#love care and some ointments for burns

[usakkhae]

Elquackity just needs love and care guys

I can fix him

[dcxdpdabbles]

I love you and all your works 🛐🛐🛐

Currently I'm fangirling over Danny Fenton's ex cuz I love stories where Bruce is a disaster lololol. Speaking of, do you think we can have more parts of it? Please?

Danny is tending to the cosmos creation and shaping when his summons digs again. He closes his eyes, reaching out to the one making the ritual and huffs at the feeling of a familiar soul.

Ugh, Bruce has been attempting to summon him none stop. It's so annoying to have a new sacerfices again and again. He mentally presses the ignore button on the runes, feeling Bruce's sadness as his calls go unanswered once more.

He reopens his eyes, trying to focus on his work. His mood is off now, though, and the soothing sensation of light bursting in darkness is sour.

Cosmos' creation was a lot like gardening to him when he was human, and the fact that Bruce is somehow ruining it makes it worse.

Why was he bothering Danny now? It's been fifteen years! Okay, maybe it had gone in the blink of an eye for a being like Danny, but it was still a long time for Bruce, wasn't it?

He was pretty sure it was longer than Bruce's oldest child.

Which wasn't that something? Bruce Wayne, the man who claimed he couldn't offer commitment but needed to "find himself", had run off only to find some bimbo and create mini versions of himself, not once, not twice, but six times.

Didn't that just sting?

Danny could do much with his power, but he was determined to give it all up to be more human for Bruce. He had been human for three years and had been Bruce's support during his youthful days.

He should have left that human flouting in the Infinite Realms. But Danny had always had trouble looking away when someone needed him. Maybe it was left over from his hero days.

Still, Bruce had only been eighteen, just ten years away from his parent's murder, and still struggling with his need for vengeance. At first Danny had only trained him, wanting to give him the edge he would need in a fight, but somewhere along the way his heart had been stolen.

When Bruce turned twenty- two years under Danny's mentorship- he had return home, but not before begging Danny to come with him. Like a fool he had followed.

It has been a struggle to remember how much pain humans endure in everyday life. He stub his toe three steps into Bruce's caves underneath his manor- the location of the natural portal that had sucked in Bruce.

The portal would close and not reopen for another fifty years, and as a human, he would not be able to return to the Realms until his death. Danny had been fine with that, even when Jazz, Sam and Tucker begged him to think things through.

You aren't human anymore. Jazz had said from the perch of her throne. This will only end in disaster.

He hadn't cared. Danny was in love, and for the first time since their home dimension vaporized with the passage of time, he finally felt alive again.

Even before his powers forced his heart to beat once more, his lungs to expand with air, and the blood to flow through his veins, Danny felt alive, and that was because of Bruce.

Bruce, whose gentle smile, could hide his pain for only so far.

He had thought offering everything he is and everything he could be- Jazz had nearly become the Queen of the Realms since Danny was busy breathing, bleeding and suffering as a human again- but maybe it was only his body Bruce liked.

Maybe it was the fact that for all of Danny's creations, he could not give Bruce a child. What were stars in the sky to humans on Earth that could not withstand their glow? What was the point of promising him enteral happiness when humans were destined to die before they could notice the passage of time?

Danny grimaces as the familiar burning sensation starts in his eyes. He angrily wipes the tears away, bitter that even now, as a full spirit of space, protection, and death, he can still linger in humanity.

He can feel pain.

Pain that no medicine from Jazz's soft hands treat, no ointment from Sam's plants can soothe, and no peace of mind that Tucker's dreams can bring.

Just pain that raddles his otherwise still heart.

The summons flairs up again. Danny can sense Bruce placing a small notepad in the circle, ovbiosuly writting on it as the runes attempt to send Danny a mental image. He grimnces as the words flash before behind his eyelides.

Please Danny, I just want to talk.

It's too late—fifteen years too late. He sends the message in green flames, hoping they burn Bruce as much as they burn Danny. He shuts the summons down before Bruce can think of replying. Just as the wards that keep Danny out from controlling the summons shatters he can sense Bruce slumping to the ground.

It reminds him of himself, slumped over the notepad in horrified confusion. Danny had awoken from the most tender lovemaking of his life only to find his lover long gone. The message had been short and apologetic, but it did nothing to hide Danny's engagement ring, which he had Alfred help him buy in secret, which had been dug out of his suitcase and flung to the other side of the room.

It did nothing to hide that Danny had no money, documentation, or life outside of Bruce Wayne. He had not been human in many years and had thought he could trust Bruce to not worry about such things.

He had paid the hotel with a few bills on his person, and the staff gave him pity glances. The hotel had not even been in Gotham or the United States. Bruce had taken them to the Middle East for a vacation- and a possible new trainer for him, something Ghul- and left with everything before Danny awoke.

He had even been able to use his powers because part of the deal to become human was to let Phantom go. Danny had been left abandoned in a foreign country with nothing but the clothes on his back, a suitcase and a broken heart.

Had it not been for Tucker worrying about him and checking on him through his dreams, Danny would have died there, and unlike before when he turned into Phantom, his soul would have faded away.

Bruce Wayne broke something in him that day. He would not have a second chance to do it again.

Never again.

[jymwahuwu]

idk i like to think sunday is a firm believer of no sex before (cough forced) marriage. but when the vows are exchanged, the first kiss is celebrated, and the doors are closed… he’s more than ready to take you to poundtown.

he takes you in all the right angles and even in the most humiliating positions, and makes sure every hole of yours is satisfied and fulfilled.

he has an elegant smile that charms even nuns, but behind that seeming innocence and grace is a lustful sinner with a relentless libido he’s been patiently keeping away until now. he adores and coos at your dumb-looking face as you were being fucked dumb by him. what, “no more”? ah, he thinks you meant “please more” when your eyes involuntarily rolled back with your tongue lolled out. you look so happy and cute, a stark contrast to your ever so vicious, and wild nature when interacting with him.

he likes you this, so fulfilled without that savagery of yours to ruin it. he feels like he successfully domesticated a wild animal, and the only finishing touch is having your belly round with child… or children ;)

and if you ever complain or say those disgusting, sinful words against him, it’s okay. he’ll wash that filthy mouth of yours, over and over again until it’s only praise about him that’s dripping from your tongue.

tldr; sunday’s always been a freak but has hidden it all his life until he married you.

>_<🪭anon thank you for such a great story!! I love how Sunday changed after marriage. He hides his true nature and controls himself…

cw: yandere, dub-con, overstimulation, penetration, nipple stimulation, gag, spanking, reader has female reproductive system

Sunday believes in chastity before marriage and protecting chastity before eternal commitment. He does not indulge you in your desires. The body is a sacred temple and cannot be defiled.

And this not only means no sex before the wedding, it means you can't masturbate, read erotic novels, comics, watch pornographic movies, none of these are allowed. Before the engagement, Sunday showed appropriate care and closeness. After the engagement, you had just platonic dates, walking together, dining in restaurants, watching movies and playing games. Sunday likes to read some books with you and share opinions. He doesn't mind if you read books other than philosophy, even popular ones, but… there's only one category he doesn't like… He checks your browser and reading apps.

Switching accounts to browse pornographic novels/browsing pornographic websites will not work. You had done this sneakily, and after you were discovered, your hands were on the table, your underwear was on your calves, and the whip in your fiancé's hand was in close contact with your butt. Clearly, you violated his trust and indulged in lewdness.

Depending on your personality, you might scream and curse at him. Or you whimpered and repented. You emphasize that you will really correct yourself and beg for forgiveness. Both options without exception ended in a spanking. (He also tells you to bend over his lap and get spanked…it's important to bend over in humiliation first. Your butt is so sore it feels like it's burning.) After the punishment is over, Sunday rubs ointment and lotion into your butt. He puts you on his knees, wipes your tears and kisses your forehead.

It's for your own good, he insists. He derived no pleasure from it. You wisely chose not to point out his rising smile.

Wedding!! Sunday was months in preparation for the wedding. He and you exchanged vows and kissed each other. Robin even shed a few tears. She was deeply touched. She was glad that her brother had his happiness. When you get married, you think it's going to be a conservative life, like once a week, missionary position, that sort of thing.

But, no… it was completely unexpected, like you said, Sunday penetrated you at every right angle and humiliating position. He had never done it before but was a quick learner. He explores your sensitive areas and sweet spots, focusing on attacking and teasing those spots. The gloved fingers circled your areola, occasionally pinching and scraping gently. He pinched your raised nipples as if you were about to produce milk. His balls ravaged and slammed against your vulva, his elegant glans hitting your sensitive spots accurately, and his thick cylinders stretching your tight, layered flesh. Fill you with seeds not just once but several times a day. Long periods of abstinence can make you very sensitive to touch. Just caressing your breasts can bring new excitement and tremors to your body, not to mention creampie. You… squirted. When you get your first squirt, Sunday watches you curiously and the amazing amount of squirt. You look completely engaged and surrendered, muttering shakily, rolling your eyes, and spreading your legs.

"No - no more…"

Uh-huh, yes, and if you keep that mean attitude when you're in a relationship with him. The satisfaction this gives Sunday is indescribable. Watching the look in your eyes go from aggressive to melting into orgasm, screaming and begging for no more rounds. You didn't know that a man who had been abstinent before turned out to be like this… His load that had been accumulated for a long time was released inside you, flowing through and filling you up. His cock stayed inside you for a moment, until it was hard again and the thrust returned, slamming into your ass.

And wash your mouth haha, that's a little too hardcore(?) for me and that's just for being a mean and condescending reader. Sunday might not like a rough approach, so… maybe a gag? As long as you keep being mean and saying horrible shit, eventually your mouth will get gagged. All you could say was "mmm!!" and "eh", "wh…" and other unwritten sounds, and you glared at him. Regardless, eventually you'll learn how to compliment him properly and without any swear words. (If Sunday realizes your taunt, he will put the gag in your mouth again without hesitation.)

All in all, you discovered another side of Sunday after marriage. Maybe he is not an ascetic man. He knows how to control. He knows he wants you.

[moonstruckme]

hi mae!! how are you?

i recently burned my thigh with my iron curler and it formed a big scar. it started slowly bubbling up and i accidentally popped it like 2 days ago so now i have fresh skin open 🥲 it’s extra sensitive and i have to patch it up. and when i let the wound breath it HURTS 😭

i was wondering if you could write about this with emt!marauders? or maybe just james? idk lol whatever you feel like writing it about.

AND IF YOUVE WRITTEN ABOUT THIS ALREADY, MY BAD 😃😭

Hi lovely, I'm good! I'm really sorry this happened, it sounds awful!! Hope it's feeling a bit better by now <3

cw: severe burn (no details)

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 786 words

“I don’t think we should do this.”  

“I mean,” says James, sitting patiently opposite you on the bed, “I don’t love it either.” 

“Then let’s not,” you bargain.

 He gives you a sorry smile. “What do you think we should do instead, angel?” 

You take a deep breath. “Leave it,” you say on the exhale. “It’ll heal eventually. Or it won’t, and the bandage will become my new skin. I could be fine with that.” 

“I’m somewhat attached to your real skin.” 

“We all have to make sacrifices, James.” 

Your boyfriend gives you an amused look, but there’s worry beneath it. You feel guilty for putting him through this. It’s bad enough that he has to change your bandages for you because you’re too squeamish to do it yourself, but now you’re also making him convince you as if it were his idea. 

