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cleo-fox · 6 months ago

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Conquer

Part 2 of 5

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: The king intends to take a bride. You just never thought it would be you. (Soulmate AU where Loki won)

Chapter Summary: It’s no surprise that Loki has a gift for talking dirty and you wish that it didn’t work as well as it does. You wish that—for example—it were a little more challenging for him to talk you into letting him get you off in the limo on your way to a gala event hosted by the Swedish government.

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Tag List: I don’t have a tag list for this fic, sorry! The best way to hear about updates is to follow me on Tumblr or subscribe to the fic on AO3.

Chapter Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, enemies to lovers, dirty talk, praise kink, edging, teasing, p in v sex, vaginal fingering, orgasm delay, semi-public sex, light Dom/sub. (see series masterlist for series warnings)

A/N: I realize that the GIF I'm using for this chapter is TVA!Loki, but the attitude is very much in keeping with this chapter, so I decided to forgo accuracy in favor of thirst. Also, you may be thinking "Part 2 of 5? I thought this was going to be 3 chapters!" Me too. Welcome to what it's like being in my brain: even I don't know what's going on here.

The wedding night isn’t the end of the sex, of course.

The immediate, sharp need for your first coupling is gone, but there’s a dull and persistent ache that keeps you coming back to his bed every night (and several times during the day). Loki is equally ravenous, if not more so.

While you’ve come to terms with the fact that you’re going to fuck him, you still don’t like being the one to initiate sex. It sounds silly, but it feels like admitting to a vulnerability that you’re not prepared to acknowledge, let alone act on.

The problem is that your sex drive has skyrocketed since the wedding.

You’ve heard about this happening—the saying soulbonds are meant to be consummated, but some are more thorough than others didn’t come out of nowhere. You just didn’t think it would be a problem for you, especially once you found out who your soulmate was.

You were wrong about this, of course—you are constantly horny. Your mind is a cineplex of perversion, constantly playing memories of the times that he has fucked you, ways he might fuck you next, his hands, his lips, his tongue, his annoyingly perfect cock. It makes you want to run your brain through the washing machine, like a couple of Tide pods and an extra rinse cycle might fix this.

But the part that drives you crazy is that he always seems to know when you’re in these moods and he always manages to claim the upper hand. It is—like so many things with Loki—profoundly irritating.

It’s all physical—your conversations are limited to the mundane or the utterly filthy. It’s no surprise that Loki has a gift for talking dirty and you wish that it didn’t work as well as it does. You wish that—for example—it were a little more challenging for him to talk you into letting him get you off in the limo on your way to a gala event hosted by the Swedish government.

You can feel his gaze caressing your body as you walk down the stairs to meet him. Your dress is gold and glittery, and hugs your curves while the slit sneaks just high enough that you know the fashion blogs will call it daring. You keep your eyes on your feet and your hand on the railing as you navigate the stairs in your heels. Normally, Loki would comment on that—something about how you needed proper education in comportment, you were a queen, queens don’t stare at their feet, people expected elegance, blah, blah, blah. Tonight, though, he’s silent as he takes you in, which you know means that he’s particularly enchanted by how you look. For a brief moment, you allow yourself to feel sexy and confident, to enjoy the fact that the most powerful man on the planet has been rendered speechless by how you look.

Are you ridiculously horny? Sure, but you’ve got it under control. You can hold out for an evening and you’re pretty sure Loki hasn’t figured it out. If he had, he almost certainly would have said something inappropriate when he offered you his arm. He’s probably going to be distracted by the gala anyway. Why had you ever doubted yourself?

When the two of you get into the limo, you remember why.

The moment the door shuts behind you, Loki is pulling you close, his hands cupping your breasts and then sliding down to your thighs while his lips latch on to the spot where your neck and shoulder meet.

“What are you doing?” you ask, as though his intentions are in any way unclear.

“You need to come. I can smell you.” He’s hiking up the fabric of your dress.

Well. So much for him not noticing.

Your cunt clenches. “We’re in public.”

“Those windows are tinted and the partition is up.” His breath is warm on your neck as the fabric of your dress pools around your waist.

“I can still wait.”

“Oh, I don’t think you can.” His fingers slip between your legs (when did you spread your legs for him?), gently grazing the gusset of your underwear, which you know is embarrassingly wet. “Soaked already,” he breathes, rubbing your clit through the thin fabric. “You need to come.”

“I-I c-can—I can wait until—oh fuck.”

He pushes the fabric of your underwear aside and lightly teases your clit with the tip of his finger.

“You can’t,” he rasps, lightly nipping at your earlobe. “You’re such a greedy, needy little thing. Your cunt is insatiable.”

He presses his first three fingers together and rubs your clit in a big, broad circle that makes your back arch.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your hands flexing against the seat. “Fuck, just like that.”

“I thought you said you could wait?” he says with that mocking lilt to his voice, the one that makes you simultaneously want to punch him in the face and also ride him hard and fast and a little rough.

“Shut up,” you grit out.

He laughs low in your ear. “Oh, you don’t mean that, I know you love it when I talk you through it.”

You hate that he’s right.

“You love hearing about how tight and wet you are, how hard I am for you.” He drops his voice lower. “How hard I’m going to fuck you.”

You can’t help the quiet moan that falls from your lips.

“Yes, you love it when I talk to you like this,” he purrs. “And I love hearing what an utterly filthy, wicked girl you are.”

You whimper, despite your best efforts to keep quiet.

“Oh, I like that little noise,” he says, increasing his pace ever so slightly. “Let me hear you.”

“I hate you so much.”

You’ve said this to him before and like all the other times, he simply laughs. “Hate me all you like, darling, but you and I both know that you love what I do to you.”

You bite your lip and try to focus on the pleasure that’s rising in your hips.

“Has anyone ever made you come as hard as I do?” he muses, like he’s just making casual conversation. “From the way that you scream and beg for it, I imagine that there haven’t been very many that were capable. Your cunt has quite clearly been neglected.”

You’re going to ignore what he’s saying. That’s what you’re going to do. There’s no reason to listen to any of what he’s saying.

“The truth is that you need me, don’t you?” he says, nipping at your ear. “You need me because I know exactly what to do to sate your needy little cunt. I know exactly how to make you scream.”

You hate how close you are, hate how the impending rush of your orgasm has basically rendered you speechless, save for a few incoherent whimpers.

He brings his lips close to your ear, lowering his voice to a growl. “What would those pitiful Midgardians say if they knew their queen was such a needy little slut?”

Instead of delivering a stern rebuke, you come hard. Incredibly hard—it is arguably one of the most intense orgasms he’s given you yet, blazing through your body with a ferocity that leaves you shaking in its wake.

And he notices.

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?” he purrs as he rubs you through the aftershocks. “I felt how hard you came, how utterly desperate you are for me to fuck you.”

“Loki, please,” you breathe.

He tugs at your underwear. “Take this off.”

Your first instinct is to challenge him, but the fabric is now uncomfortably damp and you desperately need him to fuck you, so you lift your hips and slide your underwear down and off your legs without any complaint. He takes it from you and sticks it in his pocket.

You expect to hear the clink of his belt buckle followed by his silky smooth voice ordering you to sink down on his unfairly perfect cock. Even though you’ve just come, you want more. You always do with him.

(You decide not to think too much about that last part).

Instead, though, he smooths his hair and settles back into his seat, looking out the window. After a moment, you clear your throat expectantly.

He glances at you, utterly casual. “What is it?”

Your eyes narrow. He’s playing dumb and you both know it.

“You made me take off my underwear,” you say, biting back a sharper reply.

“I did.”

“So…fuck me.”

He gives an amused little chuckle that makes your palm itch to slap him. “Darling, we’re in public, that would be unseemly.”

You roll your eyes before you can stop yourself. “You’re full of it.”

His gaze turns smoldering and stern. “And if you want to be full of my cock later tonight, you’ll change your attitude.”

You’re not sure if it’s the absence of underwear that makes you feel more aroused than usual or if he’s awakened some latent perversion you were previously unaware of. Possibly, it’s both.

Your breath hitches and he smiles like he knows he has the upper hand.

“Do you want that?” he says. “Do you want me to fill your tight little cunt with my big cock?”

You’re so far gone that you find yourself nodding before the thought of being contrary can even cross your mind.

“Well, then,” he says, flicking an invisible speck of dust from his tuxedo jacket, “you’re going to have to earn it.”

You huff out an irritated sigh and yank the skirt of your dress back down. “You’re an ass,” you say with a scowl.

“And you’re going to do exactly as I tell you or you won’t be coming at all.”

You stare at him, lips parted in the start of a complaint.

“And however much your pretty cunt is aching right now, I imagine it will be twice as worse tomorrow with no release,” he says. “If I’m feeling generous, of course. I could always make you wait longer.”

You close your mouth, biting back the urge to scowl.

He smirks. “That’s my good girl.”

Your cunt throbs. By the end of the night, your thighs will surely be sticky with your own arousal.

“This is unfair,” you grumble, crossing your arms and sitting back in your seat.

“Behave,” he says as you approach a rather impressive set of gates. “We’re almost there.”

A flick of his wrist sends seidr racing along your skin, smoothing your hair, straightening your dress, and fixing the smudge of lipstick at the corner of your mouth.

Your underwear remains in his pocket.

You have a feeling it’s going to be a long evening.

The Minister for Finance is giving a presentation. You’re not entirely sure that you would have been able to follow it under normal circumstances, but certainly not with Loki’s hand up your dress.

The two of you are seated at your own table—it’s one of the more stupid formalities he insists on, though you suppose it’s advantageous in this instance. His actions are obscured by the table and tablecloth and probably a little magic, but your heart is still racing with the thrill of it. His movements have been slow and deliberate, and the result is that he’s effectively been edging you for the duration of this forty-five minute presentation.

It feels incredible; it’s agony. You love it; you hate it.

“You’re being a very good girl,” Loki murmurs to you at one point and that alone nearly sends you over the edge.

“You’re a jackass,” you whisper back to him.

He chuckles. “If you want me to let you come once we get home, I’d suggest changing your tone, my love.”

You resist the urge to scowl, but only barely. “You made me come in the limo over here because you said I couldn’t wait,” you point out. “What happened to that philosophy?”

“It was supplanted by a desire to see what happens when I tease you for several hours.” A wicked smile curls at his lips. “Besides, I love how tight and desperate your cunt feels when I make you beg for me.”

You always come hardest when he makes you beg for him. You’d never admit it, though.

“I’d think you’d be more concerned about getting caught,” you say. “What do you think that would do to your image?”

“Oh, I think it would do wonders for my image,” he says. “Attentively tending to my wife’s needs despite potential social embarrassment? It’s rather feminist of me, don’t you think?”

“Okay, first of all, that is not what femini—” Your voice cuts out as he rolls his finger in a particularly devastating circle.

“What was that, my love?” he asks, voice thick with faux concern, his true intent easily betrayed by his shit eating grin. “You seem distracted.”

You’re not entirely sure if you’re tensing your muscles in anticipation of an orgasm or in an effort to stave it off. “You’re awful.”

His voice drops. “But I’m making you feel so very good, aren’t I?”

You take a deep breath, trying to soothe the tightening knot in your belly, even as your body is begging you to rush toward it.

“Aren’t I?” His tone turns stern and you hear the implied order loud and clear.

“Yes,” you bite out.

“Yes what?”

You swallow. You’re starting to get close, closer than he’s let you get so far. “Yes, you’re making me feel good.”

He smirks. “You’re getting close, aren’t you?”

You nod, taking another deep breath through your nose. Keep it together.

“I could let you come,” he muses. “Everyone’s watching the presentation. You could be quiet, couldn’t you?” His pace increases just slightly, enough for you to start to feel the tempting, shimmery tendrils of release. “Do you want that, lovely?”

It’s not a good idea, but you nod anyway.

“I had no idea you were so filthy.” His fingers are massaging your clit more firmly and you bite back a gasp because you know it won’t be long. You’re trying to keep a straight face, but you’re struggling. You are so deliciously close.

“Are you going to come for me?” he asks quietly. He knows the answer.

You nod, not trusting your voice.

But just as you’re about to start to tip over the edge, Loki’s hand retreats and the building pressure in your hips diminishes back to that steady, throbbing ache just as the Minister for Finance concludes his presentation.

Loki is smirking like he expected this. “Ah. Unfortunate timing.”

You may kill him.

“You did that on purpose, you ass,” you hiss at him.

“Oh, you’ll thank me for it later,” he says, his voice dropping low.

You scowl at him, though you suspect he’s probably right.

You get a slight reprieve during dinner, but only in the sense that Loki’s hand is no longer up your dress. Your aching arousal remains, coating the inside of your thighs. Your heartbeat seems to be pulsing in your clit, the muscles of your cunt aching as they clench repeatedly around nothing.

While his hand is no longer up your dress, Loki continues to be as unhelpful as possible.

“Shall I let you unravel on my tongue?” he murmurs to you during the main course. “Or do you need my cock first?”

“I think you need to stop talking,” you say as evenly as you can muster.

“Whatever for?” he asks with the sort of feigned innocence that tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Surely you’re not concerned that I’m going to make you come simply by telling you what I want to do to you.”

You take a slow sip of your water.

“Or perhaps that idea appeals to you?” he asks, dropping his voice even lower. “Do you want me to make you come in front of all of these people?”

There’s something about the idea that’s admittedly appealing in a taboo sort of way, though you aren’t quite sure you actually want to pursue it or if you’re just so desperate that even objectively bad ideas sound good.

“Truly, I doubt you could keep quiet,” he says. “You and I both know how much you like to scream for me and I’ve been teasing you for what, three hours now? But perhaps that’s what you want. You were about to come for me earlier. Perhaps you want them all to know what a needy little sl—ah, Stefan! So good to see you again.”

Loki has seamlessly directed his attention to the Swedish official who has approached your table. His ability to be charming and personable is irritating, particularly when he’s often been uttering absolute filth to you mere seconds before. Meanwhile, your brain has completely short circuited—your thoughts stopped being anywhere near coherent when he started touching you under the table during that presentation and your cunt is pulsing. You manage a polite smile and a pleasantly vague expression that you hope hides the fact that all you can think about is Loki throwing you down on the table and fucking you until you can’t walk straight and you’ve screamed yourself hoarse.

“You conducted yourself quite well,” Loki says softly once the man leaves. “I’d never have guessed that you’re hiding such a needy, sloppy cunt under that dress.”

You take a deep breath. “What’s to stop me from slipping off somewhere and taking care of things myself?”

His eyes flash a little dangerously and you hate how much it thrills you. “If you do that, I’ll see to it that you don’t come for a week. At least.”

You are irritated with him, certainly, but you are far more irritated with yourself for being even remotely aroused by his words.

“You’re insufferable,” you hiss instead.

Loki smirks and leans in to whisper in your ear. “We’ll see how you feel a few hours from now when I’m buried in your tight cunt.” His breath ghosts over your ear and it takes everything in you not to shiver. “I suspect I’ll find you much more agreeable. You always are when you need to be fucked.” His voice drops even lower. “And I know how much you need it.”

Your legs are shaking and you wonder how you’re going to make it through the rest of the evening.

You almost come during the concert.

It was probably easier for them to set up the orchestra on the same stage as the presentation, but it means that you’re still sitting at the same table as before, which gives Loki more than enough cover to continue touching you. His hand is creeping back up your dress before the oboe even plays the tuning note and while he’s still going slowly, it’s been four and a half hours and your body is aching for release in a way you have rarely felt.

His fingertip skates across your clit just a little too quickly and firmly and suddenly, you’re poised right on the edge. One more stroke of his fingers, just one more slight movement and you’ll come.

It’s a split second decision, so quick you can scarcely think twice about it. You desperately want to come, but even though you almost let it happen earlier, you know that a stifled public orgasm isn’t really what you want. You want him to hear you scream—you don’t want to hold back.

And you want to be good for him. You want him to reward you for being good, you want to be his good girl—

You shake your head to dismiss that thought and grab his wrist in a silent warning. Quickly, he moves his hand away, sliding it to your knee. Your cunt shudders and aches, the pulsing throb of your arousal even stronger than before.

He brushes his lips against your ear. “Oh, very good, darling. You’ll be rewarded for that.”

“You could reward me now and take me home,” you say pointedly, though it would probably be more effective if your voice wasn’t so shaky.

He chuckles, draping his arm around your shoulders. Every so often, you’ve seen a candid photo of the two of you in People or one of the other celebrity magazines and you’re always taken aback by how normal you look. You imagine that it would be the same if someone were to take a photo right now—you’d look like just another couple cuddling and canoodling instead of…whatever it is you actually are. Soulmates who hate each other but fuck like it’s their job and the rent is due? There’s no easy way to classify your relationship, which you suppose is for the best: this is not the sort of thing that should be common enough to have its own word.

“We still have quite a bit to go.” He brings his index finger—the same one that had just been up your dress—up to his lips and closes his eyes like he’s tasting something divine. “Norns, I can taste how desperate you are.”

You cross your legs in the hope that it will alleviate the pulsing ache between your thighs (it doesn’t). “You’re not helping.”

“Of course I’m not,” he says. “I told you, I want you begging for me by the end of the night.”

“How have I not already exceeded that threshold?”

He smirks. “I like to be thorough.”

Five minutes later, his hand is back between your thighs.

“Let’s try that again,” he murmurs. “Do you think you’ll be able to resist a second time?”

Somehow, you do—and two more times after that. By the end of the concert, your heart is pounding, your legs feel like rubber, your cunt is dripping, and you’d easily sell your soul for an orgasm.

“You’re doing so well, darling,” says Loki. He’s been full of praise and filthy promises and you can’t decide if that makes it better or worse.

“Can we please go home?”

He chuckles. “Of course not, that would be rude.”

“I have a hard time believing you’re concerned about rudeness, considering where your hands have been this evening,” you say with a pointed look.

“You wound me.” He stands and offers you his hand. You take it grudgingly, your legs wobbling slightly. “Now. Come help me charm the Minister for Defense. I need him to be much more cooperative about sharing intelligence.”

The only good thing about schmoozing with Swedish officials is that Loki can’t have his hand up your dress while doing so. Even so, he still finds ways to be constantly touching you—a hand on your lower back, your elbow, your shoulder, your waist. These things shouldn’t be erotic, but he somehow manages to make them so. Every brush of his fingers against your bare skin is agony: you are burning for him.

You watch the clock tick through another hour and a half while trying not to let anyone on to the fact that you’re keen to leave. Time feels like it’s dragging—even when the event officially ends, it still takes another thirty-seven minutes for you to say your farewells and make your way out to the front where your limo is waiting.

Your legs are shaking as Loki helps you into the limo. He slides into the seat next to you and you find yourself leaning into him, unable to resist any longer.

The door shuts.

“Loki—” you start to say.

“When we get home,” he says promptly.

“You can’t possibly—”

“Oh, I can.” He pulls you into his lap. “I’ve been hard for you all evening,” he purrs in your ear, settling you so that the thick column of his cock presses hard against your ass. “Do you know how many times I nearly dragged you off to some empty room to take you up against the wall?” He brings his mouth down against your neck, teeth pressing against your skin just hard enough to almost hurt. You tilt your head to the side to give him better access, guiding his hands to your spread thighs.

“Do you know why I didn’t?” he murmurs against your skin.

“Because you make terrible choices?” you say before you can think it through.

His low laugh rumbles deliciously against your throat. “No.” His hands slip underneath the hem of your dress, fingertips skating along the tender skin of your inner thigh. Your hips roll forward almost unconsciously, your breath hitching.

“I didn’t because I know that you need to scream for me,” he says. “Just as much as I need to hear you.” His fingertip grazes your slit. “And you know that we can’t do that properly in the car.” His finger strokes your clit and you moan. “Poor thing,” he murmurs, tracing a slow circle over the sensitive skin. “I don’t think that I’ve ever made you this wet.”

“Loki—”

“I’m not giving you permission to come yet,” he murmurs, adding just a little more pressure. “I need you to be good for just a little longer.”

You let out a whine that you’re not at all proud of as he moves his hand away to gently massage your inner thighs. “Loki, please.”

“Be good.” His voice promises pleasure and punishment and everything in between and you feel drunk with desire.

“I’ve been so good,” you say, bringing his hand back to your cunt. “Please just let me come.”

“When we get home.”

“Just once. Please.”

He chuckles and brings his lips up to your ear. “You know that I’m going to take care of you,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “You know I always take care of your needy cunt. I always make you come. You just need to wait a little longer.”

“I need to come now.”

“Think about how good it’s going to feel if you wait just a little longer.”

“It would feel good now.”

“It will feel even better in our bed.” He rolls his fingers in a slow circle on your clit. “You know it will.”

You whimper, rolling your hips with his hand.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this desperate,” he says. “I’m rather partial to it.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you grumble.

“Oh, I’d advise you watch your tone, darling,” he says low in your ear, sliding a finger inside you, his thumb taking up the rhythm on your clit. “I don’t want to deny you, but I may have to if you keep being so pert.”

As if to make a point, he slides another finger inside of you and you find yourself once again on the edge. You grab his wrist, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you try to hold back the rising tide within you.

“Oh, good fucking girl,” he growls and the pride in his voice makes your cunt clench hard on his retreating fingers. “You want to come so badly, but you’re being so good waiting for my permission.”

“God, this had better be worth it,” you say as you wait for the pulsing ache between your thighs to recede.

“It will be,” he murmurs against your neck. “You know it will be.” He shifts you in his lap so you face him and guides your hand to his cock. “Do you feel how hard you’ve made me? I’m aching for you.”

You rub his shaft, working your way up to catch the tab of his zipper between your fingers. He looks at you, eyes hungry, a smirk curling at his lips.

Slowly, you pull down the zipper.

“Oh you wicked thing,” he purrs, a low groan escaping him as you wrap your hand around his shaft and slowly begin stroking him. He’s rock hard and throbbing, and your hand quickly grows slick with his precome.

You lean in, brushing your lips against his ear. “I want you to fuck me,” you say, flicking your tongue against his earlobe.

He chuckles. “Are you trying to flip the tables on me, darling?”

You’re a little miffed that he figured that out so quickly. “Would that be so bad if I was?”

He laughs again. “You’re adorable.” He slides a hand along your inner thigh and back under your dress. “But I think we both know who’s really in charge here.”

