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devildomwriter · 7 months ago

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Obey Me As Tumblr #33

MC: Eating chips with chopsticks is unironically Galaxy brain. Your fingers don’t get greasy and it lasts longer

Solomon: Fork

MC: Oh yeah I’m going to stab my crunchy foods and make them fall apart like an absolute absent minded dunce fool, clown, jester, like a monstrous moron, an idiot of Shakespearean proportions, a cretin

Diavolo: Uhm, you seem to forget that chips can also mean fries? And that’s probably what they were talking about haha

MC: I did not forget anything. I purposefully ignore the idea of using British vocabulary to do my part in helping it die out

•

Belphegor: An alarm clock except it’s set to every time

Leviathan: We touch

Solomon: I get

Diavolo: This feeling

•

Beelzebub: I was talking with my brothers yesterday and we decided the best way to own a guy who takes off his shirt to fight you is to pick his shirt up and put it on

Mammon: That might be one of the ultimate power moves

Simeon: Or pick it up and say “lift your arms up” and try to put it back on him

•

Leviathan: By day I appear to be no more than just an average run of the mill office worker, but when night time strikes! I’m crying alone in my bed

•

Solomon: I bought my friend an elephant for their room

They said “thank you”

I said “don’t mention it”

Mammon: Is there a joke here that everyone gets but I don’t?

Belphegor: Nobody tell them

•

Thirteen:

Them: why are you competing in our cooking show today?

Me: the government banned gladiatorial matches yet I yearn for glory in the arena

Solomon: I’m here to tell you gladiator matches are still a thing, pal

Thirteen: Hm. Interesting. The last time I tried to behead a man for prestige and the right to majesty, I was dragged out of the alleyway by three very unreasonable men of the law and I would like to know where you live

•

Diavolo: What do you call a snobbish criminal going down the stairs?

Lucifer: I don’t know. What?

Diavolo: A condescending con descending

Lucifer: Get out

MC: That was beautiful

•

Leviathan: Bitten by a radioactive cicada. Now all I do is sit in a tree and scream all day

•

Solomon: Self-care is slathering yourself in baby oil and sliding down the 7th lane in your local bowling alley so the mechanical pin setter will pick you up and take you to the forbidden place behind the bowling lanes where you can meet God but only on Tuesdays

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Mammon: Security called me at work today and told me they saw me outside chasing a frog around on the security cameras. I wasn’t in trouble they just wanted to let me know they saw me, I didn’t catch him

•

Leviathan: Me wearing a blanket as a cloak, stirring my man’n’cheese in a dimly lit room: potion

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Satan: When I say I’m “feral” it doesn’t always mean I’m angry, maybe I’m stupid and if you give me food you’ll earn my trust and I’ll follow you around

•

Asmodeus: Covered in blood for sexy reasons

Asmodeus: Also I just got stabbed

Asmodeus: Don’t suppose there’s anyone here willing to tenderly clean, stitch and bandage my wounds while calling me an idiot in an exasperatedly fond tone of voice is there?

•

Diavolo: Introducing a new alignment— chaotic lawful. I have a strict moral code but nobody can figure out what the hell it is

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Mammon: My best feature is that I’m blindingly intelligent for about 30 seconds a day

Mammon: I do not get to choose which seconds, they are not consecutive

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Satan: Okay I’m normal now I promise. Let me out of the case please

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Leviathan: Power move: calling someone a coward in the middle of a fight while also running away from them as fast as you possibly can

Lucifer: Mammon ghost wrote this

Mammon: YO

•

Leviathan: “Are you a boy or a girl?”

I am the physical embodiment of suffering

#obey me shall we date #funny obey me #obey me incorrect quotes #obey me as tumblr #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me mammon #obey me solomon #obey me leviathan #obey me belphegor #obey me simeon #obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #obey me thirteen #obey me satan

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conretewings · 5 months ago

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A Good Name 🌟

-Set some months after the trio's conversation that night at the bar, the guys get a visit from their friend..and new companion. My heart is broken and I need some fluffy healing okay I really wanted to write a thing with Vander meeting baby Vi sue me.

A light rapping at the door makes Vander look up and Silco glance over his shoulder. They weren't open, and unexpected knocks usually came with some sort of headache or trouble.

They catch each other's gaze in a silent question of if they should answer, and whom if so. Silco's pen hovers above the ledger in front of him, brow raised a measure, his glass-green eyes sharp and steady. They dart towards the sound before meeting Vander's again, his head tilting slightly. Vander nods and reflexively rolls his shoulders, stepping around the table he was cleaning and takes a couple steps forward when there's a second knock-only this time it comes in a very distinctive, two-three-two pattern and both men are instantly fully alert.

Vander makes it to the door in a few hurried strides, undoing the locks and throwing it open to have two people dart inside. Closing it again he whirls and steps toward them, Silco also approaching now.

"Felicia, Connol!" he huffs, irate and concerned all at once, "We haven't heard from you in over a week! We were starting to think-"

She whips a hand forward and presses a finger to his lips, "Shhhhh...she's dozing-oh, not anymore."

It's then a small, thin cry is heard, the sound suddenly the only one in the room, and certainly not normally heard.

Vander and Silco freeze for a moment before the larger man barely finds his voice, "Is...did you..?"

Felicia rolls her eyes with a smirk, "Sorry guys. Been a little preoccupied."

Pulling aside the loose cloak she wore, she turns to reveal a wide piece of fabric wound around herself, and securely bound in the middle, cradled against her chest, was a tiny, wiggly bundle. Connol smiles broadly, weaving an arm around her shoulders, "Mates, meet our daughter."

As if knowing she was being talked about, the infant's wriggling increases and she turns her head, topped with a fluff of pinkish-red hair and gapes at the adults with brilliant, sky-blue eyes.

There's a beat of silence, save for the newborn's whimpers and soft cries, as if the reverence and significance for this moment was an unspoken agreement. Felicia tenderly brushes her fingers across her cheek and the puff of hair, a soft, peaceful smile on her face.

It's Silco who breaks the quiet with a simple, understated, "Ah...I see." still at a loss how to properly react to the situation.

"Lookit her...so small..." Vander breathes, moving closer, a lopsided grin slowly growing, "Hello there little one...lemme be the first to welcome you here though eh, it'll be a bit before you're a customer yeah?"

Connol rolls his eyes with a snort, yet Silco's face hardens just the slightest degree, "Not that I'm questioning your judgement, however is it not incredibly risky to whisk a newborn all the way here?"

"We know the best routes, and besides, this is about the safest place she could possibly be." answers Felicia.

Connol nods, "Ain't no better spot than the one that means so much to us all. It's practically our home, and we felt there'd be no better for ya to meet her."

Silco clears his throat with an understanding nod in return, a smile playing at his lips as he turns and steps back toward the bar, "Well then. I do believe congratulations are in order. How old is she?"

"Five days now," Felicia answers as she and Connol go to sit at a nearby table, readjusting the sling so she can hold her on her shoulder, "And already giving me sass!"

Vander laughs, a bright, warm laugh that bounces off the walls before he sits with them, "I don't know what you expected, bein' the result of you two!"

"Oy man what's that supposed to mean?" says Connol with feigned indignation and a smirk.

Silco joins the group then, carrying a tray with several glasses-and one deep blue tumbler. He passes a glass to each of the men, then with a little flourish and gallant bow, sets the cup in front of Felicia, who laughs and does a slight bow in return.

"A toast then. Congratulations to the new parents, to your new addition, and many hopes for the future..." says Silco proudly, raising his glass, and the others follow suit.

"Oh! Right!" Vander snaps his fingers, "So, what's her name then?"

Felicia catches his eye, a glimmer both sly and yet softened with pride in her own, "Violet, of course."

Vander freezes, mouth half open in disbelief, feeling his heart leap, having to set his glass down before he dropped it, "...What?"

"You heard me." she grins, Connol adding, "We talked about it, considered others, but we kept coming back around and decided...Violet is a good name."

Swallowing thickly, Vander takes a moment before responding, "I...don't know what to say..."

Silco shakes his head with a smile, patting the larger man's shoulder, "I think he means he's honored."

"Of course I am, just also...wow. I didn't think..." Vander laughs, much more softly, running a hand through his hair, "Violet. Yeah."

Felicia turns so the newborn is facing them, "Say hello to your uncles Vander and Silco, Violet! They look like dorks, and they can be, but I'll tell you something...there's no one who cares about us down here as much, who'll fight harder for us, who will love you more, besides me and your pa, then these two."

The baby stares at them, and Vander is surprised to feel tears pricking the corners of his eyes, "Hello, Violet...what your mum said is true. No matter what happens, we've got ya."

Noticing, Silco breaks into a mocking grin, "Oh dear dear what's this? Is the great Hound of the Underground actually crying?"

"Shut it. It's dusty in here." grumbles Vander, yet unable to hide his own grin. All laugh, then the conversation carries on...

#arcane #arcane fanfic #arcane vander #vander arcane #young vander #arcane silco #young silco #arcane felicia #arcane connol #arcane vi #baby vi #LOOK #I NEEDED SOME FLUFF #THIS SEASON MAN #I CAN'T #FLUFF AND COMFORT BE UPON THEE

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3-2-whump · 5 months ago

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Purpose Lost, Then Re-gained

Hey everyone,

If you need a timely distraction from spiraling into despair (like me), here is a backstory I've been holding onto for ages. Thanks @whumped-by-glitter and @generic-whumperz for beta-reading this!

PS, there is a reference to a previous chapter that you'd might want to brush up on, if you're unfamiliar with it

TW/CW: blood, aftermath of murder, whump aftermath (I guess?), aftermath of (sports) injury, emotional whump (depression), feelings realization (bi panic)

Out, damned spot; out, I say. One, two, —why, then ’tis time to do’t. Hell is murky. Fie, my lord, fie, a soldier and afeard? What need we fear who knows it when none can call our power to account? Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?

Nico scrubbed his hands once, twice, until they were pinkish-red from the effort of cleansing rather than from the blood. Yet he could still feel his boss’ warm blood sticking his palms to the dead man’s body and staining him to his bones. Outside the thin doors of the dock’s restrooms, he could hear Julio instructing Juicio Divino on where to hang up Tom’s body.

Thomas Costa’s body.

Nico thought he was going to be sick.

The door swung open and Julio leisurely sauntered up beside him, taking the sink next to him to wash the blood off his hands. They stood there in silence with nothing but the water running between them and a tension that could be cut with a knife.

Julio glanced over at Nico’s scrubbed-raw hands, frowning a little as he turned off the water to his sink. “You good there, vato?” he asked quietly.

“You know, it’s just kinda fucked, isn’t it?” Nico began, the words tumbling out of his mouth before his brain could make sense of them. “I literally just helped you murder a rapist, an enslaver, and an abuser, among other things. Yet, all I can think about is how that same rapist, enslaver, and abuser cured my depression and gave me a purpose to life again, and we literally just took his-”

Julio cut off his nervous babbling by placing a damp, clean hand on Nico’s. The other hand reached to turn off the sink, and then to turn Nico towards him. Forest green eyes looked down into hazel. Julio frowned, reaching gently to touch one of Nico’s many scrapes he got on his face. The guard flinched under the assassin’s tender touch. Julio withdrew his hand right away, and Nico surprised himself when he found he missed its absence already.

“We need to clean those too so they don’t get infected,” Julio murmured. He gently led Nico into a bathroom stall and prompted him to sit down on the toilet. He then exited for a bit, only to come back with a paper towel he was blotting with alcohol from his jacket flask.

“Um, actually, I don’t think booze is the best thing to sterilize wounds,” Nico tried to say.

Julio hushed him as he began gently dabbing Nico’s split brow with the paper towel. Nico gritted his teeth; that stuff stung. He inhaled a comforting scent on the next painful hiss. Julio smelled…nice… a bit like marijuana and gunpowder and musk, but nice all the same.

Julio worked his way down to the cut below Nico’s left eye, staring intensely at his face in the meantime. Nico bristled under the man’s scrutiny. He wasn’t used to being touched so tenderly, not since-

2014

He was told that the torn ligament would need surgery. That he would need to go to rehab for weeks, if not months, after the fact. That he would miss the rest of the football season.

