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thestarfishinjootsoffice · 3 months

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Old writing especially on Bo's and then Vincent's part. I realised that I was writing as if their s/o showcased their strength during later on into their relationship in the first three slashers, apologies.

A/n: I am no longer writing for Hannibal or any hannibal characters as I myself have forgotten my own perspective of them.

Slashers x reader who's stronger than them but doesn't look like it!

Warnings: blood and death on the ghostface duos part, very slight mentions of nsfw. But mostly fluff.

Slashers in this: Bo sinclair, Vincent sinclair and Thomas Hewitt, Michael Myers, Billy Loomis and Stu Macher (poly)

Relationship: romantic!!

It clawed at his ego, he's a pretty mean bastard and you know it 🫵.

He first thought of you as the most fragile and weakest person ever (and cutest), I mean, could you even lift a pot half filled with water?

Undoubtedly he used this assumption to 'help you' or more so at times tease you. He loves seeing your reactions and most definitely not because you're so small and kind to him, pfff of course not.

He just absolutely loves lifting you up and over his shoulder and he's definitely an ass guy. He loves ogling and smacking your ass but he won't get to that level until many many months later on. But he's still going to stare.

“Oh Bo, I think there's a rabbit under the truck!” You exclaimed to Bo as you noticed something white and moving below.

"An animal? *sighs* hold on, I'll get rid of that p-" He suddenly loses his ability to formulate words as he witnesses you lift the goddamn fuckin truck with one arm, and indeed there was a rabbit underneath.

“*gasp* it's so cute!” Bo cannot believe what he just saw. Damn, he gotta stop smoking so much it's messing with his brain. He's just staring at you as you pet the timid rabbit with your 'scrawny' arm.

He must admit he does fantasize about you lifting him up and shit, or topping him in bed. Whatever he's feeling that day, and he would rather swallow sand than ever admit that last part.... But y'know if you're up for it-

His cocky and prideful attitude seemingly making an apparent change, he would hold a cup or item you need above your head with a shit eating grin watching you get frustrated with him. Or when he would make jabs about you being too weak to lift three chairs at a time and would offer to help you. (So he could walk beside you.) But now... He still fucking makes jabs at you being weak, just to fuck with you even though he knows it's far from the truth. He loves making you seem like the little helpless princess and him being the asshole shining knight in armor.

You wouldn't mind tho would you? It's a win-win, you get to spend more time with your boyfriend and he gets to spend time with his girlfriend.

Vincent

So gentle and caring with you. He's gentle and caring with whoever he is with but your size just makes him think one wrong move and he's accidentally breaking your arm. And cause of this he can't help but be a worry wart at times and way too protective. Not budging even if you reassure him you're perfectly capable of doing something that requires strength.

During one of the dark evenings you walk with your lover in the forest, the side of the forest where there isn't roadkill so that you can breathe without torturing your nostrils. And finding some fire wood to spend the next dark hours star gazing and ranting to him while the sound of the fire crinkling and burning the wood serves as a nice background music.

Every step you take you hear the crunch of the dead leaves get crushed under your foot, both of you holding your flashlights. You have the warm and slightly calloused hand of your Vincent holding yours affectionately as his thumb brushes against the back of your hand and knuckles, gently tracing over and feeling the ridges and bumps.

You notice some fallen bark and shine your flashlight on it. "Vinny, look there's some firewood over there!" You exclaimed and shined your flashlight elsewhere, looking around more until you had shined it directly on a tree right in front of you that was occupied by a scary looking arachnid, its front limbs moving in a sluggish and relaxed fashion.

You let out a startled yelp and out of instinct your fist went to swing at the spider who somehow successfully managed to not get hit in the nick of time. This also startled your boyfriend who looked worriedly at you, his eyes scanned over to see that you were.. Fine! But the tree you punched wasn't. It has a big dent in it while the flesh of wood was cracked and damaged severely around the impact along with many splinters.

"I'm so sorry Vincent! There was a spider and I got scared!"

He almost let out a breath of relief knowing it wasn't anything serious but he can't get his eyes and mind off the injured tree. Did you... seriously do that? He gently took your hand and examined it, it seemed perfectly fine except for redness, light bleeding and a couple splinters on your knuckles.

He slowly raised one of his hands, pointing towards the punched tree. 'Did you do that?' Is what's probably going through his head. You chuckled sheepishly and nodded in confirmation. He sighed. For now, he'll worry about your fist.

Does this interaction change how he treats you?... Kind of. He isn't too pushy as he was since he now knows how capable you are of handling yourself but there's still that feeling in him, something that gnaws at his inner core for him to help you. He wants to feel useful and to serve you in any way he can, so...please let him dote over you still..? (Of course you will, you can't say no to him.)

If you want to pick him up he'll entertain you, though he'll be extremely flustered and giddy about it. He likes this way more than he should (in his opinion). How comical is it? He's a large 6'1 grown man being carried princess style by his tiny s/o. Despite all this, he still hopes you need him as much as he needs you.

Thomas

Trust me when I saw it really took Thomas by surprise. He's a really big guy and you say this little thing is stronger than him? Oh please, humor him after dinner.

He's a busy man with a lot on his plate, and you seemingly looking like the most harmless person in the world doesn't help, he constantly feels like he has to tend to you and supervise you from a certain officer.

Will usually not allow you to help him when he's working, it depends. He feels guilty letting yourself get caught up with all this but if you insist he'll gladly accept the extra hand with honest gratitude. But generally- 'Back away honey, you might get dirty.' Is what he wishes he could say.

In his eyes you're a saint, an angel. Made perfectly to fit in the space between his thighs he's sitting down and there's no flaw in the way his large hands cups your cheeks with those pretty eyes of yours staring into his – no room for mistake or complain. You're adorable.

The first time he allowed you to help him you admire your handsome behemoth of a lover chopping wood. Appreciating the rolled up sleeved that gave you a good view of his arms, his muscles flexing as he brought the axe down – after he was done with the first small batch of logs you hurried to grab the others.

Tommy watched with amusement and adoration before shifting his weight to help you but stopped as you started walking towards him five logs resting effortlessly in your arms. It didn't even seem to faze you as if it was just you were only a bunch of baby ducks.

Tommy watched in silence as you laid them out on the table, still kind of processing it before nodding his head in gratitude and resuming to chopping them up. He'll bring this up later, maybe. For now he'll focus on getting his work done and spending more with you, and your soft words.

He doesn't really care if you're stronger than him or not, as long as you love him and don't try to run away it's all good. If you want he'll stop trying to do everything for you even though he knows you don't need any assistance – he's so used to working around the house he feels restless not doing anything at all.

If you want to carry him, do it. He's all yours but please do it in private he won't be able to handle the embarrassment if his family sees it. And although he prefers to be the dom he doesn't mind it if you wanna take charge every once in a while and throw him around.

Plus, it creates something pleasantly warm in his stomach.

Michael.

He thinks he's going insane. (He already has.)

He's Michael Myers, the most ruthless killer Illinois has ever seen for the past decades. And you're saying this small creature that he's inhabited has greater strength than him... Yeah, no.

And then he sees you picking up three bodies out of the house with your bare hands while cleaning up the evidence of his the murder he left, quietly observing you. He won't admit it but it kind of irks him. He's supposed to be the one with power in this relationship and quite frankly he doesn't know the true extent to your power.

He warms up to it eventually – although it's more of he doesn't give a fuck anymore. You're not completely weak and helpless? Great, he doesn't have to worry about you as much. Key word: as much. He still does worry a lot when you're out for long hours – he's not worried you're injured or in danger (not anymore) but more as in you're not leaving him, right? Or ratting him out to the police?

Do not ever attempt to pick him up or anything even remotely close to that unless you want a glare from those void, soul-less eye sockets of his mask Or if you want a love tap on the head and cheek. If you give him enough guilty smiles and let go of him he'll let you off the hook. if not, bear the consequences. (They don't even do anything anyways, lmao)

He feels so incredibly annoyed when you start treating him like a child, telling him to go sit down or lie down in bed after he pulled a few all nighters and the fact you successfully manage to pull him back into bed: God dammit, why the hell are you even so strong and you're so small!? Grumpily he does stay put but only if you're with him too.

A man feared by hundreds, if not thousands because of the sheer power and mercilessness he leaves in trails of every step he takes in public... And then there's you, you're half his size and you have more control over him than he'd like. He'd never kill you though, not intentionally, but that will also most likely not happen.

Speaking of killing, don't think he won't murder someone if they attempt to hurt you and gets their ass kicked by you anyways. You attack, he lands the finishing blow. Don't protest, he won't listen.

Billy n' Stu

They're both pretty lean so you can believe it, if not for your given figure. They both adore it, so who cares? Billy and Stu will, eventually.

It was in the heat of the moment, you tell yourself but you remember in vivid detail the day where you saw the bloody escaping victim running towards you – adrenaline pumping in your veins, your mind immediately went into fight mode and swung a fist at their skull. You remember the sickening crunch as blood slowly pooled from their fractured cranium when they lifelessly fell down to the floor.

They first helped you with the lingering guilt first before Stu started annoying you.

''Can you punch me like that next but with a bit less-''

"No!"

Alright, no worries but now he's asking you to lift him up to reach things that he does not need help on. Maybe even just carry him and run around the house. (Don't be fooled, he just wants to be carried around like a child again.) Fluttering his eyelids at you and holding up a jar of pickles. 'Y/n, I can't get this to open!' Yes he can.

Billy, although tries to act neutral but can't help but let his thoughts wander. 'Wow... Strong girl... Can choke me...' He thinks to himself as he watches you and Stu. Not as if he'd ever admit that. He pretends he's disinterested in getting in your arms - no, he just doesn't wanna embarrass himself. But if you persist he'll begrudgingly agree. He indeed liked it.

Stu obviously takes a positive reaction, he loves getting dominated. You can take that however you like. Billy on the other hand feels conflicted, if he's not stronger than you then how will he stop you if you try to leave them or plan to rat them out? Assuming this is during the beginning of your relationship. But overtime the more he takes a good look at your face those thoughts will slowly drown away, there's no way you would, right?

The slashers will probably swoon if you agree to help them place the bodies where they want them to, like hanging them in the trees or something.

Billy keeps it more lowkey. Preferring to keep you in his lap and rest his chin on top of your head. Stu takes your strength to his advantage. When he gets drunk he'll whine and ask you to carry him to bed, and take his socks off. Annoying fuck but you love him either way. And Billy too.

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 8 months

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Hope

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader, Crowley & Winchester!reader (platonic)

Requested by anonymous

Synopsis: (very very loosely) set during 5x10 when Sam and Dean get killed and go to heaven (doesn’t follow cannon really)

Crowley took in the room before him, a pit opening up in his gut at the gruesome scene. Sam and Dean were splayed out on their respective beds, chests gaping open from near-identical bullet wounds. And then there was you.

The brothers’ young sister was sitting on the floor between the two beds, the demon-summoning ingredients in front of her. She was shaking from head to foot and her eyes were red-rimmed and wild with desperation. Her eyes met Crowley’s, and he nearly staggered back just seeing the haunted terror residing there.

“Darling…” Crowley’s voice was quiet, apologetic.

“You have to bring them back,” you whimpered. “Please.”

“I…I can’t,” he sighed. “Just because I’m king doesn’t mean I can just reanimate whoever I want. Not without…” Crowley stopped suddenly, but it was too late. Your eyes lit up with realization. “No,” Crowley said, but you were already nodding.

“I’ll do it,” you said. “You can have my soul, just bring them back!”

“It’s not that simple. If the demons find out that I brought their biggest threats back to life…” he was stalling, and you both knew it. He didn’t want your soul in hell, but he would never admit that.

“Please,” you pleaded. “Crowley, I-“ your voice cracked. “Please. I-I can’t live without them.”

Crowley looked from the boys’ dead bodies to you, then back again. You followed his gaze, your eyes settling on Sam first, then Dean.

“It was hunters.” Your lip quivered. “They-they said Sam was evil, and-and he had to be stopped. Then-then Dean recognized them, so they said that…” your voice cracked as tears slid down your cheeks. You took a deep breath before continuing. “They said they had to kill him, too, so that he wouldn’t come after them. De-Dean didn’t even care.” A sob wracked your body, and Crowley had to resist the sudden surprising urge to comfort you. “He didn’t care that they were gonna kill him, he-he just told them over and-and over not to kill me. I guess they thought I couldn’t be much of a threat.” You pulled your knees up to your chest, and your next sentence was so quiet that Crowley had to strain to hear. “I wish they got me, too.”

Crowley had been ready to leave you here, to turn down your deal and walk out and leave you with your brothers’ corpses. He didn’t want to make this deal, he didn’t want Sam and Dean screwing things up for him in hell, and he didn’t want you, just a kid, to give up your soul. You didn’t deserve hell.

But the last thing you said—your wish to die alongside your brothers.

Crowley couldn’t turn away from that.

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

…

Crowley was gone before Sam and Dean opened their eyes. They sat up simultaneously, identical gasps leaving their throats as they breathed again for the first time.

You were off the floor and in their arms before they even knew what was happening.

…

“What happened?” Dean asked after he had gotten his bearings. “We were caught by Zachariah, how did we…” Dean caught sight of the summoning ingredients on the motel floor, and it hit him like a truck. Sam and him hadn’t gotten out by themselves.

“No…” Sam breathed, his gaze following Dean’s. “Y/N, no, tell me you didn’t.”

“Don’t pretend you wouldn’t have done the same,” was your response.

You flinched when Dean slammed his hand against the desk.

“What were you thinking?” He demanded.

“That I wasn’t about to let the two of you die,” you shot back.

“We could’ve gotten out ourselves!” Dean exploded. “The angels need us alive!”

“Yeah, but they would’ve tortured you until you said yes to Michael and Lucifer first!”

“How long did you get?” Sam’s quiet voice interrupted you and Dean’s shouting match. His tone sobered the room.

“A year.” Your voice was no longer strong or defensive. You were scared, and the boys could see it instantly.

“We’re gonna get you out of this,” Dean promised. “You’re not going to hell. I’m gonna call Crowley and—“

“Who do you think I made a deal with?” You sighed. “He may be the king of hell, but there’s only so much he can do. It was dangerous enough for him bringing you guys back as it was.”

“I don’t care,” Dean said. “He helped get you into this, he’s gonna help get you out.”

…

The year passed faster than anyone had anticipated. Crowley never answered when the Winchesters summoned or called, and they hadn’t been able to track him down or summon any other demons either.

You were on your last day, sitting on a motel bed next to your brothers, when he finally made contact.

“Hello, boys. Y/N.”

All three Winchesters nearly jumped out of their skins at the sudden appearance of the king.

“It’s about time, Crowley,” Dean growled. “We’ve been trying to contact you for—“

“Three hundred sixty-four days, twenty-three hours, and twenty-six minutes,” Crowley interrupted. “Y/N’s almost out of time.”

“Exactly,” said Dean. “Now fix your mess.”

“I can’t undo a deal, Squirrel.” Crowley couldn’t meet your eye as he spoke. “There’s nothing I can—“

While his gaze was focused on Dean, he didn’t notice Sam pulling out the demon knife until it was up against his throat.

“Then why are you here?!” Sam demanded.

“I can’t undo the deal,” Crowley said, his hands raised defensively. “Nor can I tell you about the hidden escape hatch out of hell. It would be utter treason for me to accidentally leave Y/N’s cell door in hell open in exactly seventeen hours and twelve minutes, when the guards change. It would be an affront of all I stand for to give you boys this address,” Crowley reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, handing it to Dean while Sam kept the knife on him. “It also wouldn’t be possible for me to tell Y/N to take two lefts and a right, and that the escape hatch is behind the giant rock shaped like a nose—trust me, you’ll see it.”

The trio of siblings was silent for several long seconds as they took in Crowley’s words.

“Why are you doing this?” Dean asked.

“I didn’t want to make this crummy deal in the first place,” Crowley sighed. “But you Winchesters are stubborn, so I made it. Now I’m doing the little I can to un-make it.”

The Winchester brothers began questioning Crowley about the specifics of the plan, but you remained silent. The men seemed to forget your presence until you suddenly interrupted them.

“So I still have to go to hell?”

All eyes turned to you.

“I’m afraid so,” Crowley said, still unable to look you in the eye.

“Dean?” Your pleading voice had your big brother in front of you in an instant. “Does…” your gaze focused on your fidgeting hands, and your voice came out in a tearful whisper. “Does dying hurt?”

Dean’s heart lodged in his throat. He wanted so bad to lie, to tell you that you wouldn’t feel a thing, and that you’d be reunited with your brothers before you knew it. But you didn’t want just assurance, you wanted the truth. You needed someone to trust more than you needed comfort. So he did the last thing he wanted to do; he told you the truth.

“Yeah,” Dean sighed heavily. “Yeah, it’s gonna hurt like crazy.” Dean’s hands found your fidgeting ones, and he held them tightly. “And those seventeen hours are gonna feel like a whole lot longer. And it’s—“ Dean’s voice cracked. “It’s gonna be real dark, and you’re gonna feel like the only person in the universe for a little while. Then the demons are gonna come, and it…it’s gonna be really bad for a while, kid.”

Tears were steaming down both of your cheeks now, but still Dean continued.

“But you just gotta hold on, ok? Hope is the only thing you’re gonna have down there, so you can’t let it go for anything, understand?”

“Ok,” you choked, holding Dean’s hands in a vice grip.

“Ok,” Dean forced a fleeting smile. “Good girl.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You’re gonna be ok, alright?”

You nodded, leaning into your big brother’s touch.

Dean felt you flinch in his arms, and he pulled back to see you glancing around wildly.

“Did you hear that?” You breathed. You glanced up at Sam and jerked back, gasping in surprise.

“Hey, hey,” Dean tried to grab your arms, but you backed away from him, trembling. “What you’re seeing, it’s not real, ok? Y/N, it’s me.”

“I have to go, they can’t see me here.” Crowley was gone before anyone could comment.

“Y/N, it’s Sam.” Sam appeared on your other side. “It’s ok, you’re ok.”

“Baby close your eyes.”

You looked up to see Dean staring down at you.

“Just close your eyes,” he repeated. “It’ll be ok.”

You closed your eyes tightly before the hallucinations started again, your last visual memory being that of your big brothers holding onto you. You felt Dean’s hand squeeze yours, and your breathing turned to hyperventilating when you heard the hellhounds burst through the door.

Your instincts were screaming at you to open your eyes, but Dean seemed to read your mind.

“Keep your eyes closed, sweetheart. We’re right here, we’re not gonna leave you.”

You couldn’t help the terrified gasps that were escaping you, but you listened to your big brother and kept your eyes closed, even as you heard the vicious bark of the hellhounds.

Even as you felt their claws rip into your flesh.

You shrieked in pain, and you struggled to back away from the hounds, to no avail. But you never opened your eyes.

And you never let go of your brothers’ hands.

…

Seventeen hours later, Sam and Dean were waiting at the address that Crowley had given to them. Your body was laid out carefully in the back of the Impala, having been carried there by Dean. Dean told himself over and over again that you weren’t dead; they were just waiting to get your soul back to your body.

“Is there something we should be doing?” Sam asked, glancing around.

“Not according to Crowley,” Dean sighed. “He said as long as her body is here, and she gets through that escape hatch, it should be a done deal.”

The brothers had done what they could for your body; Sam had stitched up your wounds, and Dean had done a homemade blood transfusion using his own blood. They could only hope that your soul returning to your body would somehow help the more internal injuries that they couldn’t fix. Dean insisted that they do this, since Cas wasn’t around to heal your injuries, they didn’t know what state you would be in when you got back to your body.

“So we just sit he—“

Sam’s question was cut off when your body suddenly jerked upright, a deep breath filling your lungs.

“Y/N!” Dean was by your side immediately, Sam coming to stand beside him.

“Dean? Sam?” You were out of the Impala and in your brothers arms before you even finished getting their names out.

“Hey kid,” Dean breathed a sigh of relief as you relaxed completely in his arms. “Miss me already?” He quipped, but his forced easygoing tone dropped at your response.

“It felt so long.” You held Dean tighter and started to cry into his shoulder.

“I know, I know it did sweetheart.” Dean brought his hand up to cradle your head. “I know. You’re safe now, ok? We’re right here.”

“Hey,” Sam pulled you away from Dean and held you at arms length to look at you. “How do you feel?”

You touched the stitches running up your stomach.

“It feels sore, like-like it’s healing.”

“Ok.” Sam sighed in relief. “Ok.” He pulled you into his arms, letting you relax against him.

“Let’s get going,” Dean said. “We don’t need any demons figuring out what happened.”

