arwynnesmg9

[zepskies]

Headcanon: When You're Having His Child...

Pairings: Dean Winchester x F. Reader, Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

AN: This one is requested by @cevansbaby-dove, and is kind of a continuation of this imagine: When you have morning sickness.

Tags/Warnings: Potential fluff overload.

HC: How Dean, Beau, and Soldier Boy (Ben) would act while you're in labor.

Dean Winchester

Oh, sweet man...

Dean does the thing where he pretends he has his shit together.

He's really trying, for your sake, for his own, and to save face around Sam and Eileen and Jody and everyone else in the hospital waiting room.

They can see it, and he knows it: he's freaking the hell out.

When he's in the room with you, he's either helping you, holding your hand, waiting for you to be dilated enough to start the whole "having a baby" process, or pacing around on those bowlegs, occasionally dragging a hand over his mouth in that telltale nervous gesture.

"Babe, come 'ere," you say with strain. That last contraction really took it out of you. "You're making me even more nervous than I already am."

Dean goes to you and smooths a hand over your hair.

"Sorry, sweetheart. I'm sorry. How're you holding up?"

Tears well up in your eyes, but you try to breathe through it. You're overwhelmed, you're in pain, and you've been in labor for several hours already.

"We're ready for this, right?" you ask, squeezing his hand. He sits on the edge of your bed and makes sure you look him in the eyes.

"We're about to find out," he says, with a bit of teasing. But his gaze is steady when he brings your hand up to his lips. "You don't gotta worry about anything. I'm gonna be with you, come whatever, okay?"

You smile, because you don't just believe him. You know.

Because after years of fighting together, surviving together, living together, you know that this is just one more adventure you get to go on with him by your side.

Now, Dean would rather not see all the gritty details of the birth, but he stays in the delivery room, letting you squeeze the shit out of his hand. He's not going to leave your side. He's wiping sweat from your brow and encouraging you, being whatever kind of support you need.

After the baby's born and the nurses bring her back all cleaned up, Dean holds his daughter for the first time.

He has tears in his eyes. For a long moment, he doesn't even blink. He stares down at that small, perfect face. Already he sees some of your features in her.

He can't put into words how he feels. It's overwhelming in his chest. But one thing is certain...

Dean's never been more grateful to be alive than in this moment.

He blinks, and the first of his tears fall. He brings her to you, sitting down carefully on the edge of your bed again so you can hold her. You're beyond exhaustion, sweaty, and weeping, but one thing is certain...

You've never been more grateful for Dean than in this moment.

You turn to him, giving him a small smile. He returns it, and he leans in to give you a gentle kiss.

"Do you have a name picked out yet?" one of the nurses asks.

You and Dean share a look: his imploring, yours knowing.

"We're not naming her Baby," you warn him.

"Aw, come on."

Beau Arlen

Round 2! 🫡

Beau runs the gambit from excited, to anxious, to freaking the hell out, and back to excited.

This is "Round 2" for him. His second child. But he's had reservations about being an "older" father to a new baby. (He's pushing 50 at this point. No matter how much he keeps in shape, he still feels his age in his bowlegged knees.)

You've assured him that plenty of men have children at his age.

Regardless of his insecurities though, you know he's still over the moon. Beau has always wanted more kids, deep down, and now thanks to you, he's getting his wish.

He's the man who's "prepared for anything."

When your water broke, he already had your to-go bag ready with everything you might need.

But he continues to ask you questions from the moment he's got you out the door to the drive over to the hospital, and even in the lobby.

"You thirsty? You comfortable like that? How's the pain? Just breathe, baby. I gotcha. Watch your step now. You hungry? We've got protein bars in the bag, unless you're cravin' something else. First things first, let's check in. Oh, I hope we can getcha in a private room. Let's see--oh damn, they sure are packed today, huh? Okay, how're you holdin' up? How's the pain, level of 1 to 10? Yep, got it, hold my hand. Just breathe through it. I gotcha."

Bless him. The man means well, but he's driving you freakin' crazy.

"Beau, I know. If you don't take a breath, I'm gonna pop you in the damn nose."

He tries not to smile at your grumpiness. "...Okay, I hear ya. Let's just get you into your room."

He rarely leaves your side during the entire labor, just to get you anything you might actually need. The radio at his belt occasionally goes off for work, but he apologizes, having forgotten to turn it off. He put Jenny in charge while he's gone.

"Let's just hope the precinct's still standing when I get back," he jokes. He finally turns off the radio and takes it off his belt, to your relief. And he returns his undivided attention to you.

Beau witnessed the birth of his daughter Emily, so he's no stranger to being in the delivery room. He even ventures past the curtain when your son is born, breathing air into his little lungs and letting out a powerful cry.

Beau laughs with tears in his eyes. "That's my boy."

When the nurses place him into your arms first, Beau supports your hold and brushes your sweaty hair back from your face. "Good job, honey. Good job."

"I know," you tease weakly.

Beau chuckles. He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead and looks down at the small bundle in your arms and his.

"We have a son," Beau says. His eyes are red and shining. "I have a son."

"You have a son," you nod. You look over at him and lean in for a kiss. He obliges you, and rests his forehead against yours afterwards.

Life is meant for moments like this, he thinks.

He's damn grateful it's with you.

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Readers of Strong as Blood in the BMD-verse will recognize some of this HC...

This day has been a long time coming, for both of you.

He smells like cigar smoke when he comes back into your recovery room. For which you have no doubt, Ben had been puffing away with Butcher and M.M. outside the hospital. 

Ben was with you for most of the lead up to the birth, but you actually agreed that having him in the delivery room wasn't a good idea. He never did well with you in pain, and with his temper, he might just scare the shit out of the doctor and nurses.

He strides toward you though, when he enters the room. He lays a hand on your head and another on the baby's tuft of brown, downy hair.

"We have a daughter," you tell him, with a watery smile.

Part of him still twinges with disappointment. He didn't react well when he found out you weren't carrying a boy, his future son.

(You'd given him enough hell that he never brought up the subject again.)

But that all fades away when he looks down at his daughter's face.

He carefully sits on the edge of your bed, but he's suspended in time. His chest tightens in a way he's never experienced before.

It's almost like pain, but not. Not at all.

He brushes a thumb along the baby's soft cheek. He's almost hesitant to touch her, knowing how fragile she is.

"Beautiful, like her mother," he says at last. And he means it.

He earns your smile.

"Flatterer," you accuse. You know you look as wrecked as you feel. Somehow, none of that matter's whenever you look at your child's face.

You look over at Ben with a shining smile. His lips twitch. He leans in and meets your lips with a kiss, slow and deep and intimate in this quiet little room.

“You okay?” he asks you, after he pulls away. “Got everything you need?”

He’s become even more protective, of course, but also more attentive to you. Especially in the last few months of your pregnancy, seeing how uncomfortable you've become.

It warms you every time, when you consider how rough, how stoic, and how damn-near emotionally repressed he can be.

It seems that fatherhood is beginning to soften him, even before he begins. You quirk a smile at the thought, and at his question.

“Imagine pushing a super melon out of your dick. That’s how I’m doing,” you say cheekily.

He snorts a bit loudly at that, and you shush him, as if it wasn’t your fault he was laughing. He expects nothing less from you.

“But I’m okay,” you answer his second question. “All I need right now is you.”

Ben considers you, a slightly gentler smile curving his lips, and he nods.

“All right,” he says. In this moment, he realizes that his entire world is in this room.

He’d never admit it, but it's a terrifying thought, for a man who once had everything and nothing.

You unknowingly stop the path of his thoughts when you ask him, "Want to hold her for a while?"

Ben perks up at attention. He's a bit uncertain on how exactly to hold the baby, but he can't lose face and tell you that. So he just accepts the bundle when you place her in his arms.

As he looks down at a small face that already has some of his features, he inhales a faltering breath.

It's the first time you ever see true tears in his eyes, despite how much he resists. One manages to draw a path down his cheek. 

“You know, you’re blessed to have my genes, sweetheart,” he says. It elicits a knowing scoff out of you. “But you’re also lucky as hell to have your mom.”

Ben looks up and finds the predictable well of tears forming in your eyes. His smirk softens around the edges.

“She’s the best damn woman you’re ever gonna meet,” he says.

AN: All right, I'll stop. 😭 I hope you enjoy this one, fluff overload and all! Who was your favorite this time: Dean, Beau, or Ben? 💜

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[hypnoneghoul]

Symbol on the Surface Chapter 7

WC: 2,8k

Relationship: SwissAlps

Tags: Transmasc Swiss, Pregnancy, Fluff, SPA Treatment, Bubble Bath, Massage, Non-Sexual Nudity/Intimacy

“We are stealing you, Swiss Ghoul,” Cirrus says, “for a mandatory SPA day.”

Notes: This chapter was co-written by @jimothybarnes!!!

Chapter 1 here or on AO3.

Read chapter 7 under the cut or on AO3.

Swiss wakes up. Stretches with a purr. Bends down to kiss still sleeping Mountain’s nose. Checks his phone. Sees the notification.

Three months.

He is three months pregnant.

The multi ghoul grins—filled with happiness and pride—and puts his phone away before hopping out of bed to go to the bathroom. Well, hopping might not be too fitting of a word considering Swiss’ back still has no mercy in store for him.

And Mountain’s enthusiasm about trying to put even more kits into him two days ago most certainly didn’t help the situation.

Anyways, Swiss gets out of bed to relieve the pressure on his bladder. He’s been having to do that quite a lot lately—the kits are barely fig-sized, but relentlessly kneading on his insides already.

When he comes back to the nest Mountain is still asleep, but beginning to stir—probably having sensed Swiss leaving his arms, so he goes right back in, snuggling against the earth ghoul’s side.

He lays his head on Mountain’s chest, right above his heart to listen to its steady beat, and takes the sleeping giant’s hand to intertwine their fingers and put their hands over his stomach. Over their kits.

They’ve been doing that a lot lately, too. Just touching; holding.

Proud of themselves.

“Hmph…good mornin’,” Mountain rumbles after a few minutes, still so very sleepy.

“You know what day it is today?” the multi ghoul jumps straight to it, barely able to contain his excitement.

“‘S too early to know the year, m’darlin’,” Mountain replies and it’s a…fair point. Instead of explaining, Swiss chooses to show him his phone and the pregnancy milestone notification—after turning the brightness all the way down—and his mate lights up. “Fuck, already? I’m so proud of you, my heart. I love you so much.”

Swiss attempts to reply in a similar fashion, but Mountain doesn’t let him—he rises up on his arms and all but crashes his lips into the multi ghoul’s. They both giggle into the kiss and both their eyes might be a little damp.

When they’ve had enough, they decide to update the pack, too. Swiss pulls up their group chat and hums.

“Okay, what about…” he starts, reading out loud for Mountain as he types, “Hi, everyone! Me and Mountain are pleased to announce that our kits have been cooking for 3 months already and that it’s no longer a secret. I know some of you (*cough* Aurora *cough*) have been waiting for an opportunity to gossip with some of the Siblings, so here’s your cue.”

“Sounds perfect,” the earth ghoul chuckles and Swiss hits send. He puts the phone away, but it’s no longer than a few seconds before a series of pings sounds from it; surely congratulations. And maybe one offended ‘hey!’.

Mountain and Swiss snuggle for a little bit longer before the multi ghoul’s stomach begins to loudly rumble and the pair decides it’s time to go feed their kits. They’re alone in the commons for the most part and only stumble upon the ghoulettes a few hours later—closer to lunchtime—when they go out for more food. Swiss has to eat for four, after all; although now his appetite is more like of…fifteen.

“That was unnecessary!” Aurora points out, referring to Swiss’ morning message. “I am not that much of a gossip monger, thank you very much.”

It prompts a series of chuckles and raised eyebrows from ghouls and ghoulettes alike, and Aurora gives up. “You’re the worst.”

“We love you, too.” The multi ghoul blows her a kiss before turning—or rather attempting to turn and getting stopped by a sharp pain in his lower back and wincing. Mountain immediately puts a gentle hand on his waist.

“Hey, are you alright?” Cumulus is the first to ask with worry clear in her voice.

“Yeah, it’s just the kits are starting to get heavy,” Swiss chuckles as he gets on his tiptoes to kiss Mountain’s cheek, “and my beloved mate got too excited about calling me mommy and blew out my back on Friday.”

“Mountain, you brute!” Aurora gasps, hitting the earth ghoul on the arm. “How could you treat him like that!? He’s pregnant!”

“Ow!” he whines. “It’s not my fault! You should’ve heard him teasing me!”

“Unbelievable,” Sunshine shakes her head dramatically. “Unbelievable!”

Swiss laughs, “It’s not that bad, honestly, I just–”

“Nope,” Cirrus interrupts him. “We are stealing you.”

“What?”

“We are stealing you, Swiss Ghoul,” she repeats, “for a mandatory SPA day.”

“Yeah,” Cumulus adds, “cause apparently someone has forgotten to take proper care of his pregnant mate!”

“Look at his hair, too!” Sunshine exclaims, grabbing one of the multi ghoul’s locks for an even more dramatic effect.

It’s all jokes, of course. They all know how much Mountain is doing for Swiss, how much he worries and how good he is for him. Still, a day with the ghoulettes most certainly can—and will—benefit the multi ghoul.

He turns his back to the girls for a second to whisper into Mountain’s ear, “I don’t care what they say, you take the best care of me, my love. Always.”

When Swiss pulls away, the earth ghoul is blushing lightly. He leans down in a request for a proper kiss before his mate actually does get stolen away. It is granted, and the ghoulettes all roll their eyes at the pair.