But that couldn’t be it. That wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Nico Clemenza was supposed to lead St. Drogo’s to victory this season, attract the attention of university recruiters, and be offered a full-ride to Syracuse or something like that. But here he was, at the hospital, sitting between his parents, as the doctor told him his whole future had gone up in smoke.

His father had hugged him. His mother had gently wiped his tears away. That was the first (and last) time they had touched him so tenderly in a while.

2015

It was the second semester of his senior year, and Nico was already so sick of people asking him what his future plans were. Even his therapist asked –well, she didn’t ask, but he could sense her concern when he couldn’t come up with an answer. Half the time he just wanted to scream that he had no plan, no future, nothing, and that everything he had pinned his hopes on since he was ten years old was gone. But the most he did was noncommittally shrug and murmur a despondent “I don’t know.”

After graduation, life became a bit of a dull gray monotony. Wake up, sulk, play video games and sulk, eat when his mother insisted he come downstairs for lunch, go to therapy, come home, sulk some more until dinnertime, and then take an hour-long shower before staying up late to sulk until he fell asleep.

Nico stared vacantly at his ceiling, letting the rotation of the fan’s blade lull him into a kind of trance. On the shelves of his bedroom were pictures of his old football team, awards from the debate club, trophies from past athletic competitions–all of them remnants of a boy he used to be. He really thought he should pack them all into a box and stuff them into his closet already, but he hadn’t even had the energy for something as simple as that.

A long-haired brunette leaned over his field of vision, waving her manicured fingernails in his face to get his attention. Her eyes, which looked much like his own, stared down at him in concern. She kept waving her hand in his face. Nico finally acknowledged his sister with a grunt. She stopped waving her hand. “Jeez, you are depressed,” she said with a frown.

“Leave me alone, Jessica,” he moaned.

He was about to turn onto his side, back facing her, when a pair of firm hands with manicured nails pinned him down onto the mattress. “It’s been a whole year now,” she stressed. Nico rolled his eyes; as if he weren’t painfully aware. “Mom and dad are worried about you,” she told him. Then, a little quieter, she admitted, “I’m worried about you.”

He pushed himself up from the Nico-sized divot he made in his bed, getting into a sitting position as he stared up at his older sister. “Yeah, well, maybe once you’ve missed your shot to do the only thing you were ever good for, then you’d be depressed too,” he sniped, though his words had no heat behind them.

Jessica sat on the bed next to her brother, bringing their gazes to the same level. “Come on, you don’t mean that, do you?” she asked. When Nico didn’t answer, she continued. “I mean, you were so much more than just football captain of St. Drogo’s, Nic-Nac! Did ‘president of the debate club’ and ‘honor roll student’ mean nothing to you?”

“Yeah, you don’t really get full-ride scholarships for being the smartest smart-ass in the room, do you?” he mumbled.

“But, you do get degrees,” Jessica argued.

And Nico knew she was right, and that with his grades, he could’ve applied to any university he’d like without a hitch. But, without any true sense of what he wanted to do with his life now, let alone what he’d want to study for four years, he figured it would’ve been a waste of everyone’s time and money for him to go to college without a plan. Surely his sister would’ve remember this; she tried to get him to apply to her college several months ago.

Speaking of which… “What are you even doing home this weekend?” he asked her, changing the subject. “It’s not a holiday, is it?” He was only vaguely aware that it was even October, thanks to the Halloween decorations at his therapist’s office.

Jessica shook her head. “Uncle Mike and the new boss are visiting, so Dad wanted me to come home to sell the whole ‘happy family’ image,” she explained.

“’Happy family’ image?” Nico echoed, cocking his head in confusion. As far as he was aware, their family was perfectly normal, and the only unhappy one was him.

“And you, Mr. Nic-Nac, are the unhappiest of us all and are dragging us down!” she jokingly scolded him, as if she could read his mind. She pulled him by the arm off the bed and out of his room. “Take a shower, shave your face, fix your hair, and please change into something nice,” she instructed him. She shoved him into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. “They’ll be here in half an hour!”

The new boss, Mr. Thomas J. Costa, was nothing like Nico had expected. He was young, like, mid-thirties, with a polite demeanor that slipped into something more personal and friendly when his Uncle Mike was around. He was crass, talking frankly about every minor inconvenience of his day while sprinkling in enough expletives to fill the Clemenza swear jar thrice over. He was relatable; he and Nico shared the same music tastes, and Nico’s jaw dropped in awe as the Boss relayed a tale of meeting Kurt Cobain in person.

And, most of all, he gave Nico’s life direction again.

It was a couple hours after dinner, as his mom and Jessica cleaned up in the kitchen and the men smoked in the back yard. Nico had been allowed to join the men outside, but all he did was stand awkwardly around the periphery as Don Costa regaled his dad and his uncle with the antics of a new puppy he was training (if he overheard that right).

“Yeah, he’s a dense little fucker, but he’ll get it, eventually,” Thomas sighed.

“Not like my Nico over here,” his dad had boasted proudly. Nico fought against the instinct to shrink in on himself as his father waved towards his direction and all three pairs of eyes fell onto him. “Honor roll student, president of the debate club, and former captain of the St. Drogo’s Direwolves.”

Former. He’d hoped that a year later, the word wouldn’t hurt so much. Too bad, it still did.

“That so?” The Boss took a puff of his cigarette, then redirected his attention to Nico. “Hey, kid, what are you doing? You in school, studying anything?”

“Oh, n-no, um, no, I’m not. I’m not, sir,” Nico stuttered, throwing in the honorific at the last minute as he subconsciously straightened his posture.

“Well, do you want to be studying?” Thomas bore down on him, steely gray eyes sharp with ambition and gleaming with promises. “What would you study, if you were in school right now?”

Nico’s mouth opened and closed like a fish as he struggled his way through an answer, eventually landing on a painfully-exhaled “eh…”

Thankfully, the new Boss didn’t laugh, or even sigh disappointedly like his uncle just now. Instead, he looked the young man over carefully, silently appraising him for a worth that Nico could hardly find in himself. “Our company could do with a legal consultant,” he said after a moment’s pause. “Frank himself said he wants to retire by the time he’s sixty-five, which would give you about seven years or so to get a law degree and complete an internship at Costa Insurance, if that’s something you’d want to do.”

Uncle Mike glanced at Don Costa. “Tom, isn’t he a little young to bring into the-”

“No younger than you were when Grandpa Tony brought you into the fold,” Thomas answered. He stuck his palm out to Nico, inviting him to shake on it. “Well, Nico?” he asked.

“And after a year of not having any sense of direction or purpose, to finally be thrown that line, to be shown a future I could attain…” Nico continued rambling on, “…I just went for it!”

Julio hummed to let him know he was listening as he applied the Band-Aids to his face.

“I put my whole ass into law school, and the gym, and guard duty, and for what?” Nico asked, hopping from his seat and marching out the bathroom stall as soon as Julio stopped leaning over him. “To find out it was a lie,” he grumbled, “that the man who got me out of my depression was a hopeless, selfish, sexually and physically abusive, manipulative piece of-”

“I get it, I get it,” Julio answered, opening the door of the restroom onto the snowy night. He sighed, closing his eyes as he collected his thoughts before looking up at Nico through his lashes, which were quickly collecting snow. “I looked up to someone who later came to disappoint me, too,” he whispered. “But look, Nico –Nico!”

Nico blinked back the furious stinging in his eyes. Julio was standing close to him, squinting up at him through snow-flake jeweled eyelashes as he enunciated his next words clearly. “He didn’t get you out of your depression. You put in the work, you studied those long hours, you saw your future and you ran at it with everything you had to get it. You did all that, not him. He was just the spark, if you will, but the rest?” His tattooed hand thumped his sternum with every word he uttered next. “That. Was. All. You.”

And, for the first time since he found out the truth about Khaled, Nico felt something warm and fulfilling –pride? –swell in his chest. Julio smiled up at him. “You don’t owe anybody anything, and you should take pride in what you’ve accomplished on your own,” he told him.

Julio’s smile was wide, comforting, even. Nico’s heart pounded. It was unlike any smile he’d received from Khaled. No shy smiles that barely reached his eyes on this one; Julio’s smile was all teeth, fierce, feral, and free in its unabashed expressions. The closest Khaled ever came to smiling that sincerely around Nico was when his favorite team scored a goal, and even then, never this brightly.

Why was he only now realizing how different they were? Khaled and Julio were like the sun and the moon! Where one would quietly slink into a room and blend in with the wall, the other would kick the door open and saunter in with the calm confidence of an alley cat to take the seat at the head of the table, assuming it was not already occupied. Where one would omit information, and divert the subject to avoid talking about the things that mattered, the other would not shut up, especially about the things that mattered (justice, judgment, obligations, etc.). Where one would have to be continuously pressured into giving a half-truth after boldly lying to his face for years, the other was nothing but honest with him from the beginning. He told Nico he’d kill Thomas Costa for what he did to Khaled, and by god, he meant every word. Nico found himself falling in love with him that honesty.

But it’s not like Khaled was in any position to tell me the truth, Nico remembered, not without endangering himself or me. Still, though, it was refreshing to have someone like Julio be their true, authentic selves around him. Dare he say, Julio’s sincerity was even attractive.

But Nico liked women, okay? (Right?) At least, he thought he did. Being raised in a conservative, Italian-American, nominally Catholic organized crime family taught him that liking women was the only acceptable answer. His entire sexual history constituted women. However, Nico knew what he felt in the public restroom of that bar. Temptation. Nobody who exclusively liked women would feel temptation as Khaled stood on his tiptoes and attempted to kiss him. Yet it took everything in his power not to kiss him that night. And he found himself fantasizing about the ‘what-ifs’ ever since.

Nico first fell for Khaled, how he looked up at him with deep, dark brown eyes that a man could easily get lost in. But now, he was losing himself in Julio’s light hazel eyes, glittering a dim golden glow in the darkness of the night. His eyes panned down to Julio’s cheekbones, red from the cold (surely) and dusted lightly with stubbly facial hair. His eyes settled onto Julio’s full, smiling lips. They looked soft. Nico had no idea why he wanted to test that theory.

Is there just something about a murder that brings people together? Nico wondered. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks the longer he stared at Julio’s lips, imagining what those lips would feel like.

“You good, Nico?” Julio waved a hand over Nico’s fixed gaze, jiggling the padlock chain necklace he wore and making the links clink softly against each other. Nico unfroze, remembering why kissing Julio would be a bad idea, among all the other questionable ideas they had that night.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine,” he lied. “I just zoned out for a minute.”

Julio –Khaled’s boyfriend –opened his mouth halfway, as if he were about to call Nico out on his lie, but whatever thought flashed between those hazel eyes compelled him to shut it again. He trudged away from the restroom and towards Nico’s Jeep.

Nico exhaled a frosty sigh. Of all the times to have a bi awakening, why did it have to be with a compulsive liar and a gun-for-hire? Why couldn’t he have this realization in high school, when the options were much lower stakes? He shook his head and followed.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @defire @phoenixpromptsandstuff @scumashling

#a backstory and a bi awakening all in one?#whump writing #oc backstory #tw blood #tw aftermath of murer #whump aftermath #tw sports injury #tw emotional whump #depression tw #plus a healthy sprinkling of #feelings realization

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kryptid-writes · 2 years ago

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Chapter 9 - Cat's Out

The secret is out and the tension reaches a boiling point.

(2.6k)

The beautiful symphony of music plays, unlike anything I've heard before. It’s soft but powerful, the notes harmonizing and blending together in the most exquisite way, filling me with a sense of peace.

I find myself dressed in a beautiful flowing white gown, adorned with tiny diamonds that sparkle under the bright light shining from the crystal chandelier that hangs above us in the empty ballroom.

The elegant ballroom is filled with exquisite architecture that’s reminiscent of a fairytale. The marbled walls are lined with twisting golden engravings creating elegant designs. The white and gray columns tower over us, unique shapes and symbols carved into the stone. But perhaps the most stunning part of it all is the dynamic renaissance painting across the ceiling. Pastel depictions of angels and the peaceful grace of Heaven clashing against the dark armies of demons and black hounds of Hell. Among all the chaos is the battle of Micheal and Lucifer, the story I study like gospel.

Lucifer wears a matching three piece suit in a pristine white color that brings out the deep red of his eyes. His hair neatly brushed back and the usual blood that splatters his body is scrubbed completely clean.

I must admit, for a man that’s never seemed to care about his appearance before, he sure cleans up nice.

With my hand intertwined in his, we sway together, the click of shoes against the old polished wood echoing around. His extravagant wings flow to the melody and hold me close as we spin in coordinated circles. Our bodies press together, that wonderful electric feeling humming between us, pulling us ever closer. I press my face against his chest, breathing in his enticing smell.

He rests his head on the top of mine and hums along to the music, occasionally singing a quiet word of Enochian. His hand rests on the small of my back and moves up to caress the feathers of my petite wings.

I suck in a breath of air as he reaches the cusp of my injured wing, wisps of pain surging through me.

With a touch of his fingers, a white light shines through and the wound is instantly healed, the pain fading rapidly and leaving a cool sensation behind.

“What happened my beloved?” He asks, placing a tender kiss on the top of my hair.

Lucifer always seems to know more about me then he lets on, but I play along with his little game regardless.

“Did Dean do something to you?” He tilts my head to meet his gaze. “I swear to dad, I will make him wish he was never born!” His eyes burn with passion.

“No!” I blurt out. I rest my hand on his chest, trying to calm his sudden temper.

“Are you sure? Because I was really looking forward to finally smiting that petulant bug.” His lips twist into a mischievous smile at the thought.

“Dean didn’t do anything,” My eyes fall to the chestnut wooden floor, avoiding his eye contact. “I did this to myself,” my voice tapers off to a hushed whisper.

“Why?” He asks, his voice dripping with hurt, despite knowing the answer already.

“Because I don’t want to be an angel, Lucifer! I want to be me!” Hot tears brim my eyes, threatening to spill at any second.

“Oh, Darling.” He cups my face in his hands, wrapping his large white wings around us, shielding me from the light that has suddenly become all too bright. “This is your true form. This is who you were always meant to be.” He tenderly kisses my forehead.

I shake my head, utterly conflicted by the rush of emotions. I meet his gaze with wide eyes. The tears break free, racing down my cheeks.

“You are my fathers finest creation.” He wipes my tears away with his thumbs. “I didn’t think it possible that you could be any more beautiful, yet here you are my love,” he coos, running his eyes over every inch of me, admiring me as if I were the forbidden apple in the garden of eden. He pulls me into his warm embrace, the magnetic feeling courses through me, I feel as if I'm floating on a cloud.

“Oh, Luce,” I sigh into his chest.

“We’ll be reunited very soon and you’ll see why it must be this way,” he promises, running his fingers through my delicate feathers.

I close my eyes at the feeling and find myself fading from the realm of dreams.

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

The soft murmurs of voices down the hall pulls me out of my peaceful dream that my mind scrambles to hold on to, desperate to return.

After a minute of resistance, I stretch my arms far above my head and yawn, feeling refreshed after a good night of sleep. Yesterday's events must have really taken a lot out of me. Looking to my left, I notice the messy nest of sheets and pillows where Dean Winchester once slept, holding me in his arms. The memory leaves a soft smile on my face.

I throw the silk sheets off of me and stand from the bed, leaving my comfortable paradise. I grab a flannel off the floor and attempt to put it on, but it gets stuck above my wings, leaving me still completely exposed. I huff and tear at the threads in the back, carelessly ripping open two uneven holes. I constrict my wings into uncomfortable angles and force them through the mangled shirt. This angel business is bound to affect my life in many unforeseen ways.

I step out of my room and tiptoe down the hallway that leads to the library. As I grow nearer, the three familiar voices become more clear. I stop and press my body against the cold tile wall, hiding just out of sight and listen intently to their conversation.

“I’m telling you man, something is seriously wrong,” Dean warns in a hushed volume.

I can hear him nervously pacing back and forth, his hurried footsteps giving him away.

“You should’ve seen what she was doing to herself! I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“So, what? You think it’s some sort of depression or dysmorphia?” Sam asks in confusion.

“Could be. It’s quite a drastic change,” Dean pauses for a second, “I mean you remember what it felt like losing your angel mojo and becoming human, right?”

“Yes, it was certainly distressing,” Castiel replies in his usual monotone voice.

“I’m… fine,” I say weakly, interrupting their conversation and stepping into the light. I clutch my hands together, nervously picking at the cuticles of my nails. I try to fold my wings behind my back in a pitiful attempt to hide them, but at this point they’re too large to disguise. I can’t help but feel self conscious as their undivided attention is directed towards me.

“Y/N,” Deans gasps, eyes wide and mouth agape, resembling a deer caught in headlights.

“Um, good morning,” Sam says, his face painted in surprise. His eyes scan over my form, unable to look away from my wilted wings, particularly the mutilated one wrapped in bandages.

“Look, I had to tell them,” Dean admits in shame, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m just worried about you, is all,” his voice drops to a softer, concerned tone.

“It’s okay Dean,” I assure him, swallowing the betrayal I felt deep down. “But really, I'm fine,” I emphasize the last two words, being sure to get my point across. My eyes flick over to the other men, they look back at me with doubt.

“You should let Sammy take a look at the wound, he’s always been better at this kinda thing than me.” Dean walks to my side, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder and guiding me to sit at the table.

I sink into the chair but sulk away from his touch. As much as I've grown to care for Dean, I can’t help but feel a twinge of resentment. It saddens me that someone I thought I could trust would rat me out so quickly. But I suppose all I was doing is delaying the inevitable, they would have found out one way or another.

Dean pulls his hand back, receiving the message loud and clear.

“Right,” Sam says and stands from his seat. His eyes still locked on my wings, undoubtedly having a difficult time peeling his eyes away. Without another word, he dashes out of the library.

The room goes uncomfortably silent, the awkward tension hanging in the air.

Dean leans back against the table, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, clearly feeling a sense of guilt.

I shift uncomfortably in my chair, my arms crossed and mind racing.

Castiel on the other hand, stands attentively on the other side of the table, his stare in my direction unrelenting.

Sam quickly returns with a bottle of whiskey and a small white towel. He pulls a chair out, the obnoxious scrape of wood breaking the silence. He sits across from me and clears his throat.

I frill out my injured wing, stretching it so that Sam may remove the bandage and inspect the wound.

He furrows his brows and carefully unwraps the damaged area. His eyes narrow and the bloody bandage falls to the ground. “It’s… healed?” His face scrunches up in confusion. His soft brown eyes shifting from my wings, back to Dean and Castiel.

“No, it was right there, I stitched it up myself!” Dean huffs, stepping forward. He hovers over me to get a closer look at the wing, running a finger over the area that was previously mutilated. His expression is a mix of surprise and confusion.

I close my eyes at his touch, doing my best to suppress the blissful feeling that burns in my body. “Hm,” I respond, looking at the perfectly restored wing. I shift it back and forth, the pain completely gone.

Dean throws his hands up, bewildered at my response.

“Hm? That’s all you have to say?” He shouts at me and runs a hand through his hair in frustration.

I shoot a spiteful glare at him, annoyed by his temper.

“It’s possible that her newly found angel grace may have healed the injury overnight,” Castiel chimes in. He steps closer and leans over the table intently, placing his calloused hands on the worn wood.

“It’s not my grace,” I say quietly, my gaze falling to the floor.

“What the Hell is that supposed to mean?” Dean barks, clearly fed up with the lack of answers.

“Lucifer… he healed me last night in my dream,” I admit, mentally preparing myself for the backlash I have deliberately been avoiding.

“He’s still communicating with you through your dreams?” Sam questions, his tone soft, much more understanding than his brothers. There’s no question that he’s the more compassionate of the two.

“Great! Well that’s just fantastic!” He roars, his voice a mix of sarcasm and anger. He bounds out of the chair and hastily throws a book that was sitting upon the table, in anger. It hits the wall with a crack and falls to the floor, ripped pages fluttering to the ground, landing in a messy pile. “Were you planning on telling us this anytime soon?” His face flushes red in rage and clenches his fists into tight balls.

I shrug, not paying mind to his childish outburst.

“So, what? You’re buddy buddy with the devil now?!” He yells, taking several steps towards me with no regard for my personal space.

“I NEVER SAID THAT!” I bolt up from my chair. It tips backwards and hits the floor with a loud bang. I look up at him, his face just inches from mine. Our eyes lock in an intense staring contest, waiting for the other to break.

“Alright!” Sam intervenes, stepping between us. “Take a walk!” He snaps at Dean, giving him a light push to the chest.

Dean furrows his brows at Sam and gives me one final resentful glare before turning on his heels and storming out of the room, grumbling angrily to himself on the way out.

I let out a breath that I didn’t realize I was holding in. I close my eyes, getting my emotions under control, something Dean seems incapable of.

Sam takes a seat and runs his hand down his face, stopping to pinch the bridge of his nose, the stress evidently getting to him.

Castiel straightens up and stands still like a statue, looking unphased as usual. The scruffy angel resigns to silence.

“Look,” Sam says, gesturing for me to take the seat next to him. “We’re just a little frustrated you’ve been hiding this stuff from us,” his voice is calm and collected.

It takes the edge off of my anger and I relax into the back of the chair, the wood digging into my back. “I’m sorry Sam,” I sigh. “I’m just ashamed that he has this hold on me that I just can’t seem to shake. I didn’t want to concern you.”

He nods his head in understanding. “He’s the devil, a master manipulator, and he’s a natural at getting inside people's heads. Trust me, I know,” he chuckles like it’s some sort of inside joke. Sam silently shakes his head, looking as if he’s recalling some distant memories.

“But these things,” I resentfully gesture to my wings. “I’m a full blown freak!”

“You’re not a freak,” Sam states in a stern voice. “I know why you feel that way, but it’s far from the truth Y/N.” He places his large hand on mine that rests upon the table in a friendly gesture.

“Look at me Sam! These things are an abomination,” I retort, hanging my head in shame.

“Your wings are nothing to be ashamed of,” Castiel interjects, breaking his stoic silence.

I lift my head and look in his direction, suddenly reminded of his presence. He had been so quiet and still that I completely forgot he was here at all.

“They’re a sign of beauty and grace,” he assures, his pensive blue eyes meeting mine. “You are beautiful,” he says in full seriousness, his face softening just a little.

I’m seriously taken aback by his words. A compliment is the last thing I'd expect from Castiel, even Sam looks shocked. “Thank you Castiel.” I’m unable to conceal the blush that creeps upon my face.

“Hey Cas,” Sam asks, changing the direction of the conversation. “How come we’re able to see her wings but not yours?”

“I’m not entirely sure, but it likely has something to do with the fact that Y/N is partially human. Perhaps she is unable to conceal them the same way a natural angel can.”

“Wow, my luck just keeps getting better,” I reply sarcastically.

Castiel tilts his head in confusion. It seems that to some angels, sarcasm is a foreign concept.

“That’s probably why they look like this,” I say bitterly. “Short and stubby. Even my feathers are a rugged mess.”

Castiel frowns at this and Sam gives my hand a light squeeze.

“I mean compared to Lucifer's big majestic wings, these puny things are nothing,” I sigh.

Castiel’s head shoots up, his brows furrowed and face an unreadable expression. “You can see Lucifer’s wings?” He asks, seemingly caught off guard by this.

“Um… yeah?”

He straightens his posture, suddenly looking stiff and worried. His brows furrow and eyes flit back and forth, lost in thought.

“Cas?” Sam questions suspiciously.

“I believe I have a lead.” The sound of ruffling feathers echoes off the walls as he promptly disappears.

His reaction leaves me with more questions than answers, an uneasy feeling settling in my stomach.

Sam and I look at eachother, exchanging worried glances.

Whether he admits it or not, Castiel is hiding something.

Series Masterlist

Full Masterlist

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #lucifer x reader #supernatural fanfic #slow burn #supernatural fanfiction #choices #dean x reader #love triangle #lucifer #lucifer supernatural #lucfier x reader supernatural #spn fanfic #supernatural #supernatural reader insert

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the-muppet-joker · 1 year ago

Text

His Gift

Tags and Warnings: Kermit x Joker, Muppet Kink, Egg Laying Kink, Wound Fucking, Viscera Fucking, Joker's Cum Makes Kermit Insane, Comfort, Fluff, Dead Dove Do Not Eat

♤♡◇♧

"Kermit! Kermit, darling," Joker had called out through laughter. He was trying to subdue his insane muppet lover who, while filled to the brim with Joker's seed, was practically bouncing off of the walls with manic energy and a thirst for violence.