Dean regretted his words when he saw you tense in Sam’s arms.

“Hey.” Sam noticed too, and he pulled away and brushed your hair away from your face. “We’ve got you, ok? You’re not going back to hell. Ever.”

For the first time in months, a smile found its way onto your face.

“Let’s hope so.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl

#dean winchester #dean and sam #the winchesters #dean winchester x reader #supernatural dean #dean winchester x you #winchesters x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #winchesters x sister #crowley #sam winchester x sister!reader #spn sam winchester #dean winchester x little sister!reader #dean winchester x sister #dean winchester x sister!reader

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krypticcafe · 1 year

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any chance for dbd killers (especially myers) reacting to a partner who wants to take the relationship real slow? how would they take it? would they push, or be respectful? patience? bonus for cuddle time 💜✨

DBD killers w/a partner who wants to take it slow

rating: teen

character(s): GN!Reader, Shape/Michael Myers, Ghostface/Danny "Jed" Olsen, The Executioner/Pyramid Head, The Cannibal/Bubba Sawyer, Legion/Frank Morrison

warning(s): suggestive themes, canon-typical violence and behavior, language

a/n: pardon the unannounced hiatus, cue the usual fanfic writer life drama, gonna be dusting off the request box :]

Michael

Thank. GOD. He's not gonna say it, but Michael's beyond relieved because he's just not comfortable jumping into things, or anything at all. He likes consistency, not change, so he really needs the time to even just adjust to the fact that he's actually letting this relationship happen (no offense). Even the first time he let you live, he felt all irritated about it because it just felt wrong. But after he saw you leave med packs for him from time to time, lurk behind him while he was off chasing others, he started to grow a little more lenient towards you, much to your pleasure.

After you see the approval in his eyes, you're relieved, too. It's not that you thought Michael wouldn't take the suggestion well, it's that it was the first time you two were seriously discussing your relationship. Neither of you put a label on yourselves, you just both knew that you liked each other a little more than you did with other people. Kind of like a silent agreement.

But now you take confidence in knowing you can be as slow as you want with him, after all, you both have all of eternity to work it out, or at least until the Entity decides to do something about it. Though seeing as they haven't stopped you so far, you're probably fine for now.

It's a long time until you guys show any actual physical affection. The closest it's been is Michael getting revenge on people who use you as bait and grabbing your wrist to pull you to a safe spot while you help clean his gear during visits in between matches and lean on him or he holds you in his lap while sitting in comfortable silence (you've caught him falling asleep on a few occasions).

Expect it to take a while more if you guys actually want to get intimate, he's just too much of a 'business first' guy.

All in all, mission success.

Danny

"Like how slow?"

You should've expected this. While Michael is relieved, Danny, well, he doesn't take it as well. He's one of the clingiest of all the killers and makes it difficult not to be paranoid all the time of someone finding out. He's a hands-on type of guy and this... is kind of torture for him.

After some insistence and some pleading on your side, he'll give in, but it's not guaranteed. He has to resist his urges like some little kid trying not to open Christmas presents a day early. All day, every day, he's just thinking about smothering you in his touch, and it gets him frustrated (in both ways), so he has to take it out somehow.

You can literally see it in real-time when he's cutting through survivors like butter, not even bothering to act playful or make quips, just snarling and hissing at them like a feral cat. You make a mental note to give him a bit of something after the match, like a kiss or some cuddle time.

Other than that, he whines. A lot. Like it's so fucking annoying please make him shut up with a kiss or something, the killers can't stand hearing him bitch incoherently and you can only take so much of it as well. Also, he's a manipulative ass to expect him to be pushy and try to pressure you here and there.

It's kinda funny though, in a way you sorta conditioned him to feel even more euphoric when you do anything romantic with him. He's asking, no, begging for extra kisses, holding you real tight when you cuddle, and you swear you can feel him melting under your touch. Heart eyes and all, he's so obsessed with you.

Whenever you let him know you're ready to move things forward, expect him to be a little overexcited about it. Like if you finally let him get in your pants, he's gonna work you like there's no tomorrow, all that pent-up energy is flooding out the door.

I'm sorry, but you're literally caging an animal by asking *the* Ghostface to take it slow. He's only gonna get more hungry over time.

Pyra

Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't think he cares. Like he's fine taking it as slow as you want, it's not a huge deal to him, and really, he has no room for judgment outside of killing people. You'll ask and he'll respond with the usual metallic grunt and boom. Problem solved.

In all honesty, it's probably good to take it slow with him if you want a nice, loving relationship with him. Because of his lack of experience, fast-paced relationships might just be too much for him to deal with, but taking your time lets him process how it even works. Dates, kissing, and anything beyond that aren't in his area of expertise, nor did he ever expect it to be, it's not his primary purpose.

This allows him to welcome something new in his life for once beyond the mundane life of Silent Hill and the matches in the realm of the Entity. He's not used to actually having personal priorities, so the adjustment period progresses along with your relationship. He's quick to find out that he really likes physical contact with you, too.

Most likely you'll be taking the initiative with him, teaching him the little things you like to do like cuddling and holding each other close. He really likes that, being able to just envelope you and keep you safe and close in such a comfortable manner.

I don't he exactly has a concept of... 'horny', it's more of a hunger I guess? A hunger to be close and in your presence, so he kinda has times when he'll stick to your side like a big old scary guard dog. If you wanna indulge him a little, go ahead.

Yeah, I can't really say much for him other than it is what it is.

Bubba

He tries his best to be patient, he really does. Bubba's more than understanding about it, because he's already elated that you love him back in the first place! Though sometimes he just really wants to pepper your face in kisses and smother you in love, pick you up and swing you around in his arms, take you to some of the nicer parts of the Entity's realm, he almost forgets they all live in some sick game.

Horrible advice, but try not to be so... cute around him. I like to think he has cuteness aggression, so it's very hard to keep his hands to himself when you look so... so... nope, no, Bubba, focus, you're supposed to be chasing Ace right now- oooo but don't wanna just eat them up and make them yours!

He wants to do so much with you but it's kind of for the best to keep him from rushing into things. Even he's a little worried that he'll tire you out from his eagerness to get things moving. Hell, he even spooked himself when he found himself daydreaming about marrying you mid-match. He can't help it though, it's the southern love in him that gets him all antsy (he thinks you'd look very nice in a suit or dress if you're wondering).

Yeah, and don't think you don't know either, not when he's humming "Here Comes the Bride" while sawing up Kate in halves in front of you.

Oh, and you thought the wedding fever was bad? Wait until the baby fever kicks up. Since day one of falling in love with you, this man has been dreaming of church bells, vows, cribs, pacifiers, and all that. He's never told you it in full detail but you just know he does. Whether you want it for your relationship or not, he still loves you nonetheless.

Despite it all, you help remind him to appreciate what's in the moment, that you both have an eternity together in damnation to get to that point. So long as time and the Entity are on your side, he's more than happy to take things slow with you and he'll be sure to enjoy every moment you have together.

Frank

"You're joking, right?"

No surprise here either, Frank doesn't take it all too well. He's an impatient bastard and mostly thinks with his dick more than his head sometimes. To be honest, he never even anticipated getting into a relationship with you. He thought most of the survivors were annoying and unlikable in their own ways, he even found you irritating at some point just not as much as the others, or so he'd claim.

You try to explain to him why and unfortunately, it does result in a back and forth between you two, the other members of Legion even chiming in on your defense. It's until you point into his face that you both literally have forever in this endless hell so "what's the big deal about us taking our time" and for him to just think about it for a bit.

And yeah he does, but it takes a while for Frank to wrap his head around it. He's used to just getting what he wants, jumping into things headfirst, and figuring out the details from there. His whole philosophy defies normalcy, defies everything he hates about Ormond and the banal, suburban society it is. He lives for the rush, the excitement, the recklessness. Time and care in a relationship remind him too much of a "normal life".

But the others remind him there's nothing normal about where they are now. Hell, they get to wreak havoc and chaos in the trials, it's everything they dreamed of. Making a statement for themselves. And frankly (no pun intended), he likes you a little too much to let it go. So instead of rushing himself into things, he finds a new thrill in testing the limits. He teases you with lingering touches and suggestive remarks, leaves you wanting, craving just a little more of that.

He clicks his tongue, "I thought we were taking it slow?"

That little bitch. He's got you wrapped around his finger and you know it. But don't think you're the only one aching, no. Call him a sadomasochist because it's practically killing him too, how much he has to hold back. Yet it's such a rush, keeping his hands to himself and itching for the day when you let him do whatever. He. Wants.

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starcrossedxwriter · 3 months

Text

Wicked Fantasies Part 11.2 (MBJ x Black OC)

A/N: Long awaited and well over due. This is basically chapter 12 but it really connects to 11.1. Nothing to say except enjoy!

“Michael, stop messing with the fuckin’ cuff links!” Alex called over to him from her spot on the couch. “I thought you weren’t nervous??”

Michael cut his eyes toward his agent before forcing his fingers away from the gold cufflinks near his wrist. That had been his original claim when he arrived at his suite to get ready, proudly boosting that he did not feel nervous at all. And some part of him had believed that was true. But as makeup ended and he got dressed, the nerves started to settle in. Tonight was no longer some distant potential achievement. It was here and now. And his shoulders were starting to feel the weight of that pressure. He tried his best to remain excited and upbeat but there were some ticks he simply couldn’t hide.

“Ha ha. I’m just… you know, already ready for it to be over. Gotta sit through 100 fuckin’ awards before they get to mine. Just gonna be a long night.”

“Whatever you say,” she muttered, her face scrunching up at her phone for a minute.

“Somethin’ wrong?” his antenna going up immediately, anxiety that something had already gone wrong seeping into his confident facade. “Fuck… You think we should’ve gone with the other suit, don’t you??”

“Nigga… they’re both black tuxes, calm down. No one’s ever looked at you to be the pillar of fashion. You look great, that’s all that matters. Just taking care of some last minute details, boring shit you wouldn’t be interested in.”

Michael knew not to press any farther as she immediately changed the subject, standing up and starting to walk over to him. He watched as she studied the time on her phone screen for a moment as his stylist’s assistant slid on the tailored jacket for his suite.

“Can someone check on his mom? Jason went to check out the space and it’s ready for photos. We gotta start in 10 though if we want to make it to the carpet.”

“I’ll go.”

He was thankful his mom agreed to accompany him on such a momentous occasion, she was the only date he could fathom taking as the woman he wanted was unavailable.

Raven.

Some fantasy that she would call or text him good luck drove him to check his phone every 20 minutes or so, praying for anything that signaled that she thought of him as he did her. She tortured his every waking thought, even after agreeing to give her the space she desperately wanted and needed. But his soul did not want space, his soul wanted their better half, the person who made all of this worth something.

He shook his head for a moment and forced her to the back of his brain, where he knew she would only stay for a short while. No more than 10 minutes would go by before someone or something reminded him of her. But when he thought of her too long, the sparse stitches holding those wounds together tore open and blood flowed earnestly from them. And such emotional agony would not stand on the biggest night of his career. So he forced a smile onto his face and thoughts of a love he would likely never have again behind the barriers around his heart and knocked on the door to his mother’s room.

However, he was not prepared to find her still clad in the lounging set Raven and he had bought her for Christmas, completely unprepared to attend the biggest night in Hollywood.

“Ma, what’s wrong? We gotta leave soon. Why aren’t you dressed?”

“Well I didn’t want to worry you while you were getting ready but I’m just not feeling well. I don’t think I can make it all evening. I’m sorry, baby.”

Michael’s face fell ever so slightly at the disappointment, though he tried his hardest to hide it. It was not his mother’s fault that she was not feeling well and even he knew the rest of the day would be tiresome and exhausting for even those in good spirits. So he did not want her trying to suffer through on his account. However, he would not pretend that it did not sting, to know that he would not have anyone there to support him, hold his hand. That he would spend tonight… completely alone.

Her renewed apologies made him fix his face immediately, knowing that she likely already felt badly for canceling on him. He had no interest in making her feel any worse.

“I really am sorry, baby. But I wasn’t the date you wanted to take anyway,” she chuckled, her eyes filled with sympathy.

Those makeshift barriers dissolved into nothing stronger than paper at her words. And as flimsy as they originally were, they were all he had to hold onto to get through tonight.

“Don’t apologize, ma. Really no big deal at all. You should rest. And you know you’re always my favorite date. Besides, your love is the reason I’m here. You’ll always be my #1,” he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. When her eyes, unsurprisingly, filled with tears, Michael chuckled a bit. “Don’t cry on me. Alex will kill me for messin’ up this makeup.”

She took a tissue and whisked away the pools of tears in her eyes before adjusting his bowtie.

“You know how proud I am of you? How lucky I am to be your mom? I thank God for you, your sister, and your brother every day. And all I’ve ever wanted for each of you is to live out your dreams and be happy. No matter what you do or who you’re with. Just that. Tonight you’re seeing God’s manifestation of your dreams and win or lose, I couldn’t be prouder of you. But even I know, only one person could make you truly happy tonight. That facade might fool the world but not me. I saw how happy she made you, Bakari. How she turned my scared little boy into a brave and vulnerable man without even trying. I may have gotten you here but her love and adoration and the love you have for her will keep you here. Will help you reach dreams I couldn’t even comprehend for you. And that’s a woman I’ll happily step into the #2 spot for any day.”

“Thanks ma… but I don’t think she wants that spot anymore… wants me anymore. Hell, I don’t even know where she is in the world.” The resigned smile on his face and the humorless laugh could not hide the depths of his sadness as he recalled the message he received from David letting him know that Raven boarded a flight to only God knows where. He had failed and even tonight could not take his mind off the 101 ways he failed the love of his life. “I screwed up. Gotta accept the consequences. I wanna be the man you raised and the man she thought she fell in love with. Even if I don’t get to be that for her.”

“Give it time, Bakari. You know what I always reminded you three. Everything meant for you will come to you or find its way back to you. God never denies what he ordained as yours, sweetheart. Something to remember for more than one reason tonight.”

There was a certain mischievous glint in her eyes that did not match the typical motherly tone in her voice. “More than one reason” stuck out in his brain.

What the fuck does that even mean?

“What do you me-?” he started to ask when his mother cut him off.

“Oh gosh, you know I didn’t even notice the time? You should go, dear. Don’t wanna get in trouble with that Alex, do we?”

Realizing that it was almost showtime forced his confusion right out of his brain as he forced himself to focus on the moment, his moment.

“Nah we don’t. She’s terrifyin’,” he admitted. “How about you lay down and rest for a while and Allen can take you home when you feel better? Or you can enjoy the suite for the night? Totally up to you.”

“Thank you, baby. I’ll hang out here, let the traffic clear a bit then head to your sister’s. Everyone’s watching there. You look amazing. Can’t wait to see you shine tonight ”

“Thanks, ma. Aight, I should head down to take pictures. Love you.”

He squeezed her hand before she turned around and closed the door of her room behind her.

He walked back to where his team was waiting. The lack of noise and hustle and bustle in the space caught him off guard as he expected to return to the same chaotic space with his team racing around him. However, only Alex stood waiting on him.

“Where’d everybody go?”

“Oh I sent them all downstairs. Figured you wouldn’t mind a couple minutes of peace before the longest night of your life.”

And that was why, of everyone on his team, Alex was one of the few that stood the test of time. She knew him, truly knew him and what he needed.

“Thanks.” He paused as he studied her. “You good?”

Alex had been in the wings of every major career moment in Michael’s life and she typically brought an air of assurance and confidence that put Michael at ease. She was a staple calming force that kept his own anxiety in check. However, tonight? Everything about her seemed off, distracted and anxious in a way that made his empath sensors go haywire. She seemed utterly engrossed in her own phone, which was not unlike Alex but typically she cued Michael in, if nothing else. But tonight, she offered him no insight.

“Yea… just a big night. Want to make sure everything’s perfect,” she muttered. “Come on… Jason says they’re ready for us.”

Michael did not need to be the smartest person in the room to immediately recognize that she was hiding something from him. He knew he would never get it out of her as she was the world’s most secure vault for secrets. And there was a part of him that did not even want to know for fear that it would scare him into skipping the night altogether. What if she already found out that he lost? If anyone in his orbit was part of some dark Hollywood back channel, Alex would be it. Or something happened to Raven and she did not want him to lose his shit right before the event. Because they both knew he would drop all of this in a heartbeat for her. Foolish? Perhaps but that was how he knew he had found true love, his soul mate. Because nothing in this life was as important as her and he would drop all of it to rush to her side if she asked. But she would never ask, because she did not consider herself worthy of sacrifices, which only served as fuel to spend everyday proving to her that she was.

Why did he even try not to think of her? Somehow, every thought was merely the first step down a path that led right to Raven’s doorstep.

He trailed slightly behind Alex as she led him to the elevator. However, before she hit the button, she stopped.

“Oh shoot. I need to stop by my suite. Forgot somethin. It’s just down the hall, it’ll take two minutes. Got a gift for you for your big night. A little good luck charm.”

“Alex, you know you didn’t need to get me shit.” And he truly meant that. He was just grateful to have Alex in his corner, her presence and commitment to his career was a gift in and of itself. “And send me the bill for your suite. Would’ve just gotten it for you.”

“Nah, it’s all good. It was last minute and I only got it for convenience, really.” She used her key to open the door and held it open so Michael could walk inside.

However, as she opened the door, her usual resting bitch face (Alex’s words, not his) turned into a bright grin, one that she clearly tried desperately to minimize but couldn’t. And while Michael had expected flowers or a gift basket or even a bottle of his favorite rum, now he wondered if the gift was something far bigger than that. What he did not expect, when he turned the corner into her suite’s sitting area, was to find Raven awkwardly fidgeting with her gown as Jason made last-minute adjustments.

“Wha…” His words died in his throat as she turned to face him, his stride stumbling backward in shock as he drank her in.

He could have stood there and stared at her for the rest of the night and it would not have been enough time. Several lifetimes filled with millions of minutes and seconds would hardly scratch the surface of how much time he needed to simply consume her presence, to refill the parts of his soul that had depleted without her.

Beautiful was a gross understatement for her. She was stunning, a goddess plucked from the heavens and placed among lesser men. Michael did not think he had ever laid eyes on a more radiant human being. But it was not her stunning beauty that caused tears to spring to his eyes. It was the look of renewed hope in hers, the smallest flame reignited after it had been utterly extinguished the last time he laid eyes on her. And fuck, that could’ve ended him right then and there. To see hope and light in her again, to see the Raven he had fallen so deeply for, she was all consuming.

She had not even said a word yet but the impact of her choice to be there, to show up for him and choose him after everything conveyed a love words would not be sufficient enough to. The silence stretched on as he studied all the things that had made him fall in love. The soft expectant smile painted on her face as she stared at him that only solidified that she was willing and ready to rebuild with him. The anxious way her eyes glanced down at her own dress and her hands fidgeted that told him she was searching for his confirmation that he still wanted her here or that she looked beautiful, that reminded him of her awkwardness and endless humility that made him fall in love with her in the first place. The way her eyes, the most expressive aspect of her, somehow told him everything he needed to know without uttering a word.

“I-I hope this is ok?” she asked quietly as she broke the silence and expectant tension that blanketed Alex’s suite, snapping Michael out of his speechless trance. “Admittedly, I only gave Alex and Jason like 24 hours notice. So our options were kind of limited b-but they said it would compliment yours a-and likely get me on a best dressed list, which d-doesn’t really matter but could be nice? I dunno though… think I’ve had enough publicity for a lifetime,” she laughed anxiously. “But I don’t know what’s appropriate to wear to the Oscars with the 2023 Best Actor and they do. But I know this probably isn’t what you envisioned when you invited me in January. But don’t blame them. It’s definitely my fault. Lost weight so my measurements weren’t quite right and the time thing. Honestly, give them a raise… well I can’t tell you what to do with your money. But you should…” she glanced over Michael’s shoulder at Alex who was staring at her with a look that simply said, ‘speed the reunion up, sis.’ So Raven cut herself off, her last rambling words falling off. “Consider it…”

“You… you came?”

“I heard you needed a date?”

Michael rarely experienced true speechlessness, the right words rarely eluded him. He usually always knew what to say. His brain was on the verge of explosion with all the things he desperately wanted to say, his deepest proclamations of regret and love sat on his tongue but he just did not know where to start, could not find the place to start.

Meanwhile, Raven had an entire soliloquy of how she was ready to forgive and move forward because she loved him planned out in her mind. But every painstakingly chosen word evaporated from her mind as she looked at him, as she stared at the man her soul had come to recognize as her safest place to be. The one place that did not demand she provide her most perfect words or anything from her at all. It simply demanded, insisted, that she just be.