You blow out a long breath, tilting your face up toward the ceiling. “I can’t see it.” 

“You don’t have to,” he reassures you. “You can close your eyes, baby.”

“How bad is a little infection really?” you ask, but you’re already laying back, succumbing to the plushness of your pillow. 

“I had a dog bite get infected once,” James says, pulling your leg into his lap. Strong, gentle fingers on the underside of your thigh. “I didn’t enjoy it.” 

“You got bitten by a dog?” You turn your head to see him, but he shoots you a look and you sigh, covering your eyes with your hands. “When was that?” 

“When I was little.” One of his hands stays cradling your leg, but you feel the fingers of the other probing carefully at the edges of your bandage. Apprehension climbs up your throat, mingling with the ache of affection that’s already there. You appreciate how delicate James is with you, peeling the bandage up gingerly by one corner instead of ripping it off like some might. “It wasn’t really the dog’s fault, it was just spooked and I didn’t know enough to stay away.” 

You hiss as the bandage sticks to a tender bit of skin, and James coos an apology, stroking the unharmed skin beside it soothingly. Then the whole thing comes off, air hitting the wound and making you tense all over. 

“What happened with the bite?” Your voice is somewhat strained. 

James hesitates. “There was a lot of puss involved,” he says. “You won’t want to hear the details.” 

“Mm, thanks.” 

He chuckles. You can hear him twisting the cap off the antibiotic ointment. Your fingertips press harder into your brow bone. 

“You alright?” he asks softly. 

“Mhm. I’m ready.” 

You still gasp through your teeth when the ointment makes contact with your skin, and James grips your leg more firmly to keep you from flinching away. 

“Sorry,” he hisses, working fast as he can with gentle, caring fingers. “Sorry, baby.” 

“Not your fault,” you squeak out, keeping your own fingers pressed tightly over your eyes. “Thank you for doing this.” 

James doesn’t seem to want to accept your thanks, and you let the silence sit. When he’s done, you both sigh. 

“Thanks,” you say again. For good measure. “Couldn’t have done it without you.” 

“Definitely not,” James agrees. “I’ve no idea what we’re going to do when I’m hurt someday and neither of us can look at it.” 

You drop your hands from your eyes and sit up on your elbows, careful to look only at James and not down at your leg. It’s not hard. He’s a lovely sight, even with that sympathetic pinch to his mouth and worry tightening the muscles around his eyes. You reach for his hand, and his expression lightens. He wipes his fingertips off on his jeans before giving it to you. 

“We’ll have to call Remus,” you say, squeezing his fingers. 

A laugh startles out of him. “I thought you were going to say you’d put your squeamishness aside for me. Or that it wouldn’t be gross because you love me, or something.” 

“I would if it were true,” you reply, “but I’m afraid I won’t be much help if I’m gagging over you the entire time. I’ll hold your hand while we both don’t look, though.” 

“Mm, fair enough.” He scoots closer on the bed. His hand finds your opposite hip, rubbing a slow back-and-forth. “And you’ll distract me with kisses while I’m nursed back to health?” 

“If it’ll help.” Your voice is soft. “Though I should point out that I haven’t received any kisses.” 

Twin dimples appear on either side of James mouth as he leans over you, careful to avoid your hurt leg. “Patience, angel,” he murmurs as his lips brush yours. “I’m not done with you yet.” 

[mandowifey]

Ritual

Miguel O'hara x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, (My)Dark!Miguel, Reader is captive, stockholm syndrome, dubcon, p in v sex, cockwarming, creampie, gentle sex, emotionally needy Miguel, touch starved boy, mention of injury, reader is going through it emotionally, domestic fluff, general softness towards the end. Reader not specified by details or name.

This is part of a nonlinear storyline.

Synopses: Something breaks.

° ° °

There was a natural rhythm you fell into with Miguel.

Home alone, you enjoyed television and movies until the evening. Miguel did not have a normal schedule to adhere to, which meant you did not get the luxury of anticipating his return home. Generally, he was gone from sunrise to sunset. To busy yourself, you offered to make dinner, not because you loved him but the greasy burgers and empanadas from the food court never settled with your stomach.

You would start your preparations around 4:45, then take your time until the inevitable sound of locks disengaging caught your ear. He would walk in and dim the lights - a habit you had assumed was because he was saving on electric, but learned it was actually that his eyes were sensitive to it. That was how you learned about him. Brief, flippant comments here and there that formed a collage of Miguel O'hara; Nueva York's Spiderman.

Sometimes, you daydreamed about being found. Other times, you worried a hole in your lip, considering the realities of running away. Miguel was an apex predator and, most assuredly, would find and punish you for leaving. Certain days when you had too much space in your head, you fantasized about your old life. A job, an apartment, friends, all things you took for granted. The worst days were when you thought about him. Not in fear, but need. The days when you missed him and yearned to be touched. You were only human, it was only natural to crave companionship, even if it was from your captor.

Pain throbs in your palm, and you shout, dropping the pan of mashed potatoes on the counter. You turn to the sink, clutching your wrist and wincing. After running the burn under lukewarm water, you sigh and walk into the bathroom. You apply some ointment from a medkit and gingerly wrap your hand with bandages. Weaving the tan material through your fingers and over your knuckles, you silently scold yourself for such a stupid mistake.

By the time you walk out of the bathroom, the front door is opening. You scramble, carefully opening the oven to take out the roast you made and setting it down on the stove top. "S-sorry, I'm almost done." You grunt, trying to grab plates and wincing from the sting in your palm. The front door closes, and you feel Miguel's looming presence closing in on you. Something grabs your arm and turns you, a large hand closed around your wrist.

"What happened?"

His voice was quiet but tense. The mask crawled down his neck, exposing his pointed expression and vexed brows. "Did you hurt yourself?" There is an emotion in his voice that confuses you. The hand around you loosens as he draws you closer, rich brown eyes scanning your bandage work.

"Just an accidental burn. Wasn't paying attention, is all." Your cheeks burn, feeling like a helpless toddler.

Miguel scoffs, then softens. "You should be more careful." He draws your hand closer and leans in, pressing a kiss to the center of your palm. "Don't need you burnt anywhere else." His lips tug into a grin, and he releases you. Your body was hot all over, and your stomach twisted into knots. This was in response to a man who had done nothing but use you and trap you in his home to play house. You knew it was sick to feel anything other than resentment towards him, but the tenderness in which he looks at you has your heart confused.

"Yeah, of course."

Your arm tingles as he turns away and looks at the scattered pieces of dinner. "You go ahead and sit down. I'll plate everything." Miguel hums as he grabs out silverware and cups. You were compelled to argue, but your mind was still soggy from the kiss. Instead, you wordlessly sit at the little round dinner table, and wait.

The two of you eat in your regular fashion. Light small talk and mostly letting Miguel vent about his day. Today, it was the stress of two anomalies in one universe. You politely nod and give him empathy when the moment calls for it, but your mind is miles away. Miguel compliments your cooking, as was usual, and sends you to bed so he can clean. Knowing what followed, you go to the bedroom and undress before climbing under the blankets. Your mind back to that moment, recalling the way those lovely brown eyes softened before he kissed your hand.

When he returns to you, his suit vanishes as he walks into the shower. He was quick, only gone for moments before returning to you with bis hair slicked back, smelling of familiar body wash and shampoo. You move the blankets for him, and he climbs in beside you.

"You alright?"

There must have been a far away look on your face. You blink and refocus, looking up as he slowly climbs on top of you. Your legs part, and he slots between them where you feel the drag of his half hard cock. "Yeah, just spacey today, I guess." Miguel watches your face, reading you for deception. He closes the distance and kisses you deeply, like he had many times before. His lips part your own before his tongue eagerly slips in. The man groans, rocking his hips to fuck himself against your folds.

A part of you hates how normal this feels. That your life had become something of a ritual. You hated him for what he'd reduced you to; a pathetic shadow of yourself, wet and mewling for him like an obedient whore. This was never what you wanted, yet there you lay with your captor prodding at your cunt.

Brushing your clit with his tip, you jolt. Miguel notices and does it again, smearing dewy precum along you. "Like that?" He rumbles from above. There is a softness to him that brings heat to simmer in your stomach. "Mhm." Your eyes are scanning the blankets, looking anywhere but at him. A tingle in your wounded palm reminds you of the moment in the kitchen. You think about the way his lips pressed the bandages and the sincerity in his dark eyes.

You felt a nagging desire to reach out to him, and you did. Miguel had been ready to spear into you when both your little hands cup his cheeks. His eyes widen, and his movements halt. Tracing your thumbs along the swell of his cheeks, you bring your eyes to look up at him, catching the man off guard. You think he may be angry until he leans into your palms. Those dark eyes of his slowly soften as he melts against you. The change is startling. You'd never seen him so subdued.

Miguel closes his eyes and lets you hold his head up. He mutters something you can't understand, and you feel warmth spread across your limbs. You didn't want to fight it today. You wanted to succumb to him and feel in control, just for a moment. "Miguel," you say his name, softer than you ever had. Brown eyes flutter open and hone predatorially to yours, waiting. "I need you." You couldn't be sure what facet of yourself asked, but you didn't care. Right then, you wanted him, and you would have him.

He is certain he is going to break. Your voice, your hands, the desire in your words. Miguel never thought he'd hear you ask for it, but there you were, and you did. The man never realized how touch starved he was until he found himself drooping against you, eyes heavy and heart throbbing. You could see the pieces of himself crumbling away, those reinforced walls of stone and brick that guarded him, becoming nothing but rubble between you. Something tugs in your chest, and you pull him down to kiss him gently.

"Come here," you whisper, and he obliges. Miguel lays on his forearms over you, his broad chest and narrow hips pinning you to the mattress. You can not help but feel like a stone cast out in the ocean, unable to save yourself as you sink further into the dark. "I've got you." You mumble, petting your fingers through his wild flare of brown locks. Something prods, and you part. Miguel nudges his hips forward and dips the length of his cock inside your warmth, drawing a gasp from you.

When he bottoms out, you push your forehead to his and whimper. Miguel isn't fucking you as he usually does, this time it is slow, methodical, loving. "O-oh, l-like that!" You gasp suddenly, arching your back. The thick tip of his head bruises your gspot on its journey to your cervix. Usually he is brutal, knowing you fought too hard to ever cum. This steady, gentle rocking has you spiraling. Heat builds in your core so fast your head spins. Miguel is watching your face, eyes trained on your soft lips and the way they part when you sigh in pleasure. He lowers his mouth to catch yours, swallowing your intoxicatingly soft cries.

Each press of his hips to yours sends sparks through your abdomen, his stomach pressing your swollen clit as he nudges to his hilt. "M-miguel, Miguel - f-fuck-!" You were building, and send your free hand to grasp at his back. His muscles flex under your palm, and his mouth nips at your ear. "Cum for me," He purrs in a voice like distant thunder. "Cum." Miguel cinches his jaw and bucks unevenly as fire spreads inside you. The both of you choke and groan. He rattles against you and desperately rabbits inside your cunt as he nears his end. You couldn't take it, between his demand and the slow climb of your orgasm, you crumble with him.

Shrieking, you clench down around his cock as he hits against your cervix, milking his length for all he's worth. Your legs tremble, and you find yourself clinging to his neck, puling softly as you rode out your orgasm. Miguel had lost it too, your noises and getting to watch you cum setting him into his own heat. You hear him strain in your ear, his cock throbbing as he spews molten cum inside of you. The heat spreads, and Miguel grinds his pelvis to yours, stimulating your already sensitive clit.