“My hair does need some attention, though,” Swiss giggles, looking up at Mountain apologetically. He pouts and whines dramatically, slumping over—Swiss knows it's an act but his heart still aches a little. He’ll definitely make it up to him later.

“Fine,” the earth ghoul grumbles. “Are you gonna come back for the night?”

“I will, my love,” he smiles, “I will.”

With that Swiss’ arms get grabbed and then he’s being quite literally dragged away into the ghoulette’s room. The girls are giggling and it's contagious—the multi ghoul joins in soon enough.

“Bubble bath first,” Cumulus orders, “then hair and…the rest, and the massage at the end.”

“Hey, I’m not that neglected,” Swiss grumbles with faux offense as the ghoulettes look him up and down; planning.

“I’m gonna run that bath,” Aurora giggles and disappears into the bathroom, with Sunshine following closely behind.

“Can you still lay on your stomach or are you too far along for that, spark?” Cirrus asks the multi ghoul and he blushes when he realizes he doesn’t know the answer. He’ll have to ask Omega about the acceptable sleeping positions. “Okay, we’ll play it safe. Give us a second.”

Swiss nods and moves back to give some space to the bustling about ghoulettes. They’re preparing cosmetics and clothes and bedding and–Swiss doesn’t know what half of these things are.

“The bath is ready!” Sunshine calls out and it makes Cumulus pause whatever she’s doing to herd the pregnant ghoul into the bathroom. His eyes widen when he gets in; first of all it’s huge—the ghouls are allowed to visit the girls there rarely enough that Swiss has forgotten just how spoiled they are—but second of all, it smells divine.

“Damn,” he sighs, “I don’t know what y’all put in there, but I might just start drooling.”

The girls giggle, proud of themselves, and urge Swiss to undress and get into the bath. He just about melts when he does get in—it’s so hot and comfortable and smells so good. He moans dramatically as a big portion of the tension in his muscles evaporates, making the ghoulettes giggle.

“Relax for a moment,” Aurora tells him, “we’ll come get you soon.”

“Uh–huh,” Swiss nods, already well past relaxed. He might as well doze off for a little bit as he waits for…whatever it is that he’s waiting for. He sighs and slides down deeper under the water.

Swiss moans as he feels Sunshine’s fire magic swirl around him. He smiles as it mixes with a gentle air current, Cirrus’, if he’s not mistaken. It spins and curls, gently pushing on his tired muscles and wrapping around sore joints. It feels like molten honey, a soft wave of almost-too-hot lava getting into all the tender spots in his body and melting every ache away. Swiss lets out a deep, contented sigh and lets his mind drift to the soft music playing in the background.

The bathroom door opens quietly and Swiss hums in acknowledgment of whoever is poking their head in.

“How is it going in here? You feeling up for some company and haircare?” Cumulus asks softly.

“So good,” Swiss moans, “and yeah.”

Cumulus chuckles and opens the door wider. Sunshine follows, closing the door again before they both come over to settle on the edge of the tub where Swiss is resting his head on the most comfortable bath pillow imaginable. 

He keeps his eyes closed, listening to the ghoulettes getting ready to take care of his hair. He hasn’t been exactly neglecting it—far from it—but he hasn’t been really prioritizing his hair care routine, either, the last few months. He thinks that it’s fair, all things considered. 

“I’ve been tinkering with some hair and body products since I retired. I want to make personalized products for everyone, and when you told us you were pregnant I decided to focus on perfecting yours first,” Sunshine says, on his right.

She taps his shoulder lightly and Swiss cracks an eye open as she pulls up what looks like a bar of soap the color of a late august sunset. Swiss takes a deep breath and can’t help but let out a deep groan. It smells fantastic; like oak barrels washed with pine and orange blossom. There’s even a hint of jasmine in there.

“This is a shampoo bar I’ve made specifically for your hair and your locks. The scent should complement your natural one, bring out the whiskey and musk. What do you think?” 

“You’re absolutely incredible, Sunny,” he gasps. “Don’t be surprised if Mountain sends you a gift basket, because this smells amazing.”

The ghoulette’s trilling laugh makes him smile as his eye falls shut again. His hair gets soaked, and he hears the girls lather the shampoo on their hands and then he’s on the receiving end of a truly spectacular scalp massage as Cumulus and Sunshine wash his hair. He’s in bliss as they wash, rinse, condition, rinse again, and then go over retwisting his locks at the roots, so they are nice and neat. He feels truly pampered.

“Are you okay with me trimming that bush you managed to grow between your legs?” Sunshine asks with a raised eyebrow—a clearly judgemental look—at some point, when he’s about to get out of the bath.

“That’s one way to put it,” Swiss giggles, “but yes.”

“Listen, I have no idea how Mountain isn’t spitting out hairballs after every time he eats your pussy, dude,” she throws her arms up with a laugh. “You’re hairier than Aether!”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Cirrus throws in, “but I am curious…how does this not work like velcro with Mountain’s pubes when you fuck?”

Swiss can’t hold it together anymore. He bursts out laughing so hard the muscles of his stomach start to hurt and the ghoulettes aren’t looking much better. None of them can calm down for a good while.

Sunshine does take care of Swiss’ bush—and his body and facial hair in general—when they do calm down, though, and the multi ghoul appreciates how casual it is. He loves his family so much.

Lucifer really couldn’t have chosen a better pack for these kits to be born into.

The girls get him into the bedroom again and move onto his nails, next. Swiss feels a little silly with four ghoulettes sitting at four of his limbs and taking care of his hands and feet. His nails get trimmed and cleaned and his cuticles get pushed back and they put some kind of slime on it…Swiss doesn’t ask, but it all feels nice.

He also doesn’t ask when his whole body and face get covered in different textured cosmetics. The multi ghoul feels as if he has been dipped in oil, but thankfully it absorbs into his skin soon enough, leaving it incredibly moisturized.

Soon enough Swiss gets covered in actual oil, though. The ghoulettes put him down on his front on something that is, essentially, a big donut made of their bedding, so his baby bump is safe and not squished. When he’s settled, they pour a warm massage oil onto his lower back and get to the massage part of their SPA day.

Two sets of hands cup his ankles, moving slowly up his calves to the backs of his knees. The warm, gentle pressure feels amazing as the oil is spread out. The hands move back down again, thumbs digging in slightly as the smooth movement forces his muscles to relax. They rub slow, gentle circles into the back and side of his calves, dipping carefully into the divot behind his knees when they’re at the top and then pinching softly at his ankles when they go down again. Swiss’ calves feel like they’re made of butter and the girls move down to his slightly swollen feet.

There are two sets of hands on his shoulders, too. They move slowly down his arms, firm and steady pressure going all the way from his broad shoulders down to his wrists. Just like with his calves, there are thumbs digging into his muscles, going in gentle circular movements on the way back up. 

He can’t help but moan as deft fingers press into the arch of his feet and the center of his palms, moving in patterns he can’t possibly follow with his mind right now. He doesn’t know how he’s going to tell Mountain that this might actually feel better than sex, but right now Swiss is certain he has never felt better. 

When he’s sure he couldn’t possibly move his limbs, the hands on him do move. The ghoulettes at his feet slide their hands up to his thighs, and the two up by his head move onto his shoulders and back. The back of his thighs, and even his ass, get the same treatment as his calves. Gentle, big movements going up, and strong clever fingers working out knots—he didn’t even know about—going down. 

His soul leaves his body when the hands on his back start their magic. As incredible as everything has been up to now, this is way beyond any bliss he has ever experienced. Four strong hands that must belong to Cirrus and Cumulus, he now realizes, rub firmly up and down to warm him up before they start to gently knead every sore part on him so good that his whole body is vibrating with the strength of his involuntary purrs.

Thumbs and knuckles move in circles and arches, they twist and drag over his muscles with perfect pressure. The ghoulettes must have a lot of experience doing this because with perfectly synchronized movements they use their knuckles to move up along his spine from his tail to his shoulders where they spread out and dig into his shoulder blades. This must be what it is like to have wings and fly, Swiss thinks.

Cumulus and Cirrus keep up this movement while Sunshine and Aurora mimic them with the pads of their thumbs up and down Swiss’ tail and across his lower back.

A solid six hours after Swiss has been snatched, he is nothing but a pile of purring goo. He still insists on returning to his mate for the night, though. The ghoulettes shrug—when they deem him pampered enough—and let him go, pleased with the outcome of the kidnapping.

Mountain seems to have attempted a nap, which didn’t quite work out, because when Swiss slips into their bedroom the earth ghoul is drowsy, but perks up immediately. His mate joins him in their nest.

“How was your SPA day?” Mountain asks before breaking out into a yawn.

“Oh, dear Lucifer, my love,” Swiss sighs dreamily, “I think when the kits are born we need to figure out a way to get you knocked up, so you can experience the utterly unreal and soul-shattering bliss of a SPA day with a four ghoulette full-body massage obliterating all the aches and pains pregnancy causes.”

“Good to hear,” the earth ghoul chuckles and nuzzles his nose into the dip in Swiss’ neck. “You smell so good, darling. I missed you.”

“Oh, come on,” the multi ghoul giggles, “it’s only been a couple hours.”

Mountain doesn’t confirm, nor deny—he grumbles under his breath and latches onto his mate with no intention of letting him go. And he will not; at least not until the morning.

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[greetingfromthedead]

Five Hugs (Vash x GN!Reader)

Plot: Five occasions, worthy of a hug. (5 drabbles)

Series: A Set of Five [more coming soon]

Pairing: Vash x GN!Reader

Raiting: Everyone

Tags: fluff, no use of "y/n", a touch of angst, cozy, cuddles, dancing, Vash being a hero as usual, affirmation, Vash just deserves a hug in general

Word count: 2k

Author's Note: I've been torturing Vash a lot lately so I decided to give him five hugs. Probably five kisses soon too and if there is something else you want to see, let me know.

You had to run again. Chased out of town for something as little as showing your face at the saloon. Or rather, it was Vash's face that sparked the whole ordeal. The bounty on his head doesn't make it easy to take life slowly and enjoy it. But you refuse to leave his side.

You slide down along the smooth surface of the rock. The suns beating down on you as you grip the water bottle tightly in your hand. Your heart beats ferociously in your throat, and you wait for it to calm down to take a sip. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, trying to focus on the sound of your tomas rattling her gear.

"Well, where should we go now then?" Vash's calm voice asks, breaking the tension in the air.

You don't answer him, instead leaning your head back against the hard rock. The fear finally leaves your bones, as you know you are far enough away from the town to be safe. It still stings to be treated this way, to constantly have to be on edge and alert.

"We could head more east; we should come across a small village before nightfall. Maybe we can camp in someone's attic. Hopefully we can stock up on water too." He sounds so lighthearted and carefree as he starts formulating a plan in his head.

You watch him with curiosity after drinking from your flask. He turns his head from side to side while looking into the distance before taking off his glasses and inspecting them. He seems to find a spot on them as he grabs the lower edge of his black turtleneck. He pulls it up to rub the lenses with it. The small action reveals a bit of his scarred skin on his stomach, which he usually carefully hides under fabric. This simple act reminds you just how much he trusts you. He wouldn't willingly show his old wounds to just anyone.

"Are you okay?" you ask quietly, but just enough for him to hear you.

"Mh?? Ah, yeah, I am fine." Vash straightens his shirt again and puts the glasses back on. "Eehh, I don't really care if they chase me and try to capture me for the bounty. They have their own problems, and I'm sure that money would help them. I'm just worried I will drag you into the crossfire."

You noticed the change in his carefree tone towards the end. He does worry about you a lot. Despite what he says, you know that the truth is a whole lot more complicated. He holds no grudges against anyone, but you doubt that he doesn't care. A man who loves humanity so deeply is bound to have his heart broken when he is forced away from what he holds so dear. You can see the pain in his eyes, despite his attempts to hide it.

Words don't come easy in this situation. What could you even say to that? Instead, you push yourself up again, slide the flask into the saddlebag, and walk up to Vash. You glance at his curious eyes, but you can't force your gaze to stay on them. You approach him decisively and only stop once your arms wrap around his torso. The moment your head rests against his chest, you squeeze him tighter.

He stands there with surprise for a moment before putting his arms around you too, his gaze softening as he holds you close. You don't say anything; instead, you just bury your face in his black shirt and hug him as tight as you can. He has been through so much in his long life, and you can't change the past. You are powerless against the present, and perhaps there is nothing you can do about the future. All you can do is hold him close and show him that you care. That you believe in him.

"Thank you." Vash speaks softly, his large hand stroking your head.

A loud bang echoes through the town square just as the grip of your captor loosens around your neck. A collective gasp echoes through the crowd of onlookers, and you push yourself free, running towards the source of the noise.

"Son of a…!" The enraged voice of the bandit leader calls out, but you keep sprinting without looking back. You hear the slightest thump behind you as his gun hits the ground, but you don't care anymore. It's like you can still feel the barrel pressed against your temple, the tears of fear turning into ones of relief in your eyes.

You jump into Vash's arms, knowing that you are finally safe. He catches you with his left arm, the prosthesis wrapping tightly around your back as your feet lift off the ground. His right hand still holds his gun, ready to take another shot as needed. You bury your face in his shoulder, feeling grateful and protected. He turns his whole body and sets you back on the ground, positioning himself between you and the bandit that held you captive. You hear him whisper, "I've got you now."

Even as your grasp on him loosens, his stays firmly around your shoulders, pressing you more into him. He's not letting go. Your vision is obscured by his large coat, and you don't see as the large man is being cuffed and dragged away by the others. Only then dares Vash to put away his weapon into its holster and release his tight grip on you. He grabs your upper arms and leans back as he looks you over.