And now, the words that sprung to her mind were not perfect at all. They were raw, they were broken… they were her vulnerabilities, her fear, her pain, and they were her hope. Her wildest fantasies and her dreams. And she was no longer afraid to express them loudly here. Because he was the one place where she could.

“You remember when I woke up in the hospital and the first thing I said to you was apologizing for not being the girl you wanted? For not being good enough? A-and you told me not to compare myself to h-her… or anyone else. B-”

“Because you’re one of a kind,” Michael finished simply.

“That was one of the nicest things a man… anyone had said to me in so long,” she admitted, her head bowing slightly. “And I didn’t believe it. I wanted to be loved by you so badly, Michael. B-But I couldn’t believe a man like you would ever think I was enough because I wasn’t enough for anyone. I wasn’t right for anyone. A-And I had internalized this narrative that I didn’t deserve love o-or to be happy. That I just deserved some second-rate, half life filled with disregard and pain because other people told me so. A-And when we s-started dating, I finally started to believe that all that hope had been worth something? That maybe I deserved something… better? A-And w-when I saw her, my heart immediately felt like… you were finally admitting it. I wasn’t enough for you either.”

Every punch and injury he sustained playing Adonis Creed paled in comparison to that. He did not know if it was possible to feel worse about what he had done.

“Rae… baby, you gotta know that-“

She held up her hand to stop him, Michael immediately falling silent.

“I know… at the time though? It felt like God confirming everything everyone w-who knew me ever said, t-the fuel for that voice in my head that told me I would never b-be enough, w-was right. And all the ways you showed me I was enough, all the ways you showed up for me… didn’t seem real anymore. And that broke me. So I left, gave you the out I thought everyone who knew me wanted. T-this nuisance out of their lives. But you… you didn’t leave.”

Michael could hear the pure perplexity in her voice, as if the competing voices in her head could not square why he kept reaching out, kept showing up even as she pushed him away.

“Because I love you.”

“Because you love me.” Raven repeated it but Michael could hear it, the recognition that his words were the truth.

“I… um. I don’t believe I deserve you,” Raven said simply. “But for the first time, I know that I want more than whatever life in the shadows I thought I had to have. I know that I don’t want to push away love a-and happiness anymore. A-and I don’t want to push you away anymore. B-Because you are love, safety, comfort… happiness. I want to believe I deserve better? I want… to believe I deserve you. Because when I’m with you…”

Raven let out a shaky exhale that felt like her body starting to expel all those tormenting thoughts she internalized as she finally admitted out loud that this love was everything she always wanted.

“When I’m with you, all I feel is joy. A joy so pure that only something hand crafted by God himself could feel so good. You’re every fantasy I dreamed of but never thought I could have. Since the moment I fell off that damn table like a clumsy fucking idiot, you’ve been my safest place, you’ve been home, and you’ve been one of the few people in my life who’ve loved me unapologetically and loudly.”

She finally closed the space between them, putting herself within arm’s length of him.

“And I owe you an apology for… letting my exhaustion and pent up pain blind me to all the ways you’ve loved me loudly since the day we met. Regardless of how tired a-and exhausted I am from falling and crashing into the rocks, you were always worth climbing back up that mountain. You were always worth a second chance. And I should’ve recognized that far earlier.”

A pressure valve Michael did not even know had formed in his body released at her words. It felt like being able to take a deep breath again.

“So I’m here and I’m still hurt a-and exhausted but I’m ready to do something different, ready to run toward the cliff and take the leap and fall again. And I want to do that with you… If I’m not too late?”

Michael did not even command his legs to move as her confirmation hit his ears. Before either of them could utter another word, she was in his arms. A sweet giggle erupted as he pulled her unexpectedly toward him and crashed his lips against hers. And the peace that brought was unparalleled.

Raven could have melted against him, her soul at ease for the first time in too long as he held her tightly.

The rest of their small audience melted away as their hearts and souls sought to reclaim their other half, their kiss spelling out every ache and pain their brief separation caused. His lips felt so familiar, so much like home, that it almost hurt. Every second in his arms felt as if it mended the fissures of Raven’s heart one by one, stitching her back together intentionally and with such care that it made her want to sob.

Her own foolishness baffled her. How could she have denied herself this? This ethereal, otherworldly type of love. She would never find something comparable with another living soul. Because this insanely perfect man in front of her was it for her. She had never had a real family but in his arms, she could see one and it was everything she had ever dreamed for herself. The emotions of finally accepting, even in objective disbelief, his love for her hit her in waves that gently crashed over her one by one. But she was not overwhelmed like before, drowning beneath them as she fought for air.

This was serenity, gentle waves blanketing her in warmth and care. Such care that it was painful to pull away to catch her own breath.

Was breathing really a necessity right now?? She demanded of herself as his touch set off heat and flames of desire as he touched her. Weeks and weeks of deprivation meant she needed this more than she could describe, needed the physical representation of his love. His touch, his kiss, his devotion to her needs.

She did not even look away from him but her next words were for the pair awkwardly lingering in the room, long forgotten.

“We need 10 minutes.”

Alex groaned, breaking the sexual tension in the room with her annoyance, though she acquiesced far faster than Raven expected. Though she suspected his longtime agent could see a losing battle from a mile away.

“Fine but you really only get 10 minutes. Fuckin’ Oscars not a goddamn industry party. Can’t just roll in whenever we feel like it. And I swear to God… if you fuck on my bed or fuck up your outfits and make up, I’ll spend the rest of my life breaking you two up again.”

And with that, she grabbed Jason by his sleeve and marched out of the suite, leaving the two of them alone. Raven did not even wait for the click of the door to launch herself back into his arms, her fingers working faster than her mind could direct to undress him.

If anyone could see them, she imagined their movements were feral, so frenzied with their carnal instincts that it looked purely chaotic. Raven’s dress was in a crumble at her feet, his suit jacket was somewhere Raven could not even see. Her fingers rushed to undo the buttons of his shirt before abandoning the task for his pants.

“Fuck, why are there so many buttons??” She came up for air long enough to moan in frustration as Alex’s warning rang out in her head.

Only ten minutes. How was that enough time? That was not even a fraction of the time she required to do all the things her brain demanded she do to feel all of him and ensure he felt all of her too.

“Fuck I missed you,” he uttered between kisses as he tried to take her incredibly tight but effective spanx off.

She prayed Alex’s threat was a joke because she did not need a mirror to know her makeup would indeed need more than a light retouch. His kisses were unyielding, sloppy and utterly unrestrained. Their need for each other simply fed off the others and she knew neither would be satiated in ten minutes.

We need to stop, she thought. It was the biggest night of his career. She should stop so he could focus on that, right?

But she couldn’t, didn’t want to.

“I need you,” she whimpered, her desire to be filled far louder than the time clock in her head.

And her voice was so needy that Michael, whose self-control was hanging by a thread, almost gave in.

The only thing that gave him the strength to stop them before neither of them would be able to stop was the knowledge that she deserved more than a 10-minute quickie. She deserved to be devoured with every ounce of his being devoted to and focused on her. No interruptions, no distractions. She was a goddess to be worshiped with every stroke in her heat and that was not a process that could be rushed.

“Baby, baby, baby,” he gently cradled her neck, forcing her to slow down and look at him. His resolve was tested at the lust in her eyes, how her entire body was suddenly flushed with heat. “Fuck…” the words were agony to push out but necessary. “I want you so bad. But not like this.”

Raven, still a work in progress, could not stop the immediate intrusive thought that he did not want her, that she had misread everything. Michael could see it, how her eyes flashed with that fear and insecurity. He would never not want her, he would happily remind her of that every day if necessary. But he knew himself too well. Once he found himself trapped inside her, he would not be able to stop himself. And he wanted to take his time.

“It’s not you. It’s never you,” he brushed her hair behind her ear. “I just… I want more for this than a 10-minute quickie in a hotel room that isn’t even ours. You deserve more.”

Her heart swelled at his words, realizing that he was not even thinking about the clock. He was merely thinking about her. That forced her to calm down a bit, her lust still red hot and flowing but the logical part of her brain was taking control again.

The slight pout on her face made him chuckle and pull her in for another kiss. It was deeper and more sensual, a quiet plea to trust that he would always give her what she needed. Even if not in the exact timing her body desired it.

“Every moment with you counts and I’m not lettin’ anymore pass that I don’t treat you like you deserve. Trust me, I’ll give you what you need, baby girl. It’ll be worth the wait.”

Raven knew he was right. Despite the persistent ache in her core, she knew she could wait for what he planned. It would be far better than a rushed reunion on a couch anyway.

“I trust you. Just make sure your team knows to clear your very packed schedule for the next couple days,” she teased as she stole one last kiss before she tried to put some distance between them. Her body still wanted him desperately and while she trusted him, she was not sure she trusted herself.

But Michael merely pulled her back in and held onto her tighter.

“Oh the world ain’t gon’ see me or you for more than a couple days. I’m all yours.” He winked at her before helping her get her dress back on and his own suit back on. Once he opened the door to let Alex back in, both of them looked exactly as the two had left them, not a hair out of place. Save Raven’s lipstick, which was completely gone.

“Damn… three minutes? Knew you couldn’t be worth the hype,” Alex immediately said as she breezed back into the suite, utterly unbothered by the idea that the two might have fucked just moments prior.

“You always got jokes.”

Alex immediately fired off last-minute directions to the makeup team to fix Raven’s before they prepared for photos and to leave. Though Raven had endured the tedious process of getting ready for awards and premieres before, today was the most hectic yet. But she was not panicked because she stuck close to Michael, who was the picture of ease and calm. He was the eye of this hurricane, the small world that was him purely at ease even when he should not be.

“You nervous?” she asked as the photographer directed her to perch on Michael’s knee before going to switch out the lens on his camera.

He offered her the most sincere smile, his eyes glimmering with all the love and adoration he felt toward her.

“Nah. Why would I be? I already got the most important thing I needed today. Tonight’ll just be a cherry on top.”

***

Raven was beginning to wonder if her return had turned Michael’s hands into magnets. He barely let her go since they walked out of Alex’s suite. She could not help but laugh when Michael only allowed the photographer two minutes of individual photos before he pulled Raven back into his arms. It was not as if she minded one bit, she had so missed this, missed his touch. It was addicting.

“You stare at me any harder, I’m gonna combust,” she joked as they sat in the back of his limo, Raven leaning into his side as she had done so many times before. .

“My bad, my bad. I’m just fuckin’ shocked you’re here.” He weaved his fingers among hers, bringing her hand into his lips. “You know I’m gonna spend everyday making all this shit up to you, right?”

“I know and I also know it’s unnecessary. I won’t lie, I’m still hurt and confused by what happened. But I know we can fix it. I don’t need you to feel guilty for the rest of our relationship either.”

“The rest of our lives,” he softly corrected with a playful shove to her shoulder that made her giggle. Fuck he missed that sound, missed her smile.

“The rest of our lives,” she repeated. “I just need you to love me. That’s it.”

“That’s a given, baby girl.”

She leaned over and pecked him softly on the lips before settling back in his arms.

“So… Can I read your speech?” she asked sweetly, knowing there was a terribly crumbled piece of paper stuffed into his jacket pocket.

“Nope.”

Raven immediately pouted, putting on the playful sad puppy eyes that always got to him.

“Those ain’t gon’ work today, baby. But only cause I can’t show you a speech I don’t have.”

Raven’s eyebrows creased in confusion, immediately assuming that his lack of a prepared speech meant he did not think he would win. How could he think such a thing?

“Michael… You know you’re gonna win. And you’ve scripted all the others. Why didn’t you write one for tonight? I can jot you something down real quick?” she immediately started to look around as if her cell-phone-sized clutch was big enough to secretly contain a pen and paper. “Allen!” She leaned toward the front. “Do you have any paper? Spare receipt?”

“Baby, BABY!” Michael called, gripping her hips to guide her back to her seat and calm her panic. “I didn’t say I didn’t write one,” he clarified. “I said I don’t have it. I just realized that… the scripted speeches are not what I want tonight. Need a different direction. So I gave the speech to Alex before we left.”

Though Raven could guess the reason for a sudden need for a new direction in the 11th hour. But she still found herself asking anyway. “Any reason for this different direction?”

“Just think I should speak from the heart if I win, you know? Like I did in that interview. If I get to go on that stage tonight, wanna do it as the man I’ve become. Dunno if I have your way with words, though. Not nervous about losing but I’m nervous about fuckin’ up up there, not sayin’ the right thing, you know? Or everyone hating it?”

Raven’s eyes softened a bit, always appreciating this vulnerable side of him. She knew how difficult and painful it had been to reveal that side to her and to the world. But she knew he was better for it.

“You don’t need my way with words, baby. You just need yours and yours is poetic, it’s kind a-and loving and true. That isn’t a new direction o-or a new man, Michael. It’s just you. Every moment I’ve known you, that’s just you. You just let me see it and I’m so grateful for it. And you’ve let the world see glimpses of it in the last few months a-and if the response is any indication, the world is grateful too. You’re not nervous about saying the wrong thing. Going out there without the armor you’ve built to protect yourself is just scary. But it’s worth it. You taught me that. Don’t think about the right or wrong words. Just what you want to say about this moment. Whatever words you have will be right.”

“Feel like you got more poetic on me since January.”

Raven chuckled and shook her head. “Still only minimally poetic… and I can’t take credit for that one.” But she stopped herself before she said more. Now did not feel like the best moment to drop emotional bombs.

“We’re here, Mr. Jordan. About three cars in front of us,” Allen called out from the front seat.

He glanced at Raven, her eyes suddenly swimming with panic that he could tell she desperately wanted to swallow. He could almost see the realization hit her like a wall. She was about to walk out into the public eye for the first time in months at Hollywood’s most significant night of the year. And Michaell had been so elated to have her back that he had not considered how emotionally overwhelming that had to be.

Raven was determined to hide it as best and long as she could. Tonight was all about Michael and his career. And she had accepted being in the public eye when she decided to go back to him. She knew it would be difficult but he was worth it. They were worth the sacrifice. But her brain assaulted her with every possible name she would be called, the headlines that would materialize tomorrow. And all of that would reflect poorly on him. What if she ruined his life… again?

“Hey, hey, Rae. Baby girl. Look at me,” his hands gently framed her face to force her eyes to him. “Don’t worry about them. It’s just you and me, aight? Tonight’s ours. The first night of the rest of our lives, showing up 100% in our truth. None of this other shit matters. So just focus on me. I won’t let you go, I promise.”

“Just you and me,” she repeated, nodding slightly.

And with that, he opened the limo door, standing tall as crowds shouted his name and the chaotic sounds of the carpet filled their ears.

First night of the rest of our lives. And she was ready.

***

Though she had not been to many award shows with Michael thus far, she learned one key thing. They were just as boring as they looked on tv except when you were the date of a popular nominee, you did not have the luxury of letting that boredom show.

Will my jaw ever recover, she wondered as it ached from smiling through three hours of devastatingly mediocre jokes and long-winded speeches. At least the carpet was exciting and thrilling, as daunting as it was. In fact, the carpet was actually fun for the first time.

The chaotic jungle was its usual frantic chaotic place, not any different than she expected. But perhaps it merely felt different because she and Michael were so different from who they were the last time they were out together. They had stripped themselves bare and had shed their armor. They were standing decidedly in their truth and the immense love they shared. And that felt like a new world.

And she noticed so much more than her self-pitied colored glasses allowed her to see. Every protective touch, every studious glance to ensure she was still smiling and well, the well-timed playful remarks or jokes he whispered in her ear right when her nerves started to encroach, every gentle kiss that still held his endless passion for her. She finally saw it all and felt it. And it was everything.

Michael straightened up next to her, pulling Raven out of her own daydreams. Robert Downey Jr. made his way to the middle of the stage, an envelope labeled Best Actor printed boldly across it.

She tightened her grip on Michael’s hand. She had a good feeling about this.

“A leading man is more than an attractive face, though I’m sure every woman would agree that all five men in this category have that quality in common as well. But what they also have in common is vulnerability, empathy, and the courage to search for the humanity and depth of their characters to embody their wants, their fears, their grief, their sorrow boldly and bravely. These five performances are exemplary and remind us all just what a leading man is. Here are the nominees for Best Actor in a Motion Picture.”

The room dimmed ever so slightly as the reel started to play, the seconds that passed felt more like hours as they watched snippets of each performance. Michael’s was last, Raven’s free hand gently rubbing his arm as she felt his nerves finally kick in. She was impressed he only felt them now, she would have been an utter mess all evening.

“And the winner is…” the Marvel actor did a little fist pump that immediately gave the winner away, deafening applause almost drowning out his name. “Michael B. Jordan, Waves.”

Michael’s head fell into his hand for a moment, genuine shock coursing through him. He had convinced himself that he would not win to minimize the disappointment. But he had not really considered how it would feel to actually win? To actually receive this honor. And it was more than he could have hoped it would be.

Raven pulled him into her arms as they stood, tears swimming in her eyes.

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered before he kissed her.

He honestly would have been fine to simply revel in this moment in her arms but he knew the clock was ticking on his speech.

He finally let her go and jogged up the stairs, giving RDJ a hug before stepping in front of the mic. The entire theater was still on their feet applauding and cheering as he stared out into the crowd.

“Wow. Thank you so much for this. As a kid from New Jersey, you just don't really ever expect your dreams to take off like this, to end up in a place like this. This is just… more than I could’ve ever dreamed for myself. So thank you. There are a million people for me to thank and not enough time before they play me off. My family and friends, my team and manager, the cast and crew who poured their hearts and souls into this film… Without all of you, I wouldn’t have made it here tonight and I’m grateful for your constant support.”

He glanced down at the trophy in his hand before continuing. “Umm… But there’s one person I do want to thank though and that is the love of my life, Raven Turner. When I look at you, all I can think of is how rewarding it is to be loved by you, to be chosen by you. That makes every day feel like I’ve just won an Oscar. I feel so blessed to be given the opportunity to love you, to stand in your light, and to live everyday working to be the man worthy of your love. Getting to share this moment with you goes beyond anything I could’ve imagined. Thank you for seeing me for all that I am and loving me for it. Thank you for falling with me, baby and I hope I make every day of our lives together worth it.”

She knew that the tears that streamed down her face were not attractive or good for the camera that was surely about to pan to her but she could not have hoped to care.

“I love you,” she mouthed though she doubted he could even see her from up there.

“I love you. Thank you!” He held the statue up in his hand before turning and walking off stage, his standing ovation renewing.

***

Michael wanted to laugh at how Raven stretched her body like an adorable kitten after sleeping like the literal dead for most of the daylight hours. He did not blame her, they did not stumble back into his house until after 4 am. Once the show ended, the pair bounced from after party to after party drinking, smoking, and dancing the night away. He had not had that much fun at industry events and parties in so long. And it had been so much fun that he was *almost* sad it was over, a perfect final night of an insane run in his career.

But then he remembered that closing that chapter meant he could focus his attention on the perfect and hopelessly exhausted woman rousing in his arms. They could heal without the distractions of events and the public eye. They could build their lives together officially. The joy of that instinctively caused him to pull her into his chest, pressing his lips to the top of her head.

“Mornin’ baby,” he whispered, his gruff voice filling her ears as Raven slowly opened her eyes.

Peace and contentment gently glided through her frame like a light summer’s breeze, easing all the aches and pains she had felt before. She had missed this… falling asleep snuggled in his arms, wrapped lovingly and tightly in his scent. She would have been inclined not to move until she caught a glimpse of the time on his iPad.

She let out a soft gasp as she tried to shoot up, shocked at how late she slept. However, his tight grip stopped her from lifting much beyond her head and chest.

“You gotta let me go, baby. We should get up. It’s almost 3 pm… sorry, don’t even know how I slept that fucking late. I know you got shit to do.”

“We had a late night and there ain’t shit to do today. And if there had been, I would’ve told you. Rest.”

She used the back of her hand to rub her eyes as she glanced at him, studying how his eyes returned to a script on his iPad that was highlighted to death. She merely rolled her eyes. Of course he would be working right after the biggest night of his career.

“How long have you been up?”

“Since 11 or so?” he shrugged. “Figured I’d relax and read some scripts my team pulled for Outliers. Been so crazy, they’ve just been piling up. Grabbed a snack bout an hour ago and made you some tea but it’s definitely cold. I can make you more if you want.”

“Why didn’t you wake me??”

He merely shrugged with his unbothered charm, his hand gently rubbing her back, which lulled her into laying her head down on his chest again despite her brain’s alarm bells to get up.

How am I so tired?? She wondered as her eyes threatened to fall shut again. All her body wanted to do was fall asleep in his arms.

“When you didn’t even move when I got up, it seemed like you needed the rest. And still do.”

“I’m good.”

“Those bags under your eyes say otherwise.”

“I know you ain’t talking…” she offered back, glancing pointedly at the equally stark dark circles under his eyes.

“Touche. But no actor gets enough sleep. Early call times, global press tours, events and after parties. It’s the name of the game. You haven’t been taking care of yourself?” His annotation was that of a question but they both knew the answer. “How much sleep you been getting since we-” Michael stopped himself, the words he held back still hanging heavily in the air. There was still so much they still had to discuss, wounds that were still unhealed and unresolved.

While Michael thought Raven was always stunning, he could not ignore the obvious toll the events of late had taken on his girl. He thought it had just been emotional but he had not seen her long enough to notice the physical strain his actions had caused too. And while she had told him not to feel guilty, he did. So he was not going to wake her up or bother her when it was clear she required a reset. And while he would always adore her for rallying for him last night, today was a new day. And she deserved to be catered to and have someone take care of her for a change.

“Couple hours a night… Between the break up and the paparazzi during the first couple weeks… and then all the shit on social media, I was just on edge 24/7, my brain couldn’t shut off long enough to sleep… or sleep well. I had some old sleeping pills I used some nights when I was desperate but… it was hard not to think about everything over and over and over again. And then wallow in it.”

“You stopped eating too? You lost weight.”

Raven chuckled. “You know most men wouldn’t have a problem with their girlfriend losing a couple pounds. Wasn’t like I didn’t need to.”

“You’re fuckin’ sexy at any weight but I gotta problem with anything that means you ain’t taking care of yourself. Especially when it’s my fault.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose and it’s no one’s fault. I just… didn’t really have an appetite a lot. But that’s starting to come back. I’m fine, Michael. Truly. We’re still celebrating you, can’t end that early just to fuss over little ole me.”

Michael knew she wanted him to pretend he believed her for the sake of not discussing this right now. But what was the point in that? He would not pretend he had not been terrified for her. That he was not still terrified at how all of this had worn her down. And he knew it was not just what he did, it had just been the final straw in a life-long list of painful experiences. But one thing Raven had always had when he looked at her was hope, even if the flame was as small as a dying candle. There was always an air about her that let him know she genuinely believed things would get better one day.

But when he saw her at her apartment, the night at that bar? That was gone, completely extinguished. Her eyes, his favorite part of her, held nothing but sorrow. He would not be able to live with himself if he ever saw that look in her eyes again.

“You aren’t fine, Rae. I know that shit. And I’m allowed to worry about you. I mean shit, how you looked after that video was bad enough. Then the bar?? Not gon’ forget that shit happened just cause we’re back together. And I’m not gon’ pretend you’re fine when you aren’t either. You’re not gonna keep sweeping your needs under the rug. We can lay here all day and sleep if that’s what you need.”

“You have better things to do, Mr. Academy Award Winner then watch me sleep. I can take care of myself.”

“What if I like watching you sleep??”

“Then that would be kinda endearing and… kinda creepy?” she mused. “But mostly endearing.” Not that she would ever admit it but she enjoyed watching him sleep too.

“Well I might be creepy then,” he admitted. He did genuinely love watching her sleep, when she was in his arms, there was just a rare peace about her that he loved to see. “The outside world has gotten too much of me lately. Now, the only thing I wanna do is take care of you. Not cause you can’t do that shit yourself but because you shouldn’t have to. Everyone needs to be taken care of and I’m not letting the next 30 years go by without you knowing what that feels like. Now you’re gonna feel it. Every single day. Rest, Raven.”

His words tumbled through her brain as she stared at him for a moment, her eyes brimming with tears. She was exhausted and not just physically. But of carrying the weight of every problem on her shoulders, of being alone in crafting solutions. She was so often consumed by pure survival and it had made her resourceful and smart. There was not a problem that life threw at her that Raven had not figured out a way through. She was stuck in survivor mode 24/7. But the problem with survival is that it was an all-consuming task. There’s no opportunity… no room to rest. And no one to take on the burdens for her so she could.

“I just haven’t h-had anyone… who cared enough to worry… in a long time, no one willing to share the load,” she offered simply, sniffling lightly. “Until you hired David… I didn’t think you cared what happened to me after we… I ended things.”

“I did. I do.” His hand gently cupped her cheek, his thumb whisking away the tears that slowly fell. “Fuck, I thought about you every minute of the damn day, Rae. You had me over here losing my damn mind. I care… I love you so much, it fucking killed me. And scared me. And I deserved it, to worry and stress and flip shit because I fucked up… I hurt you.”

“You did. But it wasn’t just you. Life’s been shit before and I could always, you know, keep going? It was just the final blow to the little bit of hope I had? And I just didn’t see the point in getting back up again. That was my best… the bare minimum needed to keep breathing. The heartache… I knew I could get over that eventually. One day in the far fucking future, I could… would force myself to get over you. Or just accept that I could never have you. It was the ache of losing hope that killed me. It was like my soul ached? And there were moments, like the night of your premiere, that I just thought that would never heal?”

“So you got wasted? To forget?”

She chuckled. “Alcohol is a great temporary solution. When you’re that low… shit gets desperate,” she admitted. “Anything to numb the pain for a short while. But it always comes back.”

“How often?”

“Rarely and that was the worst night, I promise. Honestly, wasn’t sure I’d ever want to touch alcohol again after that.”

“And now? How do you feel?”

“The wounds in my heart still need mending but every second back with you has healed parts of my soul. I’m… not ok,” she admitted, Michael immediately empathizing with how difficult it was for her to say those words. “You’re right… it doesn’t just go away. But I will be ok.”

He nodded. “I know you will be. I’m gonna make sure of it. Raven… look, I know this shit is scary, giving up control when you’ve been the one driving for so long, the one responsible for everything for so long. But I’m here, I’m not going anywhere and I’m not gonna let go again. It’s safe to let someone else behind the wheel for a while. Rest for me, baby girl. Please.

As if she was light as a feather, he shifted her so her body laid on top of his chest, his strong arms anchoring her in that spot. She buried her face in the nape of his neck, breathing in the perfect scent that her heart recognized as him.

Even as her body resumed its pliant posture in his arms, Raven realized she did not want rest. No, she wanted to feel him in the very depths of her. She knew they had to talk, knew there were conversations to be had. But fuck, she could not wait. She wanted to revel in this moment, of finally being with someone who genuinely loved her and cared. And she needed to feel it on a cellular level.

Raven forced herself to sit up, quickly straddling his hips and giving him a quick but tantalizing grind against him. That turned his frown into a mischievous grin, though she could still see the concern in his eyes.

“This is the opposite of rest, baby girl.”

“I’ll rest as long as you want after. I need you.”

“We still got a lot to talk about, Rae. I just don’t want you to get caught up in the moment ‘n not really want this yet. ‘N I…” Raven should have been put off the pure animalistic look simmering in his eyes. But instead it just made the desire grow stronger, long tentacles stretching out to every pleasure zone in her body. Demanding he touch, bite, slap, caress… literally do anything to satiate her. “I’m not sure what you need, what we both need.”

Her palms cupped his face, guiding his eyes to hers. “Then don’t be sure. I love that you take care of me, Michael. But taking care of me isn’t having the perfect thing to say or do for me. Sometimes, it’s just being you and figuring it out as we go. I know I need you. And that’s what I want, to feel every part of you… whatever you have to give me. And everything we need to talk about will still be here when you’re done with me.”

And with her permission, the reins holding him back evaporated and he pounced. Raven was on her back before she could blink, Michael capturing her lips, reminding her of the dominance she missed. And desperately craved it.

“Tell me what you need, baby,” he whispered in her ear.

“Everything. All of you.”

Michael would happily oblige. He licked his lips as he stared down at her. Where would he even start?

Some part of him wanted to render her utterly immobile as he usually did. But a more significant part of him just wanted to savor her. Wanted to feel everything she had to offer and bask in having her back with him. And while he loved the fast-paced dominant sex they were used to, it did not always allow for that. And he knew in his heart that they both needed more than fast and furious today.

His hands gently ran up the smooth skin of her thighs, gathering the oversized t-shirt on her frame in his hands and sliding it off. Her nipples pebbled slightly at the cold air against her warm skin.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful. You know that shit right?” he asked as he pressed soft kisses against her neck.

“Y-yes,” she whispered, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as he sucked on a particularly sensitive spot before moving down to her collarbone.

“You know how much I love you? What I’d do for you?” he continued a slow but intentional path down her body, lingering on her chest as he engulfed each of her nipples between his lips. He took his time there, remembering how much she enjoyed nipple play. His mind called back to the numerous times he put clamps on them. His tongue licked her nipples, Raven whimpering and squirming beneath his hot mouth.

Soon, they would reacquaint themselves with those roles, he thought. If she was up for it.

Her body was ablaze as his lips and tongue found their home on every inch of her skin he could get to. Down he trekked, only slowing when he got to the paradise between her thighs. He knew her inner thighs were a weak spot, something he learned long long ago. He knew it was the teasing that got to her, being so close to where she needed pleasure the most but not exactly there yet.

“Fuck I missed this,” he whispered. “Those little moans you make, how I make you squirm and beg and plead. The taste of you on my tongue.”

“Michael… please,” she whimpered. “I need…” the words were lost on her, her brain was no longer in the decision-making business. Her body, the pleasure sensors that lived beneath the surface of her skin guided every feeling, every filthy thought, every base desire and need. “C-Can’t wait.”

He lifted his head from between her thighs, his breath teasing her core with heat that turned her into putty in his hands. She could not wait, she needed to be connected to him. To feel their bodies become one again in the most intimate and carnal way.

“You trust me, baby?”

“With my life,” she answered truthfully.

While his actions had shaken that trust, when it boiled down to it, she would never trust her body with anyone as she did with Michael. She was his and he had never harmed her or made her regret handing over the reins to her pleasure to him. He had proven himself worthy of it tenfold.

“Then trust that Imma take care of you, princess. Always.”

Princess… fuck was it possible for her heart to literally explode? Or for her to be anymore wet than she already was?

His poor sheets, she mused.

He resituated her legs on his shoulders and grinned up at her as he continued nipping at her inner thighs, Raven’s soft moans only spurring him on. She was already a mess… a delicious, delectable mess to be sure, her juices glistening and begging him to lick, suck… devour her.

“Fuck… all this for me, baby?” he smiled as his kisses and bites grew closer and closer to where she desired, where she needed his touch the most.

“Y-yes…” Her body had missed him more than she realized.

“I missed you.” And with that short statement, devour her, he did.

Bliss.

Ecstasy.

Fucking nirvana.

He made her feel all of it with one masterful flick of his tongue against her bud, her back arching off his mattress and a guttural moan rising from her belly. He proved within minutes that he had not forgotten, forgotten what buttons to push, what spots to focus his attention, how she liked to be pleasured.

He did not let up or come up for air as his mouth savored every inch of her that he could, spelling out his adoration and love for her - not with his words - but with his tongue and his two fingers buried in her heat. There was a sensual pace to it that she was not used to with him. Typically, sex was deliciously punishing and unyielding. It was rooted in his care and gentleness for her but the pace left no time to breathe. Not that she minded.

But today? He took particular care, the march up to her peak was tantalizingly slow but perfect all the same. There was no rush between them, despite Raven’s original desire to fit almost 2 months of lost time into this one moment. But Michael understood that they had time. There was no invisible clock, nothing rushing them. He could savor the little gasps of pleasure when he sucked her clit gently, the way her legs clamped around his head when she was close, how her pussy clenched around his fingers as he increased his speed to exactly where she liked, how her hips rocked to meet every thrust.

Every plea, every moan, every scream for more. He wanted to hear all of it. And he wanted her to savor the feeling of being taken care of, because she would need to learn to get used to it. He could do this every day, more than once a day to be honest.

“So… close,” her moans grew louder and louder as he took her to the edge of the cliff of pleasure.

She allowed herself to fall as she felt the pleasure in her belly snap. Her mouth simply remained agape with a breathless scream on her lips as she fell into the depths of ecstasy. The crash didn’t feel like one at all, but a soft landing as he continued his ministrations against her clit, drawing out her orgasm for as long as he could. And it was pure bliss, warm waves of pleasure continuing to crash over her until he finally extracted himself from between her legs.

“That was…” Being at a loss for words was commonplace when they fucked. But Michael understood as he pressed his lips to hers, allowing her to taste herself briefly.

“Fuck!” she cried out as he immediately started to sheathe himself inside her, a welcomed surprise. She tried to hide it as her face screwed for a split second, her body becoming reacquainted with his girth and size. The stretch he provided today in particular, given their stint apart, was a short-lived sting of pain that managed to take her breath away.

He immediately stilled.

“Talk to me, Rae. You good?”

Her eyes were still shut tight as she waited for a moment for her to get used to him again. So she merely nodded.

“Words, baby.”

“Y-Yea I’m good. J-just been a minute a-and you surprised me.” She let out a content sigh as pain gave way to mind numbing pleasure, giving him the directive to move. “A-and t-that’s not… fair,” she moaned. “W-wanted… to taste… you too.” She wanted to force her lips into a playful pout but the only facial expressions her muscles could conjure up were those of passion and pleasure.

“Next time, princess.” He sucked on the soft skin of her neck as he drove into her.

Raven could only see the darkness of the back of her head as her eyes rolled back with every rock forward of his hips, sending his dick right into her g-spot. His thrusts were relentless, Raven’s nails digging into his back as she held onto him for dear life.

“Fuck… I-I love you,” she panted, unable to form any other real sentences worth anything. That was all that needed to be said in her mind.

“Say it again,” he demanded, gently biting her neck as her declaration of love only spurred him on. He grabbed her legs and pulled her ankles to his shoulders.

“I love… FUCK! Fuckkkkk, j-just like that!” She cried out, abandoning the words originally on her lips for completely incoherent ramblings of a woman who was being split into two but loved every single second of it.

Did he just kill me?? Am I dead?? Because this no longer felt of this world? No human being should be allowed to experience this sort of pleasure. Or be able to give it… was the man above her even human?

“You feel so good, baby. You like how I’m fuckin’ this pussy??”

“Yes! Yes! Fuck I love it so much. Don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

Stopping?? An utterly foreign concept to him at that moment. And he did not. Raven barely could breath as Michael moved her into position after position, fucking her into oblivion.

Tears sprang to her eyes as he fucked her from behind, his teeth biting gently into the skin of her neck.

“Where you want it, princess??” he demanded as he felt himself getting close.

“Cum inside me,” she gasped, not wanting their union to end any sooner than it needed to. This was as close as they could get and for some part of her, it still was not close enough.

More, more, more, her soul seemed to demand. More of him.

“Don’t say that shit to me if you don’t mean it?” he warned, those few words causing a fever to settle over him, his hips snapping forward into her ass with a force that jolted her further into his mattress.

“Please, baby,” she whined desperately, unable to find any other words to assure him that was what she wanted.

Euphoric was the only word that came to mind as he pulled her flush to his chest and emptied his cum inside her.

“Thank you, thank you,” she panted, her pussy clenching around him as he pumped in and out of her slowly.

Michael gently let her body fall into the mattress, Raven’s eyes already starting to flutter closed as he went to grab a warm towel. Another whimper escaped her lips as he cleaned her up.

“That was… whew. I missed you.”

Michael did not bother putting his own clothes back on but instead slid into bed with her, cuddling her body against his.

Of course now, sleep was not something Rave could avoid, her body spent as it always was after their time together.

“ Give me an hour and then my legs will work again. And then I’m taking over,” she muttered as she yawned.

He merely laughed and nodded, pressing his lips to her forehead.

“Wouldn’t bet on it. I only made you cum four times.”

Raven lifted her head to look at him incrediously. “Only four??? I can’t feel my legs, babe.” Her jaw dropped at the slight frown creasing his lips. “Oh my God… you’re actually upset,” she laughed. “You’re insane.”

“I have a reputation to uphold, babe. Six minimum every time.”

“If you wanna kill me, just say so,” she joked.

“Just tryin’ to put you to sleep without a fight,” he offered with a smile. “I give it five minutes before you’re out like a light.”

“Very mischievous but effective.”

Raven did not understand how she could even require more sleep, even after a palty (as Michael would complain) four orgasms. But he had accomplished his goal, her entire body was boneless and pliant in his hands. Everything in her told her she was finally home and safe to let go of everything else for the first time in her life. So she welcomed the coming rest, allowing her eyes to drift closed. However, before she fully gave in, she whispered.

“You should rest too… you’ve been going and going since the top of the year. You’ve earned it too.”

“Deal.”

The life of an actor was defined by sleep deprivation so Michael had learned the important trait of falling asleep literally anywhere and anytime. Because his body was on his press tour schedule, he had felt wide awake after a few hours of rest this morning. But he knew if he closed his eyes for 5 minutes, he would pass out again.

“I love you,” he offered quietly as he shifted them both so he was laying down again.

“Not as much… as I love you,” she mumbled back as her eyes fluttered closed.

Tag list: @readinghere2023 @blackerthings @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @physicxal @purplehairgawdess @miyuhpapayuh @rueruesclues @geemamii @certifiedlesbianbaddie @pipsqueak-98 @nyifly22 @destinio1 @twocentaur @gopaperless @musicisme333 @majesticbrown @roguekiki @taurusqueen83 @mysteryuz @miamormilan @itsknor-thedeep @naj-ay444 @mads-grace4 @nayaesworld @kholdkill @msniaimani @nccu-rnc @apenasumlug4r @dezzy154 @munchsa

***

A/N: Whew ok y'all do not know how much I agonized over this chapter LOL but our babies are backkkkkk and we have maybe two chapters left and an epilogue. Thanks so much for sticking by my slow writing ass. Drop a comment and let me know what you thought!

#black writers #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x oc #mbjordanedit #black panther #michael b jordan fanfic #michael b jordan x reader #creed 3 #adonis creed #creed iii #fic: wicked fantasies

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omkookie · 4 months

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The second descendant [pt. ?]

You don't feel much. Just tiredness thanks to your situation. You work a shitty job that pays you minimum wage per hour. You're barely making enough to live, and working long shifts every week is draining you both mentally and physically.

You sometimes wonder if it's because your family's financial situation has always been bad, Or is it just because you didn't want to go to college or university? If you went to university would you have become something better than a minimum wage employee? Or would you be drowning in student debt?

You don't know.

You don't know anything. You don't know what you want to do, you don't know what your future might be like. You're just breathing, living day by day and being physically present while your mind is absent. Your boss and colleagues have chided you several times for spacing out, but what can you do about it? Nothing.

You don't feel like being here.

Now, Imagine you’re the great Solomon’s second living descendant– pretty much useless. You didn’t inherit any of his abilities nor pacts, you just happen to be a member of his bloodline. Now, you’re not exactly the weakest sorcerer alive, but you’re not the strongest either. The way that the demons found out you exist was by a loudmouthed angel reporting to Michael about you during an attack on hades.

So, What about life after coming to hell? Different world different situation, right?

When you somehow get into trouble involving the seraphim, you know that you're near your end. When Beelzebub comes to see you, he gives you a sympathetic look, his face clearly showing he was pitying you. "I'm tired. Leave. " You tell him, trying to ignore the stench of blood that was left in your cold apartment, along with the dead bodies of angels and a broken wall.

Curse you Solomon.

This is all your fault.

Not even Satan can look at the poor excuse of a sorcerer that you are compared to your ancestor.

At least Ra-on can somewhat use her abilities, unlike you.

The useless descendant whoose body is too weak to handle its own power.

...you regret not torturing all of those angels you just killed.

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb fiction #whb fanfiction #whb satan #whb Beelzebub #what in “hell” is bad?#what in hell is bad fiction #whb Solomon #second descendant au

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yannaryartside · 2 months

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This is still all about Donna

The cyclical aspect of abuse ft Chef David

So, I wanted to add to the discussion why Carmy pursued the star so intensely, to the point of inflicting self-punishment and isolation. Why would he focus his whole identity on the evil chef after all those other beautiful experiences he also got to live?

I am going to talk on broad terms because I don’t have any studies in psychology, so you can take it all with a grain of salt; I am talking just from personal experience/instrospection. I am also not saying this applies to all victims of abuse or all types of abuse. I am talking mainly about domestic/psychological abuse.

WHY IT ALL STARTED

On the opening night, a particular set of chemicals created an explosion in Carmy's mind. He saw a man who resembled the chef who tortured him psychologically and abused him. So he goes back and starts a fight with Syd. She calms him down, but he feels lost and needs a pause, so he goes to the freezer but finds himself trapped. Then, the turmoil of flashbacks comes in of Donna and Chef David, while he thinks he failed his team and confirms the belief that he is indeed worthless, no good, and a waste of space. Donna installed this belief in Carmy, and Chef David revived it.

So he blames Claire, a relationship that (regardless of not being particularly deep or healthy) was bringing him happiness, and he decides to commit to the lie that he needs to sacrifice things that make him happy to be good (chef). At this point, Carmy has equated his worth as a human with his ability to produce a certain quality of work as a chef.

THE CYCLE

Maybe the most vile thing about abuse is its cyclical nature. If you have been abused, particularly since childhood, even if you manage to leave the environment where the abuse took place, there is a high chance you will end up in another abusive relationship/situation.

Abuse breaks your perception of self and the world around you; because of that, every relationship you have, or situation you establish will be defined by that broken perception.

Carmy grew up in an abusive household, believing there was something wrong with him that made his mother reject him and prefer his older brother. From what we can gather, none of Carmy's interests and personality traits were appreciated or encouraged in that house (besides cooking), so he was a child "terrified of speaking." He didn't have friends who could help him understand or accept himself; he missed that in very formative years. Michael (the brother he compared himself to) ended up being the real parental figure in his life (Michael divides himself between teasing him and encouraging him).

Carmy learns to love cooking because of his connection with Michael. Then Michael makes him feel rejected by casting him out. Carmy goes abroad and has really amazing experiences that allow him to know and accept himself. He gets to feel like a child again, finding and cultivating the things that he loves.

Then he finds a chef boss who is also abusive. Donna comes to life in the face of Chef David, and Carmy (who has become almost the best at this point and could have just left this place) accepts the abuse because he is afraid that both Donna and David are right, that there is something fundamentally wrong with him no matter how hard he tries.

So he goes into this season in freeze response, screaming at others because he can hear the evil chef in his head telling him how much of a waste of space he is; he needs to fight it, so he screams at everyone to have the same standard he has to obey or get killed. He is acting entirely out of fear that they are going to get him killed because they are “not perfect” or “too slow.” Because he can still feel the threat of the ghost of Chef David saying horrible things to him as he cooks. This is about self-preservation.

Also, isolation is a form of self-punishment, and he believes he needs to resolve this on his own.

THE CLAIRE PART-SELF PUNISHMENT

He tells himself that he cannot be with Claire because that is who he is and that he doesn't deserve such a good thing if it endangers the only thing that brings him value, cooking. He doesn't deserve this love that, for the first time, doesn't seem to require a big amount of sacrifice on his part. He spent most of the season reminiscent of that affection. He said she brought her peace, but I think he just meant she didn't feel worthless for once. It looks like not having girlfriends or friends (lack of meaningful connections that accept him for who he is) is a big source of insecurity for him.

The relationship was empty and superficial but was the best he had ever felt; Claire made him feel like there was nothing wrong with him, (to the point of being an enabler, yes), but it was still better for him than feeling rejected most of his life.

His most significant relationships (Mickey and Donna and sometimes Nat and Richie) were based on a push-and-pull mechanic that created an emotional distance, and he has spent most of his life trying to earn his mother's love, while he felt he didn't have to make an effort to earn Claire's love, even the most basic emotional responsibility (never apologize). The show even showed you that the relationship between Claire and Carmel would have happened if she hadn't done most of the work, emotional or otherwise.

Case in point: Sydney, a person with whom he has a lot in common, an unspoken telepathy, and a bond that can get him out of panic attacks (his previous unhealthy beliefs), is the person with whom he has the most trouble establishing a relationship because of the plot (based on his mental health), even after three seasons.

That was a lot, thank you for reading.

#the chef david stare still gives nightmares #the bear #sydcarmy #sydney adamu #carmy berzatto #the bear fx #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto #the bear meta #carmy x sydney #sydney x carmy #anti claire bear

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angelgoeslewd · 7 months

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only between us.

🔮 summary: finishing what you started in skirt with Raphael.

⚠️ warnings: 18+ content, minors DNI, very graphic mentions PIV sex, lots of spicy horny thoughts and scenes, a bit of religious sacrilege, Raphael being both emotionally and sexually constipated, AFAB! Reader.

Raphael has been alive for more than a millennium.

he’s young, compared to Simeon and Michael, but older than humans can ever even imagine. but all these years....

all these decades and he’s never been quite so taken with someone as much as he is with you.

you captivate his worst imagination; you, a little, unassuming human, a pea in the scope of the layers of the universe — you are the one to drag him into the eternal torment of blasphemy. his lustful thoughts, his unangelic desires to touch you, constantly tossing him closer and closer to falling.

prayers, interrupted by You. the constant turning at night in his own sanctuary, bidding his hardened length to leave him, shaky hands eventually succumbing to sin, sweating as he spills over into his hand and getting all worked up again wondering if you would lick it off for him. is it really a sin to think about how he would worship your body? how he would spend hours between your thighs, nipping and licking and sucking, covering his chin in spit and your slick, making you cum on his tongue until you cry, until his locks are taken into your hands and you beg for him to stop. how can it be such, when it feels so good?

he can practically hear your snarky remark the next day, wondering how he could sneak into the Celestial Realm when he behaves like such a demon in bed. he doesn’t retort. gives you a pointed look, then drops it to your shaking thighs, that you can barely brush together, lest the evidence of your coupling distract you once more.

while you and him shared some sort of… connection, one he couldn't possibly attempt to understand, Raphael wasn’t a mind reader. there was no possible way to know how far your feelings for him extended, you never crossed any lines that came with a loving ‘friendship.’ and while he desperately wanted to ruin it, to create something different, something deeper and more meaningful, he couldn’t bring himself to cross that line.

every moment you were by his side was too precious. he didn’t have any earthly belongings, anything he needed was bestowed or earned… but you. you gave your time, your patience, your kindness to him so freely, even when he knew he crossed the lines of pleasantries. he was utterly taken aback that a human could be so giving. as any angel, he was always taught humans took and took until no more could be given, then they would turn and find more to take. that they ruin and destroy as they did to the Fallen Ones. but here you were. handing him a set of new pens that he had off-handedly mentioned he liked the grip on. and suddenly, he wanted to be selfish too.

if he could just have you, platonically or otherwise, it was worth every second of keeping it status quo.

the most torturous part of the whole arraignment, however, is that you don’t even seem to realize the effect you have on him. you sit close to him, far too close, practically on his lap, teasing him with the slight distance, despite all his attempts to get you to actually do so, to play out his most shameful thoughts. you leave your scent on his arm, his shawl, his fucking papers.

he wants to burn them. he wants to bury his face in them and never forget your scent.

he tries so hard not to pay it any mind, but it is as close to home as he gets these days; his mind goes blank when he lifts it to his nose and smells you, vision blinding white in bliss and euphoria, your outline silhouetted every time he closes his eyes.

and those skirts. fucking hell, those short, perversion-inducing skirts. he’d damn them all to hell if he wasn’t currently living there already (physically and metaphorically). every time you wore one, Raphael lost his sense of reality. he’d live in a world of just you, him, and his bed. school and responsibilities be damned. they'd be less fucked than you would be. Raphael would keep you there, you’d have no reason to leave. he could conjure anything you needed with a snap of his fingers. the door to his room mysteriously vanishing from the Purgatory Hall, swallowed up by the void, along with your sweet, sinful moans. only he would hear how you would call for him, your pitiful cries for more of his touch. he would fuck you for every single time your skirt rode up and made him snap a pencil in his hand, your soaked little panties begging for him to push them aside and plunge deep in you. he would tell you to call his name when you came, make you forget about whoever else ever crossed your mind and replace it all with him.

the thought of you being such a little slut for anyone else made him crazy. he wanted to ruin everyone for you. he wanted to push his cum so deep in you that you could never even think of anyone but him doing so. how dare you swish your pleats like that? you even nearly made him break a pen in class once, when he watch you do a little twirl for Leviathan and Beelzebub. ink bubbled from the tip as you strutted back over like you didn’t just flirt with two demons in front of his face, asking with a pout if you could borrow his wrap because you were chilly.

— you, lying on your back on the classroom table, your cunt dripping wet stains onto the white fabric you ‘borrowed’ —

he couldn’t hold your eyes after such a thought. he handed it over to you and left in a hurry for the bathroom.

he would shamefully finish himself there, leaning his head against the peeling paint of the stall, pounding his fist into the metal as he came into his hand, yet again, reminding Raphael of how absolutely fucked he was.

the fact that all these ugly, human emotions came to head simply because of an article of clothing pisses him off. can he not control his mind over such an insignificant little thing?! how is he fit to be Michael’s secondhand!? he could never live up to Celestial realm's expectations if this continued. and it would be found out. he knew it would. they always find out.

he had to train himself. he had to be a better angel for you. you couldn’t have such an impure, deviant partner. he had watched you rebuff such demons, time and time again. and he was acting no better than they were. maybe… maybe if he could expose himself to you in little amounts, those thoughts would leave him… wouldn’t they?

but you. you were all-consuming. a total and complete aphrodisiac to his senses. and you never seem to stop fucking wearing that stupid skirt. did you know what it did to him? were you doing this to test his resolve? his thoughts tainted every time you searched him out wearing that flimsy piece of fabric. Raphael knew he was much stronger than you. he could just rip it off you, hold you up as you bounced on his cock. it didn’t matter where you two were. but whenever he made a decision to make a move, he would get up, meet your innocent, lovely face, and crumble like the walls of Jericho. he couldn’t defile you in such a way. not in this state.

pitifully, his only savior was the gardens. losing himself in something else, something so pure it almost felt like it cleansed him of his sins. or perhaps it just reminded him too much of the Celestial realm, touting its overwhelming, overbearing expectations of perfection and innocence. but it worked. at least it worked.

most of the time.

it seemed today was his absolutely unluckiest day. he was hounded by temptation. of course today was a day you were wearing that damned skirt. the old wives' tale of keeping you awake at night by dreaming about you didn't seem to be true. and of course, last night had to be a night with a dream that was so utterly debauched that Raphael feared the Devildom was eating his angelic nature alive. it seemed like every time he turned, there you were. over his shoulder, trying to “help” him with his assignments, the length of your skirt so short that the bottom just barely reached the top of the desk, even with your frame not being very much taller, making him sweat internally, trying to keep his hands from twitching, from doing something rash and unbecoming, but oh — how desperately he wanted to run his hand up your thigh and see just what your choice of panties were this day.

he wouldn’t necessarily call what he was doing running away or avoiding you. it was simply… just not an adequate environment to work in. that’s it. yes, he just couldn’t get past the fog of thoughts all related to you and what exactly you would do under him, to focus on absolutely anything else. not even his silent prayers were enough to hound them off anymore, and he found himself doing less and less of that and more of what sort of penance to he would pay on his knees to your beautiful— Raphael.

he was just in class with you, and even so, that brief window of opportunity was enough to do him in. he couldn’t stop. his grip on the book clenched, wrinkling precious papers, all because of your hold on him. you, this human who randomly showed up and captured seven demon lords, his former brothers, mind you, and him, in this nefarious web of lust and love and, my god, did he just want it to be over.

he tried to slow his heart beat, looking upwards to the darken sky in desperation to find some sort of relief. was this a test of his own willpower? did Father plan for this to happen? was it just him? was he broken? Raphael was at a loss. How was he ever going to fix this? He couldn’t keep on like this; losing sleep over you, messing up the simplest of assignments because every time he looked down he was reminded of your smooth, sweet legs, peeking out from that skirt.

the crunch of grass is enough to snap him back to reality. he quickly tries to look busy, and exactly not like an angel in utter turmoil, hoping his furrowed brow and tensed shoulders would be enough to drive off whomever came across his little bubble of paradise.

“Raph? There you are.”

Of course. Of fucking course. Smite him now. There was no escaping this eternal hell of sin. The sound of your voice seems to inspire a sort of natural reaction from him, his legs already stretching to get up, book snapped shut and pressed tightly under his shoulder.

“Really? You’re going to try and avoid me again?”

You were always so blunt. Raphael can say without a doubt that he was utterly in love with that, and he felt no shame in admitting that, at least. But now… now it just embarrassed him. He knew, subconsciously, that he wasn’t doing right by you. What kind of friend just avoids another? So many questions he had, and not enough experience to answer them. He supposes that’s why he felt so pushed to run from them. Very much like he would do up above. he can’t even bring himself to turn and look at you when he answers.

“I… I’m not avoiding you.” he cringes. great, now he’s a bad friend AND a liar. What else could go wrong.

“bullshit.” that’s not what he wanted to hear. Raphael slowly turns to face you, he doesn’t want to meet your eyes, but when he finally spins around… they’re right there. you’re search his own for answers, for clues, and he worries for a moment that you might find what he hopes to bury.

“So what do you call leaving every time I come into a room, then?”

“Trying to maintain my dignity,” he breaths out, finding that he’s unable to fib when he’s meeting your beautiful face head on like this. it doesn’t even register in his brain that he’s said it. when it does all click together he’s panicked, wondering how to get out of this, how to leave, how to explain, but your face contorts and twists into something that breaks him further. confusion. hurt. anger. it’s so gorgeously human that if he wasn’t hopeless in love with you that he would spend all day in awe of it.

it’s that thought that finally fits.

the piece he’s been missing, this whole time.

the part of the cog that has his whole body relaxing in utter relief, exhausted with his charade.

he’s been in love with you, this entire time. this lust is just a facade for how much he wants for something he’s not supposed to have. he’s so hopelessly devoted to you that there’s nothing that could come close. he’s never felt this way about the celestial realm, all these years, and all this time he has with you, he’s been doing nothing but thinking about how he can realign himself with them, when it’s obvious that no matter what, he can never think the same after meeting you. no matter what they say about this, about humans. and he’s more than willing to follow this spiral to the end. regardless of what waits at the finish line. there is no other path, no way of redefining or fixing his dedication, for Raphael. because there is only you.

he blinks. you blink. and finally, he’s done running.

he sighs, surrendering himself to the execution of your friendship, and figures he might as well sit down as he ruins everything. the bench is hard and cold under him, and he barely feels it. his fingers shake almost undetectably as he meekly flips through the book that will forever mark the end of this. of you two.

“When… you wear stuff like this,” he admits, shyly, dog-earing a page back and forth, “It makes me feel. A certain way.”

the silence is impregnable. it’s heavy and thick like the celestial realm before rainfall. it’s murky and undecided and so painful that Raphael wonders if being cast out would hurt less than this. he doesn’t look up. he refuses to. he hates to admit that he might actually cry if he does.

“I… I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that I...” the tips of your shoes tap each other.

why are you apologizing? he wonders. it’s me. i’m the one that’s ruining everything.

you’re shaking, he realizes, you’re shaking and it’s all because of me.

“I’m… just gonna go.” his hand reaches for you before you can even move an inch. he doesn’t know what’s happening, or what will happen, but you’re here now, right? and… and you didn’t outright laugh at him or say no, so that should mean something positive. a newly found courage in him has him shaking his head.

“No, no… you’re already here. And it wasn’t right of me not to tell you. It wasn’t fair. You should know,” he says, which is absolutely true. he was a terrible friend for hiding this from you. he wonders if you hear him when he adds quietly, “And I miss you.” he wants you back. he wants you here, with him, by his side, even if he can’t have you in the way he wants, he wants to be selfish and a little human too.

you take a place next to him on the bench, your skirt splaying around your full thighs like a crown of temptation, the thorns that festered this whole mess. yet… Raphael’s head has never felt clearer. he is mesmerized solely by the fact you still choose to sit so close to him that he can feel the warmth of your skin through his clothes.

“I missed you too. It’s why I was so upset. I thought you were angry at me or I did something wrong-”

“Nothing like that,” he cuts you off before you even slightly doubt his intentions. he wants nothing more than to protect you, don’t you see? his mind will be the downfall of you both. but… it seems by doing so, he prevented nothing but your light. your company. your closeness. in trying to circumvent his prophecy, he ran head first into it. he will do better by you this time.

but still. it does nothing to chill or put an end to the loathsome heat inside of his heart for you. the book is a prop in this play, in this act where you both try and pretend there is nothing that hangs between you two. where Raphael pretends that he isn’t still enchanted by your youness and he tries not to glance too long at the skirt you wear and what could blossom underneath, how much he wants to experience it all. and this play is coming to an end… or, perhaps, to its climax?

“Raphael…?” your saccharine voice is all he needs to be push over the edge. he has enough willpower not to immediately toss the object in his hands (that, and fearing what Satan might do if there’s any damage to it) but shuts it nicely and looks up at you.

your breath catches. he’s close enough to hear it and he can’t imagine what you see, but he hopes it’s good. he hopes you like it. and honestly? he’s done hoping now. he wants to do something.

your breath fans his face, lingering warm tendrils on cheeks that heat them to a rosy pink — or perhaps, he’s blushing. who can tell, when you’re both this close to each other. your whisper is lost to only him and the gardens:

“We don’t have to do—”

“I want to.”

his lips catch yours before you can say anything else, he can faintly feel the book slip out from him, dropping to the dew wet ground as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you in. you squeak, but let yourself be trapped against him. he loves the feeling of your arms pressed against his chest, the way your fingers fiddle with the delicate gold ornaments and colored fabrics. he wants to feel them on his skin, he wants to feel your nails dig into him as he brings you to orgasm, he wants the catch of your finger pads on his shoulders when he lifts you up and thrusts his cock into your pussy. he leans into you, and you catch the hint, leaning back into his grasp, letting him slowly lower you until you feel the hard rock under your back, his arm still cradling the small of your back, albeit a bit uncomfortably. it’s the he pulls back, tracing the wet curve of your lips, now dripping with spit, sloppily, gasping for air and he combs over your flushed face.

he’s so utterly fucked.

[Continuation . . . COMING SOON.]

#obey me #angelic songs #🍩 of obey me #obey me smut #obey me raphael #obey me swd #raphael x you #raphael x reader #raphael x mc #bitch went full frodo in this fic

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koji-haru · 3 months

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Time Travel Au Part: 2

[Sorry this took too long and how short it is. I've just been going from one holiday onto another, and writing on my phone is just 🫠. Anyway, hope you enjoy it anyway.]

Under a large oak tree were two figures in a comforting embrace. Lilith had her head on Lucifer’s lap as his deft fingers braided her soft hair, adding some flowers in between. The thick foliage provided both shade from the afternoon sun, though some managed to pass through, speckling both with golden light. Lilith stared at the canopy, her mind preoccupied. While they told her that Eden was paradise, every day it felt more and more like a lie. From the forests to the beaches, everything was perfect. All following the same repetitive rhythm, and she was to dance along with it over and over again. For Lilith, it felt like torture. Everything felt stagnant, like there was no room for change since everything was already perfect. And the thought of living this life forever… well, the thought terrified Lilith.

Then, there was also Adam. From the very beginning, he never seemed to have liked her, and while the feeling was mutual, recently, Lilith felt that he has grown more forceful. They couldn't even stand being near each other anymore. There was one time when she confided in him her feelings of wanting more out of Eden. She had expected the usual response of disagreeing with her, scolding her of disobeying God. Instead, he pointed towards the walls that surrounded Eden.

“Those walls exist for a reason. Ever wonder what's beyond them?”

And when he pointed it out like that, then yeah, now she wondered, and she has been wondering ever since. What was beyond the walls? What were they separating them from? Was there life outside the garden? So many questions in her mind, and yet she couldn't have the answer. Not if she continued to play by God’s rules.

—--‐---------------------------------------------------------------------

Adam laid under the gentle warmth of the sun, soft grass cushioning him. His hand lazily brushing the jaguar on top of him. The last few days had been such nice days for him. He saw Lilith less as he drove her further and further away, and he was pretty sure that anytime now her and Lucifer would get caught, or she'd eat the apple. Either way, he couldn't wait.

He had fully intended to spend the day just lazing about, spending time with his new best friend, Amora the jaguar, enjoying the sun as he hummed a satisfied tune. A little reward for himself for doing so well despite Lucifer and Lilith's presence. Suddenly, a small shadow loomed above him. He peeked one eye open to check who was disturbing his sunbathing time. Leaning over him was a familiar face, one that he hasn't seen much.

“Adam.”

Michael called for Adam's attention. Cold blue eyes boring into Adam's, wavy golden locks that hung just above his shoulders framed his handsome, yet delicate face.

For a short moment, Adam remained laying on the grass as he stared back at Michael. What was he doing here? Did he do something suspicious for Michael to come down? Has he been caught already?

Adam blinked slowly, calming his nerves. He gently patted Amora to get off him. He sat up, twisting his body to face Michael. Well, here goes.

“Hello, what can I do for you, um…”

“Michael. I'm one of Lucifer’s brothers.”