"Hh-ah, p-please." You paw at his hair, near tears from the intensity of the moment. Miguel kisses you again, bumping his nose against your own as he settles to a stop. The two of you are looking at each other now, damp with sweat from lovemaking. You bring your hand to his cheek, then touch along the broad expanse of his jaw, causing him to lean into your palm again.

After a few moments, he settles to lay his head on your shoulder, not bothering to pull out. You wrap his neck with your arms and stare up at the ceiling, listening as he falls asleep.

You think about that sinking stone,

And wonder if you'll ever see the surface again.

[ineffabletargtowers]

Burning

Summary: You comfort your husband after he endures a stressful day

Content: NSFW, angst, smut, bath sex, chronic pain, riding

Words: 1.7K

Note: I have been made aware of the fact that my work is similar to that of @venmondiese. Though I had my initial idea because of an entirely different source, I would like to acknowledge the similarities between our stories and credit her fantastic writing as having provided inspiration for my own.

The faint pricking sensation that had bothered the left side of his face that morning had been a warning, not a challenge to overcome. His eye socket now burned viciously, sporadic twitches birthing a searing pain which made the old wound feel fresh. Aemond shouldered his way into his chambers, well aware of his uncharacteristically clumsy entrance. “Get out,” he snarled, glaring at the three servants inside who had evidently just finished drawing his nightly bath. “All of you, get out.”

He didn’t even wait to see if they left, trusting that they feared him enough in this moment to obey without hesitation. Removing his clothes was an ordeal, particularly with the black spots dancing across his vision. After what felt like an eternity, he finally clambered into the tub of steaming water, only for a particularly painful spasm of his cheek to remind him that he had forgotten to get the ointment the maesters had prepared for his eye. Still, the pain in his head was vicious enough that he feared he would be sick if he were to get out of the tub.

Just as he resolved to steel himself before attempting to reach the ointment, the door to his chambers opened and someone stepped inside. Even though he was furious at whatever servant had disturbed him, he reluctantly acknowledged that now was not the opportune moment to send away whoever it was.

Aemond closed his eye and gritted his teeth before speaking, silently cursing both the merciless throbbing in his head and his bastard nephew. “On the vanity,” he began stiffly, “there is an ointment from the maesters. Fetch it at once.”

He listened to the sound of footsteps moving towards the vanity and then drawing nearer until they stopped beside the tub. He raised a hand out of the water, gesturing for the ointment. “That will be all.”

“You may dismiss your servants as you see fit,” you said quietly, “but you will not dismiss me.”

Aemond’s eye snapped open as he sat up hurriedly, wincing as pain raced across his face. You evidently noticed his grimace and slowly knelt behind the tub, your fingers working quickly but gently to undo the clasp of his eyepatch.

Once the leather was set aside, Aemond felt the urge to command you to avert your gaze, not wishing to disturb you should you gaze upon the mangled remains of his eye. However, as he made to speak, you brought a finger to his lips. “None of that,” you said softly. “Relax, my love. Let me care for you.”

He sat stiffly as you collected some on the ointment on your fingertips before gently applying it to his scarred flesh. Your touch was cool, a tender caress that was far kinder than anything the hideous scar had ever felt. Sweet relief spread across his face as the burning began to abate, replaced by a numb tingling sensation. He let out a breath he was unaware he had been holding, slowly reclining so that he could rest against the side of the tub as you set the ointment down.

“Thank you,” Aemond said quietly. “I am sorry that you had to witness that.”

You loosened the scrap of leather that held his hair off of his face and discarded it as you reached for a vial of gel. “There is no need for you to apologize.”

He wanted to protest, but found himself unable to speak as you began to massage the gel into his damp hair. A strange sense of peace began to overtake him as he took slow, measured breaths and soaked in the hot water. He decided it was calming, resting here with you gently washing his hair. Still, he felt that your demeanor was far too pleasant for the likes of him, though he was amazed at your apparent talent for cooling his temper and guiding his anger in more rational directions.

Now that the overwhelming pain in his head had dulled, he became aware of various contusions and aches across his body, evidence of his poor showing in the training yard that morning. As though you knew what was on his mind, you quietly cleared your throat. “Do you wish to talk about what transpired today?”

It was not in his nature to open up, to share what he thought. He had a tendency to bottle up whatever he felt or experienced until he lashed out in anger, a rather fair response given the lack of justice he had been dealt throughout his life.

But there is something about you, his lovely wife, that reassures him. And so, as you rinse his hair, he tells you everything, from the way he had woken up with a dull, prickly feeling in his head to the way it had evolved into a horrifying, searing pain after he had tried to push through it. His attempts at reading had been slow and irritating, his form in the training yard weak and sloppy. His disaster of a day had culminated in learning that his half-sister and her brood of bastards might visit soon. Upon hearing the news, he had surrendered to the spasms of pain that were wracking his face and stormed off to his chambers.

When he finished, you moved to sit beside the tub, your fingertips gently stroking the surface of the water. For the first time, he noticed that your hair was free of its daily pins, instead hanging loosely around your face. Your nightgown was styled in an appealing manner, the cut of the gown ensuring that it fit your form nicely and accented your breasts. He became acutely aware of warmth blooming in his chest and stomach as he ran his eye over your figure, his gaze lingering on the lovely, unblemished column of your neck.

To his delight, you evidently noticed his approval of your garment, smiling teasingly as you removed your hand from the water and stood up. “Do you see something which you like?”

Aemond hummed his assent, arousal pooling in his stomach as his cock stirred to life at the sight of you. His breath hitched as you slowly undid the ties which secured your nightgown, his lips curling into a smile as the fabric pooled at your feet. He made to rise from the tub, fully intent on taking you to bed and making love to you for the duration of the night. To his surprise, you placed both of your hands on his shoulders, effectively keeping him in place as you stepped into the hot water. His cock throbbed as you gazed at him through hooded eyes and straddled his lap.

This was a new side to you, a sharp and seductive attitude which he had not seen before. He was used to your calming, sweet manner, a gentle contrast to his burning temper. But now, he noticed flickers of intensity in your lust-blown eyes. He groaned quietly as one of your hands slipped underwater and wrapped around his cock, your hips rising as you lined the tip up with your slick entrance. Your lips barely brushed his own as you slowly sank down on him, your gentle gasp echoing through the room.

Finally, after a sweet, torturous eternity, you were fully seated on him. He always relished the feeling of being inside of you, enjoying both the closeness it brought the pair of you and the pleasure that came with being enveloped in your tight heat. However, there was something different about having you on top of him, gazing into his eye and bracing yourself with your palms on his chest as you began to rock your hips.

Your back arched as your movements became more assured, breathy whimpers escaping your lips as you slowly fucked him. Aemond brought his hands to your waist, guiding your movements as the telltale coil of arousal began to tighten in his stomach. Your eyelids fluttered as he began to thrust his hips upwards in tandem with the way you rolled your hips, and he was struck anew by how utterly beautiful you were. A light sheen of sweat glistened on your skin; he suspected it was from both physical exertion and the heat of the water. Your quiet moans were exquisite music to his ears as you rode him harder, your expression beautiful and desperate as you chased your pleasure.

The water at the surface of the tub sloshed about as Aemond pulled you closer, groaning as your walls fluttered around him, a telltale sign that you were close to falling apart for him. His breathing was labored as he brought his lips to your neck, mouthing along your exposed flesh and gently marking you. You moaned quietly and tried to bring a hand between your legs, much to his irritation. He quickly brought his hand to the little nub at the apex of your thighs, rubbing fast circles where he knew you needed it most as he thrust into you harder.

You cried out loudly and collapsed against his chest as your cunt tightened around him, the coil in his stomach unwinding as he fucked you full of his seed. The feeling of your trembling body in his arms as you peaked for him was exquisite, a glorious sight which only he would ever be privileged enough to see.

Several moments later, you slowly sat up, looking at him so softly that he feared once more that his temper was so terrible that he was undeserving of you. You brought your hands to his face, your fingers gently caressing his scar. You kissed him tenderly, warmth blooming in his chest at the sensation of your lips on his own.

When you finally pulled back, he was surprised to see your eyes burning with a dangerous anger. “Someday, that bastard will pay for what he did to you,” you said, your voice a lovely, deadly quiet. “I am sorry that that day has not yet come to pass.”

Aemond felt a strange, intoxicating fire in his chest at your words. Perhaps he had misjudged you all this time, seeing only your calm and never knowing that you could burn just as fiercely as any dragon. “I love you,” he murmured, pulling you close once more, his lips curling into a smile as he considered the alluring prospect of burning for eternity with you by his side.

[nasturtiumloom]

HIII HRU HOPE YOUVE HAD A GOOD DAY<33

Jason brainrot rn... imagine cleaning up his cuts n splotches of blood after he gets home at night,, next morning you wake up to the lovely scent of pancakes and a loud yelp from him?!?! he might not be the best cook but at least youre always there to nurture him back to health !! burns from breakfast making included,,

IMSORRY I NEED MORE JASON FLUFF he deserves a hug n kisses but hes definitely the friend who cant go 1 day without getting injured somehow

hihihi my day was super good i hope u also had greatday!!!!!!!!!!! ٩>ᴗ<)و

PURE FLUFF!!!!! ☁︎

Jason Todd stumbled through the window, the moonlight casting a soft glow over his battered form. The night had been relentless, and his body bore the evidence. Blood and grime smeared his face and arms, and his movements were sluggish. Yet, despite his exhaustion, he managed a faint smile as he saw you waiting.

"Rough night?" you asked, your voice soft with concern.

He didn't respond, just nodded slightly, the weight of the night's events evident in his weary eyes. You moved quickly, guiding him to the couch and beginning to remove his shirt. He winced as you pulled it off, revealing a myriad of cuts and bruises. The room was silent except for the quiet rustle of your movements and Jason's heavy breathing.

You knelt beside him, your touch gentle and efficient as you began to clean his wounds. The splotches of blood dissolved under your careful touch, and you could feel Jason's eyes on you the entire time. His gaze was intense, filled with unspoken gratitude and a depth of emotion that made your heart ache.

He watched you silently, his eyes softening with gratitude. "You don't have to do this every time, you know."

You met his gaze, a small smile playing on your lips. "I like to take care of you."

Jason didn't say anything, but his eyes spoke volumes. He reached out, gently pulling you closer and pressing his lips to yours in a silent but powerful expression of his feelings. The kiss was brief, yet it conveyed more than words ever could.

After what felt like an eternity, you finished bandaging his wounds. Jason’s eyes were already drooping with fatigue, and you helped him to bed, making sure he was comfortable before slipping in beside him.

The next morning, you awoke to the smell of something...burning. Panic shot through you as you bolted upright, only to be met with the scent of pancakes. You quickly made your way to the kitchen, the sight that greeted you both heartwarming and amusing.

Jason stood at the stove, looking very out of place with a spatula in hand and a furrowed brow. A plate of slightly burnt pancakes sat on the counter, and as you watched, he yelped and pulled his hand back from the hot pan.

"Fuck!" he yelled, nursing a small burn on his hand.

"Jason!" you exclaimed, rushing over. "What happened?"

He turned to you, a sheepish grin on his face. "I was trying to surprise you with breakfast."

You sighed, taking his hand gently. "Come here, let's take care of that burn."

Leading him to the sink, you ran cool water over the burn for several minutes. Once it was soothed, you applied some burn ointment and gently wrapped it in a bandage. "There, all better," you said, pressing a soft kiss to his bandaged hand.

He gave you a grateful look, though his expression remained stoic. "Thanks."

You couldn’t help but laugh, your heart swelling with affection. "You did surprise me," you said. "But maybe leave the cooking to me next time."

He pouted, but his eyes twinkled with amusement. "Hey, I'm not that bad."

You raised an eyebrow, looking pointedly at the burnt pancakes. "Sure you're not."

Despite the initial chaos, the pancakes and bacon weren’t entirely inedible. You both sat at the small kitchen table, sharing a surprisingly pleasant meal. Jason’s attempt at breakfast might not have been perfect, but the effort behind it made it taste better than any gourmet meal.

As you finished eating, Jason leaned over, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. His touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the roughness of his hands. "Thanks for always taking care of me," he murmured.

You smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. "Anytime, Jay."

He stood up and pulled you into a hug, his embrace warm and comforting. In that moment, surrounded by the remnants of a chaotic breakfast and the soft morning light, everything felt right. Jason might not have been the best cook, but his love and dedication were more than enough.

2cute ꒰ ´•⸝⸝ω⸝⸝• ꒱´- ♡

[mythicmanuscripts]

RECOVERY [AEGON X READER]

Right so yesterday I answered an angsty ask about helping Aegon recover from the burns after Rook’s Rest and you all seemed to love torturing that little rat man so I’ve decided to babble about it more! Only this time, there will also be some NSFW content and some sub!aegon themes. I hope you lads enjoy!

NSFW sub!aegon x wife!reader below the cut!!

When Aegon wakes up, the maesters are standing over him. One of them is wrapping his arm in bandages, the other is holding a bottle of some kind. Aegon shoots up, crying out and trying to move up the bed. Well, he tries but he’s far too weak, the maesters immediately push him back down.

“Don’t move, your grace,” the one says, “you have been badly injured, you could make it worse by moving.”

Aegon doesn’t seem to care, and thankfully one of the servants in the room gains a braincell and quickly runs off to find you. The moment you enter the room, Aegon is calling for you, he relaxes and holds out his unburnt hand, desperate for his wife’s attention and love.

You take the bottle of ointment from the maesters, telling them to give Aegon the needed amount of milk of the poppy and then let you handle finishing dressing his wounds. The maesters aren’t pleased, but they can’t exactly disobey the queen.

The moment they’re gone you get onto the other side of the bed and lean over, giving him a soft forehead kiss. He lets you finish dressing his burns, and because it’s just the two of you he doesn’t hide how much is hurts. Once it’s finished, you get back into bed with him. You lie next to his unburnt side and allow him to turn and cuddle into you as much as he can. Even though he hisses in pain when you move too much or too quickly, he doesn’t want to move away from you, not even an inch.

Allicent and Aemond arrive soon after, both wanting to check in on Aegon. You see the fear in Aegon’s eyes when he sees Aemond, but you don’t question it then.

When they leave, you ask him what truly happened and he confides in you. As much as it breaks your heart to hear, you also aren’t exactly surprised, it’s an open secret that Aemond wants the crown.

He tells you that he doesn’t feel safe, doesn’t trust anyone here and he begs not to be left alone. And well, who are you to deny him?

When you try to retire to your personal chambers that night, Aegon whines and tries desperately to sit up. He doesn’t want to spend the night alone, doesn’t even think he can spend the night alone.

You’re too scared to sleep in the same bed as him for fear that you might turn in your sleep and run against his burns, which would be agonising for him. But, when you realise he’s really not going to be able to handle being alone, you grab two guards and have them move a comforts me couch into his bedroom.

You get a blanket from the cupboard and sleep on the couch. The servants are of course very shocked and very concerned about it but you promise it’ll just be for a few nights until he’s fine in his own.

(It was not for a few nights)

As he starts to recover, you start to see just how badly this has affected him, not physically but mentally. He’s getting stronger, he’s able to walk further and do more things himself, but mentally? He’s like a skittish little bird.

Every time the door to his room opens he jumps, when a servant puts something down too loudly he jumps, he flinches when the maesters try to inspect his burns.

You start to convince him to take walks around the castle to try and get him more at ease, but every little sound makes him anxious. He has no idea who to trust or what to do.

He gets better when you hold his hand though, and he really genuinely loves when you join him for walks around the castle. He knows he’s walking very slowly, too slow to be comfortable for someone not injured, but he’s so thankful that you’re walking with him anyway. He feels a lot better with you, and in a way it feels like alone time?

He’s always exhausted when he gets back to his room, but he’s also all smiles and even a few giggles when you help him out of his clothes and into more comfortable ones.

His smile drops the moment his mother or brother walks into the room though. Even though Allicent had no part in what happened to him, he blames her anyway. Not for him getting burnt, but for making him king? He blames her for not allowing him to run away, for not letting him give Aemond or Rhaenyra the crown.

When he tells you this, you kiss his head and remind him that if he wasn’t made king, you never would have married him. That makes him pause, and after a while all he says is, “Perhaps the crown is lighter than I thought.”

As he starts to get stronger and his skin starts to heal, he's able to get closer and closer to you. He genuinely nearly cries from happiness when he realises he can move to lay on his side. The moment he discovers this, he immediately curls up against you, resting his head against your chest.

You like that with him for a long time, the two of you whispering to each other and just being close. When you start to get tired, you try to gently shuffle away from him to go to the couch, because you don't want to risk hurting him in your sleep.

He instantly tightens his grip on you, whining and refusing to let go no matter what you say. You try to explain that you could roll over and hurt him, and he just holds you tighter, saying that's a price he's wiling to pay. He had been sleeping without you for far too long, and now that he was getting better he couldn't wait anymore.

You sleep better than you have in months that night.

When you wake up, Aegon is still in your arms, cuddled up against your side with his head on your chest. He seems to be moving in his sleep, almost rocking and it takes you a minute before you can realise he's hard, and gently trying to grind against you in his sleep.

Throughout his entire recovery up until that point, you had not done more than kiss him. Secretly, you thought that was very odd and worrying. Before Rook's Rest, Aegon would whine and cry if you dared to go three days without touching his cock. For as long as you've known him, he's always been very needy sexual and he would start to get jittery and unsettled if too long went by without you playing with him.

You had thought that when he started walking again, he'd also start trying to do something sexual with you. Of course you did not ask, because you didnt want him to feel pressured to do something before he was ready. You know Aegon, and you know if you asked then he would do it even if he wasnt ready because he so desperately wants to please you.

So when you realise he's hard and grinding against you in his sleep, you smile, thinking that maybe his body finally has the strength and energy to get turned on again.

You kiss the top of his head, gently running your hand down his unburnt side, letting your nails very lightly scratch his skin. This has always been his preferred method of waking up, and has never failed to him wake up slowly and then smile up at you.

When he starts to stir, you increase the pressure of your nails ever so slightly and it wakes him. He looks up at you, smiling and mumbling a good morning before pressing kisses to your chest and neck, wherever he can reach. He's still grinding against your leg, and at this point you're pretty sure he doesn't even mean to.

You kiss his head again before asking "Want me to help you feel good?" You would normally not even ask, knowing that he always wants you to play with him when he's like this. But because it's been so long and he's still so vulnerable, you ask him.

To your surprise, he goes completely stiff and then after a moment he tries to sit up.

"Aegon?" You ask, "What's wrong?"

He sniffles and mumbles an apology, and when you ask why he's apologising he says "You don't have to pretend to be attracted to me still."

Your heart breaks when you hear that, and you finally realise what has happened. Aegon probably was ready for things to get sexual once he was up and walking, but he thought you wouldn't want that?? He thought you weren't attracted to him anymore.

And well, you gently push him back down on the bed so that he's laying on his back and then you sit up right next to him, your hand going down his torso and towards his breeches. When you tell him that you are as attracted to him as you were the day you married him, he cums before your hand can even touch him.

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Blurbs: Hickey

————————————————————————-

Summary: You prank Joe by using makeup to create a fake hickey on your neck.

Warnings: Fluff, slight sexual tension, unserious/funny, pranks!

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine Universe: Into The Mystic

A/N: Part 1 of Blurb Night! (Sneak Peak)

————————————————————————-

No particular date for this blurb!

Joe and I were currently cuddled up in bed. The twins were already asleep, and they had been for hours. I lay restless due to the baby doing somersaults in my stomach.

“Gah-lee!” - Joe

“Did you feel that?” - you

“Yes! She's not letting up at all, baby.” - Joe

“It’s your fault! You make me sit in the living room and watch UFC with you, she’s probably reenacting everything you commentate to my stomach!” - you

“Aye, let's not point fingers!” - Joe

I rolled my eyes, which Joe didn't like a bit.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me.” - Joe

“You’re not the boss of me.” - you

Joe leaned forward, his lips just barely hovering over mine but not quite touching them.

“I think you’re forgetting who’s in control here, mama. Need a reminder, maybe?” - Joe

His blue eyes flashed darkly as Joe trailed his hand down my arm, over to my belly, and down.

Just as his lips were about to meet mine, the baby kicked as hard as she had all night.

Joe groaned as he pulled away and flopped onto his back.

“You just got cockblocked.” - you laughed

“Probably for the better. Baby girl knew I needed to get ahold of myself since we aren't doing anything like that while you're pregnant.” - Joe

I rolled onto my side and placed my hand on his bare lower stomach, some of my hand covering the waistband of his boxers.

“I don't care to get you off, Joe. All you gotta do is ask.” - you

“You know I can’t do that. I can't just let you pleasure me, and you get nothing in return.” - Joe

My eyes were glued to Joe’s hand as he reached down and rearranged his forming hard-on. God, I wanted him so bad.

“I- I'm gonna splash some cold water on my face…” - you

Joe mumbled a ‘k’ as I quite literally rolled out of bed. I went into the bathroom and shut the door behind me.

After splashing some water on my face, I took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm my raging hormones.

Why does Joe have to be so sexy without trying? I asked myself in a whisper.

I pulled my phone out to check my notifications because there's nothing less sexy than business emails.

That's when I got the idea to prank Joe. It'll be a way to calm us both down and kill some time since there's no way baby girl is settling down anytime soon.

After scrolling through my saved videos, I found the perfect one.

——

“You okay? You were in there for a while.” - Joe

“I’m fine. Just needed to cool down.” - you

“Sorry, guess that's my fault for getting worked up.” - Joe

I got into bed and rolled over into Joe’s chest, scratching my nails over his back.

“Don’t be sorry.” - you

Joe sighed out of contentment and began running his fingers through my hair. He knew I hated it when my hair touched my neck, so Joe began moving my hair away from my neck.

“I love you.” - you

The sentiment made him smile, his eyes still focused on his fingers running through my hair.

His mouth opened, about to say the statement back, but the only thing that squeaked out was a gasp.

“Joe?” - you

“Did you burn yourself curling your hair yesterday?“- Joe

“No… why?” - you

“There's a huge mark on your neck.” - Joe

“Oh.” - you

I reached up and pulled my hair to cover the mark back up. My heart fluttered at the realization that Joe didn't have the same reaction to the prank as most other partners have.