Even the possibility of his hand touching your cunt has your breath quickening and your hand faltering in its rhythm on his cock.

You’re not about to admit defeat, though.

“Don’t you want to fuck me?” you say, trying to keep the quaver out of your voice. You give his cock a few long, indulgent strokes. “We’re nearly there already. All I’d need to do is move a little closer.”

He chuckles, his hand sliding up to lightly tease your folds. “I would have made you warm my cock the whole ride back,” he says casually, like he’s commenting on the weather, “but I don’t think you could have done it without coming. You’re too sensitive.”

Your lips part like you have something to say, but all rational thought and the entirety of the English language has fled your brain and even more arousal is pooling between your legs.

Loki smirks like he knows all of this and he briefly strokes you from your entrance to your clit before withdrawing. “Ah, we’re nearly home,” he says, moving your hand away and patting your thigh before tucking himself back into his trousers. “Let’s make ourselves presentable, shall we?”

You climb off his lap and straighten your dress, but don’t even bother trying to fix your hair or makeup. You stumble out of the car a minute later, hoping that you don’t look like you’ve spent the entire evening poised on the brink of orgasm.

Loki, of course, is annoyingly put together. He wraps an arm around your waist and leads you forward.

“Oh, the things I’m going to do to you when we get to our rooms,” he says under his breath as you make your way into the foyer.

“That had better be a promise,” you say.

“I thought we established that I’m the one who gives you orders—”

“We established nothing—”

One of his advisors—Sigurd, the same one who spoke to you in the hotel when he found you—is approaching Loki at a brisk clip.

“Your majesty—”

Loki barely takes his eyes off of you. “Later,” he says, waving a hand in Sigurd’s direction.

“Sire, it’s urgent.”

Your heart sinks. Loki stops and turns to Sigurd, eyes sharp, mouth pulled into a firm line. “It had better be.”

Despite the intensity of Loki’s expression, Sigurd looks unbothered and remarkably calm. “We received new intelligence on the matter you inquired about earlier, your majesty.”

Loki’s expression darkens and you realize with a sinking sensation that he has to go deal with whatever this is. “A moment,” he says to Sigurd before turning to you.

He lowers his voice so that only you can hear him. “Go to our rooms,” he murmurs. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

You nod and he leans in, brushing his lips against your temple. “Be good for me.”

A thrill runs through you.

By the time you get back to your rooms, though, you’re a little annoyed. He’s been teasing you for hours and when you finally get home, he suddenly has another work thing?

It would almost be funny if it wasn’t so frustrating.

Though admittedly, he did look pretty surprised and annoyed by Sigurd’s sudden appearance. It’s probably not fair to blame him for that.

Probably.

You take your time getting undressed, mainly in the hope that it will somehow hasten his return or trick you into thinking time is passing quickly. Not that you’re looking forward to him returning for any reason other than sex. You still hate him—you just really need him to fuck you. That’s all it is.

You hesitate for a long time over the collection of silk nightgowns in your wardrobe. Should you put something on? Should you just wait naked on the bed? A silky green number catches your eye. He’d probably like that. He’s pretty predictable when it comes to that sort of thing—put on his colors and he goes feral. With any luck you won’t be wearing it for very long, but you might as well do what you can to facilitate that outcome.

You contemplate underwear and decide there’s little point, given that tonight’s set is still tucked into his pocket.

You situate yourself in the middle of your bed and try not to think about your throbbing cunt. It would be so easy to get yourself off, but you know that it won’t be as good.

You need him.

You try to ignore the thought. It’s just physical. That’s all it is. You’re on edge from being teased all evening. It doesn’t mean anything.

You wait.

It’s late when you finally hear the door click open, followed by the tap of his dress shoes on the floor.

You sit up in bed, your eyes roving greedily over him. His suit jacket is gone and his tie is draped around his neck, shirtsleeves rolled up. You are loath to admit it, but it’s incredibly hot.

Before you can even get any words out, he’s striding across the room, eyes hungrier than you’ve ever seen them. His clothes disappear the second he hits the bed, followed swiftly by your nightgown. Seconds later, he’s on top of you, mouth seeking yours, cock pressing insistently against your stomach. Your hands are just as greedy, skimming up his back and combing through his hair.

“Have you been good for me?” he murmurs as he nudges your thighs apart.

“Yes.”

“Did you touch yourself?” he asks, his voice stern.

“No,” you say.

He knows you’re not lying and the hungry smile he gives you almost makes it all feel worth it. “Good girl,” he growls. “Do you want me to fuck you now?”

“Yes,” you say breathlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he drags his cock through your slickness. “Please.”

He chuckles as he lines himself up at your entrance. “I know, darling, I’m going to take such good care of you.”

Your cunt is so slick and sensitive from his hours of teasing that just the act of him sliding inside of you feels like you’ve reached your own personal nirvana.

“Oh, fuck.” Your voice comes out in a whimper and your legs tighten around his waist to hold him in place because he feels so overwhelmingly good.

Loki lets out a low groan as he eases inside you, catching his lower lip between his teeth as his brow furrows. “Perfect.” He leans in to kiss you as he starts to move. His first thrust is slow but even so, it draws a whimper from your throat. He’s always felt good, but this is transcendent.

“Oh god, please don’t stop,” you gasp.

“I won’t, my love.” His voice is tender as he moves with an aching, slow precision. “Not until you’ve had your fill.”

For the first time this evening, you let down your guard. Every time he’s touched you tonight—even before the gala in the limo—you’ve had to hold back to some degree. You haven’t been able to give into it, to let yourself be completely unbound and unguarded. But now when he’s moving inside of you, you have the freedom to just be and feel and it’s exquisite. Every thrust of his hips, every reverent caress of his hands, every sigh or groan is an opportunity to discover a new kind of heaven.

“You were magnificent tonight,” he murmurs, sliding his hand between your bodies to rub your clit. “Even with my fingers playing with your pretty cunt under the table, you looked every inch a queen. My queen.”

He’s never talked to you like this before and it makes your body sing. You arch, rolling your hips with him as the building wave inside you rises impossibly high, as though every orgasm you almost had this evening is starting to arrive all at once. The tension in your hips is equally fantastic and unbearable, a supernova of sensation that may destroy and remake you all at once.

“Filthy girl, I can tell you’re getting close,” he purrs, tilting his hips so he hits the spot that makes you tremble. “You act so prim and proper in public, but it takes so very little to turn you into my perfect little slut when I get you alone.”

You are approaching the peak, the whirling center of the storm building inside you. “Loki—please, I can’t, I’m gonna—”

“That’s it, darling. Soak my cock like a good girl.”

You always come the hardest when he’s inside you and this is no exception. The pressure in your hips is suddenly and spectacularly ablaze with a shimmering euphoria that draws a raw and primal moan deep from inside your chest. You are a fountain of sparks, all the tension and desire of the evening finally reaching its apex. You have yearned for this all night and the resulting blaze is spectacular.

His pace is still slow, but Loki’s eyes are wild and you get the sense that his composure is hanging by a thread. Though his eyes occasionally flutter shut as your cunt convulses around him, his gaze is locked on you in a kind of wonder.

“Do you have any idea how good you feel when you come on my cock?” he rasps.

Even in the throes of utter bliss, you need to hear his voice. “Tell me.”

“I would create entire worlds and walk through the fires of their destruction just to feel you come.”

You shudder out a sigh. “More.”

He picks up his pace just slightly. “I would flatten mountains and raise valleys and reverse the currents.”

“More.”

He’s hitting that aching spot inside you again and the rolling tremors of the aftershocks are starting to coalesce into another building wave. You moan and his hand moves back to your clit, slick fingers pressing and rolling in just the way you need.

His eyes shine, bright with lust as his hips and fingers work diligently to unravel you again. “I would take down the stars and bring the heavens to the earth…”

His words are making you dizzy and his movements are coaxing the pressure inside of you into a cyclone that you know is going to take you down.

“Loki, please.” These are the only words you know because your entire world is him moving inside of you, inevitable as the sunrise, the architect of the heavenly destruction and renewal that is building and building in your hips.

He shifts so his weight is entirely on his elbows, bringing his lips up against your ear so you don’t miss a single word. “I would lay my crown at your feet and forsake my name…just to feel you come on my cock.”

The coil in your hips snaps and unfurls into a starry, sparkling oblivion that has you crying out his name over and over like he’s your ending and beginning, the center of your universe. Your eyes are shut against the onslaught of intense sensation, but you can feel him reaching the blissful height he’d been speaking of. He groans and slurs out a few incoherent oaths before succumbing to you and filling your pulsing cunt with his hot release.

His mouth is on yours and he’s kissing you like he means it as he slows to a halt. You lie together for a long moment, hearts beating wildly against each other.

This felt different than other times. There was an intensity there that had nothing to do with the sex. You don’t know what that means, other than it’s definitely not any kind of feelings for him. It must be something else. You’re certain it’s something else.

“I didn’t realize I’d be called away upon our return.”

You’re so distracted by your thoughts that the sound of his voice startles you slightly.

“Oh, um, yeah, I figured…it seemed unexpected,” you say.

He lifts his head to look at you, green eyes intent. “Trust that there are very few things that could have pulled me away from you in that moment.”

He’s being sincere. It’s not what you expect and that scares you a little, though you can’t quite articulate why. The idea that he would care whether you thought he’d intentionally extended your wait hadn’t even occurred to you. You don’t really know this side of him.

“So, it wasn’t like…making a proclamation designating June National Peanut Butter Month.” You know you’re deflecting, but you don’t know what else to do.

He frowns. “That can’t possibly be a real thing.”

You shrug. “It might be. Lots of governments do stuff like that. Maybe you should consider it.”

His smile is slight, but brief as he stretches and slowly eases out of you. “I will leave that to others.”

There’s a beat of quiet and you suddenly find yourself desperate to fill the silence. “What did they need to talk to you about?”

He looks at you sharply and you wonder if this was the wrong thing to say. Loath as you are to admit it, this conversation has fostered a flicker of warmth between you, a fact you only notice now because of its sudden absence.

“It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with,” he says as he rolls off of you. It’s not unkind, but it’s also not warm, and the discussion is clearly closed.

Part of you mourns the loss of that little spark of closeness, but a larger, louder part is intent on pretending it never existed in the first place.

“Suit yourself.”

You’re annoyed and you roll off the bed and go about your evening routine with a little more clattering and stomping than is strictly necessary. There’s a lump in your throat that you don’t understand and you’re full of feelings you can’t define. You eventually settle on the bed with your back facing him, glaring at the wall like he can see you.

But then he reaches for you in the darkness, his arms winding around your waist, nose nuzzling against the nape of your neck as he pulls you to his chest. And instead of reading him the riot act, you let him hold you and let yourself relax into his embrace, fingers twining around his. You sleep better like this, you tell yourself. That’s the only reason you’re allowing it. It’s nothing to do with him.

You’ve told yourself that every night since your wedding and every night, it gets a little more difficult to believe.

Next chapter coming soon

#loki smut #loki x reader smut #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki laufeyson smut #loki x female reader smut #loki fanfiction #conquer

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er-osion · 5 months ago

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Stay (in my life)

pairing: Jason Todd x gn!Reader

summary: Red Hood comes back to your apartment for a patch job again, but his injuries are a bit more severe this time so he accepts your offer to stay over

word count: 4.3k

warnings: blood, fairly detailed descriptions of injuries, fluff

author’s note: sorry this one’s a little long ya’ll, i got a bit carried away. hope you guys enjoy. you can read part one here.

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“Holy shit, you look terrible!” You gasp as you take in Red Hood’s battered form as he clumsily steps over to your couch.

“Thanks, you look great too.” Hood grits out in reply as he slumps into the cushions. You hurry to grab your med kit and rush over beside him.

“You’re getting blood all over my couch, Hood.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m really good at getting stains out.”

“I hope you’re also really good at surviving what appears to be multiple stab wounds and severe burns.”

“You’d laugh at that statement if you knew my background.”

“We’re gonna have to move this to the bathroom, I need better lighting and access to the sink.”

“I just sat down.” Hood exasperated.

“You know it’s not far.” You rolled your eyes at his words but couldn’t fight the rising anxiety at his condition. On instinct, you got up and held out your hand for him to take. Hood moved his head to look at your hand.

“Considering my size and condition, I don’t think you’re gonna be much help getting me off this couch by yourself.” He noted, unimpressed.

You narrowed your eyes at him but kept your hand where it was, “It’s more the sentiment. However, in your condition you might very well need all the help you can get walking the short distance to my bathroom.” Hood paused but set his gloved hand in yours. It was dirty with dust and what you assumed was blood and gripped tightly, probably more so than he realized, but you paid no mind with your thoughts wrapped up in Hood’s less than favorable state. The vigilante got up slowly from your couch and he wobbled to and fro once he was on his feet. The two of you started to move carefully to your bathroom, which was just down the hall, but Hood seemed to be more injured than you initially thought because his knees suddenly became weak and you both had to make a combined effort to catch him.

“Did you hit your head tonight?” You ask as Hood tried to restabilize himself.

“You asking if I have a concussion?” Hood responded.

“That’s exactly what I’m asking, yes.”

“It’s highly probable. I was thrown against a cement wall pretty hard.” Hood moved and wrapped one of his large arms around your shoulder for more support, immediately putting more of his weight onto you. The man was heavy beyond belief, but he did his best not to pile his muscle mass on top of you. The arm around your shoulders was secure and his hand gripped the fabric of your t-shirt tightly. Hood groaned while he settled more into you and you began walking again. Despite your rampant mind, your heart hammered in your chest at the contact and you felt the skin touching his arm dance. By some miracle, the two of you made it to your bathroom, and you did your best to help Red Hood down onto the floor in front of your bathtub.

“Can you just start listing off all your possible injuries while I get all my supplies out?” You asked Hood while you opened the first aid kit. Hood complied, and started listing off all the places he suspected was injured during his patrol tonight. You noticed, though, that his words sometimes got slurred and his sentences kept drifting off —in other words, he didn’t seem all there. “Are you sure you don’t have a concussion?” You probed.

“Told you, it’s very possible. What do you think, doc?” Hood shot back.

“In all honesty, I suspect you have a concussion. Maybe not a severe one, but a concussion is still bad no matter the level. How does your head feel, where it got hit?”

“It hurts.”

“No shit Sherlock, but I was hoping for a more detailed answer.”

“I guess it’s kind of a dull pain? Not like a migraine, but it also hurts in my neck and back of the head.”

“Okay, I think we need to deal with your head first.” You stopped when you realized the implications of your words. You’d need his helmet off to examine his head for any open wounds, you’d never seen Red Hood with his helmet off. Hood seemed to realize this at the same time since you saw him tense suddenly. Neither of you moved or said anything for a couple seconds, trying to figure out how to proceed. You quickly tried to remedy the awkwardness, “Look, I know I’m not supposed to see your face, I’m just concerned about your head but the last thing I want to do right now is push your boundaries, so if taking off the helmet is a no-go we’ll figure something else out.”

Red Hood shook his head, “No, you’re right, as usual. I trust you won’t go mouthing off about what the Red Hood’s face looks like.” He teased as he moved his hand up toward his helmet. You heard a clicking noise and a quiet hiss and felt your body still with anticipation. Hood slowly removed the helmet and you saw him peel off a domino mask underneath.

When his face was bare and uncovered in front of you, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. He’s beautiful. Red Hood was the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen. His eyes a mystifying swirl of green and blue, dim with exhaustion but there was still this inexplicable unnatural glow to them. His hair —while slightly matted from the helmet— looked deliciously soft, the color of the night sky with a bold white streak at the front. There was a long thin scar connecting one of his eyebrows to his pale pink lips. You were speechless as you took in Hood’s face, trying to wrap your head around how someone could look that goddamn beautiful. It really wasn’t fair. Your heart was racing out of your chest and you were having trouble maintaining a steady breath while you gazed at his features. Red Hood noticed your stare and shifted a little uncomfortably under your gaze, his gemstone eyes gluing themselves to the ground.

“You gonna stare at my face all night, or are you gonna fix me up?” His voice snapped you back to reality.

“Right right, sorry. I just… wasn’t expecting to finally learn what you looked like tonight… got caught up in the surprise I guess.” You tried to cover your embarrassment and scooched closer so you could examine his head. You looked around and felt very gently for any bumps or wounds. “Hood, you’re bleeding at the back of your head.” The worry in your voice was prominent.

“That would help explain the dizziness.”

Your lips pulled into a line and you started to clean his head wound as carefully as you could, and then wrapped it gently with a bandage. You then made the vigilante promise not to fall asleep on you while you worked on the rest of his injuries. The rest of his body made the head injury look like a splinter. Multiple abrasions were littered across his torso, the molested skin was red with blood and irritation. You could see small bits of debris lodged in the surface of his cuts and abdomen. The slashes on his arms were in a similar state. As if the knife assaults weren’t enough, spots of his body were marred with blistering burns the color of bright red and white. Your heart stung at the obvious pain your hero must be in. No one deserved this, especially not Hood. Your eyebrows furrowed deeper with concern and your frown carved further into your face.

You were startled out of your thoughts when a thumb brushed between your eyebrows, forcing the furrow to even out. You blinked, and shot your gaze up to the owner of the hand. Hood was looking at you with green eyes that were clouded with emotions you couldn’t pinpoint. He had been frowning, but when you locked eyes, the edge of his lips quirked upward ever so slightly. “Keep that face up and you’ll get wrinkles before you’re thirty.” He teased as his thumb once again brushed between your brows, to further his point.

You huffed and shook your head slightly, but not too much to force his hand off of your face. “Keep coming here on the brink of death at 2 am and I definitely will.” You fired back with the ghost of a smirk. Neither of you felt the need to say anything more, Hood’s hand lingered at the top of your head for a brief moment before he retracted it back to his side. You instantly missed the contact. But, you turned your attention back to the task at hand and began caring for Hood’s various other injuries. You used tweezers to fish out the pebbles that had burrowed into his skin and then cleaned the subsequent areas with water and your saline solution. You looked at each cut to determine if it needed stitches or not. For the ones that did, you warned Hood of your plans each time and made extra careful work of numbing the areas before stitching his wounds neatly and efficiently.

Jason watched you in a daze. He could never get over how well you handled everything. Even though he knew you were worried and filled with anxiety, you worked calmly and with composure. You were focused and didn’t let your fears rule your movements, something he greatly appreciated as the one with the injuries. Jason hadn’t planned for any of this to happen. He hadn’t planned for tonight’s ambush to go so wrong, he hadn’t planned to hobble into your apartment nearly blind with pain and dizziness, and he certainly hadn’t planned to take both of his masks off in front of you. Sure, the two of you had been getting closer as of late. After your offer to host him even on nights he wasn’t injured, Jason had been showing up to your apartment a couple nights out of the week to make dinner and watch tv with you. In the past few weeks, Jason had been relishing in the change in your dynamic. Just existing in the same space as you put Jason’s head into a flurry, but in the most exciting way. The best part of his day has been visiting you these last few weeks. And of course, each time he’s entered your place he’s thought about removing the helmet and allowing you to get closer to him in a way he hasn’t let anyone in years. But each time, he’s stopped himself in fear. Fear of what exactly? Fear of putting you in danger, fear of scaring you, fear of disappointing you. Jason Tood would not be able to handle it if any of those things occurred. But there’s no time like the present, as they say. At least you didn’t flinch when you saw him. He couldn’t exactly figure out what you were thinking (whether it was positive or negative) but it wasn’t disgust he saw on your face, so a win is a win.

The black-haired man is suddenly overtaken with words and spits out without realizing, “I’m Jason, by the way.”

You freeze and look up at him questioningly. “I’m sorry?”

“My name, it’s Jason.”

“Oh! Okay, Jason…” You test the weight of his name on your tongue, “Jason, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” You conclude with a genuine smile.

Jason’s entire stomach has just done at least 20 flips. His heart is beating so hard and loud in his chest he hopes you don’t hear it. The man never knew a person could say his name so sweetly. He never knew his name could be uttered without any hint of malice by someone outside of his family. Your pronunciation of his name is echoing in his mind like bells to a dizzying effect. He’s been a fool. He’s been such an idiot. How could he let fear prevent him from lifting his helmet and telling you his name, when he could’ve been hearing the beautiful way you say it all this time? Jason realizes he’s left you verbally hanging for a good minute just staring, so he clears his throat and adverts his eyes. “The pleasure is all mine.” When Jason looks back at you, he sees your smile is still plastered on your face and it gives him a strange sense of pride.

“I want you to know though, I know the mask was probably a lot tonight. I don’t want to force you to say or give up anything for my sake, I’m the one treating you. I’m so glad you trust me enough with your face and name, but I don’t want you to think I need it to help you, Jason. I’d fix you up even if you came in here one day as a bat-Frankenstein.” You’re worried you might’ve pushed him too far tonight. You don’t want Ho—Jason, to think you’re only out to discover his secret identity. You want him to understand that you’d care for him no matter the circumstances, whether you knew his face and name or not.

All at once, Jason felt his throat close up and tears brimming his eyes. Do you know what your words mean to him? Do you know how instantly you make him feel loved? Jason is so certain he is undeserving of your kindness and understanding, but here you are giving it to him freely. Will you ever understand the effect you have on him? How you heal pieces of his soul he thought long shattered. Jason’s full, pink lips quiver into a small smile. A smile of profound gratitude, appreciation, and sadness.

“Angel, it’s long overdue. You’re right on one thing though, I do trust you. I trust you far more than my colleagues would probably advise, but I do so anyway because I can’t do anything else. I keep invading your life in sharp broken pieces and asking you to pick me up off the floor, even at risk of hurting yourself. Yet, you do it each time with a grace Shakespeare wishes he could write about. The fact I want you to understand is that; if I didn’t want you to see my face or know my name, you wouldn’t. End of story. But that’s not the case, so it isn’t the end of the story. You’re not pushing me. And to know that you’d fix me up even if I did end up a bat-Frankenstein, is some of the most relieving news I’ve had all month.” Jason had to end his monologue with a small tease, worried his vulnerability would be too obvious without it. You listen to his words with so much intent you’ve forgotten the rest of the world. An invisible hand is squeezing your heart to the point it hurts. You can only take shallow breaths and you feel as though you might tear up.

“Well then, let’s finish fixing you up.” Your words come out barely a whisper and you go back to tending to his wounds. But neither of you can ignore the change in the air. The swift shift into a heavy lull that keeps a smile on both of your faces. You realize you’ll be done treating him soon and a wave of panic rises in you. He can’t leave now, not after everything we just left unsaid. But he leaves every time I finish taking care of him, without wasting a second. Then, an idea comes to mind. One you’ve conjured up multiple times in the past but never really entertained because of its unlikeliness to occur. It’s a risk, for sure. It’s very possible you mess it up and ruin the evening, but things have gone smoothly thus far and the success has given you a boost in confidence. Plus, you are still majorly concerned for his health, so you brave the question once you’ve completed the last bandage.

“I’m done wrapping your injuries, but that in no way means you’re recovered. I know you’re probably anxious to get back to your safe house or whatever, but you’re a severe liability in your condition.”

“So what do you suggest?” Jason asks with a skeptically raised eyebrow.

“…Um well, I was going to offer —and it’s perfectly acceptable if you say no— but I was going to offer you stay over here for the night, to have somewhere to lie down without having to brave Gotham at night with a concussion and several broken ribs.” You refused to meet Jason’s eyes as you offered him to stay the night, so you missed how they widened in surprise and then lit with anticipation.

“Yeah that— um, I—” Jason coughed awkwardly, something you’ve never seen him do but find endearing, “I mean yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Not sure I could make it a block without collapsing. But you uh— you sure you don’t mind?” Jason’s voice softens in volume at the end of his query.

“I wouldn’t be offering if I did.”

“Fair point.” You smiled at his acceptance of your invitation, secretly giddy at the idea of him spending the night. “But um, I don’t really have anything for you to change into.”

“Understandable. I have my compression shorts on though so I’ll be fine.” Jason assures you and you nod your head. You then help him up off of the bathroom floor. Jason once again lays his arm around your shoulders for support and your stomach twists into knots. The two of you say nothing as you move toward your bedroom. Jason helps open the door with his free arm so you can shimmy your two bodies through the opening. Jason suddenly feels very awkward and misplaced inside. He’s never seen your room before, and to do so now feels so intimate it makes him light headed. This is the most personal space in your entire apartment and it is just now striking Jason that this is where he’ll be sleeping since you don’t have a guest room. Too lost in his racing thoughts, the vigilante doesn’t notice you’ve helped him to sit down on the edge of your bed. You reluctantly pull away from his grip around your shoulders to go turn on your bedside lamp, immediately feeling the absence of his body heat. Jason is pulled back into reality at the loss of contact and is hit with the need to say something but he searches for words with no avail.

It’s you who breaks the silence in a quiet but firm voice, instinctively not wanting to ruin the quiet air of the room. “You can sleep in here tonight. I’ll be in the living room if you need anything. If you get thirsty or hungry please help yourself to anything in my kitchen. The bedroom door locks too, just in case that’d make you more comfortable. Like I said though, if you need anything just come grab me, I’ll be on the couch.” You turn to leave him in privacy, but Jason quickly speaks up.

“You’re gonna sleep on the couch?” He asks incredulously.

“Well that is the only other option.” You affirmed with a raised eyebrow.

“No no no. It’s your house, you can sleep in your bed. I’ll take the couch.” Jason started to get up, but you could see him straining with each movement. You rushed over and gently but forcefully pushed him to sit back on the bed.

“Yeah, no. You are the one who’s severely injured, I’m not letting you sleep on a couch in your state. I really don’t mind anyways, it’s just one night.”

“Well I refuse to make you sleep on a couch in your own home, you already sacrifice enough just letting me in here.” You were about to protest his use of the word ‘sacrifice’ before Jason continued, with a suggestion that made you still. “We could… we could share the bed? I mean— it’s big enough for two people and we’re both apparently too stubborn to let the other one sleep in the living room.” Jason’s lake green eyes scanned your face for any sign of disgust or hesitation, his palms felt sweaty and he suddenly felt like an idiot for even suggesting such a thing.

You were frozen, the cogs turning in your head at the implications of his offer. Your heart was racing. The two of you sleep in the same bed? You had just learned his name, and now you two would be sharing a bed? You tried to stop yourself from feeling so excited at the idea. Jason took your silence for uncertainty and continued blabbering, “We’re both adults, right? I don’t mean anything by it, I just— I don’t want you getting a bad night's sleep on your couch, and your stubborn ass clearly won’t let me sleep anywhere that isn’t a real bed so… I don’t know, maybe it was a dumb suggestion. You can forget about it, I’ll take the couch—”

You interrupted him with a burst, shaking your hands in front of you to keep Jason from getting up. “Oh, no no no. It’s fine, it's fine. Really, it’s cool. We can— we can share the bed I don’t mind. It’s a smart idea. Just, ya know, be careful with your stitches and bandages. I’d hate for you to worsen any injuries in your sleep.” You tried to sound calm and collected, but really you were shaking with excitement and nerves. Jason just nodded slowly, still looking a little unsure at your agreement, but he moved to step out of his armor anyway.

You walked over to your side of the bed, and started fiddling with random nick nacks on your nightstand to try and appear busy while Jason got undressed behind you. Lord almighty, it was taking every ounce of your strength not to look behind you and oogle at what you knew were rippling muscles. “Focus, gotta get through this night without making a fool of yourself.” You thought as you felt the bed dip on the other side, signaling Jason was ready to sleep.

With that, you turned the lamp off and slipped underneath the covers. Jason copied you wordlessly and you both laid in the dark, staring at the ceiling in silence. The air was so thick with tension it was near suffocating, but the two of you were too scared to speak and break the spell of the night. You unconsciously let out a little sigh and turned on your side so your back was facing Jason. You closed your eyes to try and force yourself to sleep, but your mind was hyper vigilant at this point. You could feel the bed dipping to accommodate Jason’s gigantic form on the other side. You weren’t used to sharing this space with anyone, and the fact that you could feel his breath through the mattress had your mind in a frenzy. You were fighting every fiber of your being that was telling you —no, begging you to move closer to the man beside you.

Jason was pleading with the universe in hopes that you couldn’t hear how his heart was thundering in his chest. For someone who’s lying down, his breathing sure is quick. Jason thought this would be enough. Just having you near by, occupying the same space, he thought that’d be enough to satisfy his urge to be near you. But for some goddamn reason, it’s making it worse. How can you be so close yet so far? How much closer can he get before he crosses a line? Jason blames his exhaustion for his next move.

Out of nowhere, you feel something heavy curl around your waist. Your eyes pop open in surprise, and you have to force your body to be still. Jason uses the arm draped across your middle to pull you closer to him. Your back presses against his solid chest and you forget what it was ever like to be cold. You can feel warmth seeping into your skin from every point of contact between the two of you. You can feel each breath Jason takes pushing into your back and you can feel the speeding rhythm of his heart, which you’re sure is close to the speed of your own. Your lips have curled into a smile and you’re fighting off a sigh of contentment.

“Is—is this okay?” Jason’s question comes out in an unsure whisper. If you hadn’t been so close you wouldn’t have heard him.

“Yeah, this is okay.” You reassure at an equal volume, worried that being any louder would shatter the moment. Your smile has evolved into a full on grin.

“Okay.” Jason mutters and then presses his head into the curve of your neck. His muscular arm tightens around your waist and his hand grips your shirt gently. You subconsciously shuffle further into him, though, you didn’t think there was anyway you could physically get any closer. Still, any space left between the two of you was eliminated. Your two breaths became one as your heartbeats synced up. You could feel Jason’s warm breath against your neck and it sent shivers down your spine. Jason felt so warm and happy, here with you in his arms. Holding you felt like a reward he didn’t deserve. He only hopes he’ll be able to do this again…and again, and again, and again.

You’ve never felt so safe as you do in Jason’s arms. It’s almost euphoric, being like this with him. You never want this moment to end, but the warmth of Jason’s embrace is quickly dragging you under the spell of sleep. You hope you wake up with him in the morning, you hope this isn’t a dream. You two have probably crossed some sort of line tonight, not that either of you care right now. The unclear nature of your relationship with the vigilante is something for you to wrestle with in the morning. For now, you’ll fall asleep wrapped in Jason’s arms, with the happy thought that he’ll surely be coming back to do this again.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #x reader #dc jason todd #jason todd #jason todd imagine #dc red hood #dc fanfic #dcu #dc universe #jason todd x y/n #dc fluff #red hood x reader #red hood #dc comics

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kamiversee · 8 months ago

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➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 49 || The Things You Didn’t Know

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language & semi-heavy angst.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 5.1k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——YOUR HEART WAS racing against your chest as you hurried out of the cafe. Despite the stares you got from people given the recent outbursts, the only thing you focused on was catching up with Choso.

He couldn’t have gotten that far, right? God, you were so nervous. What if he didn’t want to hear you out? What if that’s all it took for him to hate you? What if he never talks to you again?

Did you fuck up? Should you have lied? Was this for the best? Shit, tears were blurring your vision as you ran outside and frantically searched the parking lot for any signs of Choso. If he was gone already would he ever answer a call or text from you again?

Fuck. You can’t do this. Anxiety, fear, and a profound rush of pure angst simply crashed over you.

“F-Fuck,” You breathed out heavily. You tried to stop your crying but the tears kept coming and you really couldn’t spot Choso anywhere, even his car nowhere to be found.

It was cloudy and there was this brisk breeze running over you, a distant ripple in the sky heard as the weather decided to match the vibe of everything that’s just occurred.

You swallowed down the lump in your throat and kept walking into the parking lot nonetheless, refusing to give up just yet. What were you even going to say if you found him? What is there to say-

“Why’d you… Why’d you follow me out here?” Choso’s voice hushed out from your left.

Your feet stumble into a halt and the way your head turned in that direction was instant, quickly laying your eyes on the man who was standing in front of his car door that was parked not too far away from where you stood. You must’ve missed it when you first looked that way due to your tears and distraught way of searching.

Your lips are quivering and your heart is simply beating against your chest, “C-Choso, I-“

The sight of Choso’s hand trembling catches your eyes, the key in his hand just barely held up against the door handle of his car. His other hand was balled into a fist and you couldn’t see his face because his hair had fallen into a mess after the way he rushed out of the cafe.

He’s breathing heavily, panting even, as a sudden dribble of water falls from his face. Was he… Was Choso crying?

“Choso?” You voice out softly. Your tone was shaky and almost sappy as you took careful steps toward him.

“Don’t,” He croaks out. You couldn’t tell if he was crying just yet but his voice was definitely trembling with emotion.

You pause in your steps, merely a few inches away from him. Swallowing you try your best to come up with something to say, “I-I’m sorry-“

Choso sucks in a deep breath of air and suddenly his keys slip out his hand, “Fuck-,” He sighs, bringing an arm up to his face and sniffling.

Despite him telling you not to come closer, you do so anyway, inching toward him before crouching down and picking his keys up. After which, you stand up straight and slide the keys into the pocket of his pants before forcing him to turn his body to you.

Then, you place a gentle hand on his arm and pull it away from his face, coming face to face with his flushed expression, saddened, hurt, and tired eyes, frowning lips, and ragged breathing as tears slip down his cheeks.

The water in your eyes just doubles as you get the full and raw view of Choso Kamo crying. Frowning and quick to take the blame, you squeak out a cracked, “M’sorry. S-Shit, Choso, I-“

He starts shaking his head but he doesn’t look away from you. Instead, Choso gazes down into your eyes and for the first time, his eyes are so very dull and just tired. It was as though everything he just learned had completely drained the usually vibrant brown shade that coated his irises.

He sighs shakily and steps closer to you, the tips of your feet touching one another as he just gazes down at you. Choso was confused, tired, hurt, and drained all at once.

You sniffle, “I’m s-sorry, Choso I-I didn’t-“

“Shut up…” He says. However, his voice is void of anything outside of hurt with hardly any strength or anger remaining. Choso then leans down to you and you try to back away a bit but his arms drape around your waist and he pulls you up against him, tipping his head to the side and nearing your face, “B-Baby,” He rasps out, tears still falling from his eyes.

You don’t even know what to feel right now, “Cho, p-please, I’m sorry. I didn’t know-“

“Stop apologizing,” Choso whispers, “S’not ‘ur fault…” He mumbles.

“B-But…” You stare into his eyes, “I…” You could hardly formulate your words properly, “W-Why’re you crying?”

“C-Cause’ you just…” His expression sinks and never before has Choso allowed himself to be this vulnerable in front of anyone, “T-There was the g-guy from before, then Geto, n-now… Now Sukuna a-and you don’t even know-,” He chokes on his words and squeezes his eyes shut, “Fuck, I c-can’t even… I can’t… I…”

He begins to lose his breath and falls into a state of hyperventilating. Choso’s eyes widen a bit and his breathing is panicked all over the place.

Your hands shoot up to his face and you tilt your head, “Choso, hey, Cho,” You call out softly. His eyes are frantic for a moment. “Heyyy look at me, look at my eyes, Cho.”

He does just barely.

You nod and grin, “T-That’s it, now take a deep breath for me,” You whisper.

He tries, inhaling sharply and then exhaling shakily.

“A bit slower than that, c’mon, you’re okay.” You tell him, wiping the tears from his warm face and keeping your voice calm and collected despite your own emotions being jumbled, “I’m right here, okay?”

He’s nodding, steadily controlling his breathing and blinking as he calms himself down. Swallowing, “I-I don’t what that w-was…” Choso huffs out, unsure of the surge of anxiety that ran through him.

“You had a minor panic attack,” You whisper, pulling his face to yours, “But it’s okay, I’m right here, alright?”

Choso moves his hands over yours and squeezes, “Baby…”

“Hm?” You hum, your mind discarding the fact that you just argued with this same man a moment ago.

It was like what happened with Gojo all over again. Yet, this felt different for some reason.

Choso’s voice is low and timid with you, “I’m s-sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” You hush out, “You didn’t do anything wrong, I-”

Your name is hushed out in an almost fractured tone and Choso removes his hands from yours, moving to hold your waist and pull you closer to him.

You drop whatever it is you were going to say at the sound of your name, “Yes?”

“C-Can you…” Choso hesitates, hating how he feels right now and disliking the fact that you have to see him in such a way, “Uhm…”

“Can I what?” You murmur, “What is it, Choso? Talk to me please.”

He leans down and his arms wrap around your waist, “C-Can you just hold me?”

Wasn’t he just upset with you moments ago? Was he not repulsed and maybe even disgusted by you for a second? Did you not fuck things up? Is he not angry with you-

“P-Please,” Choso begs, trying to hold back the rest of his emotions. Never has he felt so conflicted in his feelings before.

You end up nodding and raising your hands up, wrapping them around his neck and holding him tightly. Choso exhales heavily and he hugs your smaller frame tightly, burying his face into the crook of your neck and shutting his eyes.

You don’t know why he wants to hug you right now. You have no clue why he’s not screaming at you anymore when that’s the very thing you expected him to do.

Hell, the man just told you to leave him out of your drama, and yet here he is in your arms not even ten minutes later. You guess this was some kinda sign. Does this show the levels of how much Choso loves you or does this have something to do with his possessiveness?

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

What you didn’t know was that Choso needed to feel your warmth to center himself once again. You were unaware of the fact that he’d been so insanely tense for the past few hours. It was a build-up that led to his recent outburst.

All of which started about an hour and a half ago when Yuki first approached him. Choso was trying to draw as he stared out the large cafe window, his thoughts ironically on you since you inspire him to no end, before that annoying blonde approached him with that stupid smile on her face.

His mood soured from the second he made eye contact with her and it only worsened when she sat down across from him and started talking, blabbering about god knows what. Choso allowed most of what she said to go through one ear and out the other, only giving her these half-assed responses every now and then.

Then, to make things worse, Yuki started getting comfortable and despite Choso’s dismissive attitude, she sat there talking his ear off for what felt like forever, even going as far as getting herself food and really comforting herself. Sometime after that, you had called him and Choso’s mood lifted only a bit.

He was confused at first since you’re supposed to be taking a break from him but then as he realized he was with Yuki, he started to panic because he knew how this was going to seem to you. Even so, he answered because who is he to ignore a call from you?

And of course, there was your jealousy that came along as Yuki started pestering him during his phone call. Yuki’s intrusion irked Choso to no end but the sound of your voice in his ear, especially with you growing jealous, was able to help Choso calm himself. After all, he knew there was nothing you needed to be jealous over.

Then you told him that you were thinking about changing the status of your relationship with him and Choso was smiling from ear to ear. Just the thought of you coming to him and telling him you were finally ready for a relationship with him made his heart swell. It had meant that he’d won over whoever his competition was.

But of course, Yuki ruined that moment seconds later when she started talking again, to which Choso had taken a nearby water bottle and tossed some of it on her. You obviously didn’t know or see any of that since you were on the phone but Choso had been fed up with the blonde woman.

But, all of that only led to you sounding upset over the phone since he kept bickering with Yuki. This annoyed Choso even more because he was excited to see you and yet Yuki had ruined something that could've been rather sweet.

What you also don’t know is that once you are off the phone, Choso moderately curses Yuki out, telling her how she’s annoying and he wants her to leave. Of course, she didn’t go anywhere, and after more bickering Choso and her made a deal that Yuki would only be able to meet you and then leave.

As things played out, that’s not what happened but Choso wasn’t expecting that.

To make it all worse, Choso had gone to the bathroom after some time and when he came out he saw the cashier’s eyes not on your face in the slightest as your head had been angled up at the menu. You didn’t know it but Choso wasn’t lying when he said Ino was looking like he wanted to fuck you because it was so obvious.

He saw the way Ino ogled you, licked his lips, and then smiled before looking up to the menu as if he wasn’t just checking you out. This bothered Choso for many reasons.

For one, Choso knew he wasn’t your boyfriend so he couldn’t just come up to you and the cashier and call the guy out for his looks because that’d be him crossing boundaries. So instead, he did the only thing he could think of and approached you from behind, soon making direct eye contact with Ino and giving him the same death glare he gives anyone who checks you out.

You’ve scolded Choso about this look in the past but he couldn’t help himself. So that’s why he continued to stare Ino down before pressing himself up against you and placing his hands beside yours. In his mind, you may not have been his girlfriend but god dammit, he wasn’t going to allow anyone to look at you like that when he’s in the vicinity.

Hence the kisses to your neck, the claiming touches to your waist, and the threatening look in his eyes as he mentally dared Ino to look at you like that again.

But then, when you got bothered by Choso’s actions, it confused him. Could you not tell Ino was into you? Are you actually that unaware of how people, especially men, give such suggestive looks to you?

Choso didn’t understand it at all and knowing he was in no position to say something about it only ate him up inside.

But his mood was lifted for a moment as he then conversed with you. You didn’t know it but you really were the vibrance in this dull man’s life. His heart longed for you at every passing moment so when he noticed you disliked the idea of him being with someone else, even if it were just a friend, he couldn’t help but fall even harder.

It was like you wanted him all to yourself and he would give that to you at any given moment if you asked for it.

In Choso’s mind, he is yours. Whatever you need, he’ll go to any length to provide it for you. Whatever you want, he’ll see how he can get it for you. Choso is so devoted to you that sometimes he doesn’t even feel like his thoughts are his own.

At times, Choso feels as though every inch of his body simply operates under a blind gaze that's clouded with thoughts of you. While he wants nothing more than to be with you, he’s also okay with waiting. He’d do so devotedly until you flat out tell him not to and even then, deep down inside there’s a piece of his heart that’ll always run in your direction.

That being said, to have to reveal you to his ex Yuki who’s attracted to women, it was like he was putting you on the line. As if he were risking his relationship with you by simply revealing the way you look to Yuki.

Choso hated it but he was so damn insecure about losing you, which is exactly why he held onto you so tightly both when he showed you to Yuki and even now as he quietly weeps into you.

The grip he has on your shirt is relentless. He’s so damn terrified and upset right now.

Because after he revealed you to Yuki it all just got worse. Then she wanted to talk to you, she probably told you how she left him, and then fucking Geto Suguru showed up.

By then, just the simple sound of Heyy gorgeous almost made Choso snap. His eye had twitched and he felt like he was on the verge of losing his sanity. It was like what happened with Ino all over again but ten times worse because it was soon revealed that Geto is the man you told Choso you used to sleep with.

Which was one thing in itself but to see how Geto still looks at you just made Choso sick. It was like Geto was undressing you and fucking you with his eyes right in front of him and this dark emotion just swirled around in Choso’s heart.

Many times did Choso stare at the jawline of Geto Suguru, wondering to himself how fast he could reach over and connect his fist to the area without hurting you in any way since you were right next to him.

And to just add onto all of that because the list of emotions Choso just went through is long, the sound of Geto calling you a slut, albeit a way of him teasing you, made Choso lose his shit for a second.

No one at that table knew but Choso was contemplating some dark things the entire time. The flirting, the taunting, the fucking looks, it all made Choso so damn angry. It took every fiber of his being not to reach across the table and wipe that stupid smirk off Geto’s face.

Yet, that wasn’t his boiling point. He let a few things slip when he bickered with you but the second his brother was brought up, Choso just lost it.

He gave up on holding his tongue as he had been the entire conversation. As soon as you looked at him with those pretty eyes of yours, asking him what and who they were talking about, the mere thought of you and Sukuna ever crossing paths just made Choso nauseous.

He quickly got snappy and short-tempered after that, annoyed by how much you kept pushing the subject despite him wanting to move on. Then you had the nerve to tell him that you should know who his older brother is.

He couldn't believe you. Especially after you wouldn’t even tell him about the clear list of other guys you’ve been with? That’s all precisely why he says he felt as though he should know who else you’d been with.

But… to hear you respond to that by saying there’s a chance Sukuna could be one of those people…

Something deep within Choso just broke. He felt said emotion snap in half, the sensation raging through his body. It was his trust. He couldn’t think rationally anymore and both fear and pure anger ran throughout his body.

Everything had gone to shit and his brain was just being overloaded with information.

If it wasn’t enough that every single day Choso had to fear the possible call of you telling him you’d chosen the other guy over him, then he now had to add on the fact that you apparently sleep around. From Choso’s unknown competition to Geto, who he somewhat assumes is said competition, and then to hear about Sukuna?

He couldn’t think straight anymore. Horrid memories of the times he lived with his older sibling just flashed in his mind back to back, each one darker than the last.

Dating back to when Choso was younger and before Yuji was born… He remembered it all like some distorted nightmare. From being hit by Sukuna over the most minor mistake to being straight bullied by the man in the worst ways possible, Choso went through hell growing up with Sukuna.

For the sake of his other two brothers, he’d often take the blame and whatever unjust punishment followed just to protect his siblings. Which is even the story behind the tattoo going across the bridge of Choso’s nose.

You’ve asked him about it before but he never told you how there’s a scar beneath the tattoo that never went away and that’s why he has it in the first place. Of course, said scar was given to him by the asshole Sukuna himself.

And if all that wasn’t enough, what really topped it off was that after Yuji was born, Choso pleaded and begged that Sukuna not put the poor kid through what he endured.

For nothing more than his own amusement, Sukuna went ahead and promised he wouldn’t ever lay a hand on Yuji. Of course, this was only to build up hope in Choso’s heart because the promise was a lie and the things Sukuna had done to Yuji behind closed doors outweighed whatever hell he put Choso through.

This is the exact reason Choso has grown to hate both liars and Sukuna himself. Each time he goes and sees his little brother Yuji, there’s a new bruise on the poor boy’s skin and Choso is only able to do so much.

Genuinely, the only things that keep that man going are the bright smiles that Yuji gives him despite the abuse, knowing that unlike himself, Yuji stands up for himself even at his young age, and lastly, well, you. You make Choso forget about all the dark parts of his family life and essentially free him from it all.

So with all that being said, when you told Choso you had sex with Sukuna it simply broke him into pieces. Why was it that the one woman in which he decides to long for more than ever just so happens to have crossed paths with such a vile man?

He didn’t care that Sukuna was his older brother, he didn’t care that you even fucked him, what made him so angry was the person Sukuna truly is, how blind you were to it, and the possibility that Sukuna could’ve hurt you.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

As all of that replayed in Choso’s mind, his tight grasp on the fabric of your shirt came and went as he cried so quietly against your warm body.

The two of you were standing there hugging in silence for roughly twenty minutes. You simply rubbed the back of Choso’s head with one hand and the other caressed his back, allowing him to cry into you for as long as he needed to.

Well, that was up until you felt something wet make contact with the top of your head. It was faint at first so you didn't pay any mind to it. Then, another slip of water is felt, and another, and soon, you notice it’s drizzling.

Light rain makes contact with both you and Choso’s embraced bodies. You didn’t really want to move but the drizzle was steadily getting heavier and you soon shivered against Choso, to which he sniffled and came to with what was going on around him.

“Choso,” You whispered, feeling how he flinched at the sound of his name, “I-It’s raining…”

He doesn’t say anything for a minute, not moving a muscle and just stuck against you.

Then, when the rain picks up just a bit more, he shifts around and finally pries his arms off of you. He lifts his head from your shoulder and god the sight of him makes your heart crease inward.

Damn these men and being the most beautiful criers you’ve ever seen.

Due to the rain, Choso’s hair was getting wet and starting to stick to his forehead, the ends of the strands having this slight wave to them as they decorated his hairline. His eyes that were darkened with those heavy sleepless bags had tears streaming down from the corners and the male bats his soaked eyelashes as the rain falls onto both of you.

Before you could say or do anything else, Choso moved to take off his jacket and hold it over your head, shielding you from the water falling from the sky. Doing so, he remains close to you and takes another long moment taking in your expression.

You do the same, admiring how someone could be so attractive as they wept. Choso was such a beautiful man, someone whose face you think deserved to be drawn and painted the same way he once did yours.

In that moment, you wish you could read his mind and figure out just what he was thinking as he stood under the rain gazing down at you so intimately. Though he was upset and conflicted, Choso couldn’t even hide the love in his eyes.

Your name is uttered again after a long moment and Choso’s voice is deep but so very emotional.

You swallow and just barely tilt your head, “Yes?”

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Choso whispers, “B-But, I don’t think we should uh…”

You moved your hands to his shirt and your delicate fingers clung onto the man as a slight gust of wind blew over the two of you. Was this it? Was he about to say what you think he was?

It’s over, isn’t it? Choso’s about to say he doesn’t think you two should be together anymore right? You’ve fucked up.

There’s nothing you can do. He’s done with you. He’s about to tell you that he never wants to see you again and you don’t know what you could possibly say to change his mind.

Right? Of course, what else would he be about to say?

It’s over. You and Choso are over. Just like that-

He says your name again and you blink, tears dripping down your face unexpectedly as your own thoughts and anxiety overcome you. “I don’t think we s-should stay in the rain like this,” Choso murmurs, sighing, “You’ll get sick.”

You exhale shakily and squeeze your eyes shut, nodding your head in agreement and so beyond thankful he didn’t say what you thought he was about to.

He then carefully places his jacket on top of your head and puts an arm around you, moving to walk you over to the passenger side of his car. When you get there, you slip a hand into his pants pocket and pull out his keys, your fingers slipping over the item to unlock his car.

Doing so, you wonder why Choso didn’t do that earlier. Did he wait on purpose to give you a chance to catch up to him?

Once the car is unlocked Choso helps you get in and tries to make sure no more water makes contact with you, despite himself getting soaked in the process. He even moves to put your seatbelt on for you, regardless of his shaky hand and his backside getting wet from the rain.

You frown, “C-Choso you don’t have to-“

He pauses and looks at you, his tone completely soft and weak as he whispers, “Shut up.”

Your lips pull together and you swallow your words yet again. His face was so close to yours, the mixed smell of rain and his cologne filling your nose. Choso’s eyes narrow as they stare into your own and you can’t even read his expression so you genuinely have no idea what’s going on in his mind right now.

Maintaining eye contact with you, the sound of your seat belt clicking is heard before Choso moves. His hand goes to your face and despite the shakiness of his fingers, he gently places them on your jaw.

Choso moves your head around a bit like he’s inspecting you before he stops and his thumb shifts upward. It swipes over your lips slowly and he stares for a while. Knowing that Sukuna has probably felt these same lips of yours bothers him to no end.

And to make it worse, Choso blames himself because maybe if he opened up to you sooner he could’ve prevented it somehow? Even though he doesn’t know when you slept with Sukuna.

Choso’s thumb taps your bottom lip three times before he opens his mouth. You wish he’d get out of the rain already but he seems so immersed in whatever he’s doing. Whispering your name again, “Has he ever hurt you?” Choso asks carefully.

You shake your head no instead of making your answer vocal in courtesy of recently being told to shut up. Were you that worried that if you didn’t listen to Choso he’d slip away from you? So much so that you couldn’t even speak unless told to?

“Say it,” Choso hums, “Needa’ hear you say it, baby.”

“N-No,” You reply.

“No, what? Please answer my question fully,” He instructs, his voice calmer and a bit dry due to his recent emotional outburst. You open your mouth to do so but he cuts you off, “I just need to be sure, okay?”

Nodding, “No, Sukuna has never hurt me.” You answer completely.

Choso releases a relieved exhale and shuts his eyes, “Okay… T-Thank fuck,” He whispers finally before taking his hand off your face.

He starts to pull away but you grab his hand for some reason. Choso freezes, not at all caring about the rain soaking him and his clothes as your hand grabs his own.

You’re looking up at him unsure of what should be said outside of a simple and heartfelt, “I’m sorry.”

Choso’s brows tense as if he didn’t want to hear you say that but he pulls your hand to his face and leans down again. He kisses the back of your hand, his lips pressing against your skin so long that it seems like he doesn't want to move away from the motion.

“Thank you for that, princess,” Choso says to you, his eyes meeting yours yet again, “But, you don’t need to apologize. We uh…” He swallows, “We’re gonna’ talk this all out, yeah?”

You’re nodding before even mentally rendering his words, “Y-Yeah.”

A small smile, one that barely even shows and seems to lack emotion, spreads across Choso’s face, “A-And uh… No matter what you tell me,” He gulps, wondering if he’ll later regret these words, “I’ll still love you.”

Your heart just swells so much to the point that it begins to hurt your chest. Does he know what he’s about to get into? Does he understand the gravity of what he just said to you?

“As long as it’s the truth,” He adds just in case.

You nod again, “Right.”

“Promise?” Choso asks.

“Mhm, I promise,” You hush out.

He sighs, releases your hand, and finally stands up straight, moving to shut the car door and make his way to the driver's side. Once he does and situates himself in his vehicle, his body is pretty soaked and he’s quick to turn his car on along with the heat.

The two of you were about to be in here for a while.

So many truths were getting ready to reveal themselves.

Does that include details of the list?

…

You had no idea.

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙙

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flowersdiceandlove · 1 month ago

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I’m a subscriber of the Luo Binghe has curly/wavy hair and Bingge straitens it bc it’s not the cultural beauty standard and it makes him feel inadequate whereas Bingmei keeps it curly/wavy bc when he was a teen, Shen Qingqiu-Yuan expressed a like for it so he’s comfortable with it even if it’s not the societal standard. In this vein I want to see a Binggeyuan fic where Shen Yuan gets transmigrated as just Some Guy and catches the attention of Bingge (because of course he does. It’s Shen Yuan) and in one of their encounters where Shen Yuan is driving Bingge just a bit insane with his brand of both obliviousness and all-knowingness, Bingge’s hair gets wet due to something Shen Yuan did. Luo Bingge is pissed at getting soaked and glares at Shen Yuan while simultaneously pushing his hair out of his face and drying it with cultivation magic gearing up to bite into Shen Yuan about getting him wet when Shen Yuan gasps and stares at him in awe. Bingge was so caught up in his anger that when he was drying his hair, he forgot to also redo the spell that keeps his hair straight so it’s reverted to it’s natural curly/wavy state. Just as the self-consciousness that he hasn’t felt since he was a teen and being bullied for his hair Qing Jing Peak is setting in, Shen Yuan surprises Bingge once again by making an aborted movement forward and muttering a “beautiful” under his breath. Bingge, with his enhanced hearing, hears it and pauses in his hastily conjured hair straightening spell, stunned. Never in all his many, many years has anyone called his natural hair “beautiful.” (Not that he really lets people even see it like this. Only a very few have seen his hair in it’s natural state.) And Shen Yuan looks so sincere too.

A deep blush starts to rise on Bingge’s cheeks. It is (unfortunately in Bingge’s opinion) something Bingge is getting very acquainted with in Shen Yuan’s presence. It is something that has only happens when Shen Yuan says something absolutely absurd and what should only be said in a groveling type of flattery as if it is just a truth of the universe and completely true. He has not blushed this much since he was a virgin over 200 years ago!! And even then it wasn’t this bad!

Bingge then stutters (actually stutters because by this point, Shen Yuan has already gotten to him even if he’s still in denial) a reply feeling far more flustered than he thinks he has any right to be.

Then Shen Yuan has the gall to say “Ah! Sorry! I forgot. You’re self-conscious about your hair. Do you want me to turn around while you straighten it again?” with wide, caring, and achingly sincere eyes and his face completely open, only wanting Bingge to feel comfortable after suddenly having an insecurity (which he really shouldn’t know about but somehow does, and Bingge will later add it to the list he’s keeping of such instances when he can think properly again) exposed.

Bingge is so stunned by this that he’s unable to respond and so Shen Yuan continues, “…Actually…It’s really nice like this. I mean, of course, it is. It’s you after all. You’d look good with anything. But like this it looks even more lustrous than usual. Like your hair always is so nice, but like this it catches the light more which adds to its dimension… it’s like something out of a shampoo commercial… I wish I had hair this nice. Mine is so flat and dull looking. Just leave it to you to have the best hair ever. It’s so fluffy… like a sheep… Oh! And it’s so soft too! Like a cloud!” Yes he drifted forward and started petting Bingge’s hair without thinking, too caught up in his admiration of it. Bingge is still too stunned to react and is just watching as one of his biggest insecurities is being dismantled by this random guy he found one day who knows far too much and might actually be a god or something considering the extent of his knowledge, how flippant he is about it, and the weird things he says sometimes (what even is a “shampoo commercial?”).

Bingge eventually gets enough thought back in his pretty, flustered, gay head and flees. Very gracefully he would like to be known. Very befitting of Emperor of the Three Realms.

Very.

Shen Yuan is left to just stand there and wonder if he finally pissed Bingge off so bad that he’s going to get killed soon. Bingge’s face was very red and he seemed so mad that he couldn’t even speak properly in Shen Yuan’s opinion. After thinking it over for a minute he shrugs and thinks it’s fine. At this point, Shen Yuan is pretty sure that Bingge won’t kill him unless he does something truly outrageous and unforgivable. And while petting the (very soft and fluffy) hair of The Luo Bingge, Emperor of the Three Realms, without permission could be considered highly outrageous, it is not actually the most outrageous thing Shen Yuan has done to the man and lived to tell the tale. Not that he’s going to actually tell people about it. He’s not trying to push Bingge’s buttons and get himself killed.

Shen Yuan just shrugs the encounter off as he does so many others, but does file away the memory of how soft, fluffy, beautiful, and just incredible Bingge’s natural hair is.

Bingge is unable to sleep that night, his mind constantly replaying Shen Yuan’s awe and sincerity over one of his greatest insecurities. Not for the first time since meeting Shen Yuan does he feel cracked open and exposed, yet also somehow safe and warm and like he might cry his eyes out but in a good way.

#svsss #scum villain self saving system #luo binghe #luo bingge #shen yuan #binggeyuan #svsss fanfic prompt #svsss fanfiction prompt #do with this what you will #meant this like a week ago whoops #here have it now

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libraryofgage · 1 year ago

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Pirate/Mermaid Steddie One

There is way more mermaid culture world-building than I intended, but that's the fun part lmao

This part discusses injuries, has a mention of mutilation in passing, and involves stitching up a large wound. Nothing is graphic, but there are some descriptions of pain

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future parts!

As always, if you see any typos no you didn't

----

There were a few things Eddie expected from this raid. Gold, of course. Supplies like food, obviously. Some new weapons, surely.

A fucking mermaid? Nowhere near that list of expected things.

And yet, here he stands in the doorway of the raided ship captain's cabin, caught in a staring contest with a merman that's definitely seen better days.

He's stuck in a tiny wooden tub, his tail forced against his chest as the rest of it flops over the edge and trails the floor. His blue-and-green with inexplicable hints of orange scales are dull, too dull, and Eddie is trying really hard to control the sheer rage he feels at the jagged cut that drags down the middle of the tail and through the fin at the bottom. The edges of the wound have crusted over, but it still looks painful, and Eddie knows it was meant to keep the merman from using his tail to escape.

Eddie takes a step into the cabin, ready to just scoop the merman up and take him back to his ship. But he stops when the merman tenses, his entire body somehow becoming more rigid. His hands on the edge of the tub tighten, his sharp nails digging into the slowly rotting wood. He's staring at Eddie like he's some new threat, which seriously is not gonna help with the whole "take the gorgeous merman with incredible hair and alluring brown eyes back to his ship and nurse him back to health" thing.

Eddie freezes and holds his hands up. "Sorry," he says, keeping his voice low and soothing. The merman doesn't relax much, but his nails are no longer digging into the wood. Eddie figures that's a tiny win.

"I'm Captain Eddie of the Corroded Coffin. We didn't expect to find you here, sweetheart."

The nickname just slips out, an unthinking attempt to butter the merman up and an admission of his own thoughts. The merman's eyes narrow, slowly looking Eddie over as though sizing him up.

Eddie lets him, perfectly content with standing still if it means the merman will give him even one iota more of his trust. "That doesn't look very comfortable," he says, nodding to the tub. "Would you like some help?"

The merman relaxes a little more, and Eddie has no clue what he did to cause that. Before he can think too much about it, the merman points to a dresser on the other side of the room, looking at Eddie expectantly.

"You want something from there?"

The merman nods, which tells Eddie he at least understands human language. That doesn't give him any idea if the merman can speak it, though.

He walks over to the dresser and looks at the merman, pointing to each drawer in turn until the merman nods. The fourth drawer is, apparently, the correct one. When Eddie opens it, he finds a small treasure trove. It must be a collection of trophies from the ship captain's previous raids.

A quick glance reveals a gold crown with rubies, several diamond rings, a few silver bracelets with various gemstones along the bands, and a pearl and seashell necklace thrown on top. Eddie knows the merman probably wants that necklace most, but he can't help thinking of a rumor that mermaids like shiny things.

The drawer is full of shiny things.

He hesitates for less than a second before pulling out the entire drawer itself and turning around. "I'm not sure what you want from here," he lies, smiling apologetically at the merman. "Can I come close enough to show you?"

The merman stares at him before slowly nodding once, suspicion practically radiating off of him. Eddie flashes a more genuine smile and slowly approaches, giving the merman enough time to reject his presence. When he's a few steps away, Eddie crouches and tilts the drawer so the merman can see what's inside.

Immediately, the merman reaches out and snatches the pearl and seashell necklace. The gills on the side of his neck flutter slightly as he puts it on, and Eddie wonders if that's a sign of relief. "Was that everything you wanted?" he asks.

The merman glances at him, one hand still lingering on the necklace. He glances down at the drawer again, seeming to argue with himself before reaching out and removing the crown and every bracelet. He carefully slips the bracelets on and clutches the crown in his hands.

"Anything else?" Eddie asks, his tone indulgent. It must be reassuring, though, because the merman looks at him with curiosity more than anything else. It's like he's trying to figure out what he can get away with.

A few seconds pass before the merman glances down at the drawer. His gaze lingers at the edges, and Eddie starts to wonder what could possibly be there when the merman points at one of his rings.

Eddie blinks, following the merman's finger to a chunky ring. It's shaped like a bat with emeralds for eyes and diamonds for teeth. It's one of Eddie's favorites; he found it on his first raid, took it right off the captain's hand himself. Nobody has ever dared ask to touch it, let alone have it.

Without a second thought, Eddie puts the drawer down, slips the ring off his finger, and offers it to the merman. It sits in the palm of his hand, meaning they'd have to touch if the merman really wants it that badly.

Slowly, the merman reaches for the ring, his nails tickling against Eddie's palm as he takes it. From the light brush against Eddie's fingers, the merman's skin is cool, exactly like jumping into the ocean on a hot day.

----

Steve is a firm believer in the power of small comforts, especially as it relates to the growth of his guppies. Dustin has long outgrown his baby tail belt, but he still wraps it around his wrist every morning. El and Will no longer need the seaweed and coral dolls Steve made for them when they were barely able to swim a straight line, but they still tuck them in every night.

So, when the human (Eddie, Steve reminds himself) offers up a drawer filled with shiny jewelry, Steve doesn't hold himself back. The bracelets make him feel grounded, the crown gives him something to clutch without the risk of breaking it, and the ring...

Well, the ring was more to see if Eddie's actions would match his tone. And because Steve thought it was fascinatingly grotesque. What kind of creature would have wings without feathers? Sure, the gulls he sometimes sees near the surface are confusing, but the ring depicts something even further beyond his imagination. What's up with the sharp teeth? Why must the eyes be green? Does it know it's a freak of nature?

Anyway, the jewelry helps. Steve uses it to distract himself from the sheer agony screaming from his tail when Eddie lifts him out of the cramped tub. He thinks about which bracelet he'll give to which guppy (Robin will get the crown) when the edges of his tailfin graze against Eddie's legs as he confidently walks across a plank connecting the two ships. He closely studies the featherless wings on the ring to avoid thinking about what's to come when Eddie sets him down on a large, surprisingly comfortable bed in another private cabin and starts gathering a needle and thread.

There's not much left to distract him when Eddie kneels next to the bed and looks up at him, his eyes reminding Steve of his guppies when they've done something bad and need him to clean up the mess.

"This is gonna hurt," Eddie tells him, his voice soft and gentle and full of regret as he grabs a bottle from the table next to the bed.

The liquid inside is clear, and Steve would think it was water if his nose hadn't been hit with such an astringent scent when Eddie opened it. Before he can fully process the smell, Eddie tips the bottle and pours the liquid onto Steve's tail.

An involuntary screech rips out of his throat, a burning sensation clawing along the cut and making his scales buzz. Without thinking, Steve grabs Eddie's wrist and yanks it away, his lips pulled back in a snarl that reveals sharp teeth. Despite the physical pain, Steve thinks the worst part is that he let himself get distracted by small comforts and warm brown eyes and Eddie's soft voice.

He should know better.

"Shit," Eddie mutters, quickly dropping the now-empty bottle to the floor. It cracks but doesn't break, and he looks up at Steve. "I should've explained that better. Holy fuck, I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I had to clean it. If I sewed it up without doing so, it might get infected."

Steve narrows his eyes, his grip tightening briefly as he studies Eddie's face. He seems genuinely apologetic, and Steve understands his intentions once he's processed Eddie's words. Steve had to do something similar when Mike and Lucas bothered a shark too much. Their wounds weren't nearly as bad as Steve's, but they'd still cried and shouted when Steve and Robin had to pull teeth and bits of coral out of their wounds before wrapping them in seaweed.

"I'm done with that part, though," Eddie says, his voice practically desperate for Steve to understand. "You can squeeze my shoulder or something while I sew it up."

A few seconds pass before Steve nods once, slowly letting go of Eddie's wrist. As Eddie starts threading the needle, Steve places his hand on his shoulder, bracing himself for the upcoming pain by squeezing the crown in his other hand.

Eddie takes a deep breath as he glances up at Steve. He licks his lips, looking back at the top of the cut. "Okay, I'm starting now," he says, waiting long enough to see Steve nod before starting the first stitch.

The alcohol hurt. The stitching is a fucking bitch. But, honestly, none of it is as bad as when that first disgusting human dragged a dagger through Steve's tail. He still hisses, gripping Eddie's shoulder tighter and unable to stop his nails from digging into his skin. Despite how it must hurt, Eddie doesn't flinch, and Steve feels a little better.

"You know," Eddie says, mostly focused on keeping his hand steady and his stitches even, "I wish I knew your name. I can't keep calling you sweetheart."

He could. Steve wouldn't mind it. But he also knows it isn't entirely fair that Eddie doesn't know he can speak. They'll need to be able to talk, Steve thinks, if they're going to be around each other for a while longer.

And Eddie has been kind enough that Steve wouldn't mind being around him for however long it takes his tail to heal.

"Steve," he says.

To his credit, Eddie doesn't drop the needle. He does tense for a moment, his hand pausing as he looks up. "What?" he asks.

"My name. It's Steve."

"You can talk."

"Why wouldn't I?"

Eddie hums, looking back at the cut as he starts stitching again. "You didn't say anything before," Eddie says.

"The last human who saw me mutilated my tail," Steve replies.

"Fair. Is, uh, is your name really Steve?"

"That's the closest translation to your language."

"What's your name in your language?"

Steve hesitates for a moment before clearing his throat. He feels his gills flutter, trying to create the bubble pattern that accompanies his name as he lets out a rhythmic series of squeaks and clicks with a short hiss at the end.

A few seconds pass after he's done. And then Eddie nods once and says, "Steve it is. How'd you get caught, Stevie?"

Ignoring the slight urge to point out that Eddie said his name wrong, Steve frowns slightly. "One of my guppies got caught in that ship's net. I got them out but was caught myself."

"One of your...guppies?"

"Yes. You would call them...children, I think?"

Eddie has nearly reached the middle of Steve's tail by now, and his hand falters once more. "Children? Aren't you...a little young?"

Steve bristles, glaring at Eddie. He's heard that same question plenty of times from members of other pods before, and he's tired of it. "What does it matter if they are happy and healthy?" he asks.

"Sorry," Eddie whispers, glancing up at Steve. There's something he can't quite read in Eddie's eyes. "Do you raise them alone?"

"What? No, of course not. My partner, Robin, raises them with me. We have seven guppies, with an eighth on the way."

"An eighth?!" Eddie asks, sounding strained as he pauses his stitching once more to look up at Steve. "Shit, man, shouldn't you give Robin a break?"

Steve blinks, tilting his head slightly. "Why would she need a break?" he asks.

"She's already popped out seven!"

Suddenly, Steve realizes what the disconnect is. He blinks once more and dissolves into laughter. "Oh!" he says, the exclamation broken by a giggle as he tries to calm himself down. "No, no, she is my partner, not my mate. Besides, she doesn't even like mermen."

Eddie seems to relax at Steve's explanation, his shoulders dropping and his voice significantly lighter as he starts stitching again and says, "Oh, I see. Then whose kids are they?"

"Technically, they belong to the pod," Steve explains, gritting his teeth as Eddie reaches the tailfin. He feels warm all over, his nerves jumping and his scales feeling half-ready to just fall off. "Each pod has at least two caretakers. Mates have a guppy and let caretakers raise them while they focus on their own roles within the pod."

"Do you like being a caretaker?"

"Yeah," Steve says, managing a shaky smile despite the tugging on his tailfin and Eddie's fingers pressing against his scales. "They're my guppies. I'd drain the oceans for them."

"And, uh, what about your mate? Do they mind you being so...devoted to the guppies?"

It's not at all subtle, but Steve finds it oddly endearing nonetheless. He slowly exhales, forcing himself to loosen his grip on Eddie's shoulder. "I don't have one."

Just like before, Eddie seems to relax some at the answer. He also finishes stitching, tying off the thread with a secure knot before carefully cutting away the excess. "Well, uh, we'll get you healed up and back to your guppies as soon as possible," he says, looking up at Steve.

"It needs to be wrapped in kelp. And, uh, I'll need a tub. You know, with seawater."

Eddie nods along, flashing a reassuring grin. "Don't worry, Stevie, I'll get you anything you want," he promises.

"Anything?" Steve asks, leaning forward some as he tilts his head.

"I already gave you my favorite ring, sweetheart."

Steve glances down at said ring, wondering what about it could possibly make it Eddie's favorite. He can't immediately figure it out, but that doesn't change the sweet warmth and anticipation for the time he'll spend with Eddie that he suddenly feels.

#steddie #steddie fic #high seas steddie #that's gonna be the fic tag for this series btw #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie fluff #my writing

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greynatomy · 9 months ago

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smileys

leah williamson x reader

happy bday bestie @alotofpockets

———

Leah sighed as she navigated her way through the aisles of the grocery store. Shopping list in one hand, basket perched upon her hip, trying to find all that she needs. Eyes kept to the list in her hand, she turned a corner and collided with a tall, dark-haired stranger, sending her basket full of potato smileys sprawling across the floor.

“Oh, god! I’m so sorry!” Leah exclaimed, bending down to pick up the bags of smiling potatoes. The stranger, rather than being upset, burst out in laughter.

“Guess we’re having a smiley party,” You said with a grin, helping Leah with the cleanup. The ridiculousness of the situation made her chuckle too.

Your eyes meet and Leah swore a spark of connection ignited. Placing all the groceries back in her basket, she stands back up realizing how much you tower over her. Freezing as she looks straight into your eyes, you couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh that seemed to break her out of her daze.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry. You must think I’m this clumsy creep.”

“Not at all.”

‘Fuck.’ Leah thought. The raspiness of your voice made her knees weak.

“I know this might be a bit forward but would you like to hang out with me today?” You ask, quickly adding, “Only if you aren’t busy.”

Leah agrees almost pathetically quickly that a red hue rises to her cheeks. Needing to get her groceries home, Leah told you to follow her home — as creepy as that sounds — and she’d just ride along with you.

You took her to your favorite bakery to get one of your favorite pastries. The day was filled with shits and giggles, the world around the both of you seemingly nonexistent.

The first date, however, was not one Leah had expected. She thought you’d be taking her somewhere fancy as it was where all her exes had taken her, but you’d driven her to an unknown — at least to her — destination.

“Are you sure you aren’t going to kill me in the middle of nowhere or something?”

You let out an airy chuckle. “Of course not. You’re too pretty for that.” Leah laughs softly, noticing how much you’ve been the cause of her laughters recently.

As the car came to a stop, she’s drawn to the bright neon lights on the building.

“Welcome to one of my favorite places!” You hold your arms out wide at your sides, standing in front of the building.

“You brought me to an arcade?”

“Yeah, why? You don’t like it? ‘Cause if you don’t then that’s a dealbreaker for me, mate.”

She just laughs, grabbing your hand to pull you inside. You were very competitive and tried to tone down your competitiveness but you came to learn that Leah was the same.

This was just the first of many dates and not one was spent in a boring fancy restaurant. Leah loved how unpredictable you were and not one day was dull.

Now, two years in, your spontaneous dates never died out. Taking turns on taking the other on dates, and definitely not trying to prove that one is more spontaneous than the other.

You were peacefully sleeping on your stomach, face smushed into the pillow when a weight drops onto your back.

“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!”

The loud voice of your girlfriend wakes you up, making you grab her pillow to put on top of your head to hopefully muffle her out.

“Ugh!”

“C’mon! I’m being spontaneous, so get your ass out of bed!”

“You don’t have to wake me up at the ass crack of dawn to prove you’re spontaneous. You’re just being being annoying.”

When she doesn’t say anything, you try comfortable when the sheets were ripped away from on top of you.

“Leah!”

“Don’t be an buzzkill.”

“You should’ve advertised how much of a morning person you were before dumping all those smileys at me.” You grumbled, walking into the bathroom.

“I heard that!”

#woso x reader #woso #greynatomy #woso imagines #woso imagine #woso community #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #arsenal wfc #arsenal women

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cherryblossombankai · 2 months ago

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Day 7: Cock Warming with Jushiro Ukitake

Warnings: fem!reader, cock warming, fluff

Tag List: @pixelcafe-network, @actuallysaiyan, @satorustar

Wanna be on the tag list? CLICK HERE!

He used to push you away when he didn’t feel well. He didn’t want you to worry about him or worse, feel obligated to take care of him. However, when he realizes you just want to be close to him, even on the bad days, he becomes so clingy. When he’s not feeling well, all he wants is you in his arms under a soft blanket.

That’s never enough though. He doesn’t want to just hold you in his arms. He wants to lose himself in you. There’s no better comfort than being intertwined at the root with his beloved.

“I want to be closer,” he whines. His breath is warm and soft against your neck as he nuzzles against you. His hips rut, the length of his cock brushing against your leg.

“You’re too sick right now for us to—”

“I don’t have to exert myself, I just want to be inside of you,” he pleads. “I want to feel you close to me.”

You make the mistake of looking into those beautiful green eyes, so round and sincere. You’re a goner, and he gets his way as you knew he would.

Before you know it, you’re being spooned by him while his cock stretches your insides. Every twitch from your walls is a tiny bit of heaven to him, but true to his word, he stays still. His head is resting against your shoulder. He’s utterly relaxed right now. Every ache and pain in his body has dulled for the time being, muted by the warmth of you. Long, slender fingers draw tiny patterns on your thigh as he hums contently. This is perfection found in the quietest of moments. Years had passed him by where days spent sick in bed were miserable and lonely, but now you’re with him. He can feel attached even when his own body has betrayed him for the day.

“Does this make you happy?” you ask, your voice is full of genuine softness.

“So very, very happy.”

You lay in his arms, listening to him breathe behind you. He shifts his position slightly, making you whine as his cock kisses your walls at a new angle. He strokes your thigh once more.

“Sorry, darling,” he says against your ear.

You lay like this for hours, safe in an embrace between lovers. Eventually, you fall asleep counting his breaths.

#🌸.writes #🎃.kinktober2024 #ukitake jushiro x reader #jushiro ukitake #ukitake x reader #bleach jushiro #jūshirō ukitake #jushiro ukitake x reader

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7ndipity · 11 months ago

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Take Care Of You

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: After a particularly rough week, you come down with the flu. Luckily, you have Yoongi to look after you, even if you think you don’t deserve it.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: mentions of illness, swearing, teeny bit suggestive and silly at the end, not proofread

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

It was still dark as you woke up shivering, your whole body aching as you rolled over, seeking out the warmth of your boyfriend. After less than two minutes though, he tried to shift out of your hold, making you whine.

“Babe, I’m melting,” He complained sleepily, trying to squirm away. “Why are you so warm?”

You only groaned weakly in response.

Yoongi’s eyes cracked open at the small, pained sound, looking down at you with sudden concern. “Babe? Are you okay?”

“I don’t-”, a sudden fit of coughing seized you, shaking your whole body.

“Ah, shit.” He clicked the light on, making you wince at the sudden brightness, sitting up to get a better look at you. Your face was pale and covered with a faint sheen of sweat, your whole frame shaking violently from shivering, despite the heat rolling off of you.

“I told you you’ve been working too hard.” He sighed, feeling your forehead. “Stay here, I’m gonna go get you some medicine.”

He disappeared through the house as you curled further in on yourself, trying to ignore the pounding in your head.

You knew he was right, though you hated that he had to be proven right in this way. You’d been pushing yourself harder than usual the past few days, trying to keep up with the usual demands at work, as well trying to get ahead on a few projects in the hope that you and Yoongi could take some time off together.

He had expressed several times that he’d been worried about you, but you’d kept brushing him off, saying that you were fine, your usual response whenever he voiced those types of concerns. He had enough on his plate, oftentimes stretching himself thinner than you had this week, and you didn’t want to add the burden of looking after you to the list.

He returned with a couple pills and some water, encouraging you gently to sit up before he handed them to you.

You took the meds with a slight wince, feeling the soreness in your throat, before trying to pass the glass back to him, but he shook his head, nudging it back towards your lips.

“Drink, you need to pay extra attention to hydration if you’re sick.” He said matter-of-factly.

“You sound like Web Md.” You tried to tease him, but your voice came out too weak and cracked.

“Drink.” He said again sternly, though his eyes stayed soft.

You relented, nodding before slowly finishing the glass.

“I’m sorry.” You croaked.

“Shh, it’s okay. Just sleep, okay?” He said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

He helped you get settled back under the covers before returning to his side of the bed, keeping a watchful eye over you until you managed to drift back to sleep.

You don’t know how long you were asleep for, but when you opened your eyes again, it was light out, Yoongi’s side of the bed empty. You assumed he’d left for the studio, leaving you to get what rest you could, though you tried to ignore the faint pang of sadness in your chest at the thought.

Slowly, you sat up, stretching out your stiff limbs. You could tell your fever had broken, or at least lessened, you were only faintly aching now, though the dull pounding in your head was still very much present.

You decided to make the trek to the kitchen for some tea and more meds, looking for an extra sweater or hoodie to pull on for warmth before shuffling down the hall.

“What are you doing up?” You jumped slightly at the sound of Yoongi’s voice, turning to see him standing in the doorway, carrying a tray of food and tea.

“What are you doing here?” You asked in surprise.

He smirked. “I really hope you’re not so sick that you forgot I live here.”

“I mean why are you still here? Why aren’t you at the studio?” You asked.

“I told them I couldn’t come in today.” He answered, setting the tray on the bedside table.

“Why not?” You asked, confused.

“Because you’re sick,” He said as if it was obvious. “I’m not leaving to fend for yourself.”

“I’m fine-” Your argument was choked off by another fit of coughing. Yoongi quickly moved to steady you as you wobbled slightly, your legs not supporting you nearly as much as you’d hoped.

“You’re not fine.” He said softly once you’d quieted. “Please, just let me take care of you?”

Reluctantly, you nodded, letting him help you back to the bed, tucking the blanket in around your

legs before settling the tray on your lap.

“How are you feeling?” He asked gently, handing you a cup of tea. You blinked, surprised that

he’d remembered the right herbal blend you liked for times like this.

You glanced up at him, noticing that he was watching you, waiting patiently for your response.

“My head hurts.” You admitted quietly.

“These should help.” He said, opening a bottle and handing you a couple pills. “Anything else?”

You shook your head. “Not really, I just feel kinda shitty.”

“A shower might help with that.” He said, chuckling at your choice of words, happy that you still sounded like yourself. “Will you be okay on your own or do you want me to help?”

“I’ll be okay on my own.” You said softly, staring at him curiously.

“Okay. You should eat something first, though.” He said, sliding a bowl of soup over in front of you. “Then, if you want, I can set you up on the couch and we can watch one of your shows?”

When you didn’t answer, he looked up, catching the way you were staring at him.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

You shook your head. “You’re just being really nice.” You said.

He tilted his head. “I’m always nice to you.”

“But all this-” You bit your lip. “You didn’t have to do any of this.”

“What are you talking about?” He said softly. “This is nothing, I’m just looking after you the way you deserve.”

You didn’t feel like it, you felt like you were getting in his way, keeping him away from his own work and responsibilities.

“Nuh-uh, I know that look.” He caught your chin with his fingers, turning your eyes back up to his, looking at you seriously. “Whatever’s going on in your head right now, it isn’t true. You deserve to be taken care of, you hear me?”

When you didn’t answer, he sighed, cupping your face in his hands.

“Y/n, I love you, I want to take care of you. I actually like getting to take care of you, when you let me, that is.” He added, making you crack a tiny grin. “Okay?”

You nodded. “Okay.”

Good, now c’mere.” He said, trying to pull you into a kiss, but you pressed a hand against his chest.

“What if you get sick?” You asked.

“I don’t give a shit. And even if I do, then you can take care of me, that’s how relationships work.” He said stubbornly, leaning in again.

You let him connect your lips for just a second before pulling away again.

“Yoongi?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.” You said.

“You’re welcome.” He replied. “Now, eat your soup before it gets cold, and then you can take your shower, unless maybe now you want me to help you with it?” He raised a brow at you.

“Stop trying to flirt with me, I’m sick!” You laughed.

“Who’s trying? I’m succeeding, you blushed!” He defended, pointing to your flushed cheeks.

“I did not, I have a fever!”

“Uh-huh, sure. Whatever you say, Babe.”

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

#yoongi drabble #yoongi fluff #yoongi comfort #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x reader #yoongi scenarios #bts one shot #bts drabble #bts fluff #bts comfort #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts requests #7ndipity

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yoditopascal · 9 days ago

Text

Like A Prayer (Part 5)

summary: best friends with wade you’re always being dragged into something even when he’s not trying to, what are you to do when you find the fate of your timeline in the hands of yourself, your chaotic merc and an angry wolverine who’s hellbent on drinking himself to death?

content warnings: romance, some angst, a little fluff, character deaths, canon-typical violence, smut, lots of cussing, mutual pining, found family, drug and alcohol use, reader insert but with no use of y/n cuz I hate that shit, deadpool being deadpool, mentions of poor mental health (depression anxiety and ptsd mostly), mentions of cannibalism this chapter, scent marking, the honda odyssey scene needs a warning all on its own MINORS DNI

tag list: sorry if you weren’t tagged I tried tagging everyone that asked but some usernames didn’t work! @allmyn1ghts @blooket-scares-me @amararosesblog @talanyra @spideybv28 @sadslasher13 @night-spectrum @eveieforeve02 @fudosl @melonmochi @shycollectionwolfstuff

Previous Chapter//Next Chapter

I Miss the Rage

Your head feels heavy as you start to come to. You lull it to the side to dull the throbbing pain and it rests against something hard and fleshy.

“Don’t get too comfortable there princess.” A deep voice chuckles as your eyes snap open, adjusting to the harsh light of the sun. In front of you, you find the man from before, the one that had combust into flames to fight those Mad Maxy guys.

Realizing you had been leaning on him you go to pull yourself away only to realize you were tied together almost chest to chest if you weren’t shorter than him.

“You have a good nap?” He teased in good nature. You ignore him as you look around yourself trying to remember what happened for you to be here chained up like this.

Oh yeah the big ass magnet.

“Where am I?” You finally ask as your eyes land on the Wolverine. He was to your left chained up to Wade who was mumbling something about Thor in his sleep. The man you were currently pressed up against went to open his mouth to speak again when he’s cut off by Wade jolting himself awake.

“How long was I asleep?” He asks groggily as he leans on Wolverine’s shoulder. The Wolverine harshly shrugged him off.

“Not all of you was asleep.” He grumbles looking down at the man with disgust and annoyance.

Ignoring Wolverine, Wade went to check for his weapons when he, like you, suddenly realized he too was tied up pretty tightly to the Wolverine no less.

“Don’t bother, they were very thorough.” The man says as he watched him squirm around attempting to see if they really took everything from him.

“You know where we are, start talking.” The Wolverine barks at him, having only known this mysterious man for a few minutes you didn’t think he was bad enough to warrant that kind of angry reaction from him. The man raises an eyebrow at Wolverine and smirks.

“You’re in The Void. Think of it as purgatory. Reed called it a metaphysical junkyard where anything useless goes before it gets annihilated forever, and where the TVA sends people that don’t play nice with the rest of the multiverse.”

“Like you?” The Wolverine said harshly, this guy seriously needed to watch his tone.

“And you.” The man said as a particularly hard bump in the road sent you stumbling further into him, he put his bound arms around your waist to steady you. He smelled heavily of smoke and his natural musk, but it wasn't unpleasant, you had thought. When you looked up to apologize to him you could see that he wasn’t even looking at you, instead choosing to hold his gaze with the Wolverine’s who looked like he had smelled something sour. You looked back and forth between the two men, one wore a smirk and the other stuck with his perpetual frown, tired of whatever dance the two were doing with each other you cut in.

“Who are you?” You ask.

“The names Johnny, Johnny Storm.” He says finally looked down at you.

“What does the annihilating?” The Wolverine cuts you off, this time Johnny’s smirk drops as he answers.

“Alioth.”

“From Loki season 1 episode 5?!” Wade gasps in shock and lowkey excitement.

“Everyone here is on the run from Alioth. Most don’t make it. There’s a resistance though. Other people like us that manage to survive, we’re hiding out in the border lands, trying to find a way the fuck outta here.” Johnny continues as he looks out into the desert as he thinks about if he’ll have a chance to see them again, his friends, his new found family.

You saw the somber look in his eyes and just as you were about to say something to comfort him the Wolverine interrupts you again, this time with a gruff “Then that’s where we go.”

Wade kicks a foot up excitedly and if his hands were free you were sure he’d be clapping.

“We? Us? A team? The answer is yes! Shake on it!” He goes to lean towards you and Johnny but just as he does so the telltale snikt of Wolverine’s claws extending is heard as he cuts through the skin of Wade’s thigh.

“Fuck! You nicked it! Got the tip with your little steak knives!”

The Wolverine rolls his eyes as he looks back to Johnny. “The others can help us get back to the TVA. They can fix things.” He said more to himself than anyone else.

Johnny chuckles as he lets his head lull forward bumping into yours lightly and the Wolverine growls at him as he tries to shuffle towards you two.

“Something funny, bub?” He down right snarls as Johnny lifts his head tilting it innocently at him as the smirk from before returns to his face.

“She might have something to say about that.”

“Who’s she?” You ask.

“In The Void, you’re either food for Alioth, or you work for her.” Johnny says as he begins to explain to y’all exactly who she was.

One lengthy car ride and a dramatic rant from Johnny later you all reach the decayed body of a giant, its gloved hands, acting as a gate, opening upon your arrival.

“Paul Rudd finally aged.” Wade jokes but you could tell he was starting to get nervous, as the cars rolled to a stop. Surrounded all around you were goons of all sorts of backgrounds, some seemed quite familiar to you while others you had never seen before a day in your life.

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

“You know the drill if shit goes south don’t you babes?” Wade leans over as best as he could from the Wolverine’s side.

“You go right, I go left.” You nod as Wolverine looks between you two with a cocked brow. In his world you were an exceptionally skilled fighter, an x-man, were you the same in this one? He wondered.

“Keep your voices down,” the greasy man from before said as he came around to unlock the cage you all had been thrown in. “She don’t like the chatter.”

One by one the man unhooks you from the cage and drags you out until you’re standing by Johnny on the other side of the compound. Just as he goes to pull away from you, the greasy man grabs your chin forcing you to look him in his eyes as he smirks down at you showing off his filthy teeth. From the corner of your eye you can see the Wolverine starting to come to your rescue until he’s stopped and held back by some of the others surrounding you, with a snarl you rip your face away from his grip glaring up at him as he laughs down at you.

“Oh she’s gonna love you.” He grins before turning his back to you as he walks away. Just as you go to retort you’re stopped as you hear the Wolverine speak up

“Is that Charles?”

Looking up in the direction he was looking you spot a figure in a wheelchair approaching you four.

“Hey, hey, Chuck, it’s us!” Wade pipes up swinging his restrained arms to try and wave the figure over as if he knew you but the closer they got the more you realized something about it wasn’t quite right. The head while still bald was smaller and overall the figure just appeared more dainty and almost feminine.