So far, Kermit has killed three civilians on the southern end of Gotham. Joker rewarded the muppet very very well with some of his favorite kinks. After the first civilian was beheaded, Joker went into a frenzy and couldn’t help himself from fucking the torn esophagus. Kermit was whimpering at this point

“Joker, please, I’m so desperate for your cum. Let me drink it from this pathetic bastard’s throat, please”

A couple hours later, the second murder on the western end of Gotham occurred. A man pulverized beneath a steamroller, Joker filled Kermit’s already sopping muppet hole with the enticing viscera scraped from the concrete before pounding his tight muppet hole, guts and blood leaking at the peak of each thrust before Joker pulled out and came along his green lover’s back.

The third and final murder Kermit committed on the way back to their cozy safe house in central Gotham. Joker recognized the crazed look in his lover’s eyes as the muppet tore his final victim, an elderly woman, limb from limb. Kermit was rapidly approaching the point of no return, and while Joker wished to reward his dearest, he also wished to ensure he was okay.

“Darling…” he cooed, wrapping his arms around Kermit from behind as he flailed, tearing off the woman’s face. “You’ve had your fun, and you will get your reward, but now it is time for you to calm down. I want you to be fully aware when you receive my gift…”

Panting and covered in blood and his lover’s seed, Kermit slowly stopped dismembering his final victim. Joker raised his eyebrows at him, expectant.

Kermit nodded and allowed Joker to lead them both into their home.

Inside, Joker tenderly washed Kermit in their tub, taking care to scrub out the gore and semen from his green felt. Kermit felt the madness receding from his mind, a warm comfort taking its place.

“Ah, Joker?” He mumbled.

Joker hummed in response, focused on cleaning his lover fully.

“What was the, er, gift you mentioned earlier?” Kermit asked, looking up at the clown. Joker smiled, whispering,

“You mean you haven’t noticed my egg inside you?”

Kermit’s eyes widened. He hadn’t noticed in his bloodlust, but he could feel it now: the heavy presence pressing against the entrance of his muppet hole. Joker’s egg, which had rapidly grown inside of him after their initial lovemaking. Kermit began to tremble.

Joker helped Kermit out of the bath and led him, shaking, to a nest of blankets in the bedroom. Kermit yelped, feeling the bulge inside him shift as he sat down. He blushed as he realized how fertile he was for a muppet; even Gonzo had never been able to manifest an egg after being filled to the brim with rich baby batter only one time.

The egg began to press against his muppet hole, which was beginning to gather moisture in anticipation.

“Ah! Oh, fuck…” Kermit gasped, the sudden pressure bringing tears to his eyes. Joker stroked the top of his head soothingly. “You are doing so well, darling.” The praise caused more wetness to gather around the edge of his hole, and the egg slipped out a little more with the ease of the lubrication.

Gods, it was so large.

Panting and straining, Kermit pushed out Joker’s egg a little at a time, pausing with it sticking out of him halfway for a breath. The egg, now dripping with Kermit’s slick, was straining his hole painfully as it was at its thickest point.

“Just one more push, dearest,” said Joker softly.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Kermit pushed. And pushed. And pushed.

Squelch…

The sudden release of pressure made Kermit scream in ecstasy, so light headed that he began to rapidly lose consciousness, sleep overtaking him.

Joker looked at the wet, round, shining mass that his lover had managed to push out of him, nearly the same size of the muppet himself. “Kermit,” he murmured affectionately, scooping up his boyfriend with ease and carrying him to bed, “You never cease to amaze me…”

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tavyliasin · 1 year ago

Text

Web of Lust - Short Fic

AO3 Link Here Anyone want Haarlep/Raphael/Kar'niss? Well you're in luck because someone else requested it as a drabble so here's a short for you~ CW - Bondage, Spider/Drider, implied but not malicious manipulation

I tried to post the whole thing here but I got errors...not as short as I thought, then. Oh and if anyone wants more? I'll add it to my main fic request list. ---- Web of Lust ----

The incubus grinned, they hadn’t imagined this outcome when Raphael had brought in a mortally wounded Drider a week ago. “Heal him.” He had commanded, his servants carrying the almost motionless body of the former drow into his bedchamber. “If he can be restored, a contract can be made. A most useful agreement for a servant as loyal as this one. But only if he lives.” He left almost immediately, Haarlep still sat on the edge of the bed watching the servants manhandle the huge man into the healing waters. They let out a long suffering sigh and stood up, flexing their wings and tail with obvious irritation as they stalked across the room. “Leave him.” They shooed away the servants, who scurried to get out of their reach as quickly as they could. The drider’s lower body was in the water, but their torso was collapsed on the floor over the edge of the bath, back barely moving with the effort to breathe. Haarlep stooped down and turned them over gently, gazing upon the strange face. White hair in messy strands clung to the sweat and blood on his grey-tinted skin. “Strange…” They mused, as they got to work swiftly, cleaning down the well-defined muscles, soothing deep wounds with powerful balms, tending to them with a level of care most would not expect from the incubus. But an order was an order, and they could sense their own plans beginning to form. Eventually, the myriad of eyelids began to twitch, lips barely moving. Remembering a little of drow culture, Haarlep changed their body to mimic the Archduchess’s feminine form. “Drink.” The incubus commanded, holding the open potion bottle to his lips, carefully tilting it until he had consumed it all. “Good, now your name.” “Ka-” He licked dry lips, finding his voice again. “Kar’niss.” He rasped, with effort. “Where am I?” “It is your lucky day, Sweet Spider, you have found yourself in the very heart of Hope.” They grinned at their own humour, helping the drider’s upper body to straighten as they sat beside him. “And I,” they stretched their wings to look more grandiose, “am Haarlep. Or as far as you are concerned, your new mistress.” “A mistress? Then I have a home? A purpose?” Dark eyes widened, partially in fear that this was all some dread illusion about to be cruelly torn away, just like the voice in his mind that had disappeared when the tadpole succumbed to the death that should have claimed him just before he was brought back from the brink. “Oh I have many a purpose for you, if you swear your full devotion to me, right here, and right now.” They leaned closer, holding his cheek tenderly yet firmly. “Can you do that, my Sweet Spider? Will you swear yourself to me, the one who has saved your miserable life and restored your beautiful body?” Kar’niss’s mouth moved in an attempt to talk, but truthfully he was left almost speechless by the effortless seduction, the quiet power in the voice of the “woman” in front of him. “Come now, you can do better than that. You’re so close.” They leaned in close next to his ear. “Swear it to me, Kar’niss, that you are mine.” “I…am yours, mistress. Body and soul, I am yours to command. You have taken my worthless life into your loving hands, you may do with it as you wish.” The drider used every last ounce of his strength to speak, to declare fealty, before he slumped forwards into Haarlep’s arms. The incubus stroked his back softly, soothing the unconscious man. “You did well, now rest. You will need your energy.” --- Continued on AO3 ---

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #bg3 raphael #haarlep #kar'niss #drider #drow #incubus #request fic #short fic #smut #if you want more then I'll think about it #Haarlep isn't cruel they have their plans #Haarlep actually treats Kar'niss very well

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pixies-and-poets · 1 year ago

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oh man that vampire fic was SO juicy (lol)... how did tom react when woodrow passed out? Or what abt taking care of him afterwards? Any ideas?

THANK YOU, I'm really glad people liked it-!! I have to throw it onto the pile of stuff to think about from time to time along with the High Seas AU and the werewolf AU and the sparks of despair AU and the necromancer AU, how did this happen to me aslkjf;lksjd

But yeah I got to thinking about it and I was just going to list out what I think would have happened, but then... at that point, why not just narrate it? And so, the scene from Tom's perspective...

The ghost withdrew his fangs slightly, letting the blood flow faster. Every sip, every gulp was ecstasy. No prey had ever been like him. The eating was always decadent on Palette Prime, it was true, but- combine that with the rich blood of a poet, and a special spice all his own, the seasoning born of curses and misfortune. He could never know, never comprehend, what a treasure he was.

Woodrow groaned and turned his head, and Tom turned it back with his paw, stilling him. Silly man... he needed to not move this much, or his punctures might tear. There was quite a difference between a neat clean bite and a ragged wound, and he didn't want his darling getting hurt more than need be. Although, his performative struggle was irresistibly adorable...

And suddenly, something was amiss. The struggle had ceased completely. There was an unnatural stillness.

As difficult as it was to do so, Tom withdrew from his beloved's neck and looked at his face. His eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open, the skin in his ears and around his eyes as blanched as a watery dawn; and no visible breath stirred him. The vampire's eyes widened as the warm blood he had just drank turned cold as ice within him. He hadn't- no! No, he had been trying so hard not to go too far-

He shot a paw out to his prey's wrist, and held it. It was there... faint, but there. A pulse.

A shudder of relief passed through the vampire. Then his eyes darted, looking around for something to halt the continued bleeding. There- on the side of the bed, Woodrow's ribbon. It belonged around his neck anyway- he grabbed it and tied it around his darling's tender neck, a few loops, just tight enough. The makeshift bandage worked; a stain of deep red appeared within the pink, then stopped growing.

The Phantom allowed himself a sigh of relief now. He gently lifted the poet, took off his coat, and set it to the side; then lifted the thick blankets and slid the unconscious body underneath, settling his head anew on the pillow. "There, there, my darling, my sweet," he said in a sing-song, his voice still carrying a slight tremble of nerves. He was singing as much to comfort himself as the one who could not even hear him.

He pulled down the blankets slightly, exposing the chest, and laid a hand over the heart. The faint beat traveled through his arm, vibrating the dead stillness of his own core. Tenderly, but firmly, he began to massage his beloved's chest, and his arms, from wrist to shoulder- trying to improve the circulation of the little blood he had left.

As he did so, once again humming and singing half to himself, he began to feel a little foolish for his former terror. So what if Woodrow had died? There were means to bring him back, of course, before it was too late. He would join his Lord, truly- spread his wings, both figuratively and literally, a fellow creature of darkness. He need not lose the poet in spirit. He need not say goodbye.

...But Tom did not want that. And he knew Woodrow did not want that. He did not want to die, and the vampire did not want him to die. He was gloriously alive; not only a source of fresh blood, but a source of everything else that Tom lacked. There was something about the writer that made Tom yearn for a time long lost to him... sunlight and warmth, the orange and gold of a forest in the afternoon.

As the ghost gazed upon his prey, he could not help but see him as a diagram, his eyes tracing every vein and artery in his strangely-shaped body. Each of those was so precious; they connected his brain and his beating heart, they bound together his living body, they carried all good things.

No; he would never understand how precious he was, indeed.

He settled down next to the poet and caressed his head. He began to stir, and the Phantom knew he would soon awaken. He must keep his composure, when so; he could not let Woodrow know how close he had come to death. Worry was the last thing the poet needed; Tom must must play it cool, and suave, and firm- and as difficult as it was for them both, he had to promise to take a hiatus while the poet's body restored itself.

And in the meantime, he would provide for him, like a young bird- the strange, wonderful little crow that he was. Whatever he wanted, Tom would find and bring back to their nest, if he had to fight tooth and bat-claw to get it. He would be warm and safe while he produced more of the precious nectar that fueled his body, wonderfully and irreplaceably alive.

"Darling," he said again, softly, rubbing the poet's cheek with the back of his hand. "Do not leave me. Do not join me in the cold of death. I love you. I love you as you are."

#mario plus rabbids #mario + rabbids #alter answers #phandrow #soh vampire au

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worldofbraingirlau · 1 year ago

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'Grr. That was stupid of you Steven." Wordman scolded himself. He couldn't help but watch in agonizing pain as the woman stuck her tongue at him before scurrying off. Huggy ran off into a different direction in the store before coming back with a bag of ice. "Thanks Huggy." Wordman grunted as she tenderly sat up and placed an ice pack on the area where the cat lady kicked him hard. Wordman let out a sigh of relief as he felt the ice relief his pain. Huggy just patted the hero in awkward comfort. "Aren't you going to go after her Wordman?" One of the patrons asked. Wordman gave that person a "Are you kidding me?" glare. Luckily for him a civilian stood up in his defense. "Th guy just got kicked in the nuts! You really think he is able to do any crime fighting now!" Wordman lifted his hand up to halt any further arguments and discussions over him. "Thank you for your concerns citizens. Rest assured I will apprehend that vile cat villain very soon if she decides to foolishly strike again." Wordman slowly got to his feet as he prepared himself to fly off. "But what about Mousebraingirl and the mess in my store?" The Grocery Store Manager complained. Wordman shot the guy an annoyed glare. "I can deal with Mousebraingirl just fine thank you. Besides you have the means to clean up. I have things I need to handle now." With that Wordman grabbed Captain Huggy Face and flew off. The Grocery Store Manager grumbled. "Well someone still needs to pay for this mess. You, you're not getting a paycheck this month." The manager pointed to a random person. "But you just fired me last year." The random person stated. It was a silent flight as Wordman and Huggy headed back home. Steven personally wanted to find this strange knew villain and make sure she is brought to justice, but another stronger part of him wanted to make sure Mouse was okay after that scare. Plus he knew Jenkins would be on his case if he didn't get his wounds properly treated. Something the man didn't want to deal with right now. Huggy then chattered somethign to Wordman's ears. Even though he couldn't really understand him, Wordman had a good idea what Huggy was trying to say. "I don't know why I hesitated Huggy. I just couldn't bring myself to punch her." Steven exclaimed in a frustrated tone. He really didn't know what caused him to stop attacking her. It was as if something in his body screamed "STOP!" when he was about to knock her lights out. Steven didn't know what compelled him to hesitate. He just knew that ever since he saw that mysterious cat lady, something nagged at the back of his brain. Something was telling him that he should know who that lady is, but he had no clue as to why. Steven was emotionally and physically exhausted. He just wanted to get back home, check on and comfort his daughter, take care of his wounds, and go back to working on a way to free his child from that horrible parasite attached to her head. @experimentedcat

{{{{{ Grumble! }}}}}}

Carrie tried to ignore her stomach grumbling. Knowing she didn't have food on hand at the moment nor money she knew she would have to find a way to eat.

Her stomach growled again. Hunger pains were setting in again. When was the last time she actually had something to eat ..?

So she did what anyone would do-

Rob the nearest store she could find.

Okay maybe not anyone. ..

She was hungry and being reasonable was the last thing on her mind as she stuffed some fish in her mouth. Ignoring the stares she got by the customers and store owner alike. She was used to being stared at, at this point.

@experimentedcat

Just as she was about to reach the exit a gust of wind knocked her over. Carrie laid splat on the ground as the fish she had "borrowed" was now scattered around her Carrie blinked in stunned surprise before she slowly got up from the floor. She rubbed her head as she tried to gain her barrings. "What hit me?" she muttered before turning around. Carrie for the first time since she escaped that awful place was shocked to see who knocked her over. "MWAHAHAHA!" The figured cackled. "It is I mousebraingirl! I am here to illegally acquire all of your precious freshly made yellow dairy concoctions." Mousebraingirl exclaimed with evil glee. Everyone in the store looked at her with confusion. "Your going to do what?" The Grocery Store Manager asked. Mousebraingirl frowned in annoyance. She hated that people still didn't know what certain words meant. Wasn't there a dictionary or a word themed superhero they could learn from? "I'm going to steal all your cheese now." Mousebraingirl restated in a less than enthusiastic tone of voice. The Grocery Store manager and crowd nodded as they now understood what she was saying. They then froze, their eyes wide open as they NOW understood what she was saying. The people in the store screamed and began running around in frantic motions as they panicked about being robbed. Mousebraingirl gave a huff as she crossed her arms. "Thats' better." she muttered before switching to a mischievous expression. "Now say goodbye to your precious cheese!" @experimentedcat

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ninchen1909 · 2 years ago

Text

The first time

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x plus size!Reader

Words: ~ 2,5k

Warnings: Smut, Unprotected Sex, ill body talk, short angst, fluff

Summary: You want to celebrate your six month anniversary with bucky. A loving touch from him, brings back bad memories from your last realationship. Can Bucky heal your old wounds or will your love break?

That’s my first time writing a smut szene, so here we go.

Enjoy:)

You stand in front of the mirror and examine yourself from all angles, you put in extra effort today when you got yourself ready. And all this is just for him. James Buchanan Barnes, your boyfriend, your one true love. Nervously you tug at your dark red dress, it fits perfectly. It lies tightly against your chest and caresses your breasts, your waist is perfectly highlighted by the dress. It hugs your hips and falls in light, steady waves to your knees. The dress emphasizes your feminine curves, you have styled your hair in your favorite way and applied a decent make-up. Your outfit is rounded off by the black ankle strap heels, which you have bought especially for this evening.

The ringing at the doorbell pulls you out of your thoughts, and as quietly as you can with your shoes you jog towards the door. With one hand on the doorknob, you let your eyes wander around dining room once again. The table is beautifully set, his favorite meal, which you cooked especially for this occasion, is set in the middle of the table. A bottle of wine stands on the sideboard, waiting to be opened.

After one last, deep breath, you open the door. And there he stands, the man for whom you have put in all this effort, the man you hope will stay with you for the rest of your life.

You notice how he looks at you from bottom to top, his gaze lingering a little longer on your breasts.

"You look stunning, princess. These are for you. Happy six month anniversary" he hands you a beautiful bouquet of 12 long stemmed red roses.

"Thank you so much, but you didn't have to" you drop your nose deep into the roses, taking in their lovely scent.

"But of course, my girl deserves all the flowers of this world" you smile at him and press a quick kiss on his cheek before inviting him into your apartment with a wave of your hand.

After a delicious dinner and a pleasant conversation, you want to start washing the dishes, but are interrupted by Bucky, who places a hand on your forearm and wants to take the plates out of your hand:" Princess, let me do it, you've already cooked for us".

"Jamie, you've practically carried me on your hands for the last six months, I can cook for you for once and wash the dishes, you go on into the living room and relax a bit, I'll be right there, then we can watch a movie if you like" he smiles lovingly at you, the blue of his eyes even more radiant than usual. You are sure that you will never get tired of his eyes. Tenderly, he strokes a strand of hair behind your ear.

"All right, if you say so. But don't make me wait too long." With a last kiss on your cheek, he disappears towards the living room.

You quickly begin to clear and clean the table. After about 15 minutes you have reached the last plate, when you suddenly feel a presence behind you, he steps close to you, so close, you can perceive his smell, a mixture of vanilla and sandalwood. You feel his hands on your hips while his nose runs up and down your neck, placing feather-light kisses on it.

"What's taking you so long?" he asks you, pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear.

"It's only been 15 minutes Jamie" his needy manner makes you giggle

"mhm, that's 15 minutes too much" you just shake your head with a smile and want to turn your attention back to the last remaining plate when you suddenly stop.

His hands slowly slide under your dress and glide from your knees up to the insides of your thighs, his vibranium hand feels pleasantly refreshing on your heated skin, you lean your head back against his chest and support yourself with both hands on the sink.

His fingers steadily paint patterns on your thighs as he continues to breathe light kisses on your neck and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. You feel loved and desired.

"You're so beautiful." his hands continue to move upward as you drop your head onto his shoulder with your eyes closed.

However, when his hands come to a stop on your stomach and his fingers gently massage your curves, you jerk away from him, tears shoot into your eyes and you disappear into the bathroom as fast as you can, locking yourself inside.

Leaving a totally perplexed Bucky behind.

Bucky is pacing up and down the kitchen, he's angry, but not at you, God he could never be angry at you, he's angry with himself. He should never have pestered you like that. It' Just, that from the moment he saw you in that stunning dress, he couldn't think of anything else, but your skin on his.

You are the only person, apart from maybe Steve, that he trusts completely, that he feels 100% comfortable with. In a world that is totally foreign to him, you give him stability. Only with your help, he slowly starts to become the man he was before Hydra and the war. More exuberant, happier. But maybe he's blown that chance by his actions now. He plays with the idea of just leaving to spare you the sight of him. However, his conscience forbids him to leave without apologizing to you first.

In slow, hesitant steps he walks towards your bathroom and knocks timidly on the door.

"(y/n), princess, listen, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to crowd you. I'm going to go now, I hope you can forgive me someday and give us another chance. However, if you can't, I can understand that too. I just want you to be happy." As he speaks, he gently drops his forehead against the bathroom door. He can hear your soft sobs, which also brings tears to his eyes, and before he can stop them, tears are streaming down his cheeks. Maybe he has just ruined his only chance for happiness and true love. He is about to turn to leave when he is prevented from doing so by the gentle "click" of the door lock. The door opens to reveal you, your mascara running down your cheeks in black, thick rivulets. Your eyes are red and puffy from crying. Bucky wants nothing more than to take you in his arms, to hold you close to his chest so he can tell you, that everything would be okay. However, he has already crossed one line today, he doesn't want to cross another.

"Jamie, what are you talking about? You didn't crowd me, I liked the way you touched me. But when you touched my stomach, all the negative things my ex-boyfriend said about my body raced through my head. He always said that with my weight I will never be desired by anyone, and that no one would ever touch me willingly. And I'm afraid that when we take the next step, and you see me naked for the first time, that you won't want me then. Because you realize that an Adonis like you and someone like me don't fit together. I don't have a body like Nat, Sharon or Wanda. My thighs touch when I walk, my belly wobbles when I jump and it's really hard to find sexy lingerie with my bust. I don't want you to be disgusted by me. " ashamed, you look down at the floor.

You just wait for Bucky to realize how broken you are and turn away from you. But that doesn't happen, instead an index finger slides softly under your chin and carefully lifts your head.

You look into uncomprehending eyes: "Why should I be disgusted by you? For me you are the most beautiful woman in the world, inside and out. You give me the feeling of being a normal person and not a bloodthirsty monster. You love me even though my left arm is a murder weapon, and you really think I wouldn't love or desire you just because your thighs touch when you walk? I'd love to go to your ex right now and show him why everyone is afraid of the Winter Soldier." Bucky's eyes darken.

Beaming, but still a tiny bit unsettled, you look at him "Are you serious?" your beaming gives him the confirmation he's been waiting for since you opened the door, he pulls you close and presses a kiss to your forehead

"As serious as I have ever been in my life princess. You don't want to know what thoughts went through my head all evening, and all because of your body and this dress." lightly he pulls at the hem of your dress.

"mhm and if I do want to know" through your lashes you glance at him, recognizing a slight hesitation on his face, which is confirmed by his next words.

"Princess, we don't have to do this if you don't really want to. i can control myself, this is all about y...." you don't even let him finish his sentence and press your lips hungrily to his. Immediately Bucky returns your kisses with just as much passion and pulls you so close to him as if he wants to melt into you. The hallway is filled with the sound of clashing teeth and light moans. Bucky's hands disappear under your dress and rest on your ass, while you anchor your hands firmly in his hair.

"Fuck Jamie" you whisper between two heated kisses, and lead him towards your bedroom. Once you are in front of the bed, you carefully push him onto it, so that he now lies in front of you all while staring at you with dark eyes widened with lust. Before he can move, you quickly straddling him, only to take his lips again with yours a few seconds later. You move your crotch, in quick, jerky motions over his and you can practically feel his erection growing. You let out a short shriek as Bucky suddenly turns you around so that you are now lying on your back and James is leaning over you. His hands trace your torso, from your shoulders to your waist, then your hips all down to the hem of your dress. He looks at you questioningly, silently asking for permission to remove this disturbing garment. The fact that he asks you for permission again, even though you've made it clear before that you want him, makes your heart flatter. You give your answer with a short nod and quickly sit up to help him remove the garment better. Now you are just lying in front of him in your coordinated black lacy underwear.

With any other man you would have tried to cover yourself, however bucky is not any other man, he is your man. And the look he is giving you right now makes even the last self-doubt disappear and gives you confidence.