“What is that then? Did you hit your neck on something?” - Joe

Letting him stew over the options for a little bit, I couldn't help but bust out laughing after a few minutes of silence.

“Why are you laughing? That looks like that hurts, baby. Why didn't you tell me? Do you need ice… or ointment?” - Joe

“Joe…” - you laughed

“What?!” - Joe

“It's a prank! It’s supposed to be a hickey.” - you

He stared at me dumbfounded, confused more than anything.

“How is that a prank? I'm the only person giving you a hickey, so if you had one, I would know about it.” - Joe

“You were supposed to think another guy gave it to me, but I think it's sweet your mind didn't go there.” - you smiled

“Oh! No, I never would’ve guessed that. I know I'm the only guy you have eyes on.” - Joe

I rested my hand on Joe’s bare chest, and we lay face to face, just looking into each other’s eyes. It was a sweet moment, and just as Joe began leaning in to kiss me…

The baby kicked again. Joe jumped back and groaned out of annoyance, but I was laughing my head off.

“Damn it!” - Joe

————————————————————————-

Authors note: Can y’all tell that I'm ovulating 💀

This idea came from some TikToks I've seen!

Hope you enjoyed! 💕

[thetorturedbuckydepartment]

chapter three: in the blink of a crinkling eye

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!reader

summary: Six months ago, you were appointed to be Head Nurse to the Avengers by Tony Stark. Every day, you count your lucky stars, knowing the horrible past you quickly ditched back in England. It holds you back, restrains you, from getting close to anyone when on your new job.

That's until you met and fell in love with Bucky Barnes. The supposed assassin with a heart of gold, who seems to be eager to get to know you. To peel back your layers piece by piece, but could you trust him once you're laid before him raw and vulnerable?

masterlist

PREVIOUS PART -- CHAPTER TWO: MAKING AMENDS

warnings: language, fatshaming, self deprecation,

word count: 3.4k

Taglist: @scott-loki-barnes @cjand10 @blackwidownat2814 @blackbirdwitch22

A/N: chapter three finally!! enjoy :) also comment if you wanna be added to the taglist!

Ever since that day, you and Bucky quickly became practically inseparable. Always sitting next to each other in meetings, he’d always come to visit whenever he could, and you’d always be jetted off to missions together.

It only took an hour or two for you to open up, pour all the poison that had slowly been burning away your insides, and the both of you lightening your burdens to each other in the dead of night. The dreams leave you both quite lonely. 

You’re busy patching Steve up, just applying ointment to a bruise you’re both sure will disappear before he even leaves the infirmary. He comments on how happy you’ve seemed lately as you talk away about the plans you and Bucky have for the next weekend, discussing your idea to buy him some new clothes more suited to a man in the 21st century. And then Tony Stark walks in the room, wearing his classic thick, black sweater and looking worried as hell. 

“Nurse! We need to talk.” He looks directly at you, and you flinch at his raised tone. He clocks on immediately, softening his approach. You lead him into a neighbouring empty room.

“What’s this about Mr Stark?” You remain, ever polite. You clasp your hands in front of you, smiling expectantly. He shoves his hands in his pockets, wondering how to phrase his next words.

“I know you’ve talked to FRIDAY about your spot at dinner…but I was just informed that you asked her to not have your meal sent to your room. Is everything okay? Do you need to speak to someone?” You’re well aware of what he thinks, what he’s insinuating. You’ve been here before, the last time Sharon made a mean comment about you was the last time you set foot in that damned dining room. 

You swallow the bitter memory, making way for the sweet words about to leave your mouth. “No, sir. Everything’s alright with me. I asked FRIDAY to not send my meals to my room, because…well, I was thinking of coming to dinner tonight. Bucky talked me into it, and I think I should stop holding onto things that happen so long ago now.” You smile, letting your affection for the super soldier known. 

He relaxes, but shoots you a confused look. “Metalbox? Really?” 

“Yeah. We’re kind of good friends now.” He nods. “Alright, let me know the second anything changes or if anything is said that makes you uncomfortable. Okay?”

You nod this time, assuring him. He walks you out and lets you return to the infirmary, where Bucky is waiting for you. Your smile brightens by a millions Watts, but Bucky never seems blinded. 

“Hey Buck!” You say, taking a standstill right in front of him. You haven’t really discussed how either of you stand on physical contact, but when he wraps you in a warm hug, you don’t fight it. You own arms end up around his middle, turning the embrace into something a lot more intimate, but too lost in each other to care. 

The nickname of a nickname has him completely melting into every soft curve of you and never wanting to leave, forever entranced by the lingering scent of your lotion and perfume, the perfectly concocted pheromones only for him. 

“Hey, doll. I missed you.” His tone is so soft, your heart can barely take it. What started off as a simple attraction has now fully snowballed into a crush of embarrassing proportions, and the fact that he even wants to be around you to this degree has you completely giddy. 

When his words are such sugar, when his touch lingers just half a millisecond longer than it should, you are able to delude yourself he feels the same. You know you’re wrong, you just haven’t been shown such attention since you stopped being naturally amazing at everything as a child. But you dream anyway, of blue seas and black and gold. 

“Missed you too. Did you have a busy day sparring?” He nods, keeping an arm around you as you both walk down the long corridors, arms welded like lovers to each other’s backs. 

“Yeah, I got to practise giving Steve an ass whooping today to show the trainees how to defeat someone when held at knifepoint.”

“Oh, you have to show me sometime,” you say excited, trying not to show how hot you’re starting to run at the idea of Bucky dismantling someone despite the weapons they may yield. It makes you feel safer, snuggling up to him all that tighter. 

And then the doors to your seemingly worse nightmares appear. Simple, made of black glass and sliding open when it recognises the two of you trying to get in. 

She’s really not going to eat all of that, is she? The cruel words ring in your head and you swallow hard. “Hey, we don’t have to go if you changed your mind. We can just go to that restaurant I was telling you about on Monday.”

How long will you let your fears consume you? You shake your head. “That’s awfully sweet of you, Buck. Really, but I want to. I have to try, at least. Plus, its not just her and me in there. There’s Steve, and Nat and Wanda’s just come back from her mission, and Thor’s visiting. And you’ll be next to me. Won’t you?” You look up at him bashfully, as if you expect him to say no.

You have no idea how much he wants to kiss you and that pout on your lips. “Yeah, of course I’ll be there, doll. Always.” You grin like you’re surprised, solemnly untangling yourself from his arms as you step inside. Not that you hate the physical contact, but the idea of partaking in such activities in the presence of other people makes you sweat. You’ve never been one to share details about your romantic life, expecting nothing but a dissection and a ridicule once your chest cavity opens. You know these groups of people may not be like that, but the strange pain still ascends up your chest. You feel Bucky’s presence behind you, though, warm hand just centimetres away from yours like a promise of quick reassurance. 

The room falls silent, and you notice how you and Bucky are the last two members to enter, and so theres only two open seats — one right next to Sharon and another directly in front of her. You swallow, not knowing which position is worse when Steve warmly beckons you over to sit next to him, the seat directly opposite Sharon. 

You smile and accept his offer, watching Bucky as he walks around the table to begrudgingly take a seat in between two people, blue eyes burning like he’d much rather swap with Steve. “Nurse! How nice of you to join us!” Tony beckons from the head of the table, and everyone cheers and welcomes you warmly, Steve patting your back gently. It almost drowns out the scoff. 

You stay mainly quiet, keeping to yourself. It’s your first day here, in this dining room, and you’ll take some time to get adjusted. Hopefully a certain someone will keep her mouth shut and you’ll come back tomorrow. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Steve whispers down at you in between courses. “Me too, actually. This isn’t too horrible.” You smile just as the servers set down a plate of your favourite dish — a completely vegan chicken Alfredo and garlic bread — right in front of you, hot and steaming. Your stomach grumbles embarrassingly loudly and you try your best to stay oblivious to it, not noticing how Bucky’s eyes are trained on you, at how cute you look when you’re flustered. 

He chuckles and you meet his eye, smiling warmly. You get through the meal without a single hitch, and it seems that someone’s chastised Sharon before you could enter the room. You’re eternally grateful to that person, whoever that is.

During the meal, you get to hear stories of the time when Steve was at “war” with Tony, of childhood incidents from the 1930s, and the way Bucky acts when he’s drunk as shit. Thor’s brought some Asgardian liquor with him, knowing even the finest wine in the Tower’s cellar wouldn’t even get him buzzed. 

One by one, people start bidding goodnight, until it’s just Thor, Bucky and you. Steve has to be up at 5 tomorrow, to prepare for a meeting, or so he says. 

“And then he calls me a son of a bitch!” Thor explains, loud enough for you to flinch. He and Bucky laugh in uproar, and the sound of it takes you away. You find yourself staring, at his tipped back head and his wide grin, so beautiful all you want to do is climb in his lap and kiss him senseless. You refrain, of course. 

“Alright, I think it’s time for bed, Buck. Should we go?” You use your thumb to point behind you, and he nods.

“Yes, I would go anywhere for you, doll. All you have to do is ask.” You roll your eyes, not knowing intoxication also makes him a terrible flirt.

You gently move to him when he wraps his arms around your middle and pulls you tight to him, face buried in your soft stomach. “Mm, can we just stay like this for a while, please?” He flashes you his bright blue puppy dog eyes, and you can’t resist. Shoulders sag as you breathe out a laugh at him. “Just a minute, then we’ll get you back to your room. Okay?” He nods, pressing his gorgeous face against your middle once again, and you can’t help but smile. He’s adorable. You gently run your hands through his hair, completely oblivious to Thor’s hunkering form leaving his seat. "How is it that a woman as perfect as you exists even in the 21st century?" He drunkenly grumbles. "It's genetics, darling." You smile like you've been completely lovestruck, and it's inevitably gotten to your head. "No, doll, I'm being serious. You're so perfect, feels like I was made to complement you. So pretty…"

“Alright, time for bed. Come on.” You drag him up and he wraps his arms around your shoulders. He’s so heavy you find it hard to breathe and reluctantly pull away from his warmth. One arm around his back, you gently guide him to his room in the same fashion he’s brought you to the dining room. The entire time there, he rattles off every synonym for beautiful he can think of as you fight against a smile harder and harder. There is a drunken veracity to him in this moment, and you don’t have it in you to fight him in such a state. You haven’t had more than a glass yourself, leaving you perfectly capable of safely navigating the long corridor, planning to drop him off and safely retreat to your own room just beside his. But he pulls you in.

“Stay with me…please, doll. Need you.” His breath is hot against your ear, tone soft and needy. Like he’s two seconds away from getting on his knees and begging you.

You yield. “Okay, Buck. Let’s just get you to bed, alright?” He nods, head lolling against his shoulders. On your way to the bed, you trip over one of his socks, his shoes long discarded at the entrance, slipping. He catches you without so much as a second thought or grunt. Reminding you of his strength. His hands on your waist turn you around, and you let out a yelp as your back meets the bed, his chest meeting yours and knocking the breath out of you.

Your hands grip the sheets while you’re trying your best to not look at him, his kind words reverberating around your head. His supposed infatuation, though deep down you know isn’t true. It can’t be. 

“Stop squirming. Look at me.” He whispers, metal hand cupping your face. He’s become more confident in using it when he’s around you, you’ve noticed. But you haven’t seen how much it means to him, to have someone who didn’t know him before, and only after. Someone who knows everything and loves him despite it. Now, the definition of love used in the previous sentence can be heavily disputed —is it platonic, or something more? He feels the latter brewing in his chest, but he’s more than happy with either option. He just wants you by his side, soft and warm and everything good in the world all wrapped up in one woman.

When your eyes meet his, the sky blue has you swallowing. It’s so clear you feel like you’re flying. Even with his crushing weight sandwiching you between him and the mattress, you ache for him. More than you’ll ever admit, even as his bitter-tinted breath washes over your face.

“So pretty…Do you know how much I fucking want you? Even when I can hear every whisper, every sigh, every goddamned sound you make in here when you’re alone, after we say goodnight. All I want is to knock on your door. Would you ever answer, if I did?” His eyes are glued to your mouth, the colour entrancing him. You let out the smallest sigh, and you feel his thumb rub against your lower lip, making your eyelids flutter. The motion stirs something inside you, deep and primal, rabid and wanting. 

“Yes…” You respond before your brain has even a second to catch up, to filter your thoughts. You see his pupils dilate in real time, entranced by the sight as he takes you in, the metal pushing against your teeth no longer cold. He asks you like he hasn’t already knocked, albeit for other purposes, and you haven’t already answered at the drop of a hat.

He leans in closer and closer, and you both are aware of the current pace of your heart, slamming in your ears like you would upon a door. Your head tilts up as his moves down, hot lips just grazing along yours, igniting every bone in your body as your hands grab at his chest instead, and he lets out a breath. You swallow it, eyes closing, giving in to the desires you’ve kept locked in a bottle deep inside your chest, just under your diaphragm.

Then reality come hurtling towards you like a freight train.

“Bucky…stop.” You push a hand against his chest, surprised to feel his heart pounding just as fast as yours. You’re full expecting for push to come to shove, but to your almost disbelief, he retracts immediately. Completely off, and lying next to you, while you try to hold back tears.

You know the truth — he doesn’t really want you. He’s just drunk, and you’re the only female body around. Nothing more.

“Why are you doing this to me?” You gaze is fixed on the ceiling, unable to look at him even when he’s on his side, eyes trained on you. “After everything I’ve told you about my…my past. All the bullying, and the trauma, and the pain. Why—Why?” Several shaky breaths escape you, trying to blink back the tears. 

His fingers brush your temples frantically, absorbing the salt as he talks over himself. “Wait…Wait no. I— Doll, that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I don’t wanna make you cry. No, no no, not what I meant, not what I—“ You turn to meet his eyes, grabbing his wrist in yours and unable to stop yourself from stroking the inside of it with your thumb. 

“Then what did you mean? I’ve told you, how people treat attraction to me like a joke. And then the second you have some alcohol in your system, you start acting the same way?”

“But it’s not a joke! I’m not joking when I call you beautiful. I think—I know you are, doll. Why else would I say it? You know I hate lying…” As you gaze upon his distraught expression, you realise the error of your ways, knowing he probably won’t remember any of this. So what’s the point of wasting your breath twice? For now, you accept it, lock it away for another day.

“Alright…Let’s just go to bed now, okay? I’m tired, baby.” The nickname slips out absentmindedly, and the way his mouth falls open lets you know that you didn’t overstep as his tongue traces his lips in the same way you wish to do so. 

“Yes! Let’s get my pretty baby some well deserved rest. Works too hard…” His eyes begin to close with his hand still fondly placed on your cheek, but you jerk him awake.

“No, Buck, not like this. Properly, let’s find you some comfy clothes and tuck you in. Come on.” You stand up, extending a hand to him. God, he looks so pretty from this angle, staring at you like you’re his sun and it’s a lazy picnic in the park. He entwines his fingers with yours, again bringing up that feeling of desperation in your system but you tamp it down. You gently hum the latest song stuck in your head as you get him ready for bed, slowly taking off his socks and handing him his comfiest pair of sleeping shorts, informing him of every step before you take it so you can give him the chance to tell you if you’re about to do something he doesn’t want.  What you don’t realise is that there is nothing you could do that he wouldn’t welcome. He knows you wouldn’t hurt him, only show him the gentle warmth he’s been deprived of for decades with your light fingertips and heavy gaze. You turn your back as he changes, giving him some privacy.

He doesn’t let you leave, scared you won’t come back to him. He’s never been like this, so desperate to keep you by him. You’ve only known each other a month, and you two often stay up together when he knocks after a nightmare, either diffusing the bomb in his head with mellow hands, or holding him tight as you both lose your worries to some old sitcom you introduced him to. In your heart, you can’t find yourself to leave, either. And so you use a spare toothbrush he keeps in his bathroom to get ready for bed, stealing one of his shirts he handed to you with the brightest, most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen. When you throw it over your head, you relish in the remnants of his cologne and something else, something so innately Bucky, that all you want is to bury yourself in his scent intertwined with the magic fabric of his shirt, which turns out to be loose on you. 

You set your hair, marvelling at how big he is, that his shirt is loose on every part of your body. A secret part of you wonders if he’s done it on purpose, intending to give you his clothes and opting for this looser fit…You quickly dispel the notions, ditching your bra and formal outfit on the floor, rubbing your tired eyes.

Bucky lays on his side, facing you and taking you in as you walk out. He lets out a groan and you wonder if it’s related. “You look so pretty in my clothes…fuck. Come back to bed, beautiful.” He outstretches his arms, making grabbing motions at you with his hands like an adorable child. You chuckle at his neediness and brush off the compliment as you settle into bed next to him, suddenly shy of the space in his bed you’re taking up. It’s been ages since you slept in the same bed as someone else…but you try not to dwell on it.

Bucky flips around immediately, sliding a warm arm around your waist and pulling you closer, eyes already closed. He’s so hot, practically a furnace when he pulls you in, like he can’t stand to be apart from you. What has the alcohol done to him?

“Good night, doll.” He rests his head in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent. His warmth is beautiful, and your glad his eyes are closed so he can’t see the absolutely wanting look plastered over your face, so deep it makes you physically ache inside your chest when you lift a hand to stroke through his hair, so soft like the sigh that escapes him. Like you soothe him, and it’s all he’s been waiting for.

“Good night, Buck.” Sleeps comes quite easily.

NEXT PART

[valsdelulucorner]

Tears too holy for thou

--> Lucifer - Mammon - Leviathan - Satan - Asmodeus - Beelzebub - Belphegor

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seeing her laying there once more, seeing her pure white wings tainted with the golden blood that spurted out of her back, it was haunting to see once more. He could hear his ears ring while he crawled desperately over to her, pulling her into his arms with his hands desperately tried to keep the blood inside of her body.

Tears that once felt like pure light burnt deep into his cheeks and stung his eyes, he wasn't used to such burning that wasn't just coming from his heart. He couldn't help but scream and cry out for someone, anyone to save her, hot, stinging tears burning away layers of his cheek. His tears fell onto her face as he held her close to him, hunched over her while golden blood stained both the ground and them.

.

. .

. . .

Lucifer knew it was just a dream, laying quietly in his bed alone while his brothers made a ruckus downstairs. He already knew he would be out of commission for a while, feeling the familiar stinging of his cheeks as he got out of bed. He couldn't help but stare at himself in the mirror, eyes glued to the red tear marks that surrounded his eyes. Never has he been more thankful to be a back sleeper, the damage seemed to be only around his eyes which he could hide behind some sunglasses or hair.

The soft sound of the door closing snapped him out of his trance, glancing over to where the sound was coming from. To his Suprise, no one was there, a cup of coffee taking the place of the person he hoped would be standing there, sitting on the side of his desk. He just let out a sigh as he got to work in the bathroom, putting on some special ointment asmo had gotten for him over his tear stains, trying to speed up the healing process.

He knew he couldn't just drop everything because he had shed afew tears in his sleep but he couldn't let anyone know that the great avatar of pride let this happen, besides you of course. You had once walked in on him when he was cleaning up some tear stains from the night before, learning from him that angels shed tears of holy water, that gift passing onto fallen angels once they turn to the life of sin. The only catch is these tears burn demon skin and eyes.

He just tried to move past this little inconvenience, putting on his usual attire before coming back into his room, glancing over to the coffee still sitting on the side of his table, a small sticky note stuck to the handle. He could see from where he was standing that there was a small heart on the sticky note. He picked up the coffee after taking the note off of the handle, taking a sip while he read over the note.

"Love you - MC"

When tears are too holy for thou, its nice to have those who still care

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fic based off of my headcannon that the brothers have holy water tears lol

Its almost midnight and im procratinating college work lmao, pardon the spelling and grammer mistakes

[dem-obscure-imagines]

For the Longest Time

Steve Rogers x Reader

Fandom: MCU

Summary: In 1943, Steve was visited by his soulmate, a girl from the future who already knew him. Decades later, after waking up in a brave new world, Steve meets his soulmate again, except she hasn’t met him yet. And she won’t travel to 1943—or know he’s her soulmate—for another year.

Note: This is a continuation/prequel/whatever you wanna call it to A Long, Long Time, a Steve Soulmate AU I wrote a while back. Long story short, I watched Knives Out again and got Steve Rogers brainrot. Happens to the best of us. I might write a third part if there’s interest…

Warnings: Canon-typical violence

Word Count: 2.2k

Reader Is: Steve’s Soulmate, Super-Powered, Female

Steve remembered the day you’d met—for the second time, though he didn’t realize that right away—like it was tattooed on his brain. It was a few years after he’d come out of the ice and he had taken Tony’s advice to get out more, which had led him to the mall.

By some stroke of fate, it happened to be the day a pyromaniac with a flamethrower was there, but before he could even spring into action, you did, hands out in front of you and what seemed to be an invisible shield poised there, redirecting the flames and protecting the teenage movie theater employee that had nearly been caught in the crossfire.

A quick flick of your wrist knocked the attacker’s gun out of his hands, giving Steve the opportunity to step in and apprehend the guy.

You sat on a bench after, breathing heavy, a cut on your forehead from the shattered glass of the skylight. The paramedics were taking care of the civilians, and Steve wandered right over, impressed.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just glad everyone is okay.” You told him, meeting his eyes.

He finally got a good look at you and froze, looking bewildered. A deer in headlights. “You’re…”

It was you. Of course it was you. Since the moment he’d been unfrozen, he’d been looking for you. His soulmate. The girl from the future that popped in on his twenty-fifth birthday, turned his whole life on its head, and then left without warning, hours after their first kiss. Back when he was five-foot-nothing with asthma and more medical conditions than he could even remember.

Back before he was anything.

And you’d loved him anyway. You’d given him the day of a lifetime and hope for not only a future, but for love. That someone could love him for him despite it all.

“I know.” You knew? “I…I don’t know what it is or…why I can do it.”

Your powers, you meant. You thought he was talking about your powers and not your name, which was burning a hole into his wrist beneath the thick leather band keeping it hidden.

“Right. Well, it’s…” He sighed, gathering his words, hiding the elation and pain behind a warm smile. “It’s a good thing you were here. I don’t have my shield on me.”

“Mine is built in.” You chuckled.

“You, uh…have a cut. On your forehead.”

“Oh, do I?” You reached up and found it with your fingers and they came away a bit bloody. “Shit.”

“Come on.” He offered you his hand and you took it, letting him lead you over to the counter of the theater. “Hi, do you have a first aid kit?”

“Yeah, of course.” The girl at the counter said, rushing to grab it.