"Are you alright?" he asks with a tremor in his voice. He notices the redness on your throat, and his fingers gently touch the bruising skin. "I am so sorry!"

"I'm okay! I'm okay!" you say frantically as you nod, your breath escaping you in short gasps.

"Thank goodness!" he exclaims, relief washing over him. He grabs you into a tight hug again, his cheek pressing against the top of your head.

"Would you do me the honor of joining me for a dance?" Vash says with a crooked smile as he offers you his hand. You blush a bit at his public tomfoolery and down the rest of your drink before leaving the empty glass at the bar. You take his hand with a smile.

"Gladly," you reply softly as his fingers grip yours. You feel a rush of excitement as he leads you onto the dance floor. The saloon is filled with lively music and people dancing to the beat. The liquid courage definitely helps you in this situation and gives you the confidence to let go and enjoy the moment. Vash's hands rest on your hips, and yours find his shoulders. A goofy smile is plastered on his face as he starts to lead you in a twirl. He does not mind that he occasionally bumps into someone else or that a few people start laughing at his exaggerated style. He is just too excited to have you in his arms, dancing with him. Their laughter is drowned out by the music and the joy in his heart. The giggle that escapes you as he sweeps you around only encourages him further, making him take longer steps and turn you faster. He chuckles at your expression, and one dance turns into many.

You have no hope of keeping up with his long strides, and as you get more and more tired, you end up stumbling over them a few times. His arms keep you steady, and your clumsiness only makes his smile wider. The looks of others do not matter; all you see is Vash's enchanting face, and all he sees is you. In that moment, you realize that you are exactly where you are meant to be, no matter how ridiculous you might feel.

As you gaze into his eyes, your foot gets stuck behind his again, but instead of just keeping you steady, Vash pulls you up and wraps his arms around you, right under your butt, to keep your feet off the ground. You grab him into a hug, giggling by his ear as you hold on to him. Vash twirls you about and continues to dance around the room as you embrace each other.

Vash lays halfway on top of you, his head resting on your chest, his arms wrapped around you. It is a peaceful night as you've settled into an abandoned house in an empty village. The room is dusty, but it is cozy and filled with a sense of safety and warmth. Your fingers brush through his hair as you listen to the sound of his steady breathing. You know he isn't asleep yet, but there is no need to fill the quiet of twilight with words. You both find refuge in the peaceful silence that envelops you.

Vash is curled up against you, his legs somewhat entangled with yours. The tall and surprisingly burly man seems almost tiny as he enjoys your touch, your other hand resting on his back. He takes comfort from your heartbeats under his ear and the feeling of your touch. Anywhere is home if you're by his side. Your hug is all he needs to feel safe; your love gives him the strength to face anything.

You let your nails run over his scalp, and you feel a slight shudder move through him, a little moan escaping his lips, a sign of pure contentment. You wish you could wrap him up more, keep him even closer, and protect him like he protects you. You want to keep him in your heart, protected from all harm. But the best you can do is this. Having him hold on to you, your arms around him, as he snuggles close all night, or at least until you need to settle into a position more suitable for sleeping the night away, but even then, he enjoys your cuddles and doesn't want to let go.

"Are you sure about this?" you ask as you look up at him, pain reflecting on your face.

"Yes. I have to. I am the only one who can put an end to this," he says, but his eyes are down turned and mournful.

"Then let me come with you!" you insist, grabbing hold of his right sleeve.

"Please…" he says with a sigh, his tone pleading, "I need you to evacuate as many people as you can, even if it is only yourself."

You look at him dumbfounded and then turn your head to look at the streets of July. The town is massive; how can he expect you to make any difference here in getting people out? Wouldn't you be better off with him, trying to prevent the thing that could put people in danger?

"I need you to be safe," he murmurs, his voice full of concern as he takes your hand into his, squeezing your fingers gently. You can feel his worry radiating off of him. He has so much on his mind; you know he doesn't want to be worrying over you too. He wanted to leave you at Home, but you refused. You need him on his A-game for this, you have realized just how dangerous the situation really is.

"That goes for you too!" You press, "You have to come back to me! You understand? You have to! So promise me!"

"I promise, I will come back to you!" He says resolutely and releases your hand, instead pulling you into a hug, and you melt into his embrace, your arms securely around him.

"Can we wrap this up already?" the dark haired man asks, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.

Vash holds you tight for a moment longer, ignoring Wolfwood as he leans closer to your ear.

"I love you," he whispers, his breath tingling your skin.

He lets go, and you take a step back, looking at him with determination. You will both get out of this alive.

Did you like this? Go check out my MASTERLIST and drop a follow for any and all future projects!

[grandmasterswife]

Cramps and Comfort

->Summary: reader woke up with period cramps and her boyfriend, Rafe is there to comfort her.

->Warnings/Tags: mentions of blood obviously, not canon Rafe at all, idiotic boyfriend but in an endearing way, fluff.

->A/n: not proofread, I wrote this within an hour this morning, probably not the best work. it’s short and sweet >:)

You felt a rush of pain in your lower abdomen upon opening your eyes. Your legs instinctively lifted as you twisted your upper body, trying to find a position for relief.

You would have kept trying had your boyfriend not been blissfully unaware, sleeping beside you. His chest rose and fell at a slow pace, so even though you wanted to be in his arms, you decided to let him sleep. You got up quietly and slowly, with every step to the bathroom you nearly winced in pain.

After sitting down on the toilet, you looked down and saw streaks of blood between your thighs, and blood-soaked panties. “Damnit.” You brought your elbows up, setting them on your thighs so you could rest your head in your hands.

You heard steps coming towards the bathroom door followed by a light knock.

“If you need to pee, you’re gonna have to wait.” Your voice came out low and gravelly. There was no part of you worried about him coming in, he’d seen this many times before now and he never made it a big deal.

The door opened, “Why? Are you taking a shit?”

“No, Rafe. M’not taking a shit. I started my period.”

His joking banter ended with that sentence, an understanding tone took over. “Do you need anything?”

Still with your head down in your hands, you reply “Yeah, can you plug in my heating pad? I’m gonna take a quick shower.”

You can hear foot steps walk away so you get up and flush, walking to the sink to rinse the blood off of your panties. You open the door to your closet, grabbing a new pair along with an oversized shirt before turning on the shower and getting in.

You twist the nob to the hottest setting your body will allow, and after washing your body, you let the water run over your lower back. Rafe re-emerges and peaks his head into the shower curtain, “You doing okay?”

You give him a look instead of replying.

“C’mere.” He reaches his arms out and places a hand on your waist, using his free hand to caress you while you continue standing underneath the water.

“You’re gonna get all wet. And the floor.” As good as it felt, you were concerned about his clothes and the water that was now splashing outside of the tub.

“I’ll clean it, baby.”

You closed your eyes and sank into his gentle touch. His fingers brushed against your skin, lovingly moving up your back and back down again. After two years of being together, he had picked up on a lot. The first time he was in your presence while it was this bad, he had asked you what felt like a million questions.

“Are you hungry?”

“Do you want to be alone?”

“Am I talking too much?”

“What’s the difference between these pads? Which one did you say you wanted?”

By now, he knew what kind of mood you were in, what you needed and how to proceed. You never asked him to, but he loved you and it was a way he knew how to show that.

It wasn’t long before your uterus decided you’ve been standing for long enough, causing a groan to escape your lips. “Can you hand me my towel?” You turn off the water.

“I’ll be right back, I’m gonna go grab a rag to clean the water up.”

You nodded your head, grabbed a pad and put it into place, sliding your panties on. After putting on your shirt, you slowly made your way to the bed and laid stomach down on the heating pad. You heard Rafe enter the bathroom, coming out only a minute later. The bed sunk further in as he got on, inching closer to you and you turn your head so you can look at him.

He takes his hand, rubbing your lower back again, this time going even further down to your ass. He lightly squeezed it before going back up. If you weren’t in pain, it would have turned you on. But you were just comforted by his touch.

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” You joke.

“Could never resist an ass grab. It felt good though, huh?” He smirks at you and you return a smile.

“Come closer, I wanna lay on you.” You remove the heating pad from underneath you, laying it on your back. After your boyfriend turned from his side onto his back and opened his arms, you crawled towards him, hiking a leg up to wrap around him and laying your head on his chest.

His arms tighten around you, holding the much needed heating device in place. “You’re so warm, it’s like I have a portable heater for a girlfriend.”

You let out a laugh and feel a kiss being planted on your head. Your pain had subsided and you felt yourself dozing off from feeling an occasional cold thumb stroking your skin.

[gingernut1314]

Follow pt. 2

Dio Brando x F!Oc

Summary: Elise has been following Dio around Liverpool for weeks. A stalking that has not gone unnoticed by him.

Warnings: light stalking, canon typical violence (pushing, threats of death and harm), name-calling, takes place during JJBA part 1

Word Count: 1.9K

Setlist: Dio x Elise playlist

Tag list: @cinnbar-bun @lostfirefly

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Elise followed Dio. 

She had been following him for weeks now, watching his every move.

She needed to know him. Needed to figure out just the right way to introduce herself to him. 

Elise couldn’t just walk up to him. No…no that would be utterly preposterous. 

So she kept herself in the shadows as she followed him through the city of Liverpool, keeping far enough away she could always turn and pretend to be minding her own business. 

Elise noticed he hardly talked to the city boys constantly surrounding him. Boys who shouted every word they spoke and shoved each other around like a bumbling collection of barbarians. 

Dio remains voiceless. Calm. His every step was filled with a confidence that seemed to come to him oh so naturally. A confidence that poured from his very aurora. Confidence that only heightened that power Elise saw shimmering in his golden eyes every time she caught a glimpse of them. 

The only time she ever saw him speak was when that Joestar boy was mentioned. Then he had much to say. Such belittling and harsh things. Things he used in comparison to his achievements. 

However, as soon as those oafs that followed him around like a herd of mutts began to agree and raise him up, Dio would go silent again. Silent despite the storm raging within his golden eyes. Eyes so full of hellfire and loathing it almost always stole the very breath from Elise’s lungs.

Even in his wrathful moments, he was beautiful. 

As the clock struck five, Dio’s swarm of oafs dissipated and he began his trek home as he usually did. Elise was quick to follow behind, keeping further away than she had been in the city, seeing as the way home was a mere road surrounded by a few trees and grassy planes. 

Elise had just made it to the beginning of the pond the path wound around when a gaggle of giggling girls rushed past, knocking into Elise. Her handbag had hardly hit the ground before she grabbed the nearest girl in an iron-like vice. The girl gave a pained screech at the grip Elise had on her.

“Let me--”

“You best watch where you are going.” Elise grit, willing her green eyes to sharpen into deadly blades. 

“We were just having a bit of fun.” The girl said with a roll of her eyes, going to yank her wrist from Elise’s hold only for Elise to double down in her grip, pulling her closer. 

“Shall we have some more fun then?” Elise asked, voice growing ever colder. The girl’s eyes widened as she fought to gain her wrist back. Her friends called her name in question but Elise’s grip never gave in. “How about we play a game? I will give you, oh let's say to the count of three to apologize for being so utterly careless and if you do not apologize I will break your wrist.” 

“W-what? Let me go!” The girl shrieked, a noise that grated on Elise’s every last nerve. 

“As soon as you apologize,” Elise said, her grip growing tighter and making pain flash high in the girl's eyes. “One…two--”

“Okay! I am sorry! Let me go!” The girl screamed just as her friend came over, ready to defend her. Elise let her go and the girl clutched her wrist to her chest, whipping around to rush away. 

“What just happened?” One asked, as the girl bumped into her in her fearful panic. 

“Nothing. Let us go home.” The girl rushed off, and with a quick glance towards the glaring Elise’s way, her friends rushed off after her. 

Elise huffed in her utter irritation, finding Dio had disappeared from her sight during all that hubbub. She reached down, swiping up her handbag from the dirt path. Her journey home continued as she wiped the dirt and dust it had collected off. 

“Did that poor, stupid girl truly deserve all that?” A smooth voice asked her as she began passing by a collection of trees. 

Elise paused. 

Her heart began to beat rapidly in her chest. Her stomach twisted. 

She knew that voice. A voice she had only heard from afar before but one she had committed to memory. 

When she turned her eyes to gaze upon his majesty, her heart all but stopped in her chest. 

Dio Brando stood there, leaning against the rough bark of one of the trees beside the path. His golden eyes, ones she had wished and prayed to look upon her were trained intently on her now. Golden eyes that were all too calm and guarded as they took in her features. 

“And you would not have done the same had such an immature thing disrespected you as such?” 

“No. I would not have.” Dio responded quickly, pushing himself off the tree in such fluid grace Elise had never seen before. Elise’s breath caught in her throat as he grew closer, leaning down so that those sharp golden eyes of his could bear directly into her own. “I would not have given her a countdown before snapping her wrist in two.” 

Elise’s heart restarted in a flurry. Her cheeks heated and her lips parted on a shaky inhale of breath. 

Dio smelled of labdanum and vanilla. Warm and sweet and slightly woodsy. It was a scent that filled Elise’s very soul. A scent she would not soon forget and one she was already calculating in her head which shops in the city might sell. 

“As I should do your own for following me as you have been.” Elise blinked at his statement. Not at the threat of harm her way but--He…he knew she had been following him?

Of course, he knew. 

She must be as dimwitted as those girls who had run into her to think he would not catch her in the act. 

“I assure you, I have not done so out of any ill will,” Elise spoke, her voice growing quiter in her growing embarrassment. 

“Oh? Is that so?” Dio’s smooth voice questioned. Elise kept oh so still as Dio began circling her like a predator would do its prey. “Tell me; you are that pesky Pendleton girl’s sister, correct?” Elise felt her eyes prick in anger at the mention of her younger sister. 

“I am.” She said, unable to keep her voice from sharpening the slightest bit. “And you are that bleeding heart Joestar’s adopted brother.” Dio paused just behind her. She could physically feel that hellfire which burned in his eyes all put seeping out of him. 

“You understand I do not believe you wish me no harm. Not when your dear sister is fraternizing with my dear brother.” Elise could feel the brush of his breath against the shell of her ear as he spoke. It was a ghost of a touch that sent her body buzzing and heart fluttering all over again. “You following me for three weeks makes me believe Jonathan must have had his sweetheart tell you to do so.” 

“And what would they have me do exactly?” Elise asked, her voice coming out as a mere whisper. 

“You tell me.” The sudden grip Dio had around Elise’s wrist pulled the smallest sound of shock from her lips. Had her whipping around to face him and all his stunning glory. Face the bloody threats he was stabbing into her with those sharp eyes. “Shall I give you to the count of three before I snap your wrist or should we skip right to it?” 

He looked heavenly. 

Oh just how divine he looked standing over her like this. Looking at her like he wanted to murder her. 

Power. 

It was just a show of all the strength he held at his command and Elise needed to be under its protect. 

“If you must know,” Elise said, some how having the will to find her own voice against her storming heart and drying mouth. “I have been following you because I cannot help it.” Dio’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening. 

“What?” 

“I…I saw you when I moved back home. I could not sleep and went for a walk and--” She took another shuddering breath in as she thought back to that night. To Dio walking under the moonlight looking like some fallen god. “If--if I may be blunt?” Dio’s golden eyes scanned over her features, still guarded and ready for whatever attack he had expected before. Eyes which now held--uncertainty in them. Confusion as to what she was going on about. 

“Go on then.” 

“I feel in my heart you are destined for something more. Something I wish to aid you in.” Dio continued to watch her in that angered confusion. Continued to try and find her motives. 

“And how would a sniveling girl like you do such a thing when I need no aid besides the aid I give myself?”

“I have been known to…dabble…in fourtune telling.” Dio let her wrist go in a bellowing laugh. A laugh that Elise found herself enraptured with. 

“You have wasted my time, girl. Fortune telling.” He continued to laugh. He laughed so hard a bit of his usually pristinely kept hair came undone, falling across his forehead.

Elise kept still. Kept quiet as she watched him. Because even when he showed mockery and unbelieving, she had seen the look in his eyes. A look past his anger that showed that need to know. To have his future secured in such a way. 

“That Joestar boy is holding you back somehow. I’ve seen it and you are working to rid yourse--” Before Elise could finish her thought, Dio grabbed hold of her cheeks with his hand in a bruising hold, baring his rising anger into her. 

“You will cease your jabbering.” He all but roared in her face, his anger escaping its cage and spewing forth like some raging river. “You will cease your following of me or I shall do more than break your wrist. I will take you over to that pond just there and hold you down until you cease to exist.” Elise’s breath halted in her lungs. 

Biting cold water invaded her mouth and eyes and nose and throat. 

Breathe, breathe, breathe! Her body commanded yet could not obey.

Dark, cold hands crept their way closer and closer to her. 

Clawed hands. 

Death’s hands.

Survive, survive, survive!

Dio shoved Elise back as he released her. A push hard enough to send her falling onto her rear, her breath growing ever more heavy in her chest and tears burning at her eyes. Tears that had nothing to do with the small hurts blooming over her skin.

The sun cast a golden halo around Dio’s wrathful form. 

God. 

He was a god. 

He had the power to keep her safe from death’s cold hands and the power to guide those very hands to find her throat.

And Elise could not help but adore him. Need him. The small love she had been harboring for him only grew with every hissing word and harsh promise he made.

Dio watched her for a moment longer, looking as if he was trying to wrangle back his anger before continuing on his way home. Elise stayed down in the dirt and watched him go. She watched him until he had long since disappeared from sight. 

Elise pulled herself to her feet once the fear coursing through her veins subsided. Once her breath evened out and her eyes stopped burning. She brushed her blue dress off before following down the path he had taken home.

Previous | Next

[writersmorgue]

Febuwhump Day 5 - Rope Burns

a personal favorite :P

TWs in tags || read on Ao3 || wc: 881

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈

Hanta releases some tape from his arm and kicks a piece of metal sticking from the roof. Deeming it sturdy, he wraps the tape and clutches Mina tightly to his chest with his free arm. 

“Meens, you gotta hold on, okay?” He says into her ear, steeling himself when he feels her grip on his neck tighten weakly. 

With one last glance at the wave of oncoming Nomu, he steps off the edge. 

He braces his legs on the bricks in front of him and begins to cascade down the building. The roar of the villains grows louder. 

If they get caught again, they’re dead. Mina can’t fight after what they did to her legs and he’s practically useless against the winged Nomu. 

He falls faster, immediately regretting not verbally warning Mina when she whimpers and shifts enough in on his chest to tip their weight too far to the side. 

“Shit!” He yelps, his boot slipping from the wall. His legs dangle, the weight of both him and Mina on his single tape strand almost unbearably painful. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck, what do I do?!

Mina gasps at the sudden movement, her broken legs dangling uselessly as she begins to slip from Hanta’s grip. 

She digs her fingers into his neck, whispering frantically, “Hanta please don’t drop me. I don’t want to die, please please… I’ll hold on I promise I’ll do better!”

“Shh,” He sighs into her hair, hoisting his knee up to rest under her. He mentally prepares himself, loosening his grip on the tape ever so slightly, testing his grip, “You’re gonna be okay.”

He lets them drop. 

Immediately he feels the skin on his palms protest. Although he has thicker callouses than most from training, not even leather could withstand this much friction at such a high velocity. 

Something is screeching in his ear, but he can’t tell if it’s Mina or the wind.

She’s clutching onto him with more force than he expected, but honestly, the pain in his shoulders from her weight is helping distract him from-

The tape breaches his skin, digging directly into the meat and nerves of the crease between his thumb and index fingers. 

He yells, eyes watering as he tries to look up at his hand. 

Blood is spraying up into a fine mist, the rest staining the tape pink as he slides down. 

He grits his teeth, shaking his head and checking their progress. They’re pretty close to the ground now, considering. 

How the hell am I going to stop us enough to now decimate both our legs? If Mina takes another hit that hard I’m not sure she’ll make it. 

A blood-curdling hum pierces through his body, raising goosebumps across his skin and painful shivers down his back. 

Fuck, it hit the bone. 

Screw hitting the ground too hard, if it saws through my hand enough I won’t be able to hold us at all. If we freefall now, it’ll still be ten stories.

He thinks for a moment; Using his legs is impossible at this speed, he doesn’t have the strength to wrap his hand again, and recruiting Mina in any capacity is completely out of the question. 

He can only think of a few options, but all would cause him serious injury. 

Fuck, they’re falling too fast even with his hand. The only other option is death for both of them. 

He knows Present Mic is somewhere under them, so he just needs to be alive on the ground, and they’ll be okay.

Hanta breathes heavily through his nose, readjusting Mina in his arms so his other elbow is pointed upwards enough…

Now just to get the timing right.

He waits until he sees the glow of the street lights in his peripheral to let tape out of his other arm, giving it some slack before slowing the feed slightly-

Pain erupts from both of his shoulders, the bones cracking loud enough to be audible through the noise around them. 

Shit, too fast!

They jerk to a stop, Mina tumbling out of his arms only a few feet to the ground below. 

His head falls back, jolted by the stop, and he’s unable to muster the will to move anymore. 

“Cellophane!” Mic shouts, sending a bystander to drag Mina out of the way. 

Hanta is just dangling there, he can tell his dispensers are down to their last few inches without time to recharge. 

He’s sure pulling his arms out of their sockets didn’t help, but what little he can feel of his elbows burns like hell. 

Hanta groans loud enough to signal life, allowing Mic to cut his tape and grab onto him. 

There’s noise from above them, and the winged Nomu must not have been far behind because Mic pulls his head into his chest and activates his quirk into the air. 

Hanta winces at the volume and cries out in pain when Mic begins to run while carrying him. He can feel the arm not tucked between him and Mic dangling uselessly, sharp pains running up his arm to his upper back. 

“You were awesome, kid.” Mic says quietly once they’re inside the building, “You can rest now.”

Hanta grimaces weakly, though he would be grinning if he could. 

He did it. 

[saibug1022]

WIP Whatever-Today-Is

I got tagged by @aces-and-angels to share some WIPs, so I'm gonna show off some some Blades ones, an Elementalists one, and a few It Lives ones I never finished and I'm very excited. I'm gonna tag @oh-so-youre-a-nerd because I know full well you have more wips

Blades

First up, a little Tyril Hurt/Comfort, set during Ch 8 and during that time when we were all headcanoning the experimentation and torture Valax did:

“I’m sorry,” Asterin mumbled.

“No, I am,” Tyril protested immediately. He offered his hand and visibly relaxed when Asterin immediately took it. "I didn't mean to scare you. That's the last thing I ever want."

“I know,” Asterin said. “Trust me, I know. It’s okay.”

“Stop saying it’s okay,” Tyril replied. He clutched Asterin’s hand in both of his. “Me scaring you like that is abhorrent. But I am worried about you. That’s an Amulet of Rotem isn’t it? It’s an illusion charm. I know things have changed but we’ve never hidden things from each other. I shudder to think you feel the need to hide things from me and lie to me now.”

"...you're right," Asterin confessed. He kept his voice hushed. He wasn't sure why. Maybe he thought if he could barely make out his own words they wouldn't be real. "It's an illusion charm. I got it from Nia, but she doesn't know what it's for. It makes me look how I did before Valax."

"Do you look different now?" Tyril asked, matching Asterin's tone. Asterin nodded. "How?"

Asterin tried to answer but the words were so quiet not even their shared elven senses could pick it up. He wasn't even convinced he said anything at all. How could he say something out loud? How could he think about it long enough to give voice to his pain? Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as his frustration grew until finally he squeezed his eyes shut and took the amulet off. 

There was no flash of light like he was used to with magic but he surmised from Tyril's sharp intake of breath that everything was now on display. He didn’t even need to look. He’d spent enough time staring at the scars in horror before making the request of Nia upon finding her again. 

The most subtle were the pinpricks dotted all over his wrists and neck. They could almost be mistaken for freckles. Sometimes he could even pretend that’s all they were. But those were the simple ones. Also scarring his wrists were jagged cuts, lined up one after the other, and on his palms as well. With the charm off Tyril would also be able to see the way his hands shook now, a tremor he still couldn’t explain nor remedy. He assumed it had to do with the damage to his hands and wrists. A harsh claw mark was emblazoned across his face, a hair’s breadth away from his eye.

But worst of all were the last two. On his chest were three precise lines, two that started near his soldiers and went inwards until they met and went straight down in a “Y” shape. And on his back were the burns. At least, he thought they were burns. He had no way of knowing for sure.

Next we've got one that has the working title of Aerin Retrieval, which I think says everything on its own

“Aerin.”

Aerin nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned around quickly, both because of the sudden voice and the person it belonged to. Sure enough a familiar elf was leaning against a nearby tree. Aerin had always thought the phrase ‘glaring daggers’ was ridiculous but it fit the expression he was receiving now.

“Tyril,” Aerin said slowly. “You found me.”

“It wasn’t difficult,” Tyril scoffed. “For a spy you are dreadful at covering your tracks.”

“I wasn’t a spy,” Aerin muttered petulantly.

“What would you call your betrayals then?”

“Why are you here Tyril?” Aerin sighed. “Drag me back to my cell? Kill me?”

“Oh I’m going to do much worse than that,” Tyril said.

He slowly advanced toward Aerin and despite everything Aerin had faced he still backed away from the elf. But Tyril had the longer stride so before Aerin could get far enough Tyril was right in front of him. He reached forward and Aerin tensed up.

“OW!”

Tyril completely ignored his complaint and continued dragging Aerin back the way Tyril had come. By. His. Ear. Aerin was forced to just stumble along after him.

-.-.-.-.-

“Where did you go?” Asterin wondered.

“I found this,” Tyril explained, and dragged a struggling form out of the shadows by their hood. 

“Well I’ll be damned,” Mal chuckled. 

“Aerin?” Asterin said as he got to his feet. Aerin didn’t meet Asterin’s eye, instead focusing very intently on brushing himself off. “Aerin!”

Aerin finally sighed and looked up. “Hello Asterin.”

“So it is you,” Asterin replied.

“Yes it is,” Aerin mumbled. “I’m sorry?”

Asterin didn’t say a thing. Instead he walked right up to Aerin and punched him in the face hard enough to send the prince sprawling into the dirt.

“Asterin!” Nia scolded.

“Don’t stop him, this is great,” Imtura laughed. 

“I deserved that,” Aerin admitted.

“You deserve SO much worse,” Asterin growled.

Elementalists

This is a scene from my own personal lore, where Apollo (going by Eli at this point) finds out his foster parents erased his memories. It'll eventually be Griffin x MC but I didn't get far enough XD

“We’re so sorry this is how you found out…”

Eli could barely breathe. Tears burned his eyes as the words written on that letter played on repeat in his mind, completely drowning out Professor Athantis’ lecture.

Everything Atlas said was true. Eli had managed to swallow down the idea that he had a secret twin brother and his parents weren’t his real parents. He’d gotten past that. But that wasn’t all they lied about. They’d erased his memories. He didn’t get sent away until he was six. They erased six years of memories of his real parents and his twin. They let Eli go through his life lost and aimless, knowing those memories about his twin and magic would fill that missing piece. He was walking around with a void in his chest his parents own parents caused. No. Not his parents. His foster parents. Eli wasn’t even his name. 

“Mr. Pierce!” 

Eli looked up and saw the entire class and Professor Athantis looking right at him with varying degrees of concern, confusion, and irritation.

“You’re blinding the class,” Professor Athantis explained, their tone urgent but gentle. Eli blinked and glanced to the sconces along the wall lit with magical light and realized yes, the small orbs were much larger and brighter than normal. Eli cursed and took a deep breath, forcing the lights to dim back to their normal levels.

“Sorry, mx,” Eli muttered. 

“Are you okay?” Shreya asked him. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for half the class.”

Eli opened his mouth to tell her but then paused when he realized he couldn’t. He couldn’t tell her what was going on without mentioning Atlas. Not only was this eating him up inside but he couldn’t even tell anyone about it! Atlas didn’t even know how to deal with his own emotions, much less Eli’s. Professor Swan would panic and defend his foster parents. And no one else could know about Atlas or his parents.

“I’m fine,” Eli ended up saying.

It Lives Anthology

A cute little idea I had of the Eclipse giving Shadow!Val some level of coherency and form again :)

“What do you want?” Lucas asked sharply, not bothering with any sort of pleasantries. “Why are you the one calling me instead of Connor or Ava?”

“Because it isn’t about the monsters and shit,” Noah answered. “It’s about Val.”

Lucas stood up so fast his chair fell backwards, causing his poor roommate, James, to startle. Lucas didn’t pay them any mind though, hurrying out of his dorm and the building as fast as he could, pausing behind the building where he wouldn’t be overheard. Noah would occasionally send him pictures or little messages from Val when Val asked him too but that was all. If Noah was calling him about Val then something happened, something bad. Lucas’s veins felt like they were filled with ice.

“What happened?” Lucas demanded. There were so many things it could be, spinning through his mind. Val disappeared, somehow he got hurt, he forgot them, or worst of all he’d somehow gotten corrupted and turned from their sweet little playful ghost into a monster like Redfield or Jane.

“Relax dude, it’s nothing bad,” Noah replied.

“Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” Lucas snapped.

“Okay I deserve that,” Noah muttered and Lucas resisted the urge to verbalize his agreement. “I called instead of texting because I figured you’d want to see this and you only have tonight.”

“What is it?”

“You know how tonight’s that lunar eclipse?” Noah asked.

“Yes, it’s the only total lunar eclipse over Westchester in a hundred years,” Lucas replied. “I don’t think you’re calling about astronomy.”

“No, I’m calling because of what it means for the Power,” Noah confirmed. “Or magic. Or theyre the same thing, I don’t fucking know. Point is, Ava called and said the lunar eclipse is a time of clarity for spirits, when their humanity and shit becomes stronger. She called to tell Karter because of the shit going on with his sister and she said it only applied to human spirits so we didn’t think it applied to Val but…”

“He’s coherent?” Lucas’s eyes widened.

“As coherent as he can be,” Noah answered. “He’s still a little jumbled but he’s talking in full sentences and…and he’s singing again.”

This is a hypothetical scenario I came up with during ILW's release where the only way to close the breach would be for all people with Power in them to be gone too, meaning all three It Lives MCs

It was supposed to be over.

Matthias was defeated, Adrian and Marianthe were dead. The witches were free. The blood moon ritual was stopped and the horrors were cured. The Power was purified. It was all over. It was supposed to be over. They were supposed to get to go home, to live. Yet Castor found themself staring at the spirit of Loha, her words taking up all their thoughts.

“No,” Val shook his head, his voice shaking but Cas couldn’t tell if it was rage or fear. “No, no, I’m not-, no. You’re lying or you’re wrong.”

“I’m afraid not,” Loha seemed to have a bit of sympathy in her face as she looked at Val. “The breach has to be closed or this will happen again. There will be nothing and no one to stop it, not even a purifying anchor.”

“This is sick,” Leon snarled. Him and Val were the only ones in the cave with Cas, the only two that could make it far enough in. “You, you did this to me! I didn’t get a fucking choice! It’s your fault I have to do this!”

“I can’t,” Val’s hands fisted in his hair. “I can’t do this, not again, no.”

“It is what needs to happen,” Loha replied to Leon, ignoring Val but Castor came to his side and wrapped an arm around him. He didn’t even seem to notice. “The three of you are different from everyone else. Everyone has a connection to the Power, though some connections are stronger which is what gives them their powers. But you, each of you have a piece of the Power within you. As long as it’s there the Power can never truly be sealed away.”

“NO!” Val looked up, his face twisted with rage and he took a step forward that shook the entire cave. His voice wasn’t quite his, it echoed before it even reached the cave walls. Behind it was a chorus of whispers that made Castor shiver. “I’m not doing this again! I sacrificed myself once and I don’t regret but I am NOT letting it happen again and I am not letting Leon and Castor die!”

Last one, the start of Abel proposing to Castor <3

Castor was always colorful. Everything about them was so vibrant and so full of life. Being around them made the world seem brighter, from the green of life to the blue of the sky. It was in their smile and their laugh and of course in their eyes. It was absolutely beautiful, how they made the world so much more wonderful for everyone around them. For most it was their presence and their kindness and humor, but for Abel it was their love.

And among all those colors, the most Castor of them all was gold. The cyan of the Power was there, of course, in their powers and their eyes and Abel wouldn’t trade that for the world. But their soul was gold. It was bold like jewelry, it sparkled in their eyes, it glowed in their smile. It was warm like the sunlight lighting their face, turning their skin a warm brown.

Right now their eyes were closed and for once their muscles were relaxed. They breathed evenly as the golden light from the sunrise shone on their face and Abel knew if their eyes opened they’d reflect that light like stars. But he was content to watch them sleep, happy to see the softer side of his bright lover. For it was in these moments that somehow Abel loved them even more, because while Castor lit up the world of everyone else this was something only Abel got to see. The part of them that was soft and vulnerable was for him and him alone. 

Castor trusted him and loved him, they took care of him and let him take care of them. It was the kind of thing he’d always wanted with someone and Castor not only made his dreams come true but surpassed them. It was why Abel wanted to spend the rest of his life with them. He always knew he wanted to but in these soft, small moments was when he felt it the strongest.

Castor let out a small yawn and shifted, causing a twist of hair to fall in front of their face. Abel carefully reached out to tuck it behind their hair and Castor leaned into his hand without even waking up. Abel knew he must look ridiculous smiling as big as he was but he didn’t care. Castor made a small hum and their eyes blinked open, brown and cyan finding him and causing a smile of their own to appear on Castor’s face.

“Hi,” They said, their voice barely above a whisper.

“Hi,” Abel replied, his voice just as quiet. “Did you sleep well?”

“Well with such a handsome man in my bed how can I not?” Castor leaned up and pressed a small kiss to Abel’s lips. It was barely a peck but it still warmed Abel from the inside out. This was what he wanted. Mornings like this where it was like the world faded away and that light of Castor’s was all his. Mornings and nights were there was no Power, no monsters, no ghosts, no classes or jobs, just Castor and Abel getting to be Castor and Abel. No more, no less. 

“Can I ask you something?” Abel found himself asking. For a moment he panicked. He knew where his train of thought was going and he had an entire plan in place. But as Castor’s curious eyes met his, he thought damn the plan. He reached up and trailed his fingers along Castor’s cheek. Castor opened their mouth and Abel rolled his eyes fondly. “And do not say ‘you just did’.”

“Well, way to take all the fun out of it,” Cas pouted. “Fine, go ahead. What do you want to ask?”

Abel just smiled and rolled out of the bed leaving Castor laying there very very very confused.

[inzaynety]

he's a biter! ⤫

➢ summary: once you’re in his sights, hoshina has no choice but to leave a mark; or all the times he thinks it’s okay to sink his teeth in you and a time you return the favor

➢ content: hoshina x fem!reader, 2459 words, biting, some blood, suggestive & sex / nsfw, 3+1 things, friendship with okonogi & gen

➢ notes: so this man single handedly brought me back all motivated lol also i caught up on the manga ahaha and reader is a commander 🥴

check out the continuations!

You could say that being bit by a Kaiju was inevitable.

Everyday, going out and defending the public from them is your job and it always comes with risks. Hell, your arm was nearly chomped off yesterday if you weren’t quick enough to dodge right then and there.

Scratches, bruises, scars—all were familiar and just part of the job. It hurts, it stings, it stays with you until you do so much fighting you can just brush it off as another Tuesday.

They were Kaiju. They didn’t care.

You hiss at the sharp pain on your shoulder, your face giving way to an exasperated expression as you try to finish making breakfast.

That was not from a Kaiju. This one cared.

His teeth are sunk into your skin with enough force to leave yet another lasting mark. You can feel Hoshina smile against you before he pulls off, pressing small pecks to the dents and priding himself in feeling you shiver in his arms.

“You’re an animal,” you say, pushing an egg onto his plate but don’t make a move out of his arms. His bare chest is warm and you want nothing more than to fall back to sleep at the feeling. But that would mean commending his actions and his head is big enough as is.

“Am I, sweetheart?” Hoshina’s voice is low and gravely from sleeping so deeply only minutes before he decided to insert himself into your personal space. His hands trail delicately along your waist as he noses along the column of your neck, “Ya never push me away so I bet yer lovin’ it…”

You don’t say anything and he takes that as your answer, chuckling when you huff. He watches as you place the very hot pan down before he begins finding another suitable spot to continue. He settles on the back of your neck and while this time his bite isn’t so sudden, it still stings nonetheless.

“See?” He gently licks at the forming bruise and the lilt in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed. “It’s a lil too late and I know ya said I couldn’t leave anythin’ while you work, but please? Can’t let my girl go without a few more.”

Weighing out the options in your head, you realize you could never say no to him. So for the rest of the day you sport new red accessories that feel itchy underneath your gear.

Okonogi is a good friend of yours and she, along with the rest of the Third and at your own station, knew of yours and Hoshina’s relationship.

Your presence at the Third Division base wasn’t expected but was certainly not unwelcome from the multitude of members coming up and asking for tips or an autograph (Iharu was guilty of this and received a plethora of pushups as punishment). But your reason for being there was a secret to them.

“What are you doing here?” The familiar glare on her glasses catches your eyes first. Despite having your title, you were friends first and foremost so the flick to your forehead wasn’t a surprise.

“Ow! What the hell?” She only motions you out of her chair and places her items that you only shifted around in the mission of finding a pen to make some doodles to leave there for her to find. “Is it a crime to want to see my friend from time to time?”

Okonogi sighs but there’s no annoyance on her face upon seeing you again. It had been a while since you’ve talked in person but you supposed a time outside of work would’ve been better. If anything, you took the opportunity to tag along with your station’s operations leader and members to head to third.

Sora pokes his head in, still starstruck being in the presence of your friend while simultaneously being the professional he was. “Miss Okonogi? Do these numbers look right?” She stands up from her chair and walks over to him, hovering over his shoulder and giving pointers.

You take the opportunity to sit in her chair yet again and swivel around, looking at all the monitors and suits in the room below the control area. Feeling the stare of the third’s operation members beside you, you turn your head and greet them.

“Welcome to our base, Commander!” One of the younger ones says and you laugh at his enthusiasm. You were about to say something until you felt a rather unexpected sting on the top of your right ear. Immediately, you cover it only to have your hand caught by the culprit.

“Yes, welcome Miss Commander.” Hoshina has that grin he always bears and the surrounding third members avert their gazes upon the situation their Vice-Commander has created. Okonogi and Sora watch from the side, unimpressed with what was about to unfold yet again.

You hadn’t had the chance to tell him you were visiting as you thought it would be the day you could surprise him. He had been in training with one of the newer recruits so it wouldn’t hurt to visit and sneak up on him. So imagine your own when he did it instead?

“Sosh—Vice Commander Hoshina, what are you doing?” He only shrugs and stands back up, smiling oh so innocently.

“Nothing really.” And he just up and walks out of the room, leaving you in a flustered mess. You couldn’t even face the eyes on you and the look of unamusement from Okonogi.

The way back to your division’s building was full of teasing remarks while Hoshina felt no shame at all in the confines of his office.

Narumi Gen is the Commander of the First Division. The strongest soldier with the eyes of the oldest numbered Kaiju. Narumi Gen is also the bane of your existence.

“I didn’t come all this way for you to shit on me!”

"Well, if you didn’t play so shit, maybe I wouldn’t!”

You’re both cooped up in your apartment away from the outside world, and with him barging in on your day off, you had no choice but to let him in at his persistence. That and with the threat of losing your BS5 to him after his own miraculously broke.

You roll your eyes when he sticks his tongue out at you but quickly return them to the game at hand. It was 2-1, best out of five with you in the lead for keeping the console you so definitely paid for, but your car was miles behind it and it was already the last lap. Gen was radiating smugness from beside you and you couldn’t even reprimand him for it when he passed the finish line with ease, not even giving you time to throw that last blue shell for the hell of it.

“Why’d you play so shit?” If you weren’t such close friends.

“Shut up.” You groan and stand up to refill your glass before the final round.

“Get mine, too.”

“No.” He knows you don’t mean it when you’ve already grabbed his cup so he’s content with pulling out his phone and posting a story about his victory. Stepping into the kitchen, you pull open the fridge door for the juice. As you’re pouring both cups, there’s a knock on your front door.

You place everything back and leave the cups on the counter as you go to answer it and your mood shifts when you see him.

Hoshina’s holding up bags of snacks with a wide smile that you can’t help but kiss him. He reciprocates and you would’ve spent more time there if not for the annoyance in your background.

“Come on, I gotta be back before 10 or Hasegawa’s gonna be on my ass!”

“Good!” Hoshina chuckles and closes the door behind him, following you back into the living room as you bring the drinks. And right at the site of him, Gen shoots up from the floor and points at Hoshina.

“Hey, what is this asshole doing here?”

“Nice to see you, too!”

Gen’s eye twitches and he gulps down the entirety of his juice. You’re in the background looking through the bags Hoshina brought with the knowledge of their one-sided rivalry. See, before you even got together with Hoshina, Gen would talk your ear off about how much he hated the guy and you prepared yourself for the worst for if you ever had to meet him.

Well, that backfired for your friend.

They continue to bicker until you wave around your controller, catching both of their attentions, “Wrap up your cat fight so I can win.” Gen gives a final scowl and sits on the couch for the finale. Hoshina, in a mindful attempt to give the other more space, sits on the floor between your legs, his back leaning on the couch with his cheek resting on your thigh.

The race starts and it’s a map you’re not so good with. That’s already a disadvantage on top of it being one of Gen’s favorites. The race goes on and the closest you can get is 2nd with Gen reining in at 1st for the last few laps. You click your tongue and hope that one of the blocks would give you some sort of miracle item.

Hoshina watches as you get so close to becoming first and immediately loses it once you turn a corner, feeling the frustration from behind him. The first thought that comes to mind might have not seemed beneficial in the moment, but it would kill two birds with one stone. Or, well, three.

He turns his head just a little bit and bites your leg. You make a noise and distract your friend beside you who can see what’s happening in his peripherals.

“What the hell? Don’t do that when I’m right here!” That’s just enough time for Gen to miss his last drift and allow you to pass him right as the finish line comes into view. Gen sees this and curses under his breath, throwing his held item he manages to get in the middle of it all (a blue shell, figures) to stop you in your tracks.

Though, he didn’t expect the boombox you’ve been saving.

Suffice to say Hoshina’s plan did the three things he accounted for: getting you out of that frustration, annoying Gen, and satisfying himself.

You were just happy you got to keep your BS5 for that week and Gen wished his eyes could’ve told him what was going to happen.

With the job comes a busy schedule, but at least the nights were for you two alone.

It’s humid in the bedroom but neither of you cared amidst the hushed gasps shared. Despite being far from the station it seemed that these quiet habits were hard to break thanks to a certain someone.

Your eyes are glazed over and Hoshina places a hand on your face to keep your attention on him. “Tired out?” You hum into his palm but shake your head. You can feel him shift inside you, slowing his movements to make sure you were there.

“Just a ‘lil more, please?” Hoshina crumbles under your words and what kind of lover would he be if he didn’t indulge you? He kisses you softly before running his hands down to your hips, lifting them up slightly and you sigh at the adjustment. “Soshiro!”

“I got you, darlin’, relax f’me.” It's hard when his words fire you up more than you’d like, but for him to continue you had to oblige. Soft caresses on your skin and whispers of sweet nothings in your ear brings you so, so close.

But it’s not enough.

His pace is slower this round, him being mindful of how many times you’d come already but he’s also holding himself back and you can see. Through the tears in your eyes you look up and see the sweat on his face, his neck, and dripping down his chest. He’s straining, veins prominent in his neck and arms are telling.

Lifting your arms up you wrap them around his neck, pulling him down and burying your face into his shoulder.

“Faster, please. Soshi—“ You can’t even get his name out as he’s already fulfilling your wishes. Your moans are right in his ear, driving him to reach both of your climaxes as soon as possible. It’s been hours since you first hit the bed and the feeling never gets old. Especially when he finds that spot in you that has you seeing white, and especially when he releases his warmth soon after yours.

The feeling’s too much, your nails scratching down his back and your body shaking from the last of the night. It’s right there in front of you and before you know it, you’ve latched your teeth onto his shoulder. A hybrid of a whine and moan escapes him with surprise as he tries to ride out the aftermath.

“O-Oh, shit.” He chuckles and his hips stutter, “That’s dirty, sweetheart. Not fair for ya to be doin’ that.” You release him and lay back onto the mattress and with the energy you have left, you look at him again. You wish you could remember the view forever.

Hoshina’s covered in the sheen of sweat, either just his or both of yours, and there’s a sly smile on his face. His crimson eyes are right on you with the most mischievous yet adoring look in them—the color of which matches the liquid seeping from the mark you just left.

“Wait, baby, you’re bleeding—“ You feel weak and disoriented but still have half the mind to try and reach to the bedside table for a tissue, but he catches you by the wrist.

Hoshina presses a kiss to the inside of your palm and settles you back onto the sheets, “Don’t worry about it, I can tell ya like lookin’ so enjoy it a lil more.” He lets go of your arm and leans down to place a light kisses to your neck, suckling on the soft skin he can reach. You were already teetering on the edge of sleep and his ministrations were aiding in that.

Your arms come up to pull him down to you and he doesn’t resist. Not like he would’ve anyway.

“Soshiro?”

“Mm?”

“I love you.” Your voice is quiet and you think he doesn’t hear it. But Hoshina starts to smile against your skin and bring you impossibly closer to him. Lifting himself up a bit, he catches your half-lidded gaze.

You always say this after every night you spend together and he never gets tired of it. You couldn’t deny it even if you wanted to, but he cherished you just as much.

“I love ya, too.”

©inzaynety 2024

[cavalierious-whim]

Childe is away at work, Zhongli is in heat and Ekaterina gives him the strap to ease the pain until his husband comes home.

Happy Kinktober! Day one is Pegging, and I couldn't resist. Please mind the tags. Don't forget you can read the fic here on AO3, and you can follow me both on Twitter and Blusky!

--

“Katya.”

Ekaterina blinks. Stills slightly as she tilts her head. Zhongli answered his door with a flushed face and strangely dressed down in nothing but loose trousers and a silk robe, open at the chest. Sweat slicks his brow as if fevered. His posture is bent, unsteady, as if drunk. Warning bells went off the moment he poked his head through the door, hair mussed and askew, but it wasn’t until he spoke that it became clear: something is amiss.

It is always Miss Ekaterina. Thank you, Miss Ekaterina. Good to see you, Miss Ekaterina. Please send my regards to Ajax, Miss Ekaterina. Childe is the one who calls her Katya and while he doesn’t throw it around randomly in public, he does call her such around Zhongli. A testament to their trust. 

But. 

“Mr. Zhongli,” she starts, “are you alright?”

“I…” Zhongli flounders. “Yes. I’m okay. I am—” Tongue-tied and hoarse. Ekaterina’s gaze narrows as her expression cools. Zhongli swallows thickly. “That is to say, I will be fine.”

Ekaterina blinks again. “I promised him I’d keep an eye on you.”

“Miss Ekaterina—”

“Oh so now it’s Miss Ekaterina? Not Katya?” Ekaterina is not unkind as she retorts. Her tone is pinched with concern, just like the space between her brows. “I stopped by Wanmin to pick up lunch only for Xiangling to tell me you hadn’t shown up for two days. She was concerned, and now I am.”

“I—”

“Don’t take that tone with me. I’m no fool. I know who you are but you forget that my job is to babysit a Harbinger. An old, retired Archon is no different.” She huffs. “Now, what is wrong? Are you sick?”

Zhongli does something she’s never seen him do before—he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Then he shudders as if he’s in pain, breath hitched. A soft whine. “It is—”

“If you say nothing I will send a missive to His Lordship right now.”

Zhongli’s back straightens. His expression is wide-eyed and eager. A small pout quirks his mouth. “Would you?”

Ekaterina’s gaze narrows. He knows that she has direct contact with Childe and that he can be back within a day at most—he’s off doing work but he isn’t so far away as to be unreachable. At first, she thought that perhaps Zhongli was merely under the weather. He often mopes when Childe must travel, but this… is very different. 

“Zhongli, you aren’t dying are you?”

Zhongli laughs at that, a barking sort of sound that nearly makes her jump. “Ah.” Suddenly, he is quieter. Weary, worn-thin, and exhausted. “No, it is nothing like that. I will confess, though, Ajax’s presence is the best option for a speedy recovery.”

“The reason being?”

Zhongli takes too long to answer. Ekaterina watches his throat bob as he stalls. Why is he so embarrassed? Zhongli rubs his chin, considering exactly how to respond. “Miss Ekaterina,” he finally says, “I apologize for putting this bluntly but I’ve gone into heat.”

Every thought in her brain thuds to a halt. He’s what now?

“With Ajax as my mate my cycle has—” Oh gods, she doesn’t want to hear this. But Ekaterina listens with supreme, morbid curiosity as Zhongli paints out the situation in horrific detail. “—I miscalculated,” he then murmurs. “Or perhaps it is my age. I am not so surprised that such things are no longer… regular. Regardless, with Ajax currently working out of town, I am left sick, bereft, and with the overwhelming need to be filled and bred—”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” cuts in Ekaterina. “I get the picture.”

“So if you could kindly reach out to Ajax and request that he come home early, I would appreciate it.”

A beat of silence passes between them. Ekaterina has never felt so awkward or out of her depth. “And you?”

“And me?”

“Will you be…” She gestures vaguely.

Zhongli’s resulting laughter is dry. “I do think that I can manage until he finds his way back home. It is uncomfortable but it will not kill me. I’ll do my best to sleep it off.”

“What if I fuck you?” Ekaterina says it before she can stop herself. Godsdamn intrusive thoughts. She didn’t mean to say it aloud, and in a rare moment of losing her cool, she slaps a hand over her mouth. Oh, Celestia above. “I… well, I just meant like… to take… the edge… off?” It gets worse the more she speaks but she’s dug her grave. She may as well lay in it. 

Zhongli, though, to his credit doesn’t even bat an eye. Instead, he leans against the door frame, his robe slipping down his shoulder to reveal smooth, pale skin. Ekaterina’s gaze drops. She can’t help it. It’s more of the man than she’s ever seen before. 

“Perhaps, not the worst idea,” he says.

For the second time, Ekaterina’s mind reels to a stop. “What?”

Zhongli looks bemused. “You suggested it, Miss Ekaterina. And Ajax has mentioned that you’ve—”

“He’s what?” Ekaterina is not the embarrassed type, and she certainly isn’t bothered by her past exploits or whatever fun she and Childe may have… indulged in previously. Still. She clears her throat and collects herself. “I didn’t realize that he was so candid about his past… conquests.”

“In sordid detail, I assure you.” Zhongli’s mouth twists into a smirk. “Though one could argue that it was your conquest instead of his. Teasing aside, I would accept your offer provided you reach out to Ajax first.”

Ekaterina licks her lips. She can’t believe that she’s considering it and she can’t believe that Zhongli would entertain the idea as well. I’ve fucked a god, said Childe one night to her with lips loosened by Fire Water. It was a religious experience. Consider me now a devout follower on my knees for Rex Lapis at all times. 

“Alright, then,” she says, looking Zhongli square in the face. “I’ll send a messenger out, telling Ajax to come home and tend to his husband, and until then, I fuck you.”

“Pristinely stated, Miss Ekaterina. A contract then, set in stone. I’ll leave the door unlocked for you—just be sure to latch it when you come back.”

His eyes glow gold as their agreement settles into place and Ekaterina doesn’t know if the shiver that goes down her spine is lust, or whatever power still lingers in those old bones of his.

#

Childe’s occasional, last-minute vacations now make sense. 

The room is dim aside from one candle that sits on the bedside table, flickering. It smells like sex; sharp and tangy. But something else, too; honeyed and sweet, earthy and intimate. Ekaterina didn’t know she had instincts until she had Zhongli under her hands, melting into the sheets. 

She drags her hands down his sides, tracing slim muscle, the lines of his ribs, the sharp jut of his hip bones. Never has a man been so desperate for her touch—not even Childe in the throes of his Abyssal insanity. Zhongli is not just another animal, he is an entire beast laid bare before her, swathed in soft silk sheets. 

The bed dips underneath her weight. Zhongli watches her with a narrowed, hazy gaze. “Ajax…”

Oh, what a beautiful sound. Ekaterina doesn’t lean close to placate him but her voice is soft as she says, “He’ll be here soon. He promised me. Until then, I promised him that I’d take good care of you.”

“But—”

“Would you like that, Mr. Zhongli?” It is a careful boundary placed, one that all three of them will be thankful for. At the moment, Zhongli is heat sick, his brain muddled. But he nods nonetheless. “Use your words,” she encourages. “I need to hear it.”

“Yes, Katya.” She smiles at that and lets it slip. Katya suits this moment better than Miss Ekaterina anyhow. 

It is perfunctory at best but she cannot help but be aroused. Zhongli is both handsome and beautiful. He sounds divine as he gasps when her hand traces his stomach, just underneath his navel. Her thumb smooths over the taut skin there, dragging in soothing circles. Then it dips down.

“What’s this?” she asks as if she hasn’t already caught a glimpse of the slit between his thighs. 

Inhuman. Woefully different from what she’s used to on herself. Zhongli has no clit, no wet and glistening folds, no dick or balls—which the latter, honestly, is what she expected. Childe has mentioned before that though Zhongli can mold himself into whatever he wishes, he prefers a decidedly male form.

This though—he is still Zhongli, still the man she knows just bits and pieces of him are different. His arms are dark, charcoal black against a backdrop of pale sheets. He glitters with Geo, gold markings etched into his skin like latticework. She was surprised he was still soft to the touch, that his skin felt the same. Antlers crown his head, shadowy and half-formed. Claws prick her thighs as he holds her there. Fangs peek from his lips, just barely on display.

Ekaterina thinks of the mark on Childe’s neck. It isn’t hot—no—but it warms her all the same. Childe isn’t just her boss, he’s her brother, almost. They are thicker than blood and as Childe’s mate, Zhongli is her family too. 

Affection curls in her chest. “Poor thing,” she coos, settling between his thighs properly. Zhongli widens his legs and she gets a better look. His slit is slick, gleaming, dripping onto the sheets, the insides of his thighs coated. “Can I…?”

“Please.” 

Ekaterina drags her thumb across that slit. Zhongli keens, moaning softly as she pets him, her thumb just barely dipping in, testing the waters. Not as pliant as a traditional cunt. Tight and hot around her thumb as she sinks in just the first knuckle. Muscles ripple and—

“Oh,” she murmurs, head tilting as something else slips from just underneath the top of his sheath. Ekaterina practically purrs at the sight, pulling her thumb back out. “So you do have a cock—”

A huff. Even now, Zhongli can find humor in the strange state of his anatomy. “Dragons are—”

“You’re level-headed enough for an anatomy lesson? Later, Mr. Zhongli. For now, just tell me what you want me to do.”

Zhongli groans. “Touch me.” He nearly snaps it, his tone taking on a sharp edge. And then, softer, “Please. Katya.”

She hums softly, watching as his cock slips out. Average length and girth. The spade-shaped tip, though, is a welcome change of pace. “A tight fit?” she teases, tracing the base of the cock with her fingers. 

“My vent—”

“Vent,” she repeats, tongue curling around the word. She spreads Zhongli’s slit, tugging at the edges to see exactly where the bits and baubles are. “A cock here and—ah. There.” 

Zhongli moans, long and drawn out as her fingers ghost the entrance of his cunt. His cock twitches, dripping from the tip. His legs jerk, trying to force her hand into a position where her fingers will slip right in. “Does it ache, Mr. Zhongli?” She doesn’t ask to be cruel; Ekaterina is walking in blind and though she understands the base mechanics, he will have to guide her. 

Still. It’s fun to tease, and Zhongli is a needy thing who begs for her touch. Ekaterina smiles sweetly and dips closer. She is sans her mask, her auburn hair down from its bun, and hanging over her shoulder as she leans over him. “Do you feel empty?”

Zhongli watches her back with glittering, golden eyes. His face is flush. He breathes hard. Claws dig into her skin just this side of painful. His gaze tips down, lingering on the cock strapped between her legs, secured by a thick and steady harness. She didn’t bother to undress fully, but his eyes linger on where the leather tugs at her skin. 

Ekaterina reaches out and tilts his chin up, forcing his gaze back onto her face. “Shall I take care of you until Ajax gets here?”

“Ajax—”

“Soon,” promises Ekaterina. “Until then, I can ease the pain with this, hm? Would you like that?”

Zhongli whimpers, arching in the sheets. “Katya.”

“Use your words.”

“Yes. Yes—Mhmn.”

Ekaterina’s fingers slide into his sopping heat with little resistance. Still tighter than expected; Ekaterina can feel Zhongli’s cock nestled at the top of his vent, crowding the space. Underneath it, her fingers sink deep, searching around, figuring out the spots and angles that make Zhongli lose himself. 

She curls her fingers upwards and he hisses. “There—oh, that’s—”

Ekaterina smirks. The same spot in all consideration, just this time her fingers ghost that semi-rigid base of his dick. Strange and otherworldly. She’s slick to the wrist, Zhongli’s cunt flooding everything between his thighs. 

“I want—”

“What do you want, Mr. Zhongli?”

“I want—” He chokes as her fingers stroke his insides. Ekaterina smiles sweetly, a genuine thing, lacking the teasing edge her words carry. And even then, even though she flirts with the situation, and demands to hear him say it aloud, the point of this is to help, to ease the pain long enough that Zhongli doesn’t go mad with it. 

Ekaterina traces the length of his cock with the tip of her finger. She fucks him with her other hand, three fingers nestled into his cunt. Even this is not enough. Zhongli writhes on the bed sheets. “Ajax,” he murmurs, pained. “I—he needs to breed me. He needs to—”

“What a dear thing you are,” she says softly. “A good mate for him, yes? He’ll be here soon to do just that.”

Zhongli’s hips twitch, rising to meet her hand, driving her fingers deeper. “Katya, please, breed me—”

“No.” 

“Katya.”

“I’ll fuck you,” she says, pulling her fingers from his cunt. His slit is swollen. Slick drips from it, inviting and delicious, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to taste. Even his cock twitches, hard against his belly, making a mess. What a sight. Truly divine. “Easy does it. I know it aches.” Ekaterina pulls Zhongli closer by the hips.

He whines as her cock rubs against his cunt, hissing softly at the cold material. Meticulously crafted Cor Lapis. Ekaterina showed up with her own dildo and its harness, but Zhongli requested this one be used instead and she’s seen Childe’s dick enough to know it’s a perfect replica. 

Ekaterina smiles as she bucks her hips, sliding the length over him until it rests against Zhongli’s cock. “Did you make this?” She curls a hand around both of them. 

“I…”

“No need to be embarrassed. It’s sweet. No doubt our dear Ajax likes it.”

Zhongli whines as she thrusts into her hand. His cock is hard and purple at the strange tip. She thumbs over it, delighting in the groan she pulls from his throat. 

“Fuck me, Katya.” Zhongli’s eyes are sharp, despite his heat. He rolls his hips, forcing more friction against his cock. “Isn’t that why you’re here? To breed me until my mate comes home? It hurts. You offered this, you—”

“Not where you want it.” Ekaterina lets go of their cocks, her hand slipping back to the opening of his vent. She drags her thumb over the slit, just barely dipping into the wetness there. “I’ll leave such things to Ajax. Here, however—” Her hand drops lower and nudges between his asscheeks. Her fingers brush against his hole, finding it already loose and slick. 

That’s a thought, isn’t it? Zhongli fucking his fingers at the thought of being bred. Heat curls in her gut as she imagines it. Ekaterina’s cunt tingles and she presses the palm of her free hand against the front of the harness, grinding it against her clit.

They meet gazes. Zhongli blinks back at her with a half-lidded and ruddy gaze. “I am capable of compromise,” he tells her. 

“Oh? Is that what you older folk call it? Compromising?”

“My mate is gone and I’m in heat. Fuck me, Katya.”

Ekaterina’s mouth curls into a smirk. Oh, she could get used to hearing that. “Listen to you, Mr. Zhongli. I never thought you’d beg me, of all people—” Zhongli snorts, mildly affronted, but it melts into a drawn-out moan as she drags her knuckles over the slit of his cunt. His slick is incredibly viscous, thicker than expected, and would make for good lube. What luck. 

“I won’t ask for you to assume the position,” she teases.

“I could.”

She blinks. “Do you want to? Or would you rather save that for Ajax?” Zhongli’s mouth parts as he thinks, prompting her to continue. “Imagine it,” she says, her thumb dropping to his ass again. “Him, walking in on me fucking you, but I’m not the one you present yourself for.”

“Katya,” Zhongli murmurs, almost sluggish. His lashes brush his cheeks as he arches at the press of her thumb. 

“I’d pull out and you’d roll over, spreading yourself, and then Ajax would breed you properly. Sounds nice, right?”

Zhongli almost trills at her words, a strange sort of purring as he melts into the bed. This is the moment, she supposes. Zhongli is lost in his haze, drunk on the thoughts of his husband instead. She presses the tip of his chosen cock to his hole and sinks in slowly. 

His ass gives way so easily. Zhongli moans, hips rising to meet the slow rolls of her hips, and Ekaterina means to keep it gentle and simple, but he will have none of it. Zhongli curls a leg around her waist and pulls her closer with the strength of—well—Ekaterina forgets she is in the bed of a once archon.

“Look at how well you take me,” she says, watching her cock sink right into the root. “Is that better, Mr. Zhongli?”

It must be. He moans, wriggling his hips, begging for more. And who is she to deny him? Ekaterina promised to help. She slides her hands down the length of his thighs, relishing in the ripple of his taut muscles and the way he jerks at the touch.

“More,” he gasps. “Please. Please—” He lets out a strangled cry of her name when she pulls out to the tip of her cock and slams back in.

Ekaterina fucks him earnestly. The bed squeaks underneath them, bumping against the wall. The wet slap of their skin sings through the air, but she thinks that nothing quite compares to the sounds that tumble from Zhongli’s mouth. She is caught as she watches him, lax in the bed, cock twitching against his stomach, the slit of his vent swollen and pink. 

His ass swallows her cock greedily. She fucks him hard, with sharp, punctuated thrusts, and Zhongli’s claws just dig into her waist as he keens for more. 

Geo swallows the room. That grip that he has on his form slips and Zhongli unwittingly shows off more than he means. A religious experience, said Childe once about fucking Zhongli. Ekaterina sees what he meant. Zhongli is handsome, beautiful, pretty—everything at once underneath her. 

“Katya,” he moans, clinging to her, forcing her thrusts deeper. “Katya.”

She leans forward and the angle changes. She grinds into him, deeply, rubbing herself against the front of the harness. A soft groan. The throb of her own cunt. Even Ekaterina isn’t wholly unaffected. There’s something to be said about bringing powerful men to their knees and fucking them, and though Childe is a Harbinger, Zhongli is a god. 

“Such a good boy for me,” she says then, her words saccharine sweet. “Just like Ajax.” Another lazy thrust into his ass. 

Zhongli’s head tips back leaving his throat bared. Old, bruising marks line his neck and collarbone. His throat bobs as a half-sob flits from his lips. Ekaterina has set boundaries; she won’t press her face into his neck, or kiss, or leave her own marks—but she can dream. 

“I’m—I—”

“Shush.” Ekaterina drags a hand down his front, pinching a nipple. “Just let go. Take my cock like the good boy you are and let go.”

She fucks him languidly, now, sweeping thrusts that strike deep and slide in and out with little rhythm. There is little doubt that Zhongli is still frustrated—his slit is swollen and drenched, and his cock is so hard it looks painful. Combined with his nagging need to be filled and bred, she can imagine that this isn’t enough. 

“Ajax,” he mutters, eyes fluttering closed and thinking of his mate instead.

“There you go,” she soothes. “Think of him. He loves you, but you know that. You’re so good for him—” 

Zhongli cries out as her cock nails his prostate. “There, there—”

Ekaterina holds the angle. She fucks into him, one hand curled around his hip, yanking Zhongli onto her cock. Her other hand sweeps across his body before taking hold of his weeping cock. A choking sound. Zhongli’s eyes are tightly shut, face tilted to the side, mouth parted. A curse—Oh, she’s never heard him curse in such a way before. Not like this. 

“Fuck,” he hisses. Those damn claws prick her skin, a delicious pain that settles as heat in her gut. “Gods, fuck, Katya—” And then softer: “Ajax.”

Ekaterina wonders what his need feels like. Is it tight and white-hot? Is it more akin to cramping, low in his core, a deep-seated desperation to fill the emptiness in his gut, that instinctual need to be fucked full and bred until it takes? Her hand presses against the taut muscles of his stomach, just under his navel. 

“Would it take?” she muses. Her fingers move to nudge at his slit next, fingers slipping into that sopping, wet heat. “Can Ajax breed you properly? Would you want that?”

Her cock drives deep and Zhongli sobs. At first, Ekaterina thinks it is the heavy grind of her movements but then he says, “Yes. Yes, I want a clutch. I want—”

Oh. Oh, this is— 

“Darling boy,” she murmurs. She fucks him on her cock and fingers, watching his rim spread wide around the thick girth of the cock. 

Zhongli is a babbling mess, tears leaking from his eyes, hair mussed and wild. His legs lock around her waist. He meets every thrust, driving her cock deeper. “Are you going to come?” she asks. His cunt squeezes her fingers in response. He’s loose-limbed in the sheets, face hidden in the crook of his elbow. So close to his end.   

Delicious. Heavenly, even. Zhongli barely holds onto his form, the air in the room thick and earthen. 

Ekaterina wonders if Childe knows. Zhongli is heat sick and lost in his passion, but there is no denying the effect his confession had on him. Instinctual or not, he wants a clutch. She curls her fingers inside him again. Thumbs along the base of his cock, where it sits in his slit. Punctuated thrusts that leave her thighs burning, her cunt dripping, and Zhongli sliding across the sheets.

Zhongli comes first, Childe’s name on his lips. Unsurprisingly. But then— “Katya,” he hisses. “Katya, Katya—”

Her thrusts come to a grinding halt. One hand slips into her harness to pet her clit. Ekaterina sighs, sparks zinging up her spine as she rubs herself. She hadn’t expected to get off but Zhongli is too sweet, too beautiful speared on her cock, a wet and ruddy mess. 

“The sight of you,” she says. “Just as divine as Ajax said. Gods. Tell me, Mr. Zhongli, do you want more? Are you done? Do you want me to keep fucking you until you can’t think?”

“More,” he rasps. “More—”

Ekaterina presses back his hips and resumes fucking him again. Zhongli jerks in overstimulation. Ekaterina sweeps her fingers through the come on his stomach, palm pressed to the flat space there, teasing. And he knows it, what she’s thinking, what Childe would think if he saw him like this. Zhongli, swollen with a clutch, cunt shining and wet.

She comes grinding against the harness, white-hot and sharp. She can feel the tang of his power on her tongue. Zhongli glows in the bed, his antlers orange-tipped like the sunset. She fucks him through her orgasm, through his, fucks him until he’s a blob in the bed, heavy-limbed and sore. 

When they’re done, she tosses the harness to the side, uncaring of the mess. Ekaterina kisses the inside of his thigh, Zhongli’s spent and sloppy cunt, and even the tip of his flagging cock before it settles back inside its sheath. And that is it. Nothing more. She lays beside him and pets his hair, combing back his bangs as his heat settles for the time being. 

“I didn’t know you could sweat,” she teases. Zhongli grunts in reply, leaving her to chuckle softly. “Such a sweet boy.”

“Like Ajax,” he mutters.

Ekaterina’s gaze sharpens at that. “We should share a drink another time. You can tell me exactly what it is he’s told you.”

Zhongli manages a small, tired smile. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? There are some things better undiscussed.”

“I was there for it,” she counters. “It’s not as though I don’t already know.”

“Yes, but—”

“But I’ve seen your…” She gestures between them.

Zhongli sniffs. “Hopefully for the last time.” 

Yes, actually. Hopefully for the last time. As fun as this was Ekaterina is now wracked with post-nut-clarity and the absurd horror that she’s fucked her boss's husband. 

“Rest,” she says. “I’ll clean up. Ajax told me he’d hurry home so I can’t imagine he’ll be much longer.”

Just as Ekaterina is about to slip from the bed, Zhongli grabs her wrist. “Katya,” he mutters, his voice nearly lost in the pillows. “Thank you. I know that you don’t quite understand but please be aware that I don’t let just anyone into my nest like this. I—well—”

“Your trust in me is noted.” Ekaterina taps his nose. “Not that I was concerned. Now rest.”

Zhongli makes a sound as if to protest, but Ekaterina pulls away. She picks up their mess and bathes quickly using the wash basin. Zhongli is dozing when she slips back into the covers. He mutters Childe’s name as he settles against her, tired and sleepy, and Ekaterina sighs as she combs through his hair.

Later, the door opens quietly and Childe’s head pokes through the door. His gaze is frantic, half-wild the moment he feels the charged air. Something about being mated, she assumes. Zhongli still rests, cheek pressed against her breast. 

Childe’s gaze softens at the sight of them. “How is he?” he asks as he kicks off his shoes and pads across the room.

“Beat. I didn’t—” Ekaterina sighs softly as she begins to extricate herself from Zhongli’s clinging grasp. “It’s slowed but it hasn't abated, I suppose. I didn’t fuck his…” She makes a crude gesture, unable to say the word. “Though he wanted me to. I talked him into waiting for you.”

Childe looks exhausted but begins to peel off his clothing. “Words cannot describe my thanks, Katya. He talks a big game but when he’s like this…”

“Oh, I saw. Needy thing, isn’t he?” Childe rubs his chin and cracks a grin. “Well then, with you here, I’ll take my leave. I cleaned the equipment he chose and left it in the bathroom to dry.”

“He chose?”

Ekaterina gives him a sly smile. “Bold choice to make a cock designed after yours. Also, speaking of—”

“Katya—”

“I would appreciate it if you kept our past exploits private.”

Childe winces. “It was bedroom talk! And it was…” He swallows. “You know what? No. I won’t apologize.”

Ekaterina expects as much and just chuckles softly. Zhongli stirs in the bed, a soft whimper bubbling from his throat. Ekaterina shoots Childe a look. “And that’s my cue.”

Childe hooks his fingers around her elbow for one last pause. “Really, Katya. Thank you.”

Her gaze shifts into something cool and she smirks. “Intrusive as the thought was, did you think I would say no? No, it was truly a divine experience, as you so eloquently once described. That being said—never again. Now tend to your husband and give him that clutch he’s been begging for.”

“I—what?”

She barely registers his flabbergasted face before slipping through the bedroom door and shutting it behind her. And, as Zhongli earlier requested, she remembers to latch the front on her way out.

[qkmlh]

Y’ALL MEET STAR AND STRIPE AKA AMERICA’S NO. 1 HERO WHO WAS MENTORED BY ALL MIGHT

[thetaleoflevi]

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Being Human

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Pairing: Levi x fem!reader

Content: NSFW, Modern AU

Content Warnings: 18+ smut, period pains, mood swings, reader feeling invalid as a woman and Levi comforting her, massages, fingering, unprotected penetrative PIV shower sex (BE SAFE), period sex, I still don’t know how to tag things, but it’s 18+ smut! (x2)

Word Count: 3.0k

Description: Reader is on her period and has a breakdown when asked what she wants to eat for dinner. Levi does whatever he can to ensure that Reader is okay. After all, he’s never been squeamish around blood.

A/N: This is pretty self indulgent of me since I wrote this during shark week, but it’s also the quickest thing i’ve written since I first started this blog. I also wanted to say, thanks for all the support on my all my fics. Thank you for 360 followers �� Trust me, it motivates me to no end. I’ll post something in honor of those milestones I didn’t show public appreciation for. Much, much, love for you all 💙 Enjoy :)

⭐️Taglist: @urfilgoth

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“What do you want to eat for dinner?” Levi asks, drying his hands with a towel after he finishes washing the dishes. He leans against the counter next to you, watching closely as you ignore him.

“Hello? Am I talking to myself?”

“I don’t know. You choose.” You say, still scrolling through your social media feed.

“I chose yesterday and the day before. Don’t be stubborn. Pick something you want me to make or a restaurant you want food from.”

“Can’t you just pick again? I really don’t care what we eat, Levi.” You reply, a bit coldly.

“Is something wrong?” He asks, bringing a comforting hand to your shoulder when the light of your phone brings out the glossiness in your eyes.

You sniff, wiping a tear away before abruptly standing up.

“Sorry, I need to…” you stop mid-sentence and walk to the bathroom, locking yourself inside.

Levi sighs. He’s not stupid, he knows what these actions are related to. He always tries his best to help you with anything, even maintains his persistent trait when you act uncharacteristically cruel towards him. When you want him to leave you alone, he never really does. He gives you space, but he won’t leave anywhere without you.

You sit on the floor of the bathroom, hugging your knees. Tears continue to stream down your face, the realization that you pushed your boyfriend away jabs at the heart in your heaving chest. It kills you, knowing that you are emotionally unstable and ruthless for about a week every month, and Levi is always at the end of every lash out on these damned weeks.

Levi knocks on the bathroom door three times.

“Talk to me, love. You know there’s nothing you can do or say to make me leave.”

Your eyes start watering again. The sniffling was the cue for him to sit on the floor as well, on the other side of the door. “What’s wrong?” His voice is calming enough to get you to prepare for a response.

You clear your throat before responding fragilely.

“My boobs hurt.”

He fights back a smile at the sound of your voice. In any other situation he would’ve expressed his happiness, but you’re in pain.

He lays his head against the door, waiting to see if you’ll say something else.

“My back hurts, my stomach hurts. I’m a woman, I should know what to do in this situation. I mean, for fucks sake, it’s been happening every month since I was a teenager, but Levi…I don’t know. It never gets easier. Am I less of a woman for not being able to handle this?”

“No. You’re just as much of a woman as any other woman, regardless of not knowing what to do about the ache all over your body. You don’t ever have to handle this on your own when i’m around. I can help you.”

There’s a good minute of silence before you stand up, opening the door. The rattling of the doorknob has Levi on his feet, quickly.

You look like a disaster, tear stains all over your cheeks, puffy, red, eyes looking into softened grey ones. Levi grips the doorframe with one hand, the other coming up to cup your cheek.

“Wash your face, sweetheart, and come to the bedroom when you’re ready.” He gives you a reassuring peck on your forehead before leaving you to clean yourself up.

He grabs a towel from the cabinets just a few steps to the right of the bathroom, and he second guesses whether he should grab another one just incase.

He sits down on the bed, laying the towel over his lap and on the area between his legs, where you will be sitting.

“Hi,” you say, awkwardly, standing at the doorway.

“Hi, lovely. Come sit with me,” he says, patting the towel.

You slowly step towards him, not holding the eye contact he gives you out of embarrassment for your earlier meltdown.

“Can you take your pants off for me?” His voice soothed the storm that brewed in your head while you cried in the bathroom.

“I-It’s messy.”

“That’s okay. I’ll clean anything that misses the towel, after I take care of you.”

You nod, taking your pants and underwear off. You had worn a pad, not wanting to go through the hassle of putting in a tampon. You regretted it as soon as you saw how you stained the edges of your underwear, sighing shakily in embarrassment. You messily folded your pants in a way that covered the pad, having felt ashamed enough.

You sat down on the towel, quickly, in an attempt to avoid dripping on the floor.

“Good job,” Levi whispers, kissing the back of your head.

“This is humiliating. I’m disgusting,” you say, too in your head to notice Levi unbuttoning your shirt.

“No, you aren’t. Clothes can be washed, the floor can be cleaned,” he waits for you to pull your arms out of the sleeves, before folding the shirt and setting it aside. “I need you to ease up on yourself, doll. For me, and for yourself.” His hands splay on the upper part of your chest, gently pressing into the skin with his fingers.

You take a deep breath, and try to enjoy the special treatment provided by your lover.

“Good girl. You mentioned earlier that your breasts hurt. Would it be okay if I massaged them? If there’s too much pain, i’ll stop.” His hands moved onto your shoulders, kneading away the tension.

“Mhm,” you hum, laying further against his chest.

His hands slowly make their way to your breasts, not squeezing them immediately. He covers them completely, pressing his palms into them gently. You wince at the sore feeling, shutting your eyes to take in the sensation of the pain vanishing temporarily.

“I know, my love. I’m sorry.” He kisses your temple, giving you the tenderness you need to contrast the soreness you feel just a few inches lower.

“You okay?” He asks, still kneading your breasts lightly.

“Yeah, I just hate this time of the month. I don’t like the way it makes me feel, or the way it makes me act towards others. Especially, you.” You open your eyes after a minute of being fully immersed in Levi’s touch, tilting your head up to look at him.

“I’m tougher than you give me credit for, baby. I can take it. I know not to take it personal when you burst into tears after I ask you what you want to eat for dinner.” His heart skips a beat or two when the sound of your laughter makes it to his ears. Your shoulders shake against him, and he can’t help feeling like he would do anything for you, logical or illogical. He would follow you into a labyrinth, even if he knew there was no way out and that it would only be you and him forever.

“Scoot up. You can lay your head on my shoulder, if you want to.” He stops pressing into your breasts, moving his hands down to your waist, and lifts you to give you that extra boost.

You look down and see a dark red spot beneath you. Levi felt the warmth against his thigh, but chose to ignore it because it doesn’t matter.

“Don’t look at it. Focus on me.” He says, raising your gaze with your chin between his fingers.

“Levi, I can smell myself,” you say, sheepishly, looking down, immediately getting your head raised by Levi, again. “You’re probably so sick to your stomach, right now.”

“Definitely, not. Can you spread your legs a little wider for me, doll?”

Your heart sank to the pit of your stomach. You know where this is going, and you’re mortified.

“That’s it. Good girl.” The faded red color caked on your inner thighs is more visible, and it still doesn’t scare him.

His hands slide down from the sides of your breasts, to your waist, reaching your hips, and eventually land on your thighs. He brushes his fingertips against the dry blood that splotches your inner thighs, feeling the texture, knowing there will be a major difference when his fingers go inside you.

You’ve never wanted the darkness to consume you more than now, but it does feel nice knowing that he would go to these extents to make sure you’re okay.

“Love you,” he whispers. There’s many reasons for why he would do this, the main one being how much loves you.

“Love you, too,” you mumble.

You shake a little when his fingers reach your cunt, gliding up and down your folds.

“Are you comfortable?” He asks, still moving his fingers in the slow, steady, pace.

“Mhm..” you respond, shutting your eyes. You clutch his arm when his middle finger begins rubbing your clit. You’re very sensitive, and this is already enough to have you shifting against Levi. He knows he won’t have to do much to satisfy you right now, but it’s the thoughts behind his actions that make it worth it.

“Mmm…Levi,” you moan.

“More?” He asks, not changing the pace.

You nod, interlocking one of your hands with his free one, the other gripping the edge of the towel.

His fingers stroke your pussy a little quicker, now. It’s entertaining to watch the way you unravel at the slightest amount of stimulation. Your grip tightens around his hand when you reach the peak of your pleasure.

“F-Fuck… Hold on,” you say breathily, panting just a little. There’s a slight thud in your ears—your heartbeat.

Levi kisses the side of your neck, mumbling affirmations about how well you’re doing, just below your ear. He can only think about how he hasn’t put a finger inside you yet and you’ve already had an orgasm. His thoughts go dark for a second, imagining the expression you would have on your face if he were to fuck you dumb on his cock, taking advantage of how sensitive your pussy is.

He can vividly picture the redness on your cheeks, and the way you would try to avoid looking straight into his eyes. It shouldn’t turn him on the way it does, but he wouldn’t mind completely ruining the towel with you, turning it completely red-

No.

Now is the time for you to feel cared for, to feel secure.

“Want to keep going? Or, have you had enough?” His hand runs up and down the side of your thigh. After a few seconds, he can feel the same dry blood texture on his fingers that he felt on your inner thighs earlier.

“One more, please.” You say, still feeling hazy from the first orgasm rushing through your whole body so suddenly.

“Anything for you, princess. Spread your legs, for me.”

The smell of iron fills your nostrils, bringing back the embarrassment that left your thoughts for a few minutes when your body gave into the pleasure that Levi provided.

Levi’s fingers move against your cