fingers turned into half claws, voice getting animalistic. "Well too bad the only man that's going to be fucking you and having you is me!"

Y/n's head was pounding. She hated how good and wet she felt. Her entrance was clenching needily, wanting just any object to push in her right now. Even if it was a marker like she had back home. Of course she was naughty. The girl was 20 after all!

"Fuck baby I need you now~" before the Alpha pushed in her unprepared pussy. No marker or even toy would have prepared for this. Jongin's knot was fucking huge! The human's eyes widened and mouth fell open, her body jerking when he instantly hit her g-spot, not being able to hold back especially because of the full moon and going berserk, thrusting his whole thick knot in and out of her, snapping his fists rapidly.

"You like this baby?! You're inviting me further and further in like you love it!" Pinching her nipples, the man started to suck and bite at her tits, sucking wherever his lips touched and covering her in hickies. "Fuck baby! You're so fucking warm and tight!" He loved the smell of her purity coating his cock, balls upping in without any effort.

"You deny me like that but your body says yes. You're mine after all! And I'll rightfully fucking claim you as such!" Y/n felt her body submit more and more, eyes falling shut as she tried to breathe through her nose because her whole underwear was stuffed in her mouth.

"Tsk… you're blushing in pleasure… look at this naughty fucking girl!" Before he kissed her lips harshly, biting at them before he guided his hand back to her pussy, rubbing at her clit with his thumb while going faster and faster, licking at her dripping sweat. "You like it, Princess?! You like being forced to lay under your Alpha?! Tsk. I should have known! Little girls like you end up being the most desperate whores!"

Letting go of her hands, the man grabbed her jaw and moved her face, licking at the marking point, the junction between her shoulder and neck before he bit down hard, drawing blood out while she screamed and started to squirt, feeling her pussy spasm as her hands gripped his shoulders, shaking.

"I am going to fill your adorable little tummy with my pups. You'd like that, won't you, baby?" Jongin licked at the fresh claim mark on her skin, starting to fill her with his cum before hitting it up her g-spot repeatedly, Y/n's eyes rolled to the back of her head as she gripped his shoulders, trembling under him.

"Tell me how you feel, my pretty human…" The hybrid male husked before he pulled the underwear out of her mouth and kissed her passionately. His hands groped her perfect skin as he stopped thrusting, still letting his cock rest in her, balls deep.

"A- Alpha… Alpha please f- fill my tummy…" She finally submitted, sobbing. "I- I am sorry…" He was right. She could feel it now after being touched and claimed like this. "Y- You were r- right… I- I can feel it… I only w- want you… P- Please fill my tummy with your puppies…" Jongin smiled and kissed her tears.

"Good girl."

This is a pretty old request I found laying around along some others. I don't even have the actual request anymore so I made up a summary of the events that unfold.

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