Clearing the smoke that was wafting through the compound the figure rose to their feet from the wheelchair revealing a bald smiling woman as she descended the stairs to approach you all.

“That’s definitely not Chuck.” The Wolverine warns as he scents the air, he couldn’t get a good whiff of her with all the others around but he could definitely pick up your scent of fear.

“A Wolverine,” her voice was soft and quaint with a bit of an accent, “I wondered when I’d get one of you here.”

“You’re one of Xavier’s.” She points out as she looks him up and down in his suit like a fresh piece of meat, making your skin crawl.

“You know him?” The Wolverine asks and he looks down at her from his nose.

“Oh, I knew him,” she ponders for a moment before twirling around on her heel to look at you and Johnny now, “We shared a womb, I tried to strangle the sly little fellow with my umbilical cord.”

“I’ve never liked roommates,” Wade decides to chime in from the Wolverine’s side, “Mine’s blind, except she can see cocaine for some reason.” He chuckles nervously before turning back to Wolverine who hadn’t torn his hard gaze away from the bald woman just yet.

“Who are you?” The Wolverine finally asks.

“Charles Xavier’s twin, Cassandra Nova.” She grinned as she turns back to them.

“Oh, shit.” “I was an anal birth.” Both men said at the same time at the revelation.

“Jesus Wade.” You shook your head as you watched your best friend flounder in embarrassment, you knew being tied up without his weapons at his side Wade was probably feeling vulnerable right about now, healing factor or not.

“You two are adorable.” She smiled smiled going to pat Wade on his masked cheek before pointing a long bony finger exaggeratedly in Johnny’s direction

“And you,” she says walking up to the two of you once again, “I’ve been trying to catch this little firefly for years, haven’t I, Johnny?”

“You picked the wrong time to make new friends.” She tsked as she held his gaze.

“Oh, Johnny told us all about you!” Wade shouts over to her causing her to turn her gaze back to him and the Wolverine.

“Wade don’t.” You started to say, worry lacing your voice as you knew exactly what was about to come out of his mouth. He had a bad habit of being a terrible gossip.

“Yeah, maybe don’t bub.” The Wolverine agreed with you, looking at Johnny, who’s face had lost all its color, but it was too late.

“Yeah, Johnny told us you’re a psychotic, megalomaniacal asshole, his words not mine.” Wade recited word for word. “Hell bent on domination and pain.”

“You said all that about me?” Cassandra said, sounding almost as if she were flattered by his words as she batted her lashes at Johnny.

“No, no! I didn’t say anything!”

“Sticks and stones, Johnny! Don’t let her intimidate you!” Wade continues to go on about how Johnny had called her a pixie slab of third-rate dime store nut milk before he kept going.

“I have never said any of those words in my entire life!” Johnny shot back nervously but Wade waved him off.

“Ah! The modesty!” Wade laughs throwing his head back with a hand on his chest, “And people think I’m a shit-topper, but this guy,” He chef kisses his fingers through his mask, “next level.”

“This, I-I don’t even know what half of that even means!” Johnny stuttered fearfully.

“My hat’s off to you sir, truly.”

“I didn’t- he’s-, that’s- I-I-I don’t-!”

The next thing you knew it was completely silent before you heard a wet pop as something thick and warm splashed up against you, covering you in it. Turning to look at Johnny to see what it was you’re met with a pair of eyes widely staring at you, Johnny’s muscles and organs all out on display before he crumbles to the ground in a wet heap of viscera and gore.

You fall to your ass as the chains supporting Johnny give way, scrambling to scoot away. You felt tears well up as bile rose to your throat at the sight in front of you. You couldn’t peel your eyes away from the mass that had been your acquaintance just moments ago.

Everyone around you sounds muffled like they’re underwater as you looked down to your trembling hands, they were stained red with blood, you were covered in it from head to toe. Pulling at your restraints you go to scrub the carnage from your face, the rattling of the chains drawing Cassandra’s attention to you. She smiles down at you as she approaches placing a delicate hand under your chin to draw your gaze back to her.

Wade and the Wolverine go to spring forward towards you but are held back by Cassandra’s men, causing her to stop and look between the three of you, her smile growing more wicked.

“What exactly did you three do to wind up here in my humble abode?” She asks as she caresses your face in her hand, watching as the Wolverine tenses.

“Big Yellow here is a backup Anchor Being, and I’m Marvel Jesus, MJ if you're nasty. Honey buns over there is just my ride or die, more emphasis on the ride part. She’s not really important.” Wade answers, trying to deflect, he was trying to diminish you, minimize your importance so she would leave you alone but she still refused to let you go.

“This may be hard to hear, but there’s another British villain and he gonna fuck our universe, if me and jelly bean over there don’t stop him.” He says trying to step forward towards you two again but he’s pulled back by another one of her goons. Cassandra looks back between you and Wade and throws her head back with a laugh.

“Oh, honey, you guys don’t really strike me as a world-saving type.” She says wiping the tears from your eyes as she finally decides to let you go, turning herself back to Wade as she walks up to him.

“Oh? Did I hit a nerve?” She asks as she circles him, Wade is eerily quiet for a moment as he looks you over, making sure Cassandra hadn’t done anything to you that he had missed.

“Listen I didn’t want it to come to this but either you help us, or my friend here is gonna sing the entirety of the Greatest Showman, with zero warm up.” Wade finally blinks away from you as he nods his head back to the Wolverine at his side.

“Where’d you get the chair?” The Wolverine asks, completely ignoring Wade as Cassandra approaches.

“Once in a while, I do get an Xavier through here.” She shrugs as if it were the most boring thing in the world to talk about. “He didn’t care to find me so I found him instead.”

The Wolverine goes to open his mouth again when he’s interrupted by Wade letting out a long drawn out groan. “Oh my goooood, gen Z and they’re trauma-bragging!”

“Can’t you just stuff it down, or turn it into accomplishments or cancer like the rest of us?” He whines dramatically.

“I’m not like the rest of you,” she tells Wade before moving back to stand in front of the Wolverine “Except maybe the Wolverine.”

“Now we could be truly terrifying together.” She said circling around him as she holds his gaze

“Yeah? You’re that scary, huh?” He asked her not breaking eye contact as she does so. His fingers twitching at his side waiting to unleash his claws.

“The TVA certainly thought so, that’s why they sent me here before I could walk.” she says coming to stand in front of him again, she looks off into the distance for a moment, lost in thought, before Turning her attention back to him. “It’s the best thing that ever happened to me, I love it here.”

“You live in a garbage dump.” Wade chimes in but she simply smirks up at him before turning away, walking back over to where you still sat shocked on the ground.

“The Void is a paradise, I can wield my power here without shame.” She says over her shoulder to the two men.

“Unfortunately, I had no Charles Xavier to teach me temperance.” She says raising your face with her chin. She goes to touch your forehead with a single finger, dragging it down until it sat in between your eyes. “I have to get my hands dirty.”

Slowly she began to push in causing you to cry out at the intrusion. The Wolverine breaks free of his capture’s hold and goes to lunge at Cassandra, claws drawn, before she holds up a hand stopping him mid-air.

“That’s not very nice now is it?” She says without looking away from your pain riddled face as she continues to finger you between the eyes. With a flick of her wrist she sends Wolverine pummeling down into the ground until he’s coughing up dirt, only his claws still visible, before flinging him far away, out of sight.

“Now then, if I can’t have myself a Wolverine, I’ll have to settle for the next best thing.” She said pushing in even further. “His little devil.”

You scream out in pain as a pressure builds behind your eyelids and in your sinuses. Flashes of images passed over you like your nightmares before. First you were strapped to a table as Ajax painfully tore into you and stitched you back up again. He never bothered to use anesthesia on you when he “operated”, always said it was a waste of time and resources, next you were in a tank filled with water as you banged on the glass trying to get out so you wouldn’t drown.

More memories flashed before your eyes flickering like a tv switching channels, memories of your childhood with your alcohol dad and getting diagnosed with cancer right out of high school, memories of you first meeting Wade and that time when your healing factor kicked in for the first time saving your life, all of it passed by in a blur as you continued to cry out, it felt like your head was being split in two.

“What’s this? You don’t even know about this yet do you?” Cassandra suddenly asks you as if she had found something with her digging, she dips another finger into you as she leans forward watched Wade struggle to get to you from the corner of her eye with a smirk. “Don’t worry darling, I can help you with that.”

Suddenly there’s a pulling sensation as the thumbing from before returns at full force. Your head feels like it’s being ripped apart and pulled back together at the same time.

“Relax, I got you.”

I got you.

It echoes over and over again with the pounding of your head until it all comes to a stop as you black out.

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

Wade stops struggling momentarily as he watches you fall limp. Cassandra stands to her feet flicking your brain juice from her fingers as she turns to her.

“Tie her up, I feel this is about to get real interesting.” Her men scramble away from Wade in a hurry to do as she asks before she could do the same to them. Cassandra raised a single nimble finger in the air as she approached Wade readying herself to enter his brain.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, I don’t want the smoke!” He holds up his hands in surrender. Eyes still on your limp frame for a moment before he tears his gaze away to look at Cassandra pleadingly. “We don’t have any beef with you. I just want to get us home and save my friends.”

“Well, the thing is, I could get you home.” She said as if contemplating it. “But I don’t want to.” She turns her attention back to her men who were now surrounding you with ropes as they got ready to bind your unconscious body.

Reaching down to his boot with his now free hands Wade pulls out a small hunting knife, baby knife as you had so cutely dubbed it, and raises it, threatening her with it.

Cassandra smiles at him as she watches him with a cocked head.

“Trying to play hero?” She asks

“I don’t wanna have to do this to ya Calliou but you hurt my friend so now it’s baby knife’s turn to fuck you in the face.” Wade says, nodding down to his knife in hand. Suddenly Cassandra disappears from his line of vision and before he has a chance to register where she went he feels fingers starting to dig into his skull.

“What do you really want, Wade Wilson?” Cassandra asks from behind him as she starts to sink her fingers into his head, phasing through his mask and skin.

“Uh, your fingers are inside me, but not in a good way.” He groans as she starts to dive in deeper, watching as his memories ticked by.

“You’re so lost Mr. Wilson, let me help you.” She cooes.

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

From the ground where she had left you, you start to sink even deeper into your head as an unfamiliar pull in your stomach makes you roll at the new sensation.

I got you.

It keeps repeating over and over again like a mantra as your skin begins to prickle up in a cold sweat. You were laid out in a desert somewhere so the warmth was unavoidable but the heat you were starting to feel different it started from a coil in the pit of your belly and grew more and more unbearable as it spread. It was all over you, on your skin and even inside you and the thumping sound? God the thumping sound was getting louder and louder and so much more concentrated, it felt like your ears were about to bleed. It was all too much at once, it had to stop, you had to make it stop, you thought as you writhed on the ground.

You could feel your nails and teeth as if they were growing, becoming longer, more razor sharp and you could smell everything. There was the smell of the dirt and the earth beneath you followed by the smell of sweat and the stink of something sour. Then you caught a whiff of something sickly almost cancerous, it made your gut twist but it was vaguely familiar to you, then there was something musky and comforting followed by something more floral with just a hint of blood that made your skin crawl at the smell of it.

You could hear everything too. Clambering to cover your ears with your hands, you tried to shield out the thumping sounds that were driving you absolutely crazy, only they weren’t just random thumps anymore, some were more calm while others were more rapid, almost like the heartbeat of someone scared, it was giving you a migraine.

It was driving you to your wits end, you needed someone, anyone to make it stop. Just as it all seemed to be too much to bear there was an eerie calm that washed over you for just a moment before it all came crashing down all around you as you felt someone’s grimy hand brush up against your upper arm.

Snapping your eyes open you rose to your feet, grabbing at the first person you saw, the one grabbing your arm, holding him by his neck as you stood. The tighter you held him the man by his throat the weaker his sounds got for your sensitive ears, there was a resounding gurgle as your claws dug in sinking into his trachea before it all became quiet again. It was peaceful only for a second.

Another hand reached out, snatching you up by your hair, he screams something unintelligible in your face, probably about killing his friend, but you don’t hear him, you don’t care to as you reach up to pull him closer, sinking your teeth into his exposed neck and ripping out a chunk as you pull away. The foul taste of his blood fills your mouth making your stomach lurch.

Bullets start flying now as he hits the ground grasping at his bleeding throat. Spitting out the disgusting chuck of flesh that assaulted your taste buds you lunge at the next person closest to you, one of the ones who was firing. Bullets pierced through you but the wounds healed up almost instantly as you tore through the army of mutant goons, some tried to run and fight back but that only made you angry, more bloodthirsty as you worked your way through them.

Blood flowed through your clawed hands as you clumsily hacked and slashed your way through the throngs of men firing at you. Soon the bullets didn’t even penetrate your skin as they defected off of you leaving only minor bumps in their wake. Just as some of the men started to surround you trying their best to hold you down with whatever restraints they could find you let out an ear piercing shriek. Everyone around you clutched their hands to their ears, trying to stop the sound from bursting their ear drums, even the man dressed in all red you had smelled earlier was bent over in pain. Everyone except that bald chick, who simply watched you, eyes blown wide with excitement and awe as she smiled at you.

You made quick work of the goons that were left, the others having made their escape as you slaughtered their teammates. Slowly you stood from the body you had just dropped, blood dripped from your clawed hands as you turned your attention towards the only other person standing before you besides the red man who looked over you in shock and absolute horror. Awww dCassandra. Your foggy brain had told you, that's what she was called. You vaguely recognized her, remembered the pain she put you through, the fear. She had to pay.

Running at her on all fours you thrust your body into the air, lunging for her throat before you're caught and stopped mid-air by an invisible force.

“My aren’t you the little animal.”

You crawl and snarl as you foam at the mouth struggling at the invisible force holding you back from ripping her apart like you did all the others. Suddenly your body is situated up right, still floating above Cassandra’s head as she looks you over with another one of those sickeningly sweet smiles of hers.

“As much as I love your enthusiasm darling, I think we need to teach this rabid dog a little more about control, don’t you?”

With a twist of her wrist you feel a pressure, first it was slight then it intensified tenfold. It felt like an elephant had sat right on your chest as the force continued to build and build until you heard a snap. At first you didn’t know what it was, until you’re hit with a wall of pain that you realized as you cried out, she had broken your ribs. The pain was almost too much to comprehend as it snapped something back awake inside of you. Your teeth and nails start to turn back to their normal length as the thumping you were hearing earlier begins to dull, something shines inside of her eyes as she watches your body return to normal.

“Now that is interesting.” Cassandra all but giggles as she observes you.

Just as she opens her mouth to speak again, six adamantium blades shoot through her chest as the Wolverine, finally free from his dirt prison, stabs Cassandra from behind, forcing her to drop you from her hold.

She looks down in shock for a minute as blood trickles down her chin before she smiles back at the Wolverine, tapping her chest lightly forcing his claws to retract against his will with a snakt.

With a flick of her wrist she sends the Wolverine flying backwards again, this time not as far as she turns her attention back to you, who was slowly and cautiously being approached by Wade. A crack of thunder and a spark of lighting catches her attention as she looks up into the distance and grins at the approach of Alioth.

“Well, this has been fun, but the big guy needs to eat, and the rent is due.” She says turning on her heel as she begins to retreat further into her compound wiping the blood from her bottom lip, “By the way, you’re the rent.”

From the ground you shook your head, trying to free yourself from the brain fog as you tried to piece together what just happened. First you were tied up to Johnny then his skin evaporated and the next thing you knew Cassandra was finger fucking your brain in front of everyone and then….nothing.

Why did your body hurt so much and what the actual fuck had just happened to you?

Just as you were about to ask aloud what was going on, Wade’s red boots were in your line of vision as he scooped you up to your feet, tucking you up under his arm as he dragged you away from the death cloud that was steadily approaching the compound.

“Up we go little Miss Murder!” He says as you pick up the pace.

In front of you you spot the Wolverine as he kicks and claws at the scrapped sentinel leg that had knocked you unconscious earlier, forcing it to start up with a loud rumble.

“You guys coming or what?!” He yells over the roar of the boot’s rocket as it starts to lift him into the air, he holds out a hand for you to take but Wade beats you to it as he snatches it up, sandwiching you between him and the Wolverine as the leg takes off into the air.

#Spotify #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett x reader #wolverine imagine #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3 #platonic deadpool x reader #deadpool x reader #like a prayer

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inchidentally · 6 months ago

Text

(anon charmingly asked for a "ramble" from me about this video and like I even need the excuse tbh)

literally one of my favorite qualities of their dynamic is Lando mercilessly nagging Oscar and bossing him around and Oscar dutifully obeying and finding Lando constantly fun and charming no matter what. it's a trait that Lando only brings out around very select people and tbh I can only come up with Max F atm tho I'm sure there are others. but normally with his friends Lando is the little brother who's just happy to be included and he might be annoying or stubborn sometimes but mostly just to wind them up. but The Nagging? is reserved only for people who can handle it. and Oscar handles it far, far too well.

I love that Oscar has clearly been told to lead these videos more by the McLaren social media team and given guidance about things like using his hands and being more animated … only for Lando to interrupt and huff out "do you want to start or do you want me to start?" bc CLEARLY Oscar isn't doing it the way Lando wants !!

Oscar's fumbling little "ahh ahh I-I can start?" literally "yes dear sorry dear"

OKAY SO THE FUNNIEST PART !! is Lando's absolute OUTRAGE when he spots the hangers and immediately accuses Oscar of stealing them even though ! the hangers are empty and clearly Oscar isn't lying when he says had no idea they were there - oh and Lando steals them all for himself anyway

BUT OSCAR LAUGHS AND GOES ALONG WITH IT "apparently I stole his hangers" meanwhile Lando is literally still grumbling "goddd!" behind the camera bc he is SO MAD

Lando picking around Oscar's sink before he gets caught out and

interrupts Oscar again bc TIME FOR LANDO

"it's a bit cleaner!" oh the satisfaction we all felt when Oscar pointed out that Lando hadn't actually unpacked yet

oh my god !!! the way they pick up on these little domestic bits "my morning latte" "2 in the afternoon" "AHEM afternoon" like this is clearly what's going on when they do the thing of looking at each other and giggling and no one else knows why

Lando's pride in his new bed and Oscar narrating along to how it's set up

OSCAR GOING "DONK" WHEN LANDO DESCRIBES HITTING HIS HEAD THAT'S SO CUTE and absolutely going in my Oscar Narrating Lando's Life list

the synchronized "two other driver rooms" oh my god they're so scary sometimes they even looked at each other like wtfff

Oscar is boring about wood trim and Lando looking at the camera like wowww interesting huh? - oh my god let your boy be dull it's just how he is !!

Oscar's sleeping space being deemed "cute" by Lando ;__; just like his BK order

the way Oscar keeps providing along words for Lando in Lando's room and yep sure enough, Lando needs him for 'hammock'!!

no seriously Oscar having learned to track Lando's meandering thought patterns so closely bc ha as if Lando will be doing that and not losing track completely

Oscar literally did not need to laugh like that at Lando pretending he had a console and PC set up for gaming but well Zendaya laugh down bad etc

Lando having fully taken over starts the full outro and Oscar returns to his beloved spot watching Lando and saying "yes" over and over like literally McLaren just follow them around with a camera you don't need to prompt them with challenges they do all this on their own

#the formatting on this is migraine inducing I'm so sorry I'm shit #landoscar #mctwinks #twinklaren #inchidentallyanessay #I'm a moron and they tickle my brain the right way sorry again

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venerawrites · 8 months ago

Note

thank you for feeding my Naruto brainrot 😫🫶🏻 for the prompt request: for your fav Naruto boys or girls, what are the non-negotiables (things they need to have) and the dealbreakers (will not tolerate) when they're in a relationship with their partner?

author's note: this has been sitting in my drafts for a while, so I'm really sorry for the delay. I really liked that prompt and I do hope I did it justice. I have so many favs it was hard to pick, but ultimately I decided to pick Naruto, Neji, Sasuke and Shikamaru.

Naruto

➦ Non-negotiables

Calm and rational mind - as someone who is a ball full of energy and very easily influenced by his emotions, Naruto needs a partner who is stable and able to keep calm and collected under pressure. He has enough fire and passion within him for both him and his partner, so he would need a polar opposite in order to keep him balanced. He also lacks the ability to look at situations realistically, so a more rational partner would definitely help him do that.

Affectionate - this doesn't mean he wants someone who is clinging to his arm 24/7, but rather someone who is not afraid to show affection to him either in public or private. A partner that laces their fingers with his when they notice his knee shaking nervously or embraces them in a hug after a long stressful day, is what Naruto needs after being alone for so many years.

➦ Dealbreakers

Lack of ambitions or drive - Naruto has always been full of dreams and hope. He constantly seeks to grow, not only in his power but also as a person. If he is with a partner who lacks any ambition in life, he is bound to feel stagnate at some point and that is probably his biggest nightmare. He needs someone to calm and balance his hyperactive personality, but he won't be with someone who makes his whole life dull.

No sense of humour - this may not be a dealbreaker for many people, but for Naruto it certainly is. He has always been a goofball and loves a good joke, so I can't even imagine him being with someone, who won't at least crack a smile at his attempts to cheer them up. He doesn't want to be with someone who is overly pessimistic and negative.

Neji

➦ Non-negotiables

A strong moral compass - probably the least tolerant and forgiving of all of the guys on the list, Neji needs a partner that has strong morals and values. There are certain things that are completely unjustifiable in his eyes, like betraying the people you love or killing innocent people. No matter their background or religious/political view, their partner needs to have strong principles that they follow, regardless of external pressure. For him, this is also fundamental for raising your children right.

Commitment - Neji's ideal partner would need to be someone who will commit fully to him and their family (once they have one). I always imagined him with a civilian or someone who is an ex-ninja, because he knows it is not possible to juggle both an active ninja lifestyle and taking care of the house. Even he, at some point, would start doing fewer and fewer missions, spending time and training his children instead. He would absolutely expect the same from their partner.

➦ Dealbreakers

Not wanting family/children - Neji is a very traditional guy and as such, he does want to one day have a family and be a father. He would respect his partner's decision if they decide this is not the life for them, but that would ultimately lead to the end of their relationship. This is one thing he would not change his mind about, so he has to be with someone who is on the same page.

Lack of respect - in a way connected to the dealbreaker above, he won't be with someone who doesn't respect him, his family, or his values. Due to the way he was raised, he would naturally assume the role of provider and protector - his partner better be the more submissive half, the one who nurtures, rather than fights. If they cannot respect that dynamic, they better find a more open-minded partner than Neji.

Sasuke

➦ Non-negotiables

Confidence and courage - having quite a lot of issues himself, he needs a partner who has the confidence and the courage to stand up to him. Sasuke has the tendency to do whatever he thinks is right, without really taking into consideration how that affects others. He really needs someone who will be honest about their feelings and opinions, without fearing that they will somehow offend him. He will probably huff and puff, but he secretly appreciates it when their partner has the guts to put their foot down.

Bluntness - maybe connected in a way to what I typed above, but Sasuke needs someone who speaks bluntly to him. He is also the type of person to share his thoughts openly, so he expects the same from his partner. Additionally, he is not good at getting hints, so it's better for his lover to just say straightforwardly what is bothering them, rather than tip-toe around it.

➦ Dealbreakers

Lying - Sasuke cannot tolerate liars. He has been lied to quite a lot during his life and he suffers from major trust issues. If he catches his partner even in a lie, even about something insignificant, that would be the end of the relationship. If they lie about small, they will inevitably lie about something bigger as well. Sasuke had enough with people like that.

Clinginess - that man had enough of people clinging to him. Sasuke values his personal space and alone time and he won't like a partner, that is constantly on his back and wants to spend all their time together. Like everyone, he would need some moments of loving and he would subtly hint at their partner when they need attention/love, but he would somehow have to initiate it first.

Shikamaru

➦ Non-negotiables

Empathy - an ideal partner would be able to see other people's sides, and consider their feelings and motives. Shikamaru prides himself on being open-minded and good at reading people, so he expects his partner to be the same. He forgot a date or something minor because of how stressed he is at work? He wants his partner to be able to put themselves in his shoes and maybe cut him a little bit of slack.

Likes challenges/puzzles - as someone who is so smart, Shikamaru needs intellectual challenges to keep boredom away and also stimulate his brain. His partner either has to be brave enough to challenge him on topics they do not agree on or actively seek and help him with puzzling tasks, that he can't deal alone with. Either way, their partner has to be able to think outside the box and be able to counter Shikamaru's arguments.

➦ Dealbreakers

Anger issues - now I know that may be controversial, since in the anime he is with Temari, who can be pretty fiery... but personally I feel he is not the one to really tolerate someone who gets worked up easily, shouts, and throws tantrums. Life is too short to deal with someone who can't control their temper and he constantly feels like he has to walk on eggshells around them.

Pretending to be dumb - Shikamaru is naturally attracted to intelligence. Does it feel nice to be outsmarted or corrected by their own partner sometimes? Well, no, not really. But he definitely prefers that, rather than having a partner that pretends to be dumb, just so they can appear cute or for other people to like them better.

cc artwork: Houston Sharp

#naruto uzumaki #sasuke uchiha #neji hyuga #shikamaru nara #naruto uzumaki x reader #sasuke x reader #neji x reader #shikamaru x reader #naruto imagines #naruto headcanons #naruto requests

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dreamlandreader · 3 months ago

Text

Hounds of Love | Part Two

Thank you so much for all the love on part one of Hounds of Love, I really didn’t except so many people to like it, and I am so so sorry it has taken me such a long time to get this out but I hope you all enjoy part two as much as part one.

I would love to do more x reader fics with SJM characters so if you have any particular characters of any gender you would like to see, or specific requests then please let me know. 💖

Content Warnings: Parental death, panic attacks, water, anxiety, fluff.

Part One | Masterlist

I'm still afraid to be there,

Among the hounds of love,

And feel your arms surround me

Eris Vanserra stared at his reflection in the gilded mirror before him and felt every bit as hollow on the inside as he looked on the outside.

Beneath the jewels and the finery was a male very aware of the part he had to play, of the smile he had to paste on his face and the lie he had to feed his people.

Beron Vanserra was dead. But the joy and relief that his brothers, mother and the people of the Autumn Court found so easily after the tyrants death, slipped from Eris’s grip every time he desperately tried to cling to it.

He was not sad his father had gone. Not by a long shot. He just felt … nothing. Nothing except the burgeoning responsibility he had to his court, and the absolute terror that he was not up to the job.

But he had no time for moping. His advisors were getting tetchy and Lucien had stalled the ceremony long enough.

In Autumn Court tradition Eris would be sworn in as High Lord in front of thousands of his citizens. Then a grand party will be thrown, where representatives from every Autumn Court city, town and village will meet their new leader.

Eris hated the vain display of pomp and ceremony, but on his long list of immediate changes to be instated in his court, the cancellation of a celebration that brought his people such happiness was not deemed a priority.

‘Eris, hurry up! Even the priestess is getting impaitent,’ Lucien hissed from behind the oak panelled door.

Smoothing his fine clothing, the soon to be High Lord of the Autumn Court forced his smile to reach his eyes and headed towards his future.

The ceremony was long and dull and you were so far back that you couldn’t make out a single feature on the new High Lord’s face, or hear a word from the priestess’s mouth.

It was an honour, your father had said, to be invited to represent your small boarder town at the appointment of the new ruler of your lands. You did not feel very honoured though. You felt claustrophobic, squashed amongst all the other citizens who were desperately pushing to see the new High Lord. Moreover your dress, though beautiful, was incredibly uncomfortable, with itchy fabric and a tightly pulled corset, never mind the pinching shoes that were slowing crushing your poor toes.

But your main issue was not with your outfit or the rude people around you breathing down your neck, it was a lingering sense of nervousness that you might run in to someone familiar. It did not help that the new High Lord shared a name with the male you were so anxious to run into. Eris. It was a fairly traditional name, and was common amongst the Autumn Court nobility, but it stirred something within you that you had tried, and failed, to ignore for seven years straight.

It certainly didn’t feel like only seven years since you last saw the stranger, not when he had consumed your dreams every night since. His unrelenting kindness that day allowed you to return to your sick father, pockets lined with more than enough to pay for his medicine, to buy better resources for the farm and to pay off Beron’s tithe.

Since that day you had built a better life, not only for yourself but for the small community you lived in. With the help of the treasures that the generous male had given you, you were able to focus on not only growing food for the village but also medicinal plants that the local healer so desperately needed, but couldn’t access due to trading restrictions Beron had so foolishly imposed on the boarders. Hallie, the beautiful hound who guided you home safely that night, had never left your side since. Whether you were working in the fields, selling to the apothecary, caring for your father or sleeping, the dutiful dog was at your feet, always alert but more than happy to receive your affections. It had splintered your heart leaving her behind whilst you journeyed back here, but you had entrusted her to watch over your father.

Despite all of your success, you couldn’t shake the aching feeling that something was missing. You knew it was foolish, dreaming of a male you met for all of ten minutes, but you couldn’t ignore the prang of pain every time you thought of the copper haired beauty.

As thoughts of the beautiful stranger came bubbling to the surface and the packed crowds shoved further forward in an attempt to see the new High Lord from a better angle, a devastatingly sharp pang of fear swam up your chest, clawing at your heart. Not now. You thought. Not here! This room was too hot. Your dress was far too tight. You could not breathe as the anxiety climbed up your throat. Could not move. Until you did.

Pushing and elbowing and fighting your way out of the crowd, you slipped through the hoards of onlookers and ran. You lost your shoes in a matter of seconds, and it wasn’t until the twigs poked holes in your feet that you noticed you’d ran directly into the woods.

Once you were out of the sight of ‘polite’ society, you tore at your dress, trying desperately to undo the corseting which stuffed you in so restrictively. Your hands trembled against the ribbon at your ribcage and you let out a small sound as you sank to your knees and cried.

Eris was on fire.

He had never really felt the heat. Even in the summer court, Eris was unbothered by the scorching temperatures. He had fire in his veins after all. But this searing pain in his chest consumed him.

He could not hear the words of the ancient priestess over the ringing reverberating around his skull, and it was all he could do, not to let his legs buckle from under him. He felt a pull. An urge to flee. The need to escape. But he could not. So he grit his teeth and bore the agony, praying that the seconds would tick by much faster.

When the priestess had finally wrapped up the ceremony and crowned him as High Lord, Eris bolted. He was supposed to stay put. To walk calmly to the ballroom, make a speech, meet representatives of all the lands in his court. But that could wait. Lucien would have to figure something out. Because Eris needed to leave. He needed to run, but towards what he did not know.

It took six minutes and twenty-two seconds until Eris's feet stopped running, and the taut pull in his chest slackened just slightly. He had reached a glimmering lake, and was momentarily dazzled by the reflection of the crisp autumn sun shining on the still waters.

It was the sound that first drew his attention to you. A whimper, and rapid breathing. The scrape of nails slashing at fabric. Eris looked to the bank of the lake and saw you knelt, a pool of silk encircling your frame. He couldn't see your face, but from the noises you made he knew you were crying. You were tugging helplessly at the tight laces which tied your corset, and the more you struggled the more panicked you seemed to become. He knew that feeling too well, but his own anxiety dissolved into the background as his focus shifted entirely onto you.

"Hey, let me help you," he said softly, moving cautiously towards your back, and kneeling gently behind you. You slowed in response to his soothing tone, but continued to tug at the ribbon in frustration.

"I need this damned thing off I can’t - I can’t breathe!" you panted, fear dripping from your shaking voice.

"Wait, wait just stop. Stay still. Let me help you,"

Eris steadied his hands, still shaking from his own agitation and began to undo the laces, first untangling the tight bow at the base of your spine and gradually working his way up pulling the satin ribbon free from the eyelets. You began to breathe easier with each inch of the corset that was released.

"There. It’s done. Are you-”

Eris didn’t get to finish his sentence before you whipped up, leaving your dress in a crumpled heap on the forest floor. Your cream chemise fluttered behind you, as you sprinted towards to lake and flung yourself in.

“What the fu-” Eris darted up and lunged into the water fully clothed in his regal attire.

The surface of the water stilled momentarily, before your head gracefully emerged and you lay flat, floating on your back, staring up at the rosy pink sky.

Eris much less delicately reached the surface, spluttering and floundering in the water. He swiftly removed his heavy overcoat and watched glumly as his favourite baldric sank, a trail of bubbles the only thing to suggest it had ever been there.

“What in the mother’s name were you thinking!?” Eris exclaimed, still catching his breath from his unexpected bath.

“I have panic attacks,” you said matter of factly, drawing your fingers through the frigid water in lazy circles.

“I can't breathe, and I feel like I'm on fire. When I'm home, if I can feel them coming I take a bath as cold as possible. It grounds me. I can reset and then breathe again,"

There was a stark silence as Eris took in your floating form. You looked ethereal with your hair splayed across the water, but he couldn't quite make out your features with the setting sun shining right in his eyes.

"I run," he said softly, feeling the need to tell you something about himself after he had intruded on such a raw moment.

"Hmmm?"

"When I have panic attacks, I run. I’m always so envious of how free my hounds look when they get to run without limits. When I'm anxious, all I want to do is join them, so I do,"

"Oh," you answered, your heart warming slightly at this strangers confession.

You started to rise in the water, and took in the beautiful male before you. As your eyes scanned up his well toned body you suddenly remembered your manners.

"Thank you for your hel-," You stopped abruptly as your eyes met his. This was no stranger. You should have known from the distinct timbre of his voice. From the kindness he so willingly showed to a complete stranger. After so long, he was here.

"Eris!"

"Y/N!"

Eris's eyes were just as wide as yours, round and swimming with feeling.

“What are you doing here?” Eris whispered, silver lining his chestnut eyes.

“I- the new High Lord,” You replied as you stared at the male before you, too afraid to blink in case he disappeared again, never to return.

“You saved my life. My father’s life. You gave me the chance to help other people. Why?”

“Because, it was the right thing to do,” Eris stated matter of factly as he took your hand into his. Your heart was pounding and as strange as it seemed, you were certain you could hear Eris’s heart thudding the same beat.

“You gave me your dog,” you stated, the shock truly beginning to set in.

“Yes, I did. Is she still-” he couldn’t finish that thought.

“She’s good. Brilliant. Beyond any companion I could have wished for,” you reassured him.

“She always was. I’m so glad you found one another,”

“I never stopped you know,” you whispered, looking into his eyes. Baring your soul.

“What?”

“Thinking about the male who stripped himself of his jewels and lost his best hound in order to stop a desperate stranger walking to certain death. I- I wished you’d come and find me. That I could thank you. Show you the life I was able to build because you saved it that night,”

“I thought about nothing else for seven years,” Eris confessed.

“Why didn’t you?” You asked, squeezing his hand in encouragement. Drawing the words from his lips with your heartbroken gaze.

“Because Beron wouldn’t have stopped until he found me. I was valuable to him. He would’ve snatched me back into a life of misery and destroyed everything in his path before he got to me. I did not want you embroiled in his world,”

“Why are were you of such value to him Eris? Who are you?”

“A male who has regretted letting you walk away every night since the last I saw you. A fool who let himself dream he would see your beautiful face again one day. A sentimental bastard who promised himself he would never let this opportunity slip away if it presented itself once again,”

“What do you-”

You are cut off sudddently as Eris’s lips found yours. Soft and plush. Your heart soared and tightened with delight as you reached around his body and pulled him in closer. You were both sopping wet from the chill of the lake water but his warmth radiated through your damp clothing and filled the empty sal of your heart that had only ever wished to be imbued with his presence.

You were slow to notice at first. A small tug, a gentle hand reaching out. Then a snap.

“Mates?” you asked hopefully, pulling your lips from his, searching his face desperately for an answer.

“Mates,” he replied confidently, a nervous smile gracing his beautiful face.

“You knew? All this time,”

“Like I said, I couldn’t bare to put you in danger. So I had to let you go,”

Before he knew it you had flung yourself into his arms, and planted your lips right back onto his. Spinning you around, Eris slowly walked you backwards until you felt the bump of tree bark behind you.

He placed two gentle kisses on your lips before brushing your dripping wet hair from your face, his touch feather light.

“I take it you are okay with this news then?” He laughed.

“Okay! Unbelievably okay. Deliriously okay!” You enthused.

Eris beamed down upon you with the glow of a million fireflies. He leaned in again, his hands tentatively roaming your hips when-

“Eris, what the fuck are you doing!” Lucien screamed across the clearing. He was frantic, hair mussed and eyes panicked.

“You cannot be absent from your own party, High Lord!” He bit out.

“Wait- you’re Eris … Vanserra!” You shrieked, peering out from behind Eris to take in his very stressed younger brother, before staring up at your mate, astounded.

“Oh yeah …” Eris said coyly, holding his hands up in surrender. “Suuupprriiiiissse,”

Let me know if you would like to be added/removed from my taglist

General Tags: @paleidiot @lilah-asteria @babypeapoddd @mybestfriendmademe

X Reader Tags: @talesofadragon

Beautiful dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #acotar x reader #eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris x y/n #eris x you #eris acotar #sarah j maas #eris vanserra

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cleo-fox · 5 months ago

Text

As the Clock Strikes Midnight - Part III

Series Masterlist Chapter Summary: In which you are found out. Chapter Warnings: Making out, a little bit of groping, teasing, fingering, Loki being a horrendous tease.

Tag List: I don’t have a tag list for this fic, sorry! The best way to hear about updates is to follow me on Tumblr or subscribe to the fic on AO3.

It’s difficult to return to your life the next day.

You try to be pragmatic about it: you’ve told yourself over and over that what had happened in the garden was a fluke, a once in a lifetime bout of extraordinariness that would not—could not—be repeated. You know this and you accept it.

But the magic of last night lingers in a way that makes you feel a little melancholy and wistful. You’re distracted the whole day, your thoughts wandering back to the feeling of soft lips on yours, warm hands on your waist, the glimmer of emerald green eyes.

“Are you well?” Grete asks you that afternoon. “You’ve been quiet all day.”

You force a smile. “I didn’t sleep well,” you say, which isn’t exactly a lie, but also isn’t the full truth. Either way, it’s enough to fool Grete, who returns to her work, chattering about something that happened with Solvi and one of the stablehands.

Even if she wasn’t a gossip, you could never tell Grete what happened in the garden. You could never tell anyone. A sudden, lonely feeling rears its head and there’s an ache in the center of your chest. You’re used to being lonely, but this feels different, sharper in a way you’re not expecting.

It doesn’t seem like it should be possible to miss a life that you never had, but you find yourself consumed with that notion.

Maybe it would have been better if you hadn’t gone at all.

You don’t go to the library that night. It’s largely because you don’t want to risk the chance of him recognizing you so close to the masquerade. The more time between you and the masquerade, the better: better that you fade from his memory rather than inadvertently jog it

But it’s also because you’re not sure that you can bear to be in the same room as him when you’re feeling like this. Better to wait until your heart felt a little less tender.

You avoid the library for six days. On the seventh day, you decide that you’ve waited long enough to return.

In hindsight, though, it was the height of hubris to think that you could pull one over on the god of mischief and lies.

In making this bargain with Loki, you were making several assumptions. You had assumed that his memory was imperfect enough to not recognize you without your mask and that your very dull and ordinary life had such a vise grip on you that no force—not even the attention of a handsome and clever prince—could possibly disrupt it.

How very wrong you were.

You’re initially quite relieved when you don’t see him in his usual chair. You’ll be able to fully enjoy yourself without worrying about looking over your shoulder as you wander through the stacks.

You’re feeling rather pleased with yourself and a little giddy with relief and you’re not exactly paying attention as you round a corner in the stacks, a fact that becomes apparent to you when you crash into something rather warm and solid. Hands grab your elbows to keep you from falling and you look up, your mouth half open in an apology.

It is at this point that you begin to process that the warm and solid thing that you’ve bumped into is, in fact, a person.

More specifically: it’s Loki.

For a moment, you think you might be able to wiggle your way out of this particular snag without any problem. But then he locks eyes with you and you immediately, instinctively know that it’s too late: he knows exactly who you are.

His smile is wide and sharp. Predatory—but not in an unappealing way. “Hello, little mouse.”

Your mouth is paper dry and suddenly your legs feel too unsteady to even attempt a clumsy curtsy.

“Your highness, I—” You’re struggling to string a pair of words together and this is made all the more difficult by the fact that he hasn’t let go of you. “Forgive me,” you say, “I can explain.”

You are not entirely sure that you can, to be quite honest, but it seems like the right thing to say.

“You can explain why you thought it clever to lie to your prince?” he says lightly, his voice rich with mirth. He doesn’t look angry—on the contrary, he seems amused. You’re not quite sure if that’s a good thing or not.

“Nothing I said was a lie,” you say. “I only did not tell you who I was.”

“Clever girl,” he says. His voice is low and intimate and it’s doing something delicious to your insides, even as your heart threatens to pound its way out of your chest. “Tell me,” he says, “how does a servant come to be so clever as to read Auber and sneak into libraries and fool princes at masquerades?”

“Perhaps I was not always a servant,” you say and then, before you can stop yourself, you add, “And at any rate, I don’t read Auber when I can avoid him. I’m a sensible person, after all.”

It’s an impertinent thing to say and you’re already in enough trouble as it is. But Loki merely chuckles.

“You have a wicked tongue, my dear,” he says with a catlike smile. “That will get you into trouble someday.”

“One could argue it already has,” you say before you can think better of it.

“Indeed,” he says and his eyes glitter like the edge of a knife. “And now that I’ve found you, I believe you made me a promise.”

You almost want to laugh. The very notion of him still wanting to kiss you is several different kinds of absurd. “Surely you don’t intend to carry on with that game now that you know who I am,” you say.

There again is the catlike smile. “On the contrary, I quite enjoy our merry little chase and I intend to continue it now that I’ve found you.”

“I’m beneath you.”

He gives you a wicked grin. “I’d rather like you to be.”

You’re confronted with two opposing feelings. You can’t deny that you’re flattered: he’s handsome and you’re wildly attracted to him despite the fact that it’s inconvenient, to say the very least. But at the same time, you’re not about to just cede all power to him just because you’re flattered. At the end of the day, he’s a prince and you’re a servant—you won’t let him take advantage of that imbalance.

“I won’t be your conquest of the week,” you say sharply, using a tone that most would consider inappropriate for addressing someone of his status. “I’m some toy you can play with and discard when you tire of me.”

You expect him to reprimand you, to remind you of your place, but instead he laughs. The sound surprises you, even as it does shameful things to your insides. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he says.

You’re skeptical of this and your expression shows it. He registers this and he becomes a bit more serious. “Darling,” he says, placing his hands on the shelves behind you and casually cageing you in, “I’m not letting you go that easily. You have my undivided attention.”

The prospect of receiving his undivided attention sends a shiver up your spine—it’s as intimidating as it is appealing.

“Now,” he says, his voice lowering as his fingertips graze the curve of your jaw, “I’d like to collect on a promise.”

Your breath stutters in your throat as both of his hands cup your cheeks. He looks down at you, his eyes hooded and focused on your lips. He waits one long, agonizing moment, and you remind yourself to breathe and forget the instruction a moment later when his lips brush lightly against yours. Were it not for the heavy, coiling heat he was summoning in your hips, it would almost seem chaste. You feel him take a breath and then his mouth is opening against yours, his tongue tracing your lower lip and then sliding smoothly past it.

That last kiss was supposed to last you a lifetime—you were not expecting another one ever, let alone so soon. You feel drunk on the taste of his lips and his tongue has you thinking wicked thoughts. The longer it goes on, the more your knees wobble and the more breathless you feel.

You catch his lower lip between your teeth and tug on it gently; he inhales sharply and presses against you like he has half a mind to take you right there up against the stacks and stars above, you can’t help but want that just a little.

His thigh slots between your legs and your body sings as you arch against him.

Maybe you want that a lot.

His hands have moved from your cheeks to your waist, pressing you against him, stroking up your back and sides. His thumb barely grazes the underside of one of your breasts and a low whimper escapes the back of your throat.

You lose all sense of time and it feels far too soon when he pulls away from you, even though you can hear the clock chiming midnight. You find that you’re rather gratified and proud of the slight redness in his cheeks, how his breathing is slightly labored. You grip the shelf behind you, knees trembling.

He licks his lips as he surveys you. “This isn’t over, little mouse,” he murmurs.

You’re not quite sure if you want to kiss him or scold him. “What do you mean by that?”

He smirks. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

And with that, he turns on his heel and leaves the library, leaving your head spinning.

You return to the library the next night. There is no reason for this—or, rather, there’s no good reason for this; while you’re enjoying your book well enough, you can’t say that it’s compelling to the point of interrupting your thoughts.

There are other reasons that have been, though.

Well. One reason, if you’re being honest.

Your feet take you to your usual place in the stacks, you find your latest book, but your mind is elsewhere, listening for the telltale tap of a booted foot on the stone floor, the creak of leather.

If someone were to ask you what you were expecting, you wouldn’t know what to say. Obviously, you’re hoping to see him again—and as much as you know it’s not a good idea, you’re also hoping that he’ll kiss you. You’re hesitant to allow yourself to think much farther than that, simply because the fact that he wants to kiss you still seems rather impossible. You learned early on in your days at the palace that daydreaming was almost certain to lead to disappointment. You’re reluctant to allow your mind to stray too far down that path.

It’s easier said than done, though.

You’re not exactly sure how he arrives, just that he suddenly has—there is a presence behind you and when you breathe in deeply, you swear you can catch the faint scent of leather and something wintery and masculine.

“Your highness,” you say coolly, like you haven’t been waiting for him with bated breath.

“Are you really enjoying your book that much?” he says and you have to force yourself not to jump when his voice is much, much closer than you thought he was.

“It’s not Auber, so yes, I should say I am enjoying it,” you say before you can stop yourself.

He chuckles and the sound sends a shiver up your spine. “Always so sharp tongued.”

You force yourself to turn around then and stars , he is so much closer than you thought. You tilt your chin up to look at him. “Why are you here?”

His smile is wide, like he finds you especially amusing. “I am often here late at night. You know this.”

“You do not usually loom over me in the stacks,” you say.

His eyebrows lift. “Is that what I’m doing? Looming?”

“You are standing awfully close.”

Any other person might take a step back: he takes a step closer so that your back is pressed against the shelves, lowering his head so that his lips are right next to your ear. “Perhaps I’m looking for a book,” he says.

Your heart is pounding wildly in your chest. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

He laughs and you feel his breath warm on your neck. “Clever girl.” His lips brush against your collarbone, his teeth nipping lightly at the delicate skin there.

“I don’t understand,” you say, even as your eyes flutter shut and you lean into his embrace. “I’m no one—why are you here?”

“Did I not tell you this wasn’t over?” he says against your neck, allowing his tongue to dip into the hollow of your collarbone, making your knees weak.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” you say, but it doesn’t matter because he’s now covering your mouth with his and you can scarcely remember your own name, let alone what you were going to say next. He’s demanding and hungry, one hand tipping your head back, cupping the curve of your jaw, the other sliding to your waist, pressing you flush against him.

You’re not entirely sure what his motivations are or how far he intends to take this, but it’s hard to convince yourself to care when he’s kissing you like this. Fire is racing through your veins, filling you with a kind of reckless wanting that makes your toes curl in your shoes.

His hand slides from your waist, skimming up your side to cup your breast over your dress. He is cautious, seeming to wait for your muffled moan before taking it more firmly in his hand, expertly kneading and squeezing in just the right way until you’re half considering guiding his hand down the front of your dress.

It’s at this precise moment that he steps back from you, his dark pupils and the slight catch in his breath the only indication that you’d exchanged anything more than polite pleasantries. You lean against the shelves panting, your entire body crackling with a strange kind of heat.

“Goodnight,” he says, seemingly unable to resist a smirk as he leaves you once again in the darkness of the library as the clock strikes midnight.

He’s playing a game with you. That much is clear. You’d like to think that you’re sensible enough to know not to take his bait, to stay away from the library after dark, but you appear to be mistaken on that count. You spend most of the next day trying to keep your treacherous mind from wandering too far. You are only moderately successful—you nearly burn an entire batch of biscuits due to a particular daydream that leaves you staring out a window for a minute too long.

He’s waiting for you in the stacks this time, giving you the same smirk he did last night when he left you. You decide to keep your distance for the time being—you’re not sure that you can ever say that you've got the upper hand on him, but you’re more likely to have a chance at it the farther away he is.

“Your highness,” you say.

“My lady.”

You give him a stern look. “You needn’t mock me, I know I’ve no titles.”

“Oh, I’m not mocking you, sweet,” he says and you are fairly certain he’s being sincere. “You are an impressive woman. You ought to have titles.”

“You’re trying to flatter me,” you say, folding your arms over your chest.

“Of course I am. Did I not tell you that I was trying to charm you?” he says, taking a step toward you.

You swallow and stare at him. “You said that when you thought I was someone else.”

Another step. “You seem to think that I ought to have lost interest when I found out who you are. Why is that?”

You tilt your chin up and stare at him defiantly. “When has a noble ever taken a genuine interest in a servant? It’s not done.”

He smirks again and takes another step forward and once again, you’re pressed between him and the bookshelf. “You know my reputation,” he says, his fingertips trailing against your throat. “I care very little for rules.”

His gaze meanders over your face, lingering on your lips, but you hold steady, despite your pounding heart. “So you’re using me to disrupt things because it amuses you.”

“You misunderstand me,” he says, the backs of his fingers stroking your cheek. “I find you enticing. I’m not inclined to be bothered by rules that say I ought not to because it isn’t done.”

You press your lips together and look at him warily. “I don’t know that I should trust you.”

He shouldn’t look like he finds this amusing, but his eyes glitter in the dim light. “And why is that?”

“I know your reputation,” you say. “You are the god of mischief and lies. I ought to stay away from you.”

“And yet, you’ve turned up here for the last three nights and uttered not a word of protest when I’ve kissed you,” he says.

“I said I ought to stay away,” you say. “I never said I would.”

His smile is slow. “Clever girl.”

He kisses you again, slow to start, like he’s giving you an opportunity to turn him away. When you don’t, his movements become hungrier, his tongue tangling with yours, his teeth grazing your lower lip.

His hand slips down the front of your dress and you gasp as his fingers pinch and tease your nipple into a stiff and aching point, igniting a smoldering ache between your legs. You’ve never wanted anyone like this and you resolve in that moment not to say so because telling him is the same as giving him leverage and you’re still fairly certain that that is a bad idea.

His thigh has nudged its way between your legs and you press against him as much as your skirts will allow, shamelessly trying to generate enough friction and pressure to provide yourself some relief.

The clock chimes midnight and he steps away and you wonder how much more of this you’ll be able to take.

He’s late the next night—so late, in fact, that you almost give up and leave because you think he’s not coming. You try not to dwell upon the disappointed little twinge that blooms in your chest when you think this is the case.

But then you hear soft footsteps in the quiet of the library and you look up and find him leaning against the end of the stacks, looking far more comfortable than he has any right to be.

“You’re late,” you say before you can think about it.

“Did you think I wasn’t coming?” he asks with the slightest of smirks. “Were you disappointed?”

You attempt to keep your expression cool and composed. “I didn’t think anything.”

He chuckles. “You tell such pretty lies, my dear.”

You want to deny it outright, but that feels like playing right into his hands. You consider your next moves as he approaches you, again backing you up against the stacks.

“Do you know what I think?” he says, his hands sliding to your hips. “I think you’re rather fond of these little interludes.” He tilts his head to the side, eyes glinting with a kind of mischief that makes you press your thighs together. “Shall we find out how fond?”

You’re fairly certain you know what he’s implying, but you’re also fairly certain that he’s not going to actually go through with it. It’s one thing to kiss you like he has been, but it’s another thing entirely to actually touch you. Surely he’s not that bold.

His left hand slides from your hip over the curve of your ass and then along your thigh, raising your leg to hook around his waist. You grab his shoulders, still certain that he’s bluffing even as he pushes the hem of your skirt up.

His hand trails along the inside of your thigh, expertly navigating your petticoats and undergarments. He watches your face intently as his hand inches up your thigh, seemingly cataloging every time your breath hitches, every time you bite your lip in anticipation. You try to keep yourself contained and calm, even as you can feel the slickness between your thighs growing with every passing second.

You realize that he’s not bluffing precisely when his fingers part your dripping sex. You gasp as his fingers lightly brush against your clit and you catch his greedy, triumphant smile as your head tips back against the shelf.

“Oh yes,” he breathes, sliding one finger inside you as his thumb presses against your swollen clit. “What filthy thoughts have left you so wet and wanting, my pretty little kitchen maid?”

This should bother you: you’re not his and you’re more than a kitchen maid. Instead, your body seems focused on its mission to betray you, as his words only make you whimper and tense around his slowly thrusting finger.

“I could make you come right here,” he says, his eyes raking over your body with a raw hunger. “Would you like that?”

“Please,” leaves your lips before you can ask yourself what you’re thinking.

“So polite,” he breathes into your ear. “Had I known it was this easy to tame that sharp tongue of yours, I would have buried my face between your thighs in the garden.”

Your cheeks burn, though you’re not sure if it’s from his fingers or his words. “I would not claim that victory yet, highness.”

His eyes flash and his hips press against you when you use his title—you file that little fact away for later.

You can’t even pretend that there’s not going to be a later.

“If my hand slowed, you would beg for me,” he says with a smirk that is slightly too self-assured.

You tilt your chin up, staring at him defiantly. “You flatter yourself.”

His smirk widens as his hand slows and you immediately regret challenging him. He slides his hand away from you, holding your gaze. He pauses for a beat and when you continue your silence, he raises his fingers to his lips and slowly draws them into his mouth. You catch a glimpse of the pink tip of his tongue as he carefully licks your essence from his forefinger and thumb, closing his eyes like he’s tasting something divine. It’s indecent—everything about this is indecent—but you can’t look away.

Your resolve crumbles abruptly and completely. “Please,” you whisper.

He releases his fingers and gives you a lazy smile. “Can you be quiet like a good girl?”

You nod fervently. “Yes. I’ll be quiet, I promise.”

He leans in and kisses you. “That’s a shame,” he murmurs against your lips, “because I want to hear you scream for me. And we can’t very well do that in the library.”

He draws back, smirking, and you suddenly know that you’ve lost another point in this strange game that you’re playing.

“Come to my chambers tomorrow night after dark,” he says.

Stars above, you’re going to kill him.

“You’re an ass,” you say.

He chuckles and kisses you again. “I’ll make it worth the wait.”

You hate how much of an effect that has on you, but you’re reasonably certain that you’ve managed to hide most of that from him.

“Your confidence is inspiring,” you say.

“And your tongue is wicked,” he says, stepping away from you and it takes every ounce of pride you have not to reach for him and pull him back to you. He takes your hand and brushes his lips against your knuckles, his emerald eyes never leaving yours and somehow it feels just as intimate as what had just happened. “Until tomorrow,” he says before dropping your hand and walking away, leaving you with your heart pounding.

Next chapter

#loki smut #loki x reader smut #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki laufeyson smut #loki x female reader smut #loki fanfiction #as the clock strikes midnight

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sesamestreep · 3 months ago

Note

13 (Drunken/drugged/sleepy confessions) for Matt/Foggy

(from this list of prompts)

Matt wakes up with a violent start, feeling hazy and slow and just wrong somehow. He knows instantly that he’s not in his apartment, because the bed feels different—it smells different, clean in a dull, itchy, cloying way that he doesn’t associate with his usual detergent—and there’s a bunch of sounds that he can’t identify, but they’re not the city sounds he’s accustomed to or the shuffling, mundane sounds of his neighbors going about their lives. There’s people about, certainly, but a lot of them, he thinks, and they sound urgent, even though when they speak, it’s at a whisper and when they move, it’s never at a run. But if he tries to sense much more than that, he just…can’t. It’s like there’s a wall inside his brain and it’s made out of cotton balls. It’s almost nice.

“Did you just say ‘balls…nice…’ to yourself?” Foggy asks, groggily, from his left. Matt realizes belatedly that the heartbeat he’d heard up close was Foggy’s and he’s just so used to it that his mind unconsciously filtered it out as background noise. God help him if Foggy ever goes rogue and tries to smother him (or just comes to his senses and tries it finally), he’ll have an exceptionally easy time getting past Matt’s defenses.

“Cotton balls,” Matt replies, even though that doesn’t really explain anything. Trying to string words together is exceptionally hard at the moment; it’s like the right ones are floating above his head but reaching for them only knocks them further out of his grasp.

Foggy yawns. “Oh, sure,” he says. “You’re in the hospital, by the way. And on massive amounts of painkillers, in case that wasn’t immediately obvious already.”

That explained a lot, including why the world felt so small to him suddenly. Any medication stronger than aspirin dulled the edges of the world for him significantly. His senses just didn’t reach as far and his reflexes were much slower. This is why he avoided painkillers normally. He didn’t enjoy this feeling.

“What happened?” he asked, trying to sit up. His body doesn’t feel terribly sore—thanks to the medication, probably—but it does feel stiff and misused. He’s got a bandage on his forehead and a few on his torso that he can feel and when he shifts—yep, that pulling sensation is stitches. Great.

“I don’t know,” Foggy answers, sharply. “I was really hoping you might be able to shed some light on the matter for me, considering you were there.”

“There was a…trade being made. Down at the docks, a warehouse by the river,” Matt explains, even as the details seem hesitant to rise to the surface. “It was that weapons dealer I’ve been following. Maya tipped me off—Oh, God! Maya!”

“Maya’s fine,” Foggy interrupts. “She’s the one who brought you to me.”

“What? Did she say—?”

“My ASL is trash, Matthew, I don’t know! She texted me from your phone, I came and got you, she disappeared into the night. And looked much cooler doing it than you ever did, can I just say?”

“Is this your way of telling me to get a motorcycle?” Matt quips, holding his ribs.

“God, just what I need!” Foggy grumbles. Even with his dulled senses, Matt can hear the crunch of the bones in Foggy’s neck when he attempts to stretch and wonders how long Foggy’s been sitting there waiting for him to wake up. He feels suddenly very sorry, on top of everything else he’s currently feeling.

“What time is it?” Matt asks, sheepishly.

“Just past four. In the morning, that is.”

It’s not as bad as Matt was expecting, but it’s still not great. “You should go home, Foggy.”

Foggy snorts sarcastically. “Yeah, sure, that’s what I’ll do, buddy. You read my mind.”

“Well, what exactly is the point of you sitting here and watching me sleep? You’ve got—We’ve got clients coming in to—today and you haven’t slept at all, I imagine, and—”

“Karen will handle things at the office,” Foggy cuts in, “and the point of watching you sleep is watching you sleep.”

“That doesn’t…make any sense.”

Foggy doesn’t immediately try to explain himself. Instead, he sits in silence for a long moment, before he laughs. “Do you know, if I had to pick a superpower—any superpower in the world—I’d want to be able to put people to sleep. Instantly.”

“That’s pretty specific,” Matt says, carefully. “And a little silly.”

“Not really,” Foggy says. “I’d knock you out cold every single night. Hell, I’d put you down for afternoon naps here and there too, just to make up for the years you’ve neglected your sleep cycle. And then you wouldn’t be able to go out fighting bad guys every night and cracking your ribs and bruising that pretty face of yours. And I wouldn’t have to worry anymore.”

“But I wouldn’t help anyone anymore, either.”

“Is that how you see it?” Foggy asks, pained. “Is what you do all day with me and Karen that meaningless to you? You think we don’t help anybody?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I think I’d do the world twice as much good knocking you out every night as you’ve ever done as Daredevil,” Foggy spits, as his heart hammers away in his chest.

Matt winces, feeling his shoulders tighten and his blood rush in his ears. It doesn’t matter. He wouldn’t hurt Foggy, not for the world. Not physically that is. And he’s not exactly in the right shape to even try it right now, anyway. Still, he doesn’t like that anyone in the world has the cheat codes to make him this angry this quickly. It’s too dangerous.

“Foggy,” he says, breathing through his nose to calm himself down, “I’m the one on drugs right now. I’m the one who’s supposed to be saying shit I can’t take back. Not you.”

“Sorry, Matt, but you wouldn’t even be here, getting proper medical attention, if you had it your way. If you hadn’t been fucking unconscious, you’d have dragged yourself home and treated your fractured ribs and busted skull with baby aspirin! So don’t talk to me about—!”

“Hey, how are we doing in here?” a soothing voice cuts in. A nurse, Matt imagines, based on the unfazed energy and the sound her shoes make on the ground as she crosses to his bed. Foggy’s voice must have started to carry. “Good to see you awake, Mr. Murdock.”

“Thank you,” he replies, mostly to cover Foggy’s scoff.

The nurse proceeds to ask him a bunch of questions about his pain level (which he lies about as naturally as breathing), his symptoms (looking for a concussion that Matt can tell from experience he doesn’t have), and whether there’s anything he needs (to leave right now, but he knows he hasn’t engendered enough goodwill to broach that topic yet). She then looks at his chart and fiddles with his I.V. before urging him to sleep again if he can, which Matt suspects won’t be up to him at all if she, as he imagines, increased his drip.

“Can I speak to you in the hallway for a moment?” she asks, sweetly but with a hidden edge. Matt’s baffled by this for a second before he realizes she’s speaking to Foggy and not him.

Foggy clearly hesitates over whether to indulge her, given what he knows of Matt’s hearing, but clears his throat and eventually responds, “Of course.”

The hallways offers them no privacy from Matt, but it clearly affords the nurse some confidence, because she says, the moment they step out, in an urgent tone: “You know, I should kick you out of here for all that!”

Foggy sighs. “I’m sorry. I know. You made an exception…”

“And I’m regretting it now,” the nurse mutters. “That’s how you talk to your partner after he’s been mugged?!”

“He—this happens a lot more than you’d think…”

“I don’t care if it happens every night! He could have died!”

“I know,” Foggy replies, solemnly, and his tone clearly catches the nurse as unaware as it catches Matt.

“Is there something going on?” she asks, sincerely concerned now. “Are you…hurting him somehow? Do you need help for…something? Anything?”

“No. Nothing like that, I promise. But thank you.”

“Is he hurting himself?” the nurse asks, after a long pause. “Because we can find help for that too.”

“Not…exactly,” Foggy says, and Matt can hear him shifting uncomfortably, crossing his arms. “He’s just not as careful as he should be. I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you more and put your mind at ease, really, but I can’t.”

The nurse pauses, clearly making sure the coast is clear, because her voice is lower and more conspiratorial when she speaks again. It’s also shaking, for that matter. “Are you in danger?”

Foggy laughs, and then evidently regrets it. “Maybe, but I’ve got…a guardian angel of sorts.”

“Is that supposed to mean something?”

“Not to you, no,” Foggy says, and Matt feels himself flush. “I appreciate the concern, but if you make Matt rest for a few more hours and resist his charms when he asks to be allowed to leave, you’ll be helping me more than you can ever imagine.”

“Okay, then. We can make a deal there,” she replies. “You know, I usually have a good sense when it comes to people and I was going to be really mad if I misread you when you came in.”

“How did you read me?”

“Really good boyfriend,” she says, and Matt doesn’t detect the slightest hint of flirtation in her voice, which…doesn’t make any sense, given her words.

“Thank you,” Foggy replies, sincerely. “I’ll keep it down, I promise. I’m sorry for the outburst.”

“You’re worried. It happens.”

“Thanks.”

They part ways, then, with the nurse going off down the hallway and Foggy turning back to linger in the doorway. Matt flops his head back onto the pillows and waits. Foggy comes back in after a moment’s hesitation.

“What was that about?”

“Your dumb ass got me in trouble with the teacher.”

“Typical me,” Matt says, with a weak smile. “Always leading you away from the bright future you deserve.”

Foggy comes to stand by the bed, his fingers tracing anxiously over the starchy hospital sheets. “Matt…”

“You were such a nice boy before I came along.”

“I’m still a nice boy,” Foggy says, sadly.

Matt takes his hand because it’s slid close enough to capture and he can blame the drugs for it later if he needs to. Foggy squeezes his hand in reassurance before Matt can think twice about it. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.”

“But…?”

“What does being sorry mean if nothing ever changes?”

“The law was never going to touch the guys I went after tonight, Foggy. You know that as well as I do.”

Foggy sighs. “Yeah, I know.”

“There’s got to be some recourse for where the law leaves off, I’m just—”

“How are you having this argument with me when you’re on a truckload of painkillers? I saw the nurse give you more…”

“Years of practice,” Matt says, even though it is getting difficult to keep his eyes open. “You and that nurse are in cahoots against me.”

“I need all the help I can get,” Foggy replies, and Matt feels the mattress dip beneath him as Foggy sits down on the edge of it. “She wasn’t supposed to let me stay. No overnight visitation, normally.”

“But she let you anyway, because she thinks you’re cute…”

“What? No, I don’t think—”

“She called you a good boyfriend just now.”

Foggy laughs so hard and so suddenly that it makes him cough. “She meant I’m a good boyfriend to you, Matt,” he says, when he’s caught his breath. “You fucking moron.”

“Why would she think you’re my boyfriend?”

“Emergency contact. Different connotations of the word ‘partner,’ which I have shamelessly exploited before and I have no doubt I will again. The look of blatant horror on my face when I brought you in. Take your pick.”

“Huh.”

“If that bothers you,” Foggy begins hesitantly, like he’s about to apologize, “too fucking bad.”

Matt smiles, but doesn’t open his eyes. “Don’t make me laugh. I did something to my ribs, I think.”

“You think?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re lucky you’re pretty, Murdock.”

“Yeah, I assume that’s the only reason you’ve stuck around this long.”

Matt doesn’t hear what Foggy says to that, but whatever it is, he drifts off to sleep to the sound of his familiar voice, still holding onto his familiar hand.

#okay I don’t think there’s technically a confession in here #but I’m trying to be less precious about prompt fills #because I haven’t posted anything in a few months so I clearly need to get over myself #I’d like to add 5 million more caveats to this but I won’t #I don’t know what this is but it is complete so here you go!#prompt fill #ask #firstelevens #mattfoggy #daredevil #mcu #matt murdock #foggy nelson #maya lopez #technically gets a mention

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