James lets his gaze roam over you again and again, he can't get enough of your body "Beautiful" he whispers again and again. His hands trace the contours of your entire body. Praising you like the goddess that you are, his lips leave a wet trail from your collarbone down to your belly button. His lips stop at the waistband of your panties, and he spreads tender kisses on them, before he simply rips your panties in half and tosses them across the room. He ignores your surprised expression and buries his face in your middle, he lets his tongue slide through you slit a few times before he encloses your clit with his lips tenderly and carefully. As soon as he realizes that you like this action, he starts sucking on it a little harder. Your toes curl up and you bury your hands in his hair only to start pulling on it in your arousal. You try to stifle your moans, but you can't once James insert a finger into you.

The only thing you can get out from under your moans is a soft "Jamie, please" he looks at you with a mischievous smile as he inserts another finger inside you "What do you want princess, use your words" you throw your head back on the pillow and push your pelvis towards Bucky's hand. " Just fuck me already" it seems like he was just waiting for those words, in no time at all he has stripped off his clothes. You marvel at his massive length and lick your lips, Bucky bends over you once again and conquers your lips with his, before he positions himself in front of your entrance, with a deep look into your eyes and a whispered "I love you" he slides into you. You are not a virgin anymore but Bucky's size and the intensity of your act takes your breath away. You overstretch your head so that your neck is exposed, James takes advantage of this opportunity and sucks on the point below your ear. The complete feeling in your lady parts and the slight pain of Bucky's sucking on your neck, make you arch your back and push your hips even closer to Bucky's. He lets go of your neck, only to engage you in an intense and heated kiss before moving his lips toward your nipples, he starts to caress them alternately with his mouth.

You feel the walls in your pussy tighten more and more around Bucky's dick. With constant moans, you try to tell him "Ha..mie I...co" he looks at you smiling lovingly, the beads of sweat on his forehead and his disheveled hair make him seem even more beautiful to you "I know princess, me too, just let go" and you let go, with a loud "James" your head sinks even deeper into the pillows and your eyes turn backwards. Bucky's movements become erratic and choppy, the feeling of your walls contracting around him give him the rest and with a grunted (y/n) he spills his seed into you and drops his head onto your breasts, his arms instantly encircle your naked body, your fingers find their way into his hair again and you start massaging his scalp.

"I love you princess, more than life itself" James looks at you out of tired but incredibly content eyes before pressing a kiss to your belly then he rests his head on your breasts again.

"And I love you Jamie, more than you will ever know" you can feel it on your skin as his lips twist into a smile. Your hands find, each other and you intertwine your fingers together on your bare stomach. Slowly but surely, sleepiness overcomes you, and with Bucky's breathing on your skin and his now spent length still inside you, you give in to the tiredness and just like Bucky, you fall into a deep and peaceful sleep.

Still connected to the love of your life.

#fluff #angst #bucky imagine #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes one shot #plus size Reader #Smut

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wri0thesley · 2 years ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/j0succ/714518983274086401/i-simply-long-to-tenderly-wipe-a-smear-of-blood?source=share

The opposite, Diluc, or maybe more fitting for Childe, wiping a drop of your blood off your cheek, keeping unblinking eye contact with you as he sucks the tip of his thumb into his mouth, tasting you before telling you in a seriously patronising manner that he told you you'd get hurt if you tried to leave. You dummy. You can't even last 5 minutes away from him before getting hurt.

Diluc, Sweet, patronising, giving your booboo as kiss, being so gentle with you as he cleans it promising you medication when he gets you "home" which is probably going to involve a sedative and ankle manacles.

Childe cleaning you up, but roughly, all business not caring for your flinches or winces, a complete contrast to the condescending sweet words. You know him well enough to know the rage simmering under the surface and that your punishment when he gets you home is going to hurt.

anon, i am brainrotting so entirely over this concept.

diluc who is terrified at first as he checks you over but when he's ascertained it is merely a surface wound, a cut and a scrape and a bruise, calms somewhat - gloved hands gently wiping away the blood, tongue clicking as he says to you 'oh, my love. my darling. see? this is what i want to keep you safe from. stay still for me, now. can you walk? let me carry you home." childe and his rough but efficient cleansing - a man who is well-versed in combat medicine, but who will not allow himself to explode until you are home. you think this hurt? you just wait. he hopes you'll give him more of a fight than you gave whatever it was that caused your injury.

and! it's brainrotting me so hard about OTHER yanderes. which ones of them are coddlers, all silky syrupy sweet (zhongli, ayato)? which ones of them let your wounds go untreated, so you learn your lesson (alhaitham, pantalone)? which ones of them see your blood smeared on your cheek and have to calm their beating heart and twitching dick (albedo, dottore)?

#nat.txt #genshin impact posting #not sfw text #yandere for ts

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xyilous · 2 years ago

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You said you wanted Corey fic ideas? Well I have a few: Maybe some date, Fluff ABCs, domestic life, soft moments, etc

headcanon style >:)) gn reader for this one !!

i pray i don’t disappoint 🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️i can write off the top of my head but i’m worried about messing up LOL

most of these can be read as platonic or romantic, maybe i just have no boundaries who knows

ok you gotta hear me out on this, i strongly feel like Corey would take to cooking, especially post accident. sounds a little out there but i feel like it’d be a niche hobby that’d give him control over something? Yes his mom would probably try and force him to eat what she makes BUT I STAND BY WHAT I SAID 🤺🤺

he’d wake you with breakfast, something simple like eggs and bacon so it’s not a massive feast but is also enough to fill you. it’d be like an ice breaker, in his mind it’d be easier to start a convo about food instead of how he slept.

If you don’t like breakfast food/what he made specifically he’d get all embarrassed and then make you have a long talk about eachother’s likes and dislikes, any allergies if you have them, he absolutely keeps an incredibly accurate list of your tastes in his head.

Food stuff aside, i feel like he’s very touchstarved, i cant see his mother being very loving considering he’s a man and obviously you cannot show them kindness. The first night you shared a bed he was very rigid, almost afraid to accidentally touch you but would ease up once he actually fell asleep. After a few nights he’s settled more and if you’re comfortable with it he’d lay his arm across your waist, he’s so incredibly gentle and hardly any weight is on you. The jeremy accident made him paranoid of somehow hurting you, his brain would come up with god awful scenarios like him accidentally pushing you off the bed and then you get a concussion from hitting the floor.

Positions aren’t crazy strict, he’s down for being a little spoon just as much as he’s down for being the big spoon. Holding onto you would let him feel more in control but he’d have such a big soft spot for being held tenderly, laying with his chest in your lap is one of his favorites. Any kind of contact us accepted to be honest, just care for him i beg of you. Post Michael would lean a LOT more to being a big spoon though, gotta keep you safe.

This feels fluffish to me so? hopefully it works out around here 💀💀 You’d be like his personal nurse (fuck off allyson) and after any fights he’d run to you to doctor him up. Clean and bandage what’s needed, get him an ice pack for this and that, maybe put some muscle rub on the extra sore places. Corey would sit perfectly still as you tend to his wounds with care, his eyes would follow every movement you make, trying to take in everything you do. Whether it was to know what to do if he can’t find you or if he was completely fascinated with your hands is up to you. He’d get a bit drowsy once the adrenaline wears off so you might have to tap his shoulder now and then to wake him up :((

In general i feel he’s very tired 24/7, theres so much going on with him that i know he doesn’t sleep near as much as he should. Between the town constantly tearing into him and the guilt from the accident, his mind has to be running all the time. There’s been so many shared nights between the two of you were he rambled about everything weighing him down, doing his absolute best to not let his eyes water too much or his voice shake, at some point he’d shift to get more comfortable and just start dozing off out of pure exhaustion.

Branching off him being a sleepy head, he has accidentally fallen asleep many times, you let him sleep since it seems like he could really use it and when he wakes up he’d apologize immensely, sputtering out how he couldn’t sleep well the night before and that his mom wouldn’t let him sleep in a bit more. (side note, he can sleep anywhere, in anything, and under any condition. no tv? ok. lights on? that’s fine! no blanket in cold weather? could be worse :)) if you’re watching a movie past 9pm he’s gonna fall asleep, let him 🤺🤺

Most dates with Corey would most likely be spent at home considering his reputation. He’s worried that you’ll get targeted for hanging out with him, but now and then he likes to go out late to the park, nobody’s up around then. Home dates can be anything from binging a series with popcorn and blankets to throwing flour at each other baking brownies and cookies. If you ever need an ingredient or spontaneously decide that you need sprinkles he’s already grabbing his keys and wallet to get them (and probably extra) If it’s october and spooky events are happening he’s probably gonna drop hints about going because he’d be able to wear a mask, nobody would recognize him therefore nobody can torment him!! He’d be shy and try to avoid asking, not wanting you to feel forced into it, but would be ECSTATIC if you enthusiastically agree! you willingly want to be seen with him? He’s gonna die from sheer happiness.

if you do have a park date he will push you on the swings, no questions asked

Another one you gotta hear me out on, I feel like he’d enjoy having his makeup done, adds onto that whole disguise thing like above^^ He would be too shy to wear it out/home, but i feel like post michael Corey would be fine with a little bit of eyeliner. Would be a little apprehensive to full and dramatic looks, but would still let you have your fun.

This is quite a bit out of character, but after a kill he’d come seeking comfort, not necessarily being patched up but he wants to be held for a bit. My personal headcanon is that he’s still got the broken down Corey in him, he’s aware of what he’s done even if it was a twisted version of him tainted by Michael and wants to be told it wasn’t his fault. After the Jeremy accident he’d want to be told the same thing, but never really verbalized it. Michael changed him so much, and there was nothing he could do. It wasn’t a sole accident and he wanted so badly for someone else to tell him that

#corey cunningham headcanons #corey cunningham x reader #corey cunningham x you #corey cunningham #halloween #halloween ends #corey halloween ends #michael myers #slashers #horror

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sacredsorceress · 4 years ago

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Hi! I just wanna say that I love all your Shang-chi fics and is it okay if you make one where the reader is an avenger and she comes back really hurt from a mission and Shang-chi takes care of her

Tender || Shang-Chi

a/n: hi! thank you so, so much! i’m so happy you’re liking them and i hope you enjoy this one!

word count: 1.1k

warnings: description of blood, wounds

masterlist || request || taglist

“Baby.”

The smile that had reached his face as soon as he realized you were home quickly faltered once he turned around to see you standing by the door, bruises and deep cuts coating your visible skin as you swayed in your spot.

He felt his heart drop to his stomach and the coffee mug that he had been holding slipped from his hand and shattered across the floor.

He quickly rushed to your side just before your legs gave out, catching you in his arms in just enough time before you met the cold floor.

“I got you, I got you,” He assured you, guiding you over to your bed. “What happened, Y/n? Who did this to you?”

Wiping blood from your nose as Shang-Chi lowered you onto the bed, you shook your head before falling back against the soft pillows.

“I took care of it Shang-Chi.” You said, as your swollen eyes fluttered shut. “It’s over.”

His jaw clenched as he shook his head, pushing himself up from the bed to pace around the tiny loft.

“They have to pay for this, Y/n.” He said. “I-I’m not going to let them get away with this.”

You understood why Shang-Chi was overprotective- he had had to guard himself and his emotions from a young age- never mind the fact that he had lost his mother in such a brutal way, but you were an Avenger. You chose this life and at the end of the day you knew you could handle it- with a few scars to match of course.

It was endearing to know how much your boyfriend cared, but it was over and you knew vengeance would get neither of you anywhere.

“No,” You said, your voice soft and fragile. “Shang-Chi I don’t want revenge- I just want you.”

Shang-Chi stopped as he heard what you said, your voice faltering all the while. He turned back to you as he saw you weak and lying in bed, your hand reaching out for him in your lowest moment.

He kicked himself for allowing his emotions to take control of him- for his hatred to blind him from seeing the task that was right in front of him- taking care of you when you needed him most.

He swore he could’ve cried, hearing your vulnerable self want nothing more than for him to be by your side.

“You’re right,” he said, making his way back over to the bed, taking your bloodied hand in is. “I’m sorry. I- I don’t know what came over me… I just…. I hate seeing you in so much pain, Y/n.”

“I know, baby.” You whispered, tugging his hand closer towards you before wrapping your arms around him, holding him gently in your embrace. “But I’m okay. I’m here, Shang-Chi. I’m here.”