Adam pretended to beam up at the mention of Lucifer.

“I thought I might find him with you considering his latest passion…” Michael looked around. “Lilith isn't with you?”

Adam deflated at Michael's question. He looked down as he mindlessly picked on the grass.

“...No. I haven't seen much of Lucifer or Lilith lately,” Adam replied, his voice with dejection, a little frown on lips. “But that's alright! I've got Amora here with me!” Adam stretched hid arms wide, shaking his hands as he proudly presented the jaguar that was lazily lying down beside him. He loved all the animals in the garden, but he and Amora, they were kindred spirits. As friendly as she was like the other animals, the jaguar also had a mischievous side. Sometimes, he'd catch her randomly pushing others animals off a spot for no particular reason at all. Maybe she just didn't like them, and honestly, Adam can relate. He also liked to bother some people for no particular reason, or well, he used to have those people.

Michael cocked an eyebrow at that. That wasn't right. “You're saying you haven't seen both of them in a while?”

Adam shook his head.

“Adam, Lilith is your partner and Lucifer is the main caretaker of this garden. That includes you and Lilith. It is not right for either of them to exclude you.” Michael declared, his voice ever serious. “Stay here. I'll correct this.”

And with that, Michael unfurled all of his six wings, pure white at the top fading into blue at the tips, and took off to the skies.

Adam had met Michael before in his previous life, although they didn't interact much. The angel was always busy with work that he took maybe a little too seriously. Actually, everything about the angel was too serious. Always straight and to the point, it was either business or nothing at all. He swore the guy never took a break. But honestly, that was what he liked more about Michael than with Lucifer. Michael was someone you could trust, he was someone that kept his promises. The few times they did interact was when Adam was still new to Heaven and being angel. While Adam picked up some skills over the thousands of years he spent as leader of the exterminators, Michael taught him most of his fighting skill. Michael was just cool like that, definitely the better brother.

Adam watched Michael take off to the skies searching for both Lilith and Lucifer. He really hoped that Michael would catch them on the act, that would make his day even better. Adam wrapped his arms around Amora as he buried his face on her silky fur while humming a happy tune. The jaguar purred in response, nuzzling against Adam in return.

I just found a way to get rid of them. Nice.

Part 1

Part 3

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #guitarhero #hazbin adam #michael x adam #time travel au #🛡🎸

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artyandink · 19 days

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the art of heresy forged 1982

SUMMARY: Modern day, 2022, and you have no clue what’s going on. You knew what you went through. You knew it was real, but why were there people trying to convince you that everything that happened to you wasn’t real. Hell, you called bullshit. But you get your chance to fight back when you get a call at your door.

TW: psychological torture, traummentions of sex, Ben (cause he’s an individual warning), it’s The Boys so be careful guys, really creepy shit, crack, fluff

STW: voyeurism, exhibitionism, missionary, unprotected sex

A/N - divider by @chachachannah

Song Inspo: Heaven by Julia Michaels

cracked armour

NOVEMBER 1982:

You were in the middle of one of your usual sessions with Ben when the door swung open. Ben had you pinned beneath him, both of you completely absorbed in each other, bodies tangled in the sheets, sweat clinging to your skin, and you were right in the middle of things—no warning, no knock, nothing. Just the door creaking open and the shrill voice of Crimson Countess cutting through the room like nails on a chalkboard.

“What the fuck?”

Ben didn’t even flinch, didn’t pause for a second. He just kept going, driving into you with that same reckless abandon he always had, as if nothing had happened. You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but glance over at the door to see her standing there, wide-eyed, her hands on her hips, her mouth twisted in a mix of shock and anger.

“Jesus Christ, Marjorie,” Ben growled without breaking his rhythm. “What the hell do you want?”

You let out a snort, barely holding back a laugh as you gripped the headboard to steady yourself. “Yeah, you can see we’re kinda busy here.”

Marjorie—Crimson Countess—looked like she didn’t know whether to scream or cry. Her perfectly manicured fingers clenched into fists at her sides, and she sputtered for a second before finding her voice. “Busy? You call this busy?”

Ben chuckled, deep and throaty, not missing a beat. “Yeah, sweetheart. Busy. You know, this thing we’re doing here. Real complicated. Takes focus.”

You couldn’t help but throw in your own dig, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you smirked up at her. “You could always pull up a chair, Marj. Take notes if you need ‘em.”

Her face flushed crimson, almost matching the ridiculous red getup she always wore. “You’re disgusting. Both of you.”

“Yeah, well,” Ben grunted, “you’re still standing there, so clearly you’re not that disgusted. Maybe you’re into it.”

“Or maybe you’re just curious,” you added with a wicked grin. “It’s okay. We all know you’re not getting it like this from anyone else.”

That set her off. She threw her hands up in frustration, her voice rising in pitch. “You’re seriously doing this while I’m standing right here?”

“Damn right, we are,” Ben said, his tone casual, as if he was discussing the weather and not in the middle of absolutely wrecking you. “Not like you’re gonna stop us, are you?”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan as Ben’s pace quickened, but you were having too much fun watching Marjorie squirm. Her eyes darted between the two of you, disbelief etched into every line of her face.

“This is fucking sick,” she spat, taking a step closer to the bed but keeping her distance like she was afraid to get too close.

“Sick?” you laughed, arching an eyebrow at her. “Nah, this is fun. But you wouldn’t know, would you? Too busy playing PR princess while we’re back here doing the real work.”

Ben let out a bark of laughter. “Real fucking work, yeah.”

Marjorie’s eyes narrowed, and for a second, you thought she might actually lunge at you. But instead, she crossed her arms over her chest, her voice cold. “I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing, Ben, but this is gonna blow up in your face. The public—”

“Fuck the public,” Ben cut her off, his tone sharp. “I don’t give a damn what they think. They don’t matter.”

You grinned up at him, locking eyes as you added, “And neither do you, Marjorie. Not here, not now.”

She looked like she’d been slapped, her lips twitching as she tried to come up with a response. But there was nothing she could say that would matter, not when Ben had made it clear that he didn’t give a shit about her or anyone else.

Ben slowed down just enough to smirk down at you, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Think she’ll stick around for the grand finale?”

You laughed, not bothering to hide the wicked gleam in your eye. “Maybe she’ll take a few notes after all.”

“Doubt it,” Ben grunted. “She’s too uptight.”

Marjorie’s face was flushed red, her breathing ragged as she stood there, hands still balled into fists. “You two are fucking insane.”

“Maybe,” Ben agreed, his voice thick with sarcasm. “But at least we’re having a good time. You should try it sometime.”

“I’ll pass,” she snapped, her voice shaking with anger. “Enjoy your little game while it lasts.”

“Oh, trust me,” you shot back, grinning. “We are.”

She stood there for another few seconds, her eyes darting between the two of you before she finally turned on her heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind her with enough force to make the walls rattle.

“Fucking drama queen,” Ben muttered, his eyes still locked on you, his breath coming in rough, heavy bursts.

You burst out laughing, the sound echoing in the now-empty room. “She really thought she could do something, didn’t she?”

Ben shook his head, still chuckling. “Dumb as a sack of bricks.”

“Yep,” you agreed, your laughter subsiding as you arched your back, pushing up against him. “Now, where were we?”

He grinned down at you, that familiar cocky smile spreading across his face as he rolled his hips again, sending another wave of pleasure crashing through you. “Right about here, I think.”

“Good,” you murmured, wrapping your legs tighter around him. “Because I wasn’t done.”

Ben smirked, his grip on your hips tightening. “Neither was I, sweetheart.”

For a moment, the encounter with Crimson Countess was nothing more than a vague memory, something to laugh about later. Right now, the only thing that mattered was the way your bodies moved together, the way every touch, every word, sent sparks of electricity shooting through your veins.

You knew this wasn’t normal—not by anyone’s standards. Most people didn’t keep going when someone walked in, especially someone like her. But you and Ben? You didn’t give a fuck. You never had, and you never would.

That was part of the fun.

“Think she’s gonna run crying to PR?” you asked breathlessly, your hands tangling in his hair as he moved faster.

“Let her,” Ben growled, his eyes blazing with that familiar mix of arrogance and lust. “Let her tell whoever the fuck she wants. I don’t care.”

You couldn’t help but grin. That was why you liked being with Ben. He didn’t care about appearances, about what people thought. He did what he wanted, when he wanted, and didn’t apologize for it.

And neither did you.

The two of you were a match made in hell, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The tension built between you, the air crackling with electricity as you moved together, faster and faster, every movement pushing you closer to the edge. You could feel your muscles tightening, the familiar heat pooling in your stomach as you hurtled toward release, and from the look in Ben’s eyes, he was right there with you.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he growled, his voice low and rough. “Show me what you’ve got.”

You bit your lip, a moan escaping your throat as you arched against him, your body shuddering as the tension finally snapped. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you, leaving you breathless and trembling beneath him.

Ben wasn’t far behind, his own release hitting him like a freight train. He let out a low, guttural moan as he collapsed on top of you, his chest heaving with every breath.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of your breathing, the only sign of the chaos that had just unfolded. You lay there, tangled together in the sheets, bodies still buzzing from the intensity of it all.

Eventually, Ben rolled off of you, propping himself up on one elbow as he reached for his discarded cigar. “Think she’s gonna tell Vought?”

You snorted, running a hand through your sweat-dampened hair. “Who gives a shit?”

He lit the cigar, taking a long drag before exhaling a cloud of smoke into the room. “Damn right.”

You couldn’t help but grin as you lay there, feeling a sense of satisfaction settle over you. You didn’t care what Crimson Countess did, or what Vought thought. All that mattered was the moment, the thrill of it all, and the fact that, for now, you and Ben were untouchable.

“Next time, maybe lock the door,” you said with a smirk, glancing over at the still-open door.

Ben laughed, the sound deep and rumbling in his chest. “Why? Adds to the fun.”

You shook your head, still grinning as you closed your eyes, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

With Ben, things were always unpredictable, always chaotic. But that was exactly why you kept coming back for more.

2022:

You stood at the stove, spatula in hand, flipping eggs like it was second nature. The sizzle of the pan filled the small kitchen, a comforting sound that grounded you in the present moment. The sun streamed through the windows, casting a golden hue across the countertop. Everything seemed peaceful, normal even—well, as normal as things ever got.

Behind you, Ben was grumbling as usual. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his broad chest, cigar clamped between his teeth. His face twisted in that all-too-familiar sneer of disdain as he scrolled through his phone, eyes narrowed at the screen like it was personally offending him.

“Jesus Christ,” Ben muttered around the cigar. “What the hell is this shit? Who the fuck needs a phone that talks to you? Back in the day, we just picked up the damn thing and dialed.”

You couldn’t help but snicker under your breath. “Welcome to the future, old man.”

Ben scoffed, taking a long drag from his cigar before blowing the smoke toward the ceiling. “Yeah, well, the future’s fucking stupid. Half the shit they got nowadays is useless. What happened to good old-fashioned simplicity, huh? You know, when a car was just a car and not a goddamn spaceship?”

“You sound like a cranky grandpa,” you teased, glancing over your shoulder at him with a smirk. “Next, you’re gonna tell me how much better everything was ‘back in your day.’”

“Because it was,” Ben shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You didn’t have to deal with all these gadgets and apps and…what the hell’s this thing?” He held up his phone, jabbing a finger at the screen. “A fucking smart refrigerator? Why the hell would I need my fridge to talk to me? Just keep my beer cold and shut the fuck up.”

You rolled your eyes, turning back to the stove as you scooped the eggs onto a plate. “Sounds like you’re just too old to figure it out, Ben.”

He let out a bark of laughter, stepping closer until you could feel the heat of his body behind you. “Too old? Sweetheart, I’m in my prime. These tech bros just don’t know how to make shit that works.”

“Right,” you replied, sarcasm thick in your tone as you leaned forward to grab a plate. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Ben moved closer, his large hands finding your hips as he pressed himself against your back. The familiar weight of his body was warm and solid, grounding you even as he continued his rant. “You’re telling me you like all this high-tech bullshit? What happened to just waking up, grabbing a cup of coffee, and going about your day without some gadget asking you to rate your sleep or telling you how many steps you’ve taken?”

You laughed softly, your hands steady as you set the plates on the counter. “It’s not that bad. Just different. People like convenience.”

“Convenience, my ass,” Ben grumbled, his voice low in your ear as his hands roamed lazily from your hips up your sides. “It’s just making people soft. Too much reliance on these machines. Hell, half of ‘em probably don’t know how to change a tire anymore.”

You leaned back into him, feeling the rumble of his voice vibrate through his chest. “Well, lucky for you, I’m not one of those people.”

“Damn right you’re not,” Ben muttered, his hands slipping lower, fingertips brushing along the hem of your shirt. He was getting handsy again, not that you minded—usually.

But then, his hand dipped lower, skimming over your stomach, and your body tensed. It was subtle, a brief stiffening of your muscles, but enough that you felt the change. Your breath hitched for just a second, your heart skipping an uneven beat.

Ben didn’t seem to notice at first, his lips grazing the side of your neck as he grunted something under his breath. But you could feel the tightening in your chest, that uncomfortable sensation creeping up on you, like a shadow you couldn’t shake.

He paused, his hands stilling for a moment. “You good?”

You forced a chuckle, shaking off the tension as quickly as it had come. “Yeah, fine. Just—got a weird cramp. Probably from standing too long.”

Ben’s grip loosened slightly, but he didn’t pull away entirely. His breath was warm against your ear as he spoke, his tone more curious than concerned. “Cramp, huh?”

You nodded, turning the stove off and focusing on dishing up the food. “Yeah, nothing serious. Just one of those things.”

Ben was silent for a beat, his gaze lingering on you as if he could sense something was off, even if he didn’t know what it was. But, true to form, he didn’t push. He never was one for digging into emotions, at least not unless they were his own.

“Well, if it’s nothing serious, then I guess we can keep going later,” he said with a smirk, his hands squeezing your hips again before giving you a playful slap on the ass.

You rolled your eyes, the tension in your chest easing slightly as you grabbed the plates. “You’re insatiable, you know that?”

“Damn right,” Ben said, swaggering over to the table like he owned the place. “And you love it.”

You couldn’t argue with that. Despite everything, despite the complicated mess that was your life, there was something comforting about Ben’s rough-edged confidence, the way he bulldozed through every situation like nothing could touch him. It was like having a storm in your corner—loud, chaotic, and impossible to ignore, but also undeniably powerful.

Still, as you sat down across from him, the brief flicker of unease from earlier lingered in the back of your mind, a shadow that wouldn’t quite go away.

Ben took a bite of his eggs, glancing up at you between chews. “You’re quiet today. What, did I finally wear you out?”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Not even close, old man.”

“Old?” He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You wanna talk about old? I’ll show you old when we hit round two later.”

“Pretty sure you’re already on round fifty by now,” you teased, taking a bite of your own food. “Might need to slow down before your back gives out.”

“Fuck you,” Ben grinned, clearly amused. “You wish you could keep up with me.”

You grinned back, the banter lightening the mood, but that tension in your stomach still hadn’t fully disappeared. Ben’s hand on your stomach—it had been nothing, just an absent-minded touch, but it had brought back memories you’d buried a long time ago, memories you didn’t want to face right now.

You shoved them down, locking them away where they couldn’t reach you. Not today. Not while Ben was here, running his mouth about the good ol’ days and griping about technology. You weren’t going to let the past creep in and ruin your morning.

“So,” Ben said, leaning back in his chair and taking another drag of his cigar, “what’s the plan for today? Gonna make me breakfast every morning from now on, or was this a one-time deal?”

You smirked, leaning back in your own chair. “Don’t get used to it. I’m not your maid.”

Ben laughed, a low, rough sound that sent a thrill down your spine. “Damn shame. You make a hell of an omelet.”

You raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the half-eaten plate in front of him. “You mean these eggs?”

He shrugged, unbothered. “Close enough.”

Shaking your head, you got up to clear the table, but Ben’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist. He pulled you down onto his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist as he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear.

“Let’s skip the dishes,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “Got something else in mind.”

You felt that familiar heat rise in your chest, your body responding to his touch despite the lingering discomfort from earlier. But still, there was a part of you that hesitated, a part of you that couldn’t shake the memories his touch had stirred up.

“Ben,” you started, but he cut you off with a kiss, his lips rough and demanding against yours.

Whatever you had been about to say was forgotten, lost in the heat of the moment as you gave in, letting yourself get swept up in the chaos that was Ben. His hands roamed your body, fingers digging into your skin as he deepened the kiss, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

For now, the past could stay buried. You had enough to deal with in the present.

You pulled into Georgia’s driveway, the crunch of gravel under the tires the only sound as Ben sat next to you, looking about as out of place as a bear in a tea shop. He was fidgeting with his cigar, lighting it for the third time since you’d left your place. He glanced at the house with narrowed eyes, lips pulled into a scowl. You could practically see the gears in his head turning.

“Remind me again why the hell we’re doing this?” Ben asked, his voice gruff, irritation evident as he took another drag from his cigar. “I’m not exactly the family man type.”

You chuckled, pulling the keys from the ignition and turning to face him. “Because it’s polite to visit people, Ben. Especially when they’re family. You’ll be fine. Just don’t swear every other sentence, alright?”

Ben scoffed, leaning back in his seat and blowing smoke out of the window. “Yeah, sure. I’ll just sit there like a good little puppy and pretend to give a shit about... what? Kids' soccer games? PTA meetings? Jesus, I’m already regretting this.”

“They’re not asking you to join the PTA, relax. Just... be nice. Try not to traumatize the kids.”

Ben muttered something under his breath, but he didn’t argue further. You both knew this wasn’t his scene—family gatherings, kids running around, small talk with people who weren’t about to get shot or punched. But this visit wasn’t about him; it was about Georgia, your niece, who you hadn’t seen properly in years.

You got out of the car, and Ben followed with his usual swagger, rolling his shoulders as though preparing for a battle. You had to hide a grin—he was more nervous than he let on, and the idea of him being awkward around kids was just plain funny.

As you approached the door, it swung open to reveal Georgia standing there with a broad smile. “Auntie! You’re here!”

She wrapped you in a tight hug, and you smiled, hugging her back. She was all grown up now, in her forties with kids of her own, but she still had that sweet energy she’d always had. There was a part of you that found it almost grating, but the pride you felt for her managed to outweigh the disdain.

“Of course I’m here,” you said, pulling back to look at her. “I’m not gonna miss a chance to catch up.”

Georgia’s gaze flickered to Ben, standing awkwardly beside you, his cigar clenched between his teeth as though it was the only thing holding him together. “And you brought... Soldier Boy.”

“Yeah, well, he’s hard to shake off,” you teased, nudging Ben in the ribs with your elbow.

Ben grunted, giving Georgia a half-hearted nod. “Nice place you got here.”

Georgia smiled, a little unsure of how to respond to Ben’s gruff demeanor but polite as ever. “Thanks! Come on in, both of you. Ryan and the kids are in the living room.”

You and Ben followed her inside, stepping into the cozy warmth of the house. The smell of baking cookies wafted from the kitchen, and the faint sound of children’s laughter echoed from the other room. The normalcy of it all hit you like a wave—this was the life you could’ve had, maybe. If things had been different.

Ryan, Georgia’s husband, was sitting on the couch with their kids—a girl about seven and a boy around eleven. The boy, Liam, looked up at you with curious eyes, while the girl, Ella, was more focused on her tablet.

“Hey, Auntie,” Ryan greeted, getting up from the couch and offering a hand to Ben, who hesitated for a split second before shaking it.

Ben wasn’t much for pleasantries, but at least he was trying. “Ryan,” Ben said, his tone short but not entirely dismissive.

You smiled and sat down next to Georgia on the couch, the familiar comfort of family making you relax. Ben, however, stayed standing for a moment, clearly unsure of what to do with himself before eventually taking a seat next to you, his broad frame practically swallowing the chair.

The small talk began—how the kids were doing, Georgia’s job, Ryan’s latest project at work. Ben mostly grunted in response, keeping his words to a minimum as he watched the kids with a wary eye, like they might attack at any moment.

After a while, Georgia stood up, clapping her hands together. “Alright, Auntie, you ready to help me finish up those cookies?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You think I remember how to bake?”

“Come on,” she laughed. “You used to be good at it. Besides, we’ll let the guys bond, right?”

You shot Ben a quick glance. The thought of leaving him alone with Ryan and the kids was mildly amusing, but also concerning. Still, you figured he could manage for a few minutes. “Alright, lead the way.”

As you followed Georgia into the kitchen, you heard Ben grunt behind you. “Don’t take too long. I’m not exactly the babysitting type.”