Steve patched you up with gentle hands, off in a corner on your own. Staring up at him, you finally realized the obvious. This was Captain America. And he was using a careful finger to spread a triple antibiotic ointment on your cut.

Play it cool, (Y/N).

“Do you do this often? The hero thing?” Steve asked.

“No.” You shrugged. “Haven’t had much opportunity thankfully. I mean…I’d like to, I just didn’t know how to…get into it, I guess. Any email I sent to Stark or S.H.I.E.L.D. or whatever would end up on a slush pile.”

“Well, I’ve got some connections. If you’re seriously considering it. I can’t say I recommend it, but…Obviously you’ve got that protective instinct and you seem to work well under pressure.”

“My heart is about to leap out of my chest.” You admitted, laughing as he carefully laid a Bandaid over the cut, closing the kit.

“That makes two of us.”

“But, yeah, if you think I’m really cut out for it…I’d love to help.”

***

It was those words that sealed your fate. Three days later, someone from Stark Industries got in contact with you and before you knew it, you were on a plane to the Avengers’ remote facility in Upstate New York with a bag full of clothes, a handful of books, and a dream. You met the others, Wanda, Natasha, Bruce. Eventually Bucky came into the mix, too, Steve’s friend from before the ice who…had a staring problem, you were pretty sure. He kept looking at you, seemingly bewildered you were there.

You never did figure out why.

After a particularly tricky mission in rural Kentucky, you had landed yourself in the infirmary, taking a pretty long nap complete with an IV and a heartrate monitor.

It was Nat that found Steve in there, wringing his hands, tears in his eyes. It was the one secret he still had: you were his soulmate and wouldn’t know it for another six months. Your name had been etched onto his wrist for seventy years, through the transformation, through the ice, through everything.

“She’s gonna be okay, Steve. Bruce thinks she might wake up soon.” Nat comforted, sitting in the chair next to him. She put a hand on his shoulder, confused by her friend’s sudden mood.

“I know, I just…” He shook his head. “I’m worried about her is all.”

Nat pressed her lips together, tilting her head. “This seems like a little more than that. You wanna tell me what’s really going on?”

That was her super power, he remembered. She was a human lie detector.

“I can, just…not here.” Steve nodded, leading her out of the room, out of your earshot, but still in sight thanks to the soundproof windows.

Nat’s hands settled on her hips, waiting for an answer. Instead, Steve took the cuff off of his wrist and held it out to her, letting her read the letters that had been etched there for the better part of a century.

Her jaw dropped. She stammered, arms crossing. She met his eyes and when she saw the sadness there, the guilt and longing, her expression softened.

“I should have told her. A long time ago, I should have told her but I can’t. In six months, on her twenty-fifth, she’s going back in time to 1943 to meet me on mine. And it…didn’t seem like she knew until she was already there.”

“So you’ve just been holding it in this whole time?” Natasha asked. “You’ve been in love with her…”

“Since the forties, yeah.” Steve nodded. “My great lost love, as Tony likes to call her when he rags on the band I wear.”

“Does he know?”

“No. Just you. And Bucky.” Steve amended. “He was there when she…”

“Right. Weird.” Natasha let out a long sigh, looking through the window. “Well do you need any help with that? I can get some information out of her. I’ll be super subtle, I promise.”

“I don’t know. She probably thinks my soulmate is dead, too.”

“Ironic.”

“No kidding.” Steve sighed. “Well, I guess if she says anything, let me know. It’s kind of a relief someone else knows.”

“We’ll get you through it, Steve. Six more months. That’s nothing.”

“Yeah.” Steve gazed longingly through the window. “I’m gonna sit with her for a while. I don’t want her to wake up alone.”

He slinked back into the infirmary and sat in the chair beside your bed, watching your steady breaths and listening to the beeping of the heart monitor. Natasha watched him through the window, heart strings pulled as tight as they’d ever been. Her best friend was in love and there was almost nothing he could do about it.

***

Three months later, you, Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Nat got snowed in on a mission in Alaska. The little cabin you’d been sent to was unreachable by any of the jets the team could send and besides, it wasn’t worth the risk of Clint or someone getting stuck out there in this.

But despite the fireplace raging with fresh-chopped wood, you were still shivering, all wrapped up for the night.

Steve watched you, forlorn. Natasha nudged him, motioning towards you. He chuckled and shook his head. He couldn’t. Right? What, take advantage of you in your vulnerable state.

Bucky seemed to agree with Nat, grinning into his mug of coffee, giving him some caffeine for his night watch.

Steve got up off of his seat, walked towards the fireplace and adjusted the logs, adding another small one for good measure. He looked back at the others, who were aggressively encouraging him to go over to you, and gave in.

He knelt down in front of you, clearing his throat, which caused you to jolt awake.

“Is everything okay? Are we under attack?”

Steve chuckled. “No, uh, we’re all good. Are you cold?”

“Kind of, yeah.” You admitted. “I’ll be okay, though, I promise.”

“Do you…want some company?” He asked, unsure of how to word it. “I…run warm.”

“Do you mind?” You asked, sitting up a little.

His heart raced. This was going better than he thought. “Here, um…” He raised the blanket on top of you and wiggled in underneath you, letting you lead as the two of you settled.

“God, you do run warm.” You hummed, all but collapsing against him, a hand flat against his chest while you adjusted.

“I didn’t always.” He said, voice sincere. “Buck and I used to have to share a bed in the winter. It was brutal.”

“Sounds like it.”

“Yeah, he snores.” Steve joked, earning a laugh.

“Oh I know. I can hear him three doors down back at home.”

“And I can hear you from the other room!” Bucky called, sending you and Steve into a fit of giggles, like kids at a sleepover. “It’s a small cabin.”

You heard him and Sam devolve into a bickering match about the truth of whether or not Bucky actually snored that loud.

You looked up at Steve, asking “is it okay if I put my arm here?” while carefully draping an arm across him.

“Yeah, of course.” He nodded, leaning against the pillows and pulling the blanket up around your shoulders.

You rested your head on his firm chest, listening to the way his heart was racing. Cute.

The drowsiness took over almost immediately, his warmth lulling you to sleep after a long day undercover out in the snow. You were asleep in minutes, breaths slow and long and even.

But once he was absolutely sure you were out, Steve pressed the gentlest kiss to your forehead, grateful beyond words to have you in his arms again.

***

“You thought today was her birthday???” Natasha asked, incredulous in the kitchen.

“I got nervous!” Steve defended. “I saw it on her whiteboard in front of her door and I thought—”

“I think Scott wrote that the last time he was here. He keeps track of all of that.”

“Doesn’t surprise me.” Steve replied, shaking his head. “Well, does she have any birthday plans?”

“Yeah, Wanda and I are taking her out shopping this afternoon. Tony gave her his card. And then the party tomorrow night.”

Steve nodded. “Okay, good. That buys me some time.”

“You got a plan?”

“I’ve had a plan.” Steve admitted. “Been sitting on it for about seventy years, in fact.”

***

You got out of bed, got dressed, and headed to the mall with Natasha and Wanda. The same mall, in fact, that you and Steve had met in the first place.

“Where was it?” Wanda asked, wearing a very fashionable pair of shades.

“Right over there.” You pointed to the spot in front of the movie theater, up on the second floor of the mall. “Guy with a flamethrower and a dream. He’s in jail now.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what you get when you dream of arson.” Nat said, causing you and Wanda to laugh.

You shopped around for clothes, got some pretzels at the Wetzels, and window shopped. You already had what you were pretty sure you were going to wear the following night. It wasn’t every day one of the Avengers turned twenty five and met their soulmate. Tony was determined to make it a spectacle. He had a habit of doing that, it seemed.

In the food court, you seemed kind of down, chin resting against your fist. Wanda picked up on it first.

“It will all be okay, (Y/N). There is nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah, I know, I just…I don’t know. I’m stressed about it. Tomorrow I get the answer to the question I’ve been asking for twenty-five years. I just can’t believe it’s almost here. And…I don’t know, there’s just a lot of variables. What if they don’t like me?”

“Come on, (Y/N), what’s not to like?” Natasha said, digging her spoon into her blizzard from the Dairy Queen.

“I don’t know…It’s just a lot to think about.” You said, leaving it at that. You didn’t know how to begin to explain to them that you had feelings for someone already, one of your coworkers no less, and someone who already had a soulmate, despite the fact that he’d lost her nearly a century before.

You wondered why Steve never looked for her. Or maybe she’d passed before he even resurfaced. It was sad. A guy like that didn’t deserve the heartbreak. He deserved to be loved.

The three of you finished your shopping trip and then returned to the Facility, where you unpacked the new odds and ends you’d acquired. Steve checked on you again, offering you words of wisdom, a comforting hug. He promised that your soulmate would love you, whoever they were.

Little did you know, he already did.

[yandere--stuck]

Yandere!Joker x Reader with Chronic Pain Headcanons

💚 After being captured by The Joker, you were terrified. Anyone in your position would be, even if you were, apparently, the object of the clown's affection. You were under the watchful eyes of both The Joker's lackeys and the Clown Prince of Crime himself, and the thought of angering them was horrific. So you tried to keep your mouth shut. Most of the time, the pain was somewhat bearable, but being restrained in such a manner made it agonizing.

💜 You can't hold it together. Who could? Your muscles screamed in pain. Your head pounded and throbbed. Your whole body was alight in agony. Your body heaved as you began to quietly sob. What else could you do but cry? Maybe you'd at least be able to cry yourself to sleep to escape the pain judt for a moment - but a sudden explosion of noise makes you wince and flinch, migraine pounding in your skull. The Clown quickly took notice of your tears and read his goons the riot act. Who did it? Who hurt his darling? Was it him? What about him? Nobody answered, though. He muttered something about cowardice before kneeling in front of you, cupping your face in his gloved hands, asking in a soft voice what was wrong. Disoriented and tired, you told him.

💚 You assumed this aspect of you would make him turn on you. Maybe, hopefully, see you as not worth keeping and send you off if you're really lucky. But if anything, this made The Joker more protective of you. None of his men were allowed to touch you. He didn't trust them not to make anything worse. Only he could help you unless it was an emergency. He kept you locked up in his room almost at all times. The TV was on at all times, you were left with some things to read and games that would strain you, all while laying on the comfiest bed he was able to pilfer in the dead of night. Oh! And the very soft handcuff he attached to the bedpost to keep you from running off, of course. Only the best for you, sweetheart.

💜 He'd make sure to get anything he thinks may help. Ointments, medicines, heating pads and ice packs… Hell, he might just kidnap doctors or physical therapists to begin a care plan if he had even the slightest inkling it may help. He wanted to show you just how deeply he cared for you. There is nothing he wouldn't do for you. No lengths he would not go. All he could hope for is that you'll see how much he truly adores you. That you feeling okay and being without pain was all he could ever hope for, ever dream of.

💚 One night, while you lay together with something playing on the TV, both of you silhouetted by the light of the television, does he tell you. After his impromptu bath in the ACE Chemicals factory, he was left with lifelong burning sensations. They came and went. Sometimes he could hardly see or breathe. Other times, he could hardly feel anything at all, like he'd gone entirely numb. Nobody else really knew, but he wanted you to. To know he understood. To know you weren't alone.

💜 He loves making you laugh! Maybe now even more so than he already did. Laughter is the best medicine, after all! And he's so glad he could take your mind off your pain, even if just for a moment. 

[neuroprincess]

Under The Skin - Rebecca Welton/Reader

Rebecca Welton/Female Reader

Summary: It's secret, away from everyone's eyes and just between them, a simple gesture that symbolically changes Y/N and Rebecca's lives.

Classification: Fluff

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, tattoos

Word count: +1000

Unrevised

Maybe it's the alcohol coursing through the veins or the gentle smile that is directed at her, but it seems so right that Y/N doesn't care about the pain and even less about tomorrow. The needle begins a little uncertainly on the skin until the woman learns to handle it with real dexterity and without trembling, both of them a little nervous. The first scratch is outlined and marked forever, halfway there. With care, Rebecca traces the half circle in the same way she saw the boys do and feels proud to see it taking shape on the forearm, small and simple, but cute and full of meaning.  

"I'm almost there, darling." she whispers and hums in anticipation, looking a little petty at how excited and proud she is.  

"It's crazy, isn't it?!" the younger stares at her, a moment of sobriety hitting for a second and the weight of the act weighing in the balance "Are we really doing this?"  

In response, Rebecca leans in and brings their lips together in a gentle kiss, taking time to leave them, there's nothing so sweet and addictive as her girlfriend. She could stay like this forever, feeling and loving her in every way, from the soft words to the burning touches.  

"God, better stop or we're not going to finish this any time soon." she laughs, reluctantly separating, and brings eyes together to analyze the next step, just one to complete "And..." turns the pen back on, drawing the last curve, this time a bit of blood comes out of the line "Done!" 

"How did it look?"  

"Beautiful, just like you, sugar." a kiss is placed on the girl's forehead and elegant hands stroke her hair "My good girl, you did great."  

Y/N sighs and smiles happily, the sparkle in the blonde's eye making the slight burning and eventual post-drinking pain worthwhile. She'd never imagined herself doing anything like that and is sure the other one hadn't either, nevertheless after two years here they are hiding in the dark at Jamie's party with the tattoo equipment borrowed, in fact temporarily stolen, exchanging secret wedding vows, marking their rings eternally under skin and exposed to the world.  

"Your turn, sweetheart."  

They change the needles and following instructions from the internet the moisturizer is applied to the arm, Y/N's fingers spreading the cream along strong and delineated muscles, memorizing again every part she knows by heart, the sensitive points she caresses in cuddles on the sofa and squeezes when they're almost reaching an apex. The couple stare at each other for a millisecond in a silent request for permission, to be sure that it's really wanted.  

"Go ahead." Welton encourages, trying to sound confident "I can handle the pain."  

"You will not regret it?" the question is fraught with concern, fear that her partner will regret the folly of a somewhat youthful nature.  

"Never, darling! Loving you is the most certain thing I have in my life." they smile complicitly and Y/N nods, continuing with the mission "We need to go to the pharmacy for ointments, which reminds me that we're also out of cotton and saline solution."  

"You're really drunk."  

"Drunk with love for you..."  

It's not exactly pain, maybe discomfort or something, but totally bearable... if it weren't for Rebecca's hidden fear of needles. She tries to disguise it by looking away, convincing herself that it's only to be surprised. Quickly and with calculated movements, a small initial in a fine line forms on the place, she still can't turn around, half paralyzed in disbelief, having her own moment of sobriety caused by shock.  

"You don't have to hide, it's okay to be afraid." the younger whispers, trying to confront her in some way, the worst part is over and the woman insists on keeping up her brave mask "Sweetheart..."  

"Is it over?"  

"Yes, it's over." she smiles and stretches up to place a kiss on the flushed cheeks "My good girl."

"Hey, that's my phrase!"  

"That doesn't mean you're not a good girl, and totally mine."  

Finally gathering courage, Rebecca looks down and almost chokes as she realizes that something really is there, engraved on her forever. The initial of Y/N's name on her and hers on Y/N. Eternally marked in a symbolic gesture, the union of their souls with homemade tattoos, sounded almost silly when the idea came up on the bar counter, but is the promise of their love for each other.  

"So we..."  

"We're married. My goodness, we're married!"   

"It's symbolic, but..." the blonde rambles, settling on the floor so that they're face to face "Soon I'm going to put a ring on your finger, give you my surname."  

"Try to imagine, Mrs. & Mrs. Welton."  

"I like the sound of that, I can't wait for this moment." 

"Me too, I'm really looking forward to it." Y/N whispers and closes the space between them with a passionate kiss, full of emotions that come through in every touch, barely able to contain the enthusiasm. She has married the person she most admires and as much as it was just between them, it's priceless, kind of magical "I love you! So much that I almost cry just thinking that we're wives now." manages to say when the air is needed. 

"I love you more! More than anything, I don't think there are enough words to describe how deeply and passionately. And I stole a champagne to celebrate."   

A bottle is taken from the handbag, chilled to the point of sweat. It's impossible not to be touched by the businesswoman's cheeky smile, who has had a lot of fun searching for the necessary items around the mansion, committing innocent little crimes for the sake of love and getting her first tattoo. All this with and for her girlfriend, engaged for half an hour and now wife.  

"We've probably got about 15 minutes before someone comes looking for us, what do you think?" Rebecca nods suggestively towards the immaculate king-size bed.  

"Oh, you want to go straight to the nuptials? Tempting."  

"No more tempting than the things I'm thinking of doing with you when we get back home, lovely wife."  

And that's another promise. 

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[windtowee]

Muzan, dDouma & gyutaro w/ a s/o (fem or gnc is fine!) that wears a mask to hide their scarred-up face? It could have been from anything (a splash of boiling water, an attack from a wild animal or a attack from demons (that would be from before they met reader tho)), but reader still doesn't want to show their face to anybody because they fear how their lover would react, only showing a photo of what they used to look like before the incident.

A/n: We’re gonna go with the boiling water because i immediately thought of Shoto when I read this Tw! Cussing, implied killing, Gender Neutral! Reader Romantic

Muzan

He thinks of you as perfection even with your mask

Which makes him confused why you hide your face when you’re such a beauty in his eyes

Even with the pictures he sees of you, he still wants to see what you look like now

Once he sees your burn, he’s pissed.

Not at you.. never at you, but at the person who did that to you

Once you tell him who did that, i will assure you that you will never see that person again

He’ll treat your burn with care and put on some ointment so that it heals better

He’ll get you everything you need

Douma

Before you show him your burn he’ll always try to get you to take off the mask

If you ask him to drop it then he will.. for that day at least

He love’s looking at pictures of you before the burn

Once he sees the burn, he actually feels a little bit of care for you

Whenever someone asked questions about your mask, he immediately shuts them down because he doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable

Sometimes he just kisses your burns

Gyutaro

This man thinks you’re stunning with the mask so he immediately thinks you’re beautiful without it too

He’s pretty respectful for your privacy so he won’t ask anything or do anything without your permission

Once you show him your burn, he still thinks you’re beautiful

If you feel insecure about it, he might ask Daki to get you some makeup so that you can cover your burn

He also might make you a mask too

[weirdthinkingdragon]

One Obsessed Actor

Idk laws and contracts of actors so if it's wrong go with it. 

Yandere male actor x gn reader

Yandere who is a super famous actor starring as the male lead love interest in the upcoming romance/action movie. They initially thought nothing of you who were just a side actor for the movie with just a few lines.

However, unlike many others who weren't too into it, even some of the higher role cast, you were giving it your all in your lines. He respected that. That alone got him to interact with you a few times and he rather liked your interests that he got you to bring up. 

As time went on, you were eventually recorded for your lines and were still allowed back onto the set. Mostly because oddly enough you became friends with the main actor. Others- especially the lead love interest woman- weren't too happy, but they couldn't do anything about it. He's the one that demanded you to be there or he'd refuse to continue acting in the movie. 

Last time you weren't allowed on set by the female lead love interest, he walked off set and stood by you out of the building, shocking everyone. That made the others begrudgingly agree to let you back in. The director didn’t really care, but the others were annoyed he always seemed more inclined to talk to you than them. 

The lead woman seemed to make it her mission to get you off the set since you no longer needed to be there. You knew what she was trying to do. So did the director and the male lead actor. Even many of the others quickly pick up on it but do nothing from the drastic measures the male actor did before.   

With time you noticed he seemed to get more and more agitated by her attempts. One time in spite or whatever was going on with her, she tried to burn you by “accidentally” dropping a very hot beverage on you. He steps in for you and gets burned instead, getting her in a lot of serious trouble. Thankfully it wasn’t too hot, so the burn wasn’t too bad. You still kept apologizing to him that he got burned instead. He kept brushing your apology off, telling you he wanted to do it. A part of you thinks he enjoys the attention his burn gave him with you. You were the only one allowed to help put ointment on the burns. 

Eventually though, the woman gets kicked out by being involved in something you didn't feel like digging into. She’s been a royal thorn for weeks. She struggled in the grip of two men who were taking her away to be sent to jail. She yelled before being dragged off set and arrested that she was framed. No one believed her. 

He had a grin on his face that seemed too genuine for the situation. You knew he kept a friendly smile to everyone to stay more well-liked, but this still felt wrong in a way you couldn't explain. Like he was glad she was gotten rid of. 

The movie wasn't even close to finished yet, but they couldn't find anyone similar enough to her to fill the role and redo all of them again. 

He comes up with the idea to change the story where he as the character can't find her character. That her character disappeared or stopped responding to his. And in the gloom of his character, he meets yours. Therefore making YOU the new love interest. 

You were absolutely gobsmacked he said that and you didn't even know what to say. Just frozen with a numb brain.

The director liked the idea to a point but didn't want you to be the new love interest as you're not a famous person so likely views and sales would tank. They managed to find a fairly famous actor who was willing to fill the role instead. 

He absolutely refused and threatened to walk off set right then and there, never to come back if they went through with having that person be the new love interest. Besides, there are enough people and characters in the movie. What would be the point of adding another person? They'd have to pay the actor quite a lot too for the sudden demand.

The director eventually disheartenedly agrees.

It was a way higher role than you’ve ever had, but you refused to back down at the opportunity and worked hard on the new lines and scenes that had to be created for you. 

It gets to the final end scene of the movie. In the end kissing scene, it was supposed to be incredibly "romantic". You were unsure how to feel about having to kiss such an actor who’s also your friend at this point. But it had to be done. Just a quick kiss and things could be over with. 

You force yourself to get into character. “How do I know you’ll always be there for me?” 

He cups his left hand on your face and looks at you adoringly. It’s so convincing that it seems genuine how much he loves you. “I would kill if I had to in order to keep you by my side. I couldn’t, and wouldn’t live without you.”

… That wasn’t his line from the script. You don’t get a chance to say anything to stop the scene before his hand is on the back of your head, pulling your face to his, having his lips collide with yours.  

He had so much fervor like he genuinely wanted to kiss. Is this why he’s such a prized actor? 

“Cut!!” 

You put your hand on his chest and shove him away. Your face feels like it’s more than on fire and you can’t look him in the eye. He only answers by chuckling. You end up running off to cool your face off. 

“That was a bit different than what it was supposed to be, but it was so good that I can’t complain. That was incredible!” 

“Well, because it’s genuine.”

Dead. Silence. 

“What??? So that’s why you wanted them???”

His face formed a massive grin, knowing what saying this out loud would bring. It will be chaotic, but the public is much more willing to listen to him than you. And no jealous fans will be able to get to you. After all, you’re coming with him sooner than later whether you like it or not. 

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An: if I was more creative rn I would have made this a fic