Shang-Chi held you in his arms, trying his best to not squeeze you too tightly because a part of him feared you would shatter under the pressure.

Pressing one soft kiss against your cheek, your boyfriend pulled away from you, holding you at arm’s length.

“Let’s get you changed.”

Not one to argue in your state, you let your boyfriend unzip the suit you were in and moved with him as he tenderly slipped the sleeves off from around your shoulders and pulled it down your legs. Tugging off your boots, he threw them onto the floor by your bed and laid your suit on the chair in the corner.

“I’ll be right back.” He told you.

You listened as his footsteps padded out of the room and into the nearby bathroom. When he returned, he came with a damp wash cloth in his hand and seated himself on the edge of the bed once again.

He tenderly took your hand in his, examining your bloodied knuckles and when the cloth met your open wounds, you sucked in your breath.

“Sorry, it might sting a little.” He apologized, patting your skin gently.

“S’ okay.” You mumbled, watching him work.

“You know,” He said, focused on his motions as he cleaned you up. “My dad used to do this for me.”

Glancing up at his face as he switched your hands, you had to admit you were a bit shocked.

You had known that his father hadn’t always treated Shang-Chi the way he did after his mother died, but it was almost hard for you to believe that a man who treated his son in such a way could ever be gentle.

“Really?” You asked.

Shang-Chi only nodded, his eyes not yet meeting yours.

“That’s the thing about my dad,” He said, pulling the cloth away from your hand. “He could be nice when he wanted to.”

Even through swollen, bruised eyes, you watched your boyfriend’s focused face as he concentrated on taking care of you. Even in moments like these, you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell in your chest knowing that you had somehow been blessed with the most perfect person in the world. As you admired his features, highlighted by the warm glow of the lamp on your night stand and felt his his fingertips as they brushed against your skin while cleaning you up, you knew you couldn’t have even imagined him if you tried.

“Thank you.” You said as he pulled the cloth away from your skin for the last time.

“For what?” He asked, standing up and grabbing one of his t-shirts off of the dresser.

“For taking care of me.”

You watched as your boyfriend rolled his eyes and smiled.

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/n.” He said, helping you into his t-shirt, raising up your arms slowly as to not hurt you. “I love you. Besides,” He chuckled as your head popped out from the hole at the top the shirt and he kissed your cheek. “You’ve cleaned me up more times than I can count. It’s nice to help you for a change.”

Left speechless, you only smiled up at your boyfriend.

“Let’s get some sleep, okay?”

Shang-Chi then switched off the lamp at your side and climbed into bed beside you, draping his arm over your torso.

“If you need anything, wake me up, okay?” He asked, laying down next to you, his hot breath against your neck.

“I will, baby.”

“Promise?” He asked.

Allowing the exhaustion to finally take over you, you shut your eyes and smiled.

“I promise.”

#shang chi #shang-chi #shang chi x reader #shang-chi x reader #shang chi one shot #shang chi imagine #shang chi blurb #shang chi drabble #shang chi fanfiction

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muffindaddystyles · 4 years ago

Text

Someone hurts Y/N at work; and Harry’s owner of the company.

Angry young man CEO!H very protective of his lovie :)))))))))))))

It was Tuesday. Tiring Tuesday is what Y/N calls them to be because they lurk in the middle of week and drags you after a Monday. Today, it’s the worst fucking Tuesday since the day she started working at this company.

Harry offered her. More to say tried to convince her with his sweet puppy tactics, tried to lure her in with his seductive begging and would mumble the same thing in her sweaty neck while balls deep in her, “Please sweet toots ... promise I wouldn’t be there to take ye' interview, please work in my company.” He squished her sides in desperation. Y/N whined, mind too occupied in the way he’s leaking into her, the head of his cock angled to rub at her spongy wall making her hug herself into him.

“I could be a very hard boss in my office, ‘s all ‘m saying.” He wiggled his brows at her playfully, hissing when his double joke earned him a tight fit around his prick and he was soon forgetting all of it when she canted her hips to let him slick deeper inside her.

It’s not that; Y/N doesn’t wants to work at his company. When her boyfriend asked her so sweetly and stout-heartedly. Call him a sap but he actually wants to be closer to her in every possible chance he gets – she gives him an unyielding amount of comfort and happiness when she’s with him.

There’s this silver of pride he wants to take (since he’s the biggest narcissists) in being a power couple, because in the end everything will be theirs.

But she doesn’t want to seem like she took advantage of him. She didn’t study and worked hard many years to be called dependent on her boyfriend. She wanted to find her first proper job herself – feel all the odds and jitters of her firsts after UNI.

Harry called the battles off knowing his little stubborn baby’s too much a wiggler and he believes in her and he’s very proud of her previous achievements, he just wants to see her happy working with him or not.

She indeed got it. She was finally a design editor at a grand magazine company, excited to meet her boss who’s one of her absolute favourite graphic designers in the industry.

Harry and her celebrated her baby step towards her success by going out at this cafe which had cats you can pet and love on.

He was blissed to see her this happy, considering it a win win situation. But she doesn’t need to know? Does she? And Harry didn’t do anything suspicious? Did he? Nobody even know who she's! And if Y/N wants that, he’ll have it that way.

Soon her enthusiasm deflated like a sorrowful balloon whirling in the air for seconds before falling on the ground and getting it’s existence neglected, because, her boss was the meanest bitch alive.

At the moment, Y/N forced the pertinacious lump of pathetic tears down her throat, not blinking to dry out the moisture threatening to fall from her waterline feeling humiliation creep up her skin and making her want to shrink into herself and never show her face.

She listens patiently and optimistically as her boss practically screams at her for not liking the designs Y/N worked to modify for damn 62 hours and the Karen still had an audacity to degrade, Y/N.

Y/N gasped, stumbling back in fright shock when the file that had her precious designs composed in it flew and hit Y/N, the ragged corner of it scratching Y/N’s delicate skin and her boss was spinning away from her to stare coldly at the bustling city outside through the window drowning into fumes and anger.

Y/N opened her mouth, guppy like. Wanting to say something back and call her out on her act but she felt like her voice got strangled into her chest.

ShitShitShitShit.

Hammering in her brain when she felt something warm oozing from her skin and she’s panicking, wiping a vicious streak of blood from her jaw with her trembly fingers and scuttled straight to the washroom before anyone was able to see her in such vulnerable condition.

She had enough of it and left out of there without a word to anyone, not even to her cubby mate. She bottled all the emotions that were rattling against her bones to flood out of her each pore, until she could reach her home and once she did she was having a humongous and ominously scary breakdown, glad that Harry was stuck in meetings and the house was all of hers to cry ugly.

Once she was all blue lips, puffy and swelled up cheeks and eyes, nest of a hairstyle and all burned up lungs she was calming herself down with deep breaths just Harry taught her.

Scrubbing and cleaning herself off then going to bed without waiting for Harry, something very rare and the right hit in the nail for him to know she isn’t feeling well.

He was welcomed by silence. No dinner, just leftovers in fridge and his insides became all crummy and not very pleasant when he tailed to the living room and wasn’t met by his lovebug; either cramming her head to sketch down designs with an ipad in her lap while a buzz of random Netflix show accompanies her, dossing off cutely with hundreds of her study journals and magazines messed around her on the floor, or her in sleeping pyjamas with food already set up on the coffee table and brightening the whole room with her squeals when Harry announces his presence.

None of that instead he finds her in their bedroom, drowned under layers of blankies and her stuffies with room lit dark.

He coos softly, mattress dipping down from his weight and his heart expands and melts all around his other organs at how adorable she looks sleeping in his hoodie. He chuckles shaking his head at the way she has the strings of the hoodie squeezed around her head, not sure how she’s able to breath at how tight it seems around her neck.

Doing his own routine he was slipping into the bed, sighing from the warmth and how toasty she has made the bed already.

He bunched her against his chest and kissed her head then spooned her up in his arms, lips fluttering into a smile when she hummed and sniffed basking into his scent.

“Oi sleepy.” He whispers down at her cupping her neck and giggles softly when she whines mushing her cheek against his chest only to grunt sleepily and muffle her yelps into his sweatshirt.

Harry’s brows shoots up into slight bafflement then dips down into a frown when he slipped his calloused palm under her hoodie to cradle her jaw and felt something graze against his thumb that was about to press into her soft skin to bring her for a night kiss.

“Hey...” He perches himself on elbows, switching on the lamps and ignores her groans grasping the blanket she was about to pull over herself, huffing at him to let her sleep but Harry’s more stubborn than her if it involves assuring himself she’s okay and right now she’s not and Harry was already feeling it in his bones.

“Lemme see.” He persists gently, peeling the blankets and the hoodie off her head while she’s still stirring into sleep not able to open her eyes how much she tries because of the exhaustion dumped on her from whole day.

He stares at the wound she did a shit effort to cover with a gauze messily over her jaw and tiny bit area of her neck, a long bandage reaching to her ear and Harry tries to think rationally and not freak out as he touches it with cautious fingertips.

“What ... the –- fuck, Y/N what is...is this?” His mouth falls slack. His ears buzzing for a moment and he wraps his arm around her shoulder to bring her up as he leans them against the bedhead.

He feels bad when she knuckles at her eyes warily and mumbles something that’s barely audible.

“What happened, baby? Talk t’me? How did y'hurt yourself so bad?” Worried and fearful. He bombs her with questions not waiting for her to be fully awake and his heart breaks miserly upon focusing his gaze on her face, her angelic face that’s now soaked with sadness –- she’s been crying.

His loves been crying and he wasn’t there for her.

“Who did this to you?” Y/N's eyes widens abruptly. The alertness in them vivid for Harry to see under the lamp glow and she gasps, nose twitching and lip wobbling as Harry grabbed her chin and ducked to her eyelevel to ask her tenderly with a layer of strictness under his tone, “’M asking, Who did this to you, Y/N?” Her fragile heart could already take so much and she strangled out a sob lowering her head down in embarrassment.

“’M.. I’m —-.. no –..not telli –-..telling you,” She hiccups breathlessly, shaky fingers fisting onto the blanket thrown over Harry’s lap and he holds her hands kissing them gently, “I’ll know it one way or another baby. Don’t force me to get outta my way to find —–“ His soul stabbing glare was enough for Y/N to ramble and at first he thought he didn’t heard her right, that she was mumbling too much but when the reality seeped in gradually Harry almost froze in his spot.

“I know it’s very shameful —..” Y/N stammers barely able to get in a breather and Harry’s head snapped at her words, removing his nails away from making little graves in his palms and his jaw which almost felt like breaking from the hinges from how painfully furious he had it set relaxes as he tries to calm himself down and not to grab his keys and drive to that bitch's house to trash her place.

Because how fucking dare she treat anyone like that in his own fucking company.

“Hey, hey. Now none of that toots. Look at me darling, oh my sweet moppet ... shh.” It slices his heart in pain to see Y/N like this -- so small and disheartened. How dare she hurt his such delicate, sweet, loving girl like that? How!?

“You shouldn’t be ashamed of yourself moppet. She should be, fo’ being such a heartless prick.” He spat, his guts full of bitter and hatred. His skin hot, his grip on her tightening protectively and his chin quivers trying to lock all his anger inside and not to burst out like a pressure cooker.

“I’ll deal with her tomorrow.” He nods curtly to himself, poking his tongue to wet his grimacing lips and Y/N was too woolly to get what’s he’s saying.

His gaze flitters back on her. His demeanour turned incredibly soft and gentle for her smooching a big generous kiss to her salty lips and then to both of her cheeks cared in both of his palms, “Are y'okay? D'you want me to take you to hospital?” She shakes her head mewling and melting and caressing herself into his wrist.

“Why didn’t you call me baby?” He asks her doing anything in his power to mask the hurt in his tone and sighs touching his forehead to her's when Y/N sniffled, “Didn’t wan’ you to worry.” He slid his forearm under her bum and scooched her atop of him, patching tiny careful pecks to her jaw.

“But, that’s love moppet. Worryin’ bout you, takin’ care of ye' and beating anyone raw who even dares to have evil intentions towards you,”

“Remember the time y'snubbed that one guy’s oh so expensive shoes who was very rude to me at one of your graduations party?” His simper turning into a proper ironic grin when she giggled hoarsely nodding along and the tension in his muscles released watching her getting better.

“Proper broke his big toe with your heel darling.” He giggles with her and then Y/N realised how sad and awful Harry’s feeling, how it’s hurting him the same way it hurt her an year ago.

“How about we have a glass of milk .... it’ll help us sleep less grumpy y'know.” He murmurs in the crook of her neck, elbow cocooned safely around her shoulder blade as he kisses the side of her head again and again nose buried in her hair to smell her treacly smell.

In the morning he was tragic to hear Y/N sound so heartbroken and dejected as she told him, “I’m going to resign and accept your offer.” Her smile small and sad, hugging him looping her limbs around his torso lazily.

“’kay baby, but first eat your brekkie.” He kissed her hair and squished her pout when he moved away to make some calls to his assistant.

Y/N had no-idea what he was upto. Glad that he was driving her to the company and that he was immensely supportive of her decision, her insides pooled with warmth and giddiness when he tried to cheer her up with his silly jokes and singing along the radio murmuring rubbish whenever he forgot the lyrics.

She was utterly confused when upon reaching he was giving the keys to valet boy to park his car and interviewing their fingers in a strong grip before leading her inside, even though she should be the one to do so.

She sputters a, “Huh?” when instead of telling her he’d wait for her in the lobby he’s rounding the corner towards the elevators and turns his wrist to push her infront of him to keep her closer to himself all the time.

When the doors are sliding apart the people scurrying outside halts for a moment, not looking Harry in eyes and keeping their heads low.

Phones were already rung in the building that Mr. Styles will be coming un-announced and everyone should be prepared to face the consequences if they stumble upon him – because well he isn’t in such a nice mood to start with.

“Harry.” She pokes him in ribs feebly, stepping away from him feeling timid due to few pair of eyes in elevator watching her awkwardly and maybe judgingly.

The tension in space could be cut through knife, as if everyone’s holding their breaths and she pouts taking a good look at Harry who’s smirking smugly confident in his element.

Do they all think her boyfriend’s way too intimidating and out of reach for them? They should know he’s such a sweetie!

Y/N huffs. Folding her arms over chest when Harry paws at her hips and pulls her back against his chest resting his chin atop of her head with a shit eating grin.

In all seriousness. Showing them that’s she’s his's and belongs under his wings, which will keep her safe and protected till his death.

“How did you know my boss's office’s on tenth floor?” She squints up at him suspiciously.

“Hmm. Dunno, moppet. Magical powers or summat?” He teases her, putting a hand at the small of her back to nudge her forward making her blush pink and ducks down to whisper in her ear, “You got this toots.” Biting her earlobe playfully to stroke down her anxiety upon sensing her hesitancy to step in the hallway that has cubicles lined up.

He already got this. He ordered his assistant to get the resign letter ready and showing her who’s the boss here’s not much of hurdle for him.

It’s weird. Bloody weird. Y/N wants to turn back and run away because the moment they step inside the whole damn hallway falls eerily pin drop silent and everyone’s peeking up from the short walls of their cubicles and then diverting their eyes immediately in embarrassment and apology seeing Harry behind her.

The ones who’re standing bows their heads lightly in respect for him and scurrying away to give him a way and that’s insanely surprising and weird.

Harry on the other hand was no stranger to those bogey looks. Of curiosity, uneasiness and dread when he passes through the crowd of his employs. Y/N is.

Slowly perhaps. It starts to sink in— jumbled and disoriented when she looks back at Harry. He’s keeping his head held high and shoulders tilted back with poise and conceitedness, hands stuffed into the pockets of his pants and because though it makes him look like a proper snob— he is their boss and the owner of this company, he should act like one.

“Mr. Styles.” Y/N’s boss assistant Marina who’s usually very chirpy (and undeserving of all the yelling she gets from her boss) turns pale at Harry’s presence. She’s the only person Y/N's very keen of, now she’s fretting towards them with her head lowered and tries to stammer something but Harry’s walking past her with his lips pursued as he goes inside without knocking.

“Harry...” Y/N tattles behind him, lunging to clutch onto the hem of his suits coat, to scold him to stop babying her and let her handle it herself, too late since she’s already meeting with the sight of her overly stressed and upset boss.

Her knees almost gives in when Harry snaps his fingers for the employees that were inside to give them privacy and takes in the most relaxing breath of oxygen, feeling a gag of bitterness in his mouth from even looking at her.

Y/N gasped. Her boss (which she’s not sure is her boss anymore) gasped. The sweet assistant Marina gasped. When Harry told her in the most composing way– though his blood’s boiling absolutely sheathing through his veins.

“You’re fired.” His demeanour cold and voice monotone not giving a fuck how much she shakes and cries for his forgiveness.

“Mr. Styles. I..I can explain–-" She stammers rushing from the back of her desk and stops obediently when Harry gestures her to not to take another step forward.

“There’s no excuse for abuse. I don’t want your lame explanations, I can’t have an abusive asshole running my company for me ... we might be strict on our employees but we aren’t monsters.” He grits, his eyes flaring piercingly with rage and showing no empathy towards her as she pleads him to forgive her mistake– those bricks of money makes you work baby.

“You hurt someone so dearly to me ‘n think I’ll forgive ye'?” The assistance eye’s blows away at newfound information, Harry Styles love of life’s none other than Y/N. The girl she used to have smoked sandwiches and milkshakes with in their lunch breaks.

“I didn’t know ...” He chuckles ironically at her hypocrisy and that’s the last straw for him before he’s threatening her to call the security and she’s getting out of there cursing him under her breath but Harry grabs her from elbow roughly, conceding his brow at her dauntingly.

"Apologise to her right fuckin' now."

"Sorry, Mrs Styles. I'm very ashamed of what I did." She says nervously and Y/N nods not able to speak from the butterflies that are flapping around her stomach, which sure didn't go unnoticed at Harry's side and he smirks at Y/N.

When they’re left alone. Jovial cackles are bouncing against the walls and he’s pressing his hip to the desk, securing his hands around his triceps as he folds his arms infront of his chest entertaining himself to the cute and fuzzy reactions of his girl at what just happened.

“See. Told ya, nobody could defy my bossiness at work.” He grins at her, jerking his hand towards his chest to usher her closer to him and boops her nose smacking an obnoxiously loud kiss to her mouth when she toddles in his arms.

“The offers still there,” He looks down at her cheekily and she shakes her head, a small smile kicking up her lips at his determination and devotion.

“Couldn’t say no to you, could I? What will you be owning secretly next time?” She nips at him, planting her palms firmly against his midriff feeling the crispiness of his shirt underneath his jacket.

“A bakery shop ....?” He muses in the most pondering voice and she scoffs at him through pattering of giggles, “Suck it up Mr. Styles.”

“Hey! I know my prick’s huge but not tha’ much for me to suck it myself.”

Y/N chokes onto her own spit. Shaking her head at him.

“Your innocent employees knows how vulgar you’re?”

“Uhmm. Infact, She gets very hot hearin’ me like tha'.” He bobs his head grinning at her wickedly and she smacks his shoulder, “Harry!”

“Yeahhh! Tell everyone how good I make you feel babbbyy—....” Y/N clamps her hand around his mouth to muffle his lewd fake moaning.

“You’re so embarrassing.” She grumbles wiping his spit sticking to her palm down her skirt and spins around to head for the door expecting him to follow her.

“You don’t talk to boss like that!” He trails behind her, “Boss my ass!” She quips out a squeal looking around to make sure that nobody saw it when Harry slapped her bum.

“Boss someone’s ‘bout to get a pink ass.”

#ceo!harry #ceo!h x y/n #ceo!h x reader #ceo!h x fem!reader #harry stylss angsty drabble #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles #cute harry #harry smut #harry styles fanfiction #fluff #harry angst #hsh #dom harry

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commander-vas-normandy · 3 years ago

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okay so for a matt murdock request,,, how about patching matt up after a fight and lovingly chastising him about being more careful

Okay, so I maybe went a lil more angsty than I anticipated for this but it's Matthew "Catholic Guilt" Murdock so it's okay. Hope you enjoy!

“Sweetheart, please,” Matt pleaded quietly as you lifted his bloodied shirt, but you weren’t having it.

“Matthew, if I were you, I would just sit back and let this happen or the bleeding wound in your side is going to be the least of your concerns.” You didn’t look up from the gash you were inspecting as you spoke, voice tense.

You weren’t angry. He knew what that sounded like. Your anger was white hot. It was blunt force trauma to the face. No, this was something else entirely. Your clipped tone mixed with the eerie levelness of your heart rate felt more like an ice cold knife between the ribs. This was disappointment, and somehow that hurt so much worse.

Matt had no choice but to let you patch him up as you always did. Or rather, he sat perfectly still for fear of making the wrong choice. Even with the hearing that allowed him to pick up on sounds as small as whispers from blocks away, all he could focus on was the silence in his apartment as your nimble fingers worked to clean him up and sew him shut. Sure he could hear your steady heartbeat and the occasional sound of your teeth grinding, but it was the distinct lack of your voice that held his own heart in a vice. Usually you made idle conversation or hummed quietly to yourself while working on him, but tonight you didn’t even let out so much as a sigh. As much as he had tried to push you away in the past, he still worried that tonight might be the night you called it quits.

The final tug on his stitches followed by the sound of the couch shifting as you stood pulled him from his anxious thoughts. He listened as you put away the first aid kit and walked to the kitchen to grab a bag of frozen peas from the freezer before returning to the couch. You muttered something of an apology under your breath before holding the frozen bag against his swelling cheek. He reached up to replace your hand holding the bag and when you didn’t immediately pull away it eased at least a little of his anxiety. Only a little.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, finally daring to break the silence.

“You should be,” you reply, cupping his good cheek with a sigh. “You know I don’t just tell you to be safe out there for my own health, right?”

“I know.” Matt let out an ill-placed breath of a chuckle as he nodded.

“Then why do you insist on coming home beat up every night? Sometimes it feels like you go out there just to spite me and make me worry.”

“You know that’s not true. But I can’t stop being Daredevil just because I get a little banged up every now and then. This is who I am.” He turned his face away from you, unable to bear the burning feeling of your eyes on him. You caught him off guard by reaching up and turning him back to you, cupping his face so tenderly he might have cried under different circumstances.

“Listen, Matty, I love you. I love what you do and what you stand for, and I’m glad that out of anyone in Hell’s Kitchen taking this responsibility upon themselves that it is someone with your heart and resolve because God knows what might happen if there were more Frank Castles out there. But I need you to be more careful. You may have more skill in your pinky than any of these street thugs combined, but you’re still just one man. You’re my one man and I’m sorry if I’d like to see you come home in one piece sometimes rather than spending every night with your blood on my hands.”

When he didn’t say anything you leaned forward to rest your forehead against his and he could hear the quiver of your breath as your emotions finally caught up to you now that you were no longer focused on fixing him.

“I’m saying this because I want to be nothing but honest with you, but you coming home near death’s door as often as you do scares the shit out of me. Not just because the sight of you hurting hurts me, but because I know you rely on me to treat most of those injuries and your life is in my hands. I could fuck it up one day and not be fast enough or level headed enough and it would be my fault that you’re gone.”

“I can-” he started to argue but you wouldn’t let him continue.

“Don’t you dare take caring for you away from me, Matthew. At least feeling you breathe as I sew you up lets me know you’re here and you’re alive and that the Kitchen hasn’t taken you from me yet. I don’t want you to change, I fell in love with you as you are, but I want you to remember that you have someone waiting for you at home. That’s all I ask.”

There was only a moment of hesitation before Matt closed the small gap between you, pouring everything he had into that one kiss. For a lawyer, he was terrible with words and he hoped that maybe that simple gesture would get across all of the complex emotions that were swarming around his head. When he pulled away you dove in for one last quick peck on his lips before letting out a breathy chuckle.

“And next time you scare me by showing up beaten half to death, just remember that person waiting at home can and will kick your ass for it.” You gave his shoulder a playful nudge, trying your best to lighten the mood a little now that you had gotten your point across.

“I will certainly keep that in mind.” He laughed, stealing one more kiss before you shooed him away to bed.

#taliesin writes #matthew murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #daredevil #daredevil x reader #writing requests #reader insert

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