Ryan chuckled. “You’ll be fine, man. It’s just kids.”

In the kitchen, Georgia handed you an apron, which you waved off, and set out some dough for the cookies. As you started rolling it out, she glanced at you, her expression softening.

“So... what’s going on with you and Soldier Boy? Are you guys... a thing?”

You paused, your hands stilling for a moment before you resumed rolling the dough. “A thing? I wouldn’t call it that.”

Georgia frowned, her curiosity piqued. “But you came here together. You’re, like, a couple, right?”

You sighed, knowing this conversation was going to happen eventually. “It’s... complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

You shot her a look, trying to decide how much to explain. “We’ve got an arrangement. We’re... close, but it’s not exactly the whole flowers and dates kind of deal.”

Georgia tilted her head, trying to wrap her head around it. “So, you’re... not dating?”

“Not in the traditional sense,” you admitted, smirking at how understated that was. “It works for us. We’re both rough around the edges, not really the romantic type, you know?”

Georgia raised an eyebrow, but she didn’t push further. “Alright. As long as you’re happy.”

You snorted. “Happiness is overrated. But yeah, I’m good.”

She didn’t quite seem to buy it but let it go for the moment. Instead, she started telling you about Ella’s latest school project and how Liam was getting into sports, and you let yourself get lost in the simplicity of family life, even if it wasn’t yours.

Meanwhile, back in the living room, Ben was having a slightly different experience.

Liam, the eleven-year-old, had been watching him closely ever since you left the room. Eventually, he scooted closer, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“Hey, Soldier Boy,” Liam said, his voice hesitant but eager. “Can I ask you something?”

Ben raised an eyebrow, glancing at Ryan, who was distracted by something on TV. “What is it, kid?”

Liam fidgeted, looking around to make sure no one was listening. “How does... uh... how does sex work?”

Ben blinked, completely caught off guard. For a moment, he just stared at the kid, processing what he’d just heard. “What the hell?”

Liam’s eyes went wide. “I mean, I just... I heard some stuff at school, and I thought maybe you’d know.”

Ben sighed, running a hand over his face. This was definitely not in his wheelhouse. He glanced toward the kitchen, silently cursing you for leaving him alone with this.

“Look, kid,” Ben started, leaning forward, “sex... it’s complicated. You don’t need to worry about it yet. But when the time comes, you do it like a man.”

Liam blinked. “Like a man?”

“Yeah,” Ben continued, clearly out of his depth but powering through anyway. “You don’t... overthink it. Just, you know, be confident. Be in charge.”

Liam nodded, though he looked more confused than enlightened.

“Right,” Ben muttered, realizing how unhelpful he was being. “Look, maybe ask your dad, alright?”

Just then, Ryan glanced over, catching the tail end of the conversation. “Ask me what?”

Liam hesitated, glancing between his dad and Ben before shaking his head. “Nothing, never mind.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow but let it go. Ben, on the other hand, was desperately hoping the topic would never come up again.

Back in the kitchen, you were helping Georgia place the cookies on a tray when you heard Liam’s voice echo from the living room, asking about sex. You froze, eyes widening as you shot Georgia a look.

She chuckled nervously. “Uh... should we intervene?”

You shook your head, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Let’s see if Ben can handle it.”

After a few minutes, you and Georgia returned to the living room, carrying a plate of freshly baked cookies. Ben was still sitting on the chair, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else, while Liam was quietly munching on a cookie, his mind clearly still processing whatever Ben had said.

“So,” you said, setting the plate down on the coffee table, “everything go alright while we were gone?”

Ben shot you a look that could’ve melted steel. “Peachy.”

Georgia laughed, shaking her head as she sat down next to Ryan. “Well, I’m glad you two could make it. It’s been a while.”

You smiled, relieved that the worst of it was over. “Yeah, it’s good to catch up. Even if Ben here had an... interesting conversation with Liam.”

Ryan chuckled, glancing at Ben. “So, how’s your visit been?”

Ben cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact. “It’s been... different.”

Georgia gave you a questioning look, clearly curious about the nuances of your relationship with Ben. You just shrugged, deciding to keep things light.

“Different is one way to put it,” you said, glancing at Ben. “But it’s been good.”

You and Ben trudged back into the apartment, the door clicking shut behind you with a familiar thud. The evening had been a whirlwind of awkward interactions and half-baked explanations, and you were more than ready to escape into the solace of your own space. Ben, still visibly perturbed by the entire experience, tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter and slouched against it with a sigh.

“Well, that was a goddamn circus,” he muttered, reaching for the bottle of whiskey you both kept in the cupboard. He poured himself a generous glass, taking a long swig before turning to face you. “Never thought I'd say this, but I'm glad to be back here.”

You leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and tried to shake off the strange discomfort that had lingered from the visit. Your thoughts had been preoccupied with a myriad of things throughout the evening—your niece’s sweetness, the kids’ innocent curiosity, and a gnawing sense of something unspoken.

Ben caught your distant look and raised an eyebrow. “Something on your mind?”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance as you grabbed a glass for yourself and poured a modest amount of whiskey. The amber liquid swirled inside the glass, offering a brief distraction from the conversation you were about to dive into. “Just thinking. That’s all.”

Ben took another sip, clearly not buying your casual demeanor. “Thinking about what? Don’t tell me you’re still stuck on how I handled the kid’s question about sex.”

You winced slightly, the memory still vivid. “Not exactly. Just… other things.”

Ben’s eyes narrowed, his expression softening with a touch of genuine curiosity. “Like what?”

You hesitated, weighing whether or not to dive into the topic. The conversation about kids had been avoided during the visit, and it wasn’t exactly a subject you were eager to tackle. But Ben’s probing look made it clear he wasn’t going to let it slide.

“Well, since you asked,” you said, taking a deep breath and settling into a nearby chair. “I was just thinking about… if we’d ever wanted kids.”

Ben’s face twisted in thought as he settled into the chair opposite you, his posture casual but attentive. “Kids, huh? Funny you mention that. I’ve definitely thought about it before.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised. “You have?”

Ben nodded, taking another swig from his glass. “Yeah. Back when I was with Marjorie, we had these… grand plans, you know? The whole family thing. Thought it’d be great to have a kid or two running around. But then life happened, and… well, I guess that’s not on the cards anymore.”

You nodded, a touch of sadness flickering across your face despite your efforts to stay composed. “Yeah, life happens.”

There was a brief silence as Ben stared into his glass, the room filled with the soft clinking of ice. You could sense the weight of his unspoken regrets and the path his life had taken, and it struck a chord with you. But you were far more adept at masking emotions than Ben, and you focused on maintaining your tough exterior.

“Did you ever want kids?” Ben asked, breaking the silence, his eyes still fixed on his drink.

You hesitated, your fingers gripping the edge of your glass a little tighter. “I don’t know. I never really thought much about it.”

Ben raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Never? Not even when you were younger?”

You shook your head, forcing a casual tone despite the tightness in your chest. “Not really. Things were always so… unpredictable. I guess I never thought I’d have a stable enough life to think about having kids.”

Ben leaned forward, his expression softening. “You know, I always figured you’d be great with kids. You’ve got that… protective streak.”

You looked away, feeling a pang of unease. “Yeah, well, things don’t always work out the way you plan.”

Ben took another drink, seemingly oblivious to the undercurrent of tension. “True enough. But sometimes, it’s worth thinking about what might have been, you know? Even if it’s just for a moment.”

You nodded, the words hitting closer to home than you’d expected. “Yeah, I suppose.”

The conversation fell into another silence, the clinking of glasses and the faint hum of the city outside filling the void. You took a sip of your whiskey, trying to steady your nerves as you thought about the life you’d lived and the choices you’d made.

Ben broke the silence with a chuckle. “You know, I think we’d have made a hell of a team if we’d ever decided to have kids.”

You managed a wry smile. “Yeah? How’s that?”

He grinned, leaning back in his chair with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Well, you’d be the strict one, keeping them in line, and I’d be the one teaching them how to break the rules.”

You chuckled despite yourself, shaking your head. “Yeah, I can see that.”

Ben’s grin widened. “You’d have made a great mom, you know.”

The compliment, however casual it was, made you stiffen. You took a deep breath, trying to keep your emotions in check. “Thanks. I suppose.”

Ben seemed to pick up on the shift in your mood, though he didn’t comment on it directly. Instead, he just took another drink and studied you with a thoughtful look. “But hey, we’re still here, still kicking. And that’s something.”

You nodded, managing a small smile. “Yeah. That’s something.”

The conversation drifted away from the topic of kids as you both delved into more trivial matters, the evening winding down with a sense of settled familiarity. But the discussion had left you with a lot to think about. Ben’s offhand remarks about children and what could have been stirred up old emotions, ones you weren’t entirely prepared to confront.

As the night wore on and you both settled into a more relaxed routine, the weight of the earlier conversation lingered, a reminder of the paths you’d taken and the choices you’d made. And while Ben seemed content to move on, you found yourself grappling with the implications of what might have been, even as you masked your thoughts with a veneer of nonchalance.

Fuck.

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝

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#soldier boy angst #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy smut #soldier boy #the boys #soldier boy x reader smut #soldier boy x reader angst #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles #artyandink #arty writes #the art of heresy #cracked armour

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ghostfacesvalentine · 1 year

Text

HALLOWEEN DAY 2: Too scary - Multi!Muse x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Multi!muse x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of scary movies, trauma, blood, gore, etc. Nothing too graphic

Type: Blurbs

Request: N/A

Word Count: N/A

Prompt: Turns out the movie was too terrifying for little Y/N to handle, therefore it’s their job to comfort you.

Notes: Let’s see how long I can keep this up.

Jason Voorhees: At first he wouldn’t notice, mostly focused on the movie and the candy he’s stuffing his face with. When you’d shuffle around, when he’d notice the constant movement, then he’d take a look at you only to find you with your knees close to your chest with your arms wrapped around them. It’d take a moment for him to register that your stomach was turning at the imagery. Once he would, Jason would instantly coop you up into his arms and keep you in a tiny ball, doing his best to protect you from your thoughts.

Michael Myers: He can smell fear, he’s always been exposed to fear all around him, it’s like second nature to him. When he realizes you’re afraid of the movie, he turns over to stare at you for a moment, which makes you even more uneasy. Thinking Michael looks at you like you’re a big baby, you decide to just cross your arms and brave through the rest of the film. Of course, failing miserably. Michael would force you into his arms, letting you kind of flop into his arms and situate yourself however you wanted.

Tiffany Valentine: She loves horror movies, it’s one of the things that could keep her occupied. While your stomach twists at the imagery and blood splatter on the screen, Tiffany seems mesmerized by it, not paying much attention to your squeamish reaction. Once you’re both done with the movie, she’d turn to you asking “So, how’d you like it?” Only to see you near traumatized. “Y/N!” Tiffany would wrap her arms around your face and bring you into her chest, pressing you into a hug. “Was that too scary? Why didn’t you say anything babe?” Of course she’d make it up to you, with much affection and endearment.

Billy Loomis: Doesn’t even notice at first how uncomfortable you are, no matter how much you nuzzle into him. A few flinches in, he’d look down to you to make sure you were awake, but to see you near in tears would cause him to stop the movie. “Y/N? You okay? We can stop watching this, I just thought you’d like to see it with me.” He knew better than to keep it playing when you’d tell him you were fine. “No, I mean, it’s kinda lame anyway, here’s the remote, find something better. I’m gonna get another beer, you want anything?” Then he’d come back, lay into the arm rest and bring you down with him, making sure you were cuddled into the blanket on the couch.

Stu Macher: What a dumbass, he wouldn’t really notice at all if you were crying or looking away from the screen too much. He’s “in the moment” with the gory scenes. After the movie, Stu would ask you how you’d like it only to see hot tears streaming down your cheeks. He’d laugh a little bit at how scared you looked, but then would give you the tightest hug. Stu would hold you tightly enough to give you some troubles breathing regularly, letting you put on some cartoons to forget the imagery. Will this happen again? Absolutely.

Patrick Bateman: Ok, he’s probably the worst of them all. Patrick watches snuff films and all kinds of gruesome films for fun. When you brought it up to his attention, he was more than happy to show you what he liked and explain to you the different methods of torture and what part inflicted the most pain. Even if you’d throw up, Patrick would keep the film going, mesmerized by the screams telling you “It’s actually not that bad.” But he’d let you hide into his arm, clenching onto it as you did so, but there was no way to hide from the terrorizing screams and Patrick's chuckle throughout it.

Leatherface: Honestly always checking up on you through every scene. Bubba doesn’t even want you to watch the scary films, he would think you were too pure for them, ironically. If you insisted though, he’d let you, holding you close to him and giving you space to hide if you needed to look away, which seemed to be often. Bubba would be ready to turn off the screen at any moment, one arm wrapped around you and the other one with the finger on the off button. He too would let you watch cartoons with him after. Bubba would offer you your favorite junk food or candy and let you snuggle into him while you laugh at the new pictures on the screen.

Harley Quinn: Is SUPER into horror. Laughs at the screams and blood splatter “Y/N! Y/N! Did ya see that? Did ya see it?! Let me rewind it.” Harleys a bit clueless when it comes to seeing your discomfort at first, but then when she notices you keep flinching or looking away, her expression immediately changes. “Oh my god Y/N? Are you afraid of this? You shoulda said something pumpkin’!” Immediately cuddles you and keeps you close to her chest, changing the channel to a Disney movie. Harley would be THE best at comforting you, squeezing the near life out of you to keep you comfortable and your mind off of things. Lots of comfort food, honestly.

Poison Ivy: Isn’t necessarily obsessed with horror movies and gore, not very interested in it either but she doesn’t mind playing the exorcist for background noise. If you’re not obviously telling her that you’re scared or you want to play something else, she would pick up on how you would react. Flinching at certain moments in the movie, looking away from the screen constantly, all things Pamela would notice, putting two and two together, she’d turn off the TV, telling you simply “What a trashy movie, let’s go play.” And would lead you into the bedroom for some TLC. Pamela’s love language would be physical touch and she would make sure you would get enough of it to fall asleep to. She’d make a mental note to stay away from horror movies with you.

Bruce Wayne: Never was really big with horror movies to begin with. Bruce grew up with musicals and operas, he was cultured in filmmaking, but horror never really made a mark in his interests, mainly because of the real life horrors he had to face already. Of course Bruce picks up on everything, noticing your reluctance in watching any more of this movie, he decides to nuzzle you into him, not saying a word and changing the channel, or taking your hand to lead you out of the theater. After all, Bruce knew what it felt like to be afraid. Expect a ton of tender touches and soft kisses.

Jason Todd: Sweetest energy tbh. Whether your watching a scary movie as a group or together, his reaction would be similar in both scenarios. As soon as he’d feel your palm in a cold sweat he’d look for your reaction, even if you try to brave through it, Jason would pull your face into his chest, kissing the top of your head. ‘What a bullshit ass movie.” He’d mumble while subconsciously caressing the back of your head. “You’re being brave dollface, but you don’t have to be.” He’d whisper to you and give you a squeeze. ”Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Billy Hargrove: Notices instantly, but wouldn’t want to call you out on it. Instead he would also pull a stunt like Pamela. Telling you “This is kinda tacky, let’s leave.” And would lead you out of the movie theater, turn off the TV or leave whatever house party you were at. He’d make sure to never let you go, holding your hand, keeping his arm around your waist as usual, always being protective of you. Billy would make you feel safe enough to tell him what happened and what was wrong and why. He’d actually listen to you, being quiet for a moment, letting it all sink in, then comfort you by telling you “That’s nothin’ to be embarrassed about, I had a few movies that scared the daylights out of me, but you know I’m never gonna let anything happen to you.”

Steve Harrington: Knows from the start that you don’t like horror movies, he doesn’t either but he can stomach a lot more than you can. Steve was kind of taken a back when you insisted that it would be fine to have a movie night with your friends even though they planned a horror marathon. When the kill scenes would get severely worse as the movie progresses, you’d get more uncomfortable and at this point it seemed like an unspoken competition to see who could stomach more gore, you or Steve. Still, when you’d take a nap, shifting and shuffling around in the blankets, he’d know the movie maybe actually got to you. Steve would hug you tightly, caress your face when you’d drift in and out of sleep.

Steve Rogers: Would be such a big time caregiver energy. When you’d hide your face away in certain scenes, Steve would notice instantly, hugging you closely through the scene. If you kept showing discomfort, Steve would take you from the room, not offering an explanation to anyone. “Come on sweetheart, let’s go do something else” He never really understood the concept or horror movies, nor the appeal, so it wasn’t like he was missing out on anything. Steve would pick you up, letting you hide into his chest or his neck. He’d kiss your head, cheek and neck constantly, slow and full of love. “Come on angel, let’s watch something else.” He’d turn on the TV letting you chose any cartoon movie you’d be in the mood to watch.

Bucky Barnes: Also with Steve energy, he’d let you hide into him. He kind of understood the concept of the horror movies, even liked a couple but not to the extent those around you both would like. His heart melts when he sees you pout and avoiding looking at the screen. Closing your eyes waiting for the screaming to stop, Bucky would want nothing more than to reach over and pull you onto him, letting you hide into him and tell you everything was okay and it was only a movie. When the movie would be over, he’d check up on you, making sure you weren’t still thinking of it, which more than likely you were and he wouldn’t hesitate to spend the night with you, letting you curl into his body, being three times your size and keeping you safe from whatever horror you saw today.

Wanda Maximoff: She would notice it the second scene in, the minute you hesitated to agree on a horror marathon with the team, she knew maybe you were a little bit more of a baby than she initially thought. She’d play it off with you as well, telling the team the movie seemed boring and that she just wanted to go to bed, she was tired. When the others would dismiss her, not paying much attention, she would look at you, who stayed sitting in silence. “Y/N? Are you okay? You keep nodding off, come join me, let’s get you to bed.” Wanda would be your saving grace and of course she would let you sleep in her bed, keeping you comfortable and safe in her pillow fortress and arms.

Loki Laufeyson: He’d always notice any sort of discomfort in you, knowing that you weren’t able to stomach much of the gory scenes but a part of him wanted to see how much you were able to handle. Loki would sit where he was able to look at you with just a flicker of his eyelids in your direction. When you’d all have a movie night, Loki would be the one to agree to watch something gruesome just to see you squirm in your seat. When it would be too much to handle for you and you’d have to excuse yourself, Loki would come to your aid when he would pass by your room to see you sitting on the corner, hugging yourself trying to erase the imagery out of your head by watching your favorite comfort films. “Y/N? How are you doing?”

Cloud Strife: He’s not very fazed by horror movies or anything of that sort, but if he feels you hide against him again throughout the movie, he would let you. He’d hesitate to put his arm around you, but if you snuggle into it, he’d squeeze you in. Because this seemed to be very unlike Cloud, snuggling into his torso would be the most comforting thing. Cloud would let you sleep with him if you admitted you were scared, letting you snuggle in under the covers with him, he’d drape an arm over you and keep you close as you drifted off to sleep.

Aerith Gainsborough: Not terribly interested in horror movies, but would watch a few just to spend some time. Aerith has quite the strong stomach compared to you and the rest of your friends. She could sit there and watch a full marathon with you guys no problem, but if you couldn’t handle it, she’d understand and take a walk with you, picking flowers for you on the sidewalk as she would try to distract you from the imagery from before. Her smile surely would help, Aerith would be the perfect person to comfort you for something that seems as silly as a horror movie.

Sebastian Michaelis: He’d seen it all, fear is not something he was very familiar in feeling, but he knew it came as second nature to the human species. If you were afraid of a movie or show, he’d find it amusing to see you worked up over false imagery when he had seen much worse, all real as well. Sebastian would still excel in his duty to comfort you, assuring you there was nothing to fear, since he would never let anything hurt you. Being cared for by him in this way did help, you knew he meant it and it was silly for you to worry about anything that was plastered across a screen.

Spencer Reid: Would be so wholesome, he had seen so much gruesome scenes, often inspiring many of the plots of movies you two were watching, but he knew to spare you the details. When Spencer heard you wanted to see a horror movie with him, he was surprised, letting you decide which one, but when it was too much for you, he knew right when to stop it and ask you if you were okay, not wanting to have you get nightmares for the next week straight. Spencer would soothe you, holding you close to him, letting you lay down onto him and snuggle under a blanket. He’d play something more wholesome, maybe a Disney classic in the background or some sort of comedy to keep your mind off the previous imagery.

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thestarstoasun · 4 months

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This entire fluff of Will being an adorable child was written as emotional compensation (mainly) for @actual-gremlin. Anyone else can take it as emotional compensation for my normal posts though!

Quick Note: Because timelines are actual torture this is at least a year before The Lightning Thief, mainly bc for the sake of plot I needed Luke to not be entirely evil & he really turns after his own quest/when Percy arrives/is claimed.

When Will was younger, he found a tabby cat in the woods near camp while following Connor to find flowers for their older sisters. The cat was missing half of her tail, but was surprisingly affectionate towards them. Will fell in love immediately, and while he wasn't a vet, his vitalkinesis told him that more than just her tail was injured. She was malnourished and dehydrated with a sprain in her front paw.

"Do you think your siblings will let you keep her? Do you even plan on keeping her?" Connor asked with his arms full of flowers.

"It really depends on what she wants. Poor angel. I would like her, but I wanna make sure she's okay first." Will's small arms held the cat and he pet the underside of her jaw, grinning when she started to purr.

"I didn't even know you liked cats. How could you hide this from me?"

"Ma used to take me to the pet shelters before she would play her concerts at night when touring. And I didn't hide anything. You're just a bad friend for never asking. Hmph."

"Wha? Hey!" The two boys laughed as they approached the Big House. Will's face grew determined seeing as his biggest challenge would be inside.

"Good luck, soldier. If they don't let you keep her, I'll sneak her into Hermes for you. Luke wants us family to be happy, so I can figure something out." Connor did his best to move the flowers around so he could give a salute.

"I lied earlier. You're a great friend...when you aren't playing the pranks of the century." Will nodded his head, took a deep breath, and walked inside the chamber.

---

Will was happy to note that the infirmary was mostly empty save for, surprisingly, Luke and Lee. What was even stranger though was Luke wasn't in a cot. He was sitting on top of Lee's desk, something that Will had be reprimanded for several times.

"Why doesn't Luke get scolded for sitting on your desk?" Will pouted walking towards his big brother and the Hermes counselor.

Both of the older boys jumped, but Lee just looked over at Will and smiled kindly. "He already was. You know how Hermes kids are."

Luke turned his body around to face Will as well with a mischievous grin. "Lee has tried to kick me off of the desk several times, but I outsmarted him."

Lee's face flushed, but Will completely missed the interaction between them, looking at Luke with amazement. "You managed to outsmart Lee!? But he's smart, but also a little dumb-"

"Hey!"

"-so I can also understand."

"William. Why is there a cat in your arms?" Lee asked, out of curiosity and to redirect the conversation away from his dating life. Will was, perhaps, his only sibling who remained mostly spared from growing up too fast, and Lee was determined to keep it that was for just a little longer. Romance just went over his head, which was the innocence a child should have.

"Oh yeah! I found her when Connor and I were...-" Will pursed his lips and thought about how to say they snuck into the woods without getting into trouble. He had never met their dad, Apollo, so Lee was really the closest to one he felt like he had. And Lee had perfected the disappointed parent look- Will blamed Michael for that. "...taking a stroll through some trees to look for flowers and I found her! She's injured and I wanna help her."

Will was determined to at least be able to nurse the cat back to health, even if Lee wouldn't let him keep her. His arms were wrapped protectively around the cat and she relaxed onto Will's shoulder.

"A stroll through some trees?" Lee raised his eyebrow as if he was questioning whether or not to let the deceit go. Apparently, Will was very lucky, because his big brother just sighed. "You know we aren't vets. How can you be sure you can help her? How do you know its a her?"

"I'm a healer." Will said it with so much pride that Lee couldn't help but smile just a little bit. "And vitalkinesis, dummy."

"Michael is such a bad influence on you. He's got you insulting me in my own infirmary."

"Isn't he also the only one of your siblings, other than this one - but he's gotta only be a fourth of a person -("Hey!") who can get your stubborn ass to take a break?" Luke spoke up with an amused smirk.

"Language. There is a small and impressionable child here."

"Mikey says bad words all the time," Will spoke up, looking between the two counselors extremely confused.

"I'll have a talk with him about it. If you want to try to help the cat.." Lee noticed Will's puppy dog eyes and let out a swear of his own in Ancient Greek. "You can try to help her, but we don't have any cat food so you'll have to see if she'll eat tuna. And we aren't keeping her." Will nodded along with a small pout.

Instead of giving confirmation, Will walked to a cot and set the cat down before humming a soft healing hymn.

"We're gonna end up with a cat, aren't we?"

"You guys most definitely are. That kid has you wrapped around his fingers."

"It's the eyes! You'd think he was an Aphrodite kid, but he just pulls the puppy dog eyes and I give in."

"Lee, that's just you being a sucker."

"I'm just a better brother than you. All of the poor, sweet children that have their ears tainted by the horrors spoken of in the Hermes cabin tell me so."

"I'm going to go tell Castor and Pollux to start awful rumors about you. Overdramatic, absolute pushover, workaho-ouch!"

"Don't be mean. I'm going to go help Will. If you would be so kind, could you possibly sneak Cabin 7 some stuff for our new cat? I really don't think I'm getting out of this one."

"Yeah, sure. Good luck with being 'Cabin Mom'. I have my own rats to gather up soon; Connor and Travis should probably be first."

Will had healed the sprain and gotten the cat water and a can of tuna which she was currently happily drinking and eating away at. He sat in a chair by the bed watching her with a wide grin. Seeing her eating made him really happy and when she would look up, he reassured her with a "It's fine. There is plenty." before she went back to eating.

Lee ruffled Will's hair when he made it over. "Things going good, Sunshine?"

"Mmmmhm! She likes tuna, I think. Or maybe just really hungry."

"We can try a few things coming up to see what she likes. Overeating can also make her sick. Sometimes cats, and people, do it when they're malnourished for so long and have, for instance, they're favorite food for the first time."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's why when you say you're not hungry, I always say eat two bites and you don't have to eat anymore if you still don't want any."

"That makes sense! Its much nicer than back in Texas when I would stay with my Granma and Gramps. They had dumb rules." His nose scrunched up as he recalled the nights he just really didn't feel good, the very few times he got sick, and was forced to sit at the table for hours.

"Those rules are the worst." Lee agreed and pulled his little brother in for a hug. "There are some rules that are good though."

"Like what?"

"Rules you have to follow for us to take in your new friend."

Will's eyes sparkled with excitement as he listened to the rules carefully, curls bouncing as he nodded along. The small lecture ended in a sacred oath, even more sacred than a promise on the Styx, a pinkie promise.

Bear, as Will had named her - though no one knew why since she didn't look much like one, grew healthier each week. She gained more weight, especially when she realized she could get extra treats by going to multiple Cabin 7 kids. Her fur grew fluffier (giving her a bath had been Michael's job - the punishment for swearing around children.) which Will absolutely loved, because she cuddled with him at night.

She had almost gotten herself caught multiple times because she tried to follow Will out of the Cabin. (Lee was going to get gray hairs by the time he turned 20, though he'd be ancient then. He was sure of it.)

By the time Chiron did find out about Bear, Lee had gotten the other head counselors on his side if this came to a debate. Luckily, many of them liked Will and seeing him being a kid with a cat probably helped sway the tides, or maybe some God was looking out for them. Either way, Chiron agreed to let her stay since they had clearly taken care of her this long.

Will went to sleep that night holding Bear a little closer, while she simply curled up to the boy. In a few years, he would lose so much, and she would stay through some of the hardest moments in his life, but right now he was just a boy with his big siblings and their cat.

#will solace just had to be a kid that used those giant eyes #and lee fletcher fell for it every time #lee was a child that grew up way too fast & no one can change my mind #there are easter eggs to personality hcs in here #will solace #lee fletcher #michael yew #apollo cabin #luke castellan #connor stoll #leeluke #but its supposed to be minor i swear #and its before luke went evil #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 4 months

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Dreaming and Drowning

This fic will fill my "Take a deep breath." square on my Hurt/Comfort, Sweet & Spicy Bingo card. The prompt will be bolded in the fic. @sweetspicybingo

Summary: Michael is fascinated by Y/N. She isn't the only thing keeping him inside his vessel, but she's a very interesting bonus. Now if only he can keep Dean quiet for long enough to conduct some experiments.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Nothing too terrible. Show level violence. Some descriptions of torture. Threatened/implied sexual assault/non-con (nothing shown or described). Depictions of drowning.

Pairings: Michael!Dean x Y/N and Dean Winchester x Y/N

Word Count: 2,579

A/N: I'm trying to work my way through my requests but I'm still back in last December! 😫 I'm sorry to everyone who's put in requests, I'm working on 'em!

Anyway, this request was for a "fatal attraction" Bingo square for a different bingo. It was from the lovely @elle14-blog1 who asked:

Hello Dear Been addicted to your page lately Love the Dean fics So about the Fatal Attraction request Maybe could you write soft dark fatal attraction of Michael Dean towards Dean’s Gf..one of the more reason he doesn’t wanna leave the vessel… Ok bye bye Xoxo💖

That space for that bingo was claimed already. But I really enjoyed this idea, so I said I'd do it another time. Well, here it is. I'm not sure if it's what you were looking for, I hope so. Hope everyone enjoys. This is the first time I've written anything for Michael!Dean, so be nice. 😁

Dean Winchester Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

Every once in a while Dean swam to the surface; he broke through heavy, cloying water to suck oxygen into his starving, burning lungs.

But the water was choppy and rushing, the current swept him along at a feverish pace and he could never swim hard enough or fast enough to outrun it; inevitably the cold, gray water would submerge him again and leave him drowning.

But in those few moments of clarity, he’d see her. He’d see the way she was bound, he’d watch the way his hands pulled screams from her lungs. As the water rushed around his ears, it couldn’t drown out the way her voice begged him to stop.

Not me, he reminded himself.

It wasn’t him. This was Michael’s doing. Michael was hurting her.

And who let me in? His own voice would answer back, before shoving him back down under the water with a sneering laugh.

We both know she’s here because of you, because she wanted to save you from me. So sweet. But who’s going to save HER from me.

Oops, I mean save her from you.

***

Michael watched Y/N struggle, a soft smile on his borrowed countenance; she really was rather extraordinary, this particular little ape. He’d tortured her slowly, nothing too drastic to start, he didn’t want to permanently alter her, not yet.

He was very interested in her, interested in the noises she made when she tried not to scream, in the way he could feel the air shift almost imperceptibly when she held her breath against the pain. He loved to watch the way involuntary goosebumps erupted across her skin when he ran a finger over it.

How strange, he thought, to not be able to control something as basic as the texture of your skin.

The human body was rather fascinating, hers even more than most. She was so soft in places, her skin bruised so easily, sometimes nothing more than a hard pinch brought a pretty purple stain to her skin. Harder blows bloomed blue and green almost immediately. Her blood ran dark red and tasted coppery with a hint of something more tangy just below the surface.

Is that the difference of her psychic blood? He wondered.

It was why he’d taken her to begin with. He’d been experimenting with all kinds of monsters, and they were finally starting to pay off, but he’d never tried mixing his grace with a psychic, he thought the results might be very interesting. So when a memory had surfaced in Dean Winchester’s brain about his psychic girlfriend, he’d decided to let her find him.

She and Sam Winchester had been searching far and wide for him, for Dean. He could have easily outrun them forever. But he decided to stay put for a moment and let her catch up. All he’d had to do to lure her in was let the ghost of Dean shine through his eyes for a moment and she came running, desperate to help.

And just like that, she was trapped in his web.

He’d spent the first few days just getting to know her, testing her body’s capabilities and limits; how much could she bleed before she became too weak to stand on her own? How long could she hold back screams when he started cutting? How much force did it take to snap her radius, her femur?

He was thoroughly enjoying his experiments with her, simply healing her up after each one so that he could try his next idea. He’d begun to see what Dean saw in her, there was something quite beautiful in the way the ape struggled against the inevitable, the way she fought against him, knowing her efforts were completely useless. He liked the defiance in her eyes, it made his human body react in interesting ways.

Her pain and her resistance made his pilfered blood run hot and thick in his veins, made his body hard, made him run his hands up and down her body with no other purpose than to feel its softness.

On his fourth day with her he had her stripped her down to her underthings, intending to burn her with the tip of a poker, curious to see what color her skin turned as it flaked off. He knew he was wasting time really. He’d experimented with her enough, he should be feeding her his grace to see what kind of hybrid monster he could make of the psychic.

But when he saw her in her bra and panties, memories that weren’t his surfaced in his mind, Dean’s memories of how she looked when she was beneath him, the way her head jerked back as she gasped with pleasure, the way her knuckles went white, bunched in the sheets, her body bucking into Dean’s hand, and suddenly he knew how he wanted to finish off his experimentation.

He’d never experimented like this before, none of the human bodies he’d encountered in the past had affected him this way. He wasn’t sure if it was some kind of pull from her psychic blood, or the memories he had access to, or if it was simply the enjoyment he’d already gotten from this flesh, but for the first time he felt an earthly need for the body in front of him.

As he approached her, he saw panic in her gaze and wondered if her psychic abilities had allowed her to see what was coming. But as he registered her panic, he suddenly felt Dean back above water and screaming, roaring inside their mind.

Get the fuck away from her! I will rip you apart from the inside!

Michael chuckled. Come on now, Dean. I know exactly how much you enjoy this body, I’m doing this as much for you as for me.

Michael lifted his hand to run his finger down Y/N’s cheek. She recoiled and he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. He did his best impression of Dean, smiling and hoping it looked friendly and not feral.

“Don’t look away, sweetheart. It’s me. I know you love me, I know you want me. Let me make you feel better.”

He watched her face in fascination; her expressions ran the gamut between horrified, heartbroken, and lustful. But he could practically smell her hope, her need; she was absolutely desperate to pretend the man she loved was there and her tormentor was gone.

Humans really are odd little things. Michael thought.

Dean was still screaming, and then garbling his words beneath the ocean Michael drowned him in. Enough out of you, he thought with a smirk.

Maybe it was the cold smirk that did it, breaking the illusion that he was Dean, or maybe it was Y/N’s abject terror at the idea of what was about to happen. But the very last of her defiance seemed to pulse through her and something in her shifted. He could feel it in the way the hairs on his arms stood up, the way a deep, thrumming buzz began to sound inside his ears.

Y/N’s body began to pulse as well, like waves of energy gearing up. He raised a hand, his eyes glowing blue as he shot his grace towards her. The first beam hit her and stopped her, but she was soon powering up again, and when his grace surged at her a second time, she knocked it away with one of the hands she got free, snapping the chains that held her to the wall.

He pushed grace towards her again, but she wrapped herself in a psychic shield and broke her remaining chains. As he continued to fight, continued to pour grace out of himself and wield it like a sword, he felt Dean surface again. In his mind’s eye he could see him gasping and fighting for the shoreline. Michael tried to force him back under water, but he was using too much of his strength to keep Y/N back.

And Dean was fighting incredibly hard.

It was a two-pronged attack, from the inside and outside, and it was not something he’d been expecting. Y/N moved slowly, wrapped in her bubble, towards the bag she’d been traveling with when he caught her. As she reached the backpack, he managed to penetrate the bubble and sent her flying backwards.

Before he could press his advantage, however, Y/N was on her feet again and sending a pulse wave of energy into him, making him stumble backwards. She grabbed the bag quickly and from inside she pulled out a gold, metal, egg-shaped object. He could feel Dean leaving the water as Y/N began to chant in Enochian.

Before she was more than two words in, however, the impossible happened and Michael could feel Dean scream at him.

“Get out!”

His words were powerful enough to defeat Michael in his slightly weakened condition, and the archangel could feel his essence begin to be expelled from the body he’d resided in for almost two months. As he was forced out, he felt another call, another pull, and he looked on in horror as he was inexorably yanked out of Dean’s body right into the tiny space of the egg.

The egg was tiny, but Michael fell for days, down and down and down, until he landed on a dark, rocky, moldy floor.

He looked around him and sitting across the floor was a human, glowing with the angel inside him. The angel looked very familiar.

The celestial who shared his name chuckled at the strange turn of events. “Welcome to the cage, doppelganger.”

***

Dean felt weak as he fell to the ground, as though he’d been running for days, weeks. No, not running, swimming, fighting against the current.

His muscles were shaking and he felt as though he might puke. Then he saw Y/N curled in a ball on the dirty floor of the cold, abandoned warehouse they were in and he rushed to her. He pulled off the suit jacket he wore and helped her sit up so he could wrap it around her shoulders.

“Y/N? Sweetheart?” He said quietly as she shook beneath his hands.

She looked up at him, tears in her eyes; but under the tears was fear, stark terror, and suspicion.

“Dean?” She asked in a whisper, and he knew she still couldn’t trust that it was him. It hurt his heart to see the fear there; would she always see the sadistic angel looking back at her from now on?

He let go of her and moved away a bit to try and ease her worry. “It’s me, baby, it’s me. I promise. You got Michael, trapped him in that.” He nodded towards the egg. “He’s in the cage.”

Y/N stared at him, but then she shook her head slightly. “No, I didn’t get the spell out, you were already forcing him out. The egg just grabbed him as he was fleeing.” A small smile touched the corners of her lips. “You did it.”

Dean risked coming a bit closer again, reaching out a palm to lay against her cheek, rejoicing when she leaned into his touch.

He leaned towards her and rested his forehead against hers. “No, we did it. We make a good team.”

A broken cry fell from her mouth as she threw her arms around his neck. He wrapped her tightly in his embrace.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I tried to get out, I tried to get to you, but I couldn’t. I tried and tried, but-”

Y/N cut him off with a kiss. Dean wept into it and didn’t even try to hide it. She tasted his salty tears and pulled back cupping his cheeks in her hands and shaking her head.

“No Dean, please don’t. Don’t put this on you, don’t punish yourself.”

Dean’s jaw clenched. “Yeah, why not? I let him in.”

Y/N brushed away his tears. “Yeah, to save Sam and Jack.” Dean opened his mouth to interrupt her again, but she continued quickly. “And if you punish yourself, you’ll hurt me too.”

Dean looked at her intently and she shook her head slowly. “We’re both safe now. We beat him. Together.” She inhaled deeply. “Look, take a deep breath. Go on.” She encouraged when he didn’t do it immediately.

He began to breathe in sync with her, timing his breathing with hers, but visions kept popping into his mind, the things Michael did to her using his hands, and he knew he hadn’t even seen everything; he knew there were things he couldn’t remember from when he'd been deeply submerged.

His breathing faltered and Y/N sighed. “I don’t remember all of it either.” She said; her psychic abilities were incredibly powerful, but he knew she wasn’t reading his mind - she just knew him too well, knew the way his mind worked, even from outside of it.

She cupped his cheeks again so he was looking into her eyes. “Can I show you where I was hiding a lot of the time?”

Dean nodded and she rested her forehead on his; he closed his eyes and let her in.

There was suddenly a picture in his mind, like a memory, but he knew it wasn’t his. In truth, it wasn’t really a memory but a vision. In the vision he could see the two of them in an old hunter’s cabin; he remembered staying there once, years ago. But they’d simply holed up there for a night after a hunt.

The visions going through his mind had never happened. They were simply Y/N’s imaginings, the place she went in her mind to escape Michael’s torment.

In the vision Y/N and Dean cuddled together in the old bed and he was kissing her tenderly; they were having a food fight in the kitchen which she let him win so that he could lick frosting from her skin; Dean was reading to her and making her laugh by doing silly voices; they were eating pizza and talking animatedly about a hunt.

Then the visions shifted to a Christmas setting and they were sitting beside a big Christmas tree and he had the sense of being surrounded by family and loved ones, all laughing, happy and joyful, just beyond his eyeline.

In the span of a breath, he was suddenly back on the warehouse floor as Y/N broke the connection and pulled back. “I was only here sometimes, I ran away from him, as much as possible, ran far into my mind. And every single safe place in my mind revolved around you.”

He shuddered as she ran her hand soothingly through his hair. His voice was raspy with unshed tears. “I love you - so much.”

She finally let her tears flow free as she kissed him again. “I love you too.”

They clung to each other for a long time, finding their way back to one another and back to the sense of belonging they found in the other’s arms.

Finally Dean pushed himself to his feet and pulled Y/N with him. “Let’s get out of here and find Sam.” Y/N nodded, but before she could turn to get her bag, he pulled her to him for another kiss.

When he pulled back, his green eyes were shining. “And it’s Christmas in a week. Let’s find that cabin, let’s invite everyone we know, and let’s make that dream a reality. Let’s not wait anymore to be happy.”

Y/N smiled widely and nodded, tears shimmering. “That sounds like a dream.”

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @alwaystiredandconfused @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma @luvr4miya @arcannaa @viviwatchestv @winharry

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#sweetspicyhc #micheal!dean x reader #micheal!dean x y/n #dean x y/n #hurt/comfort #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fluff #dean x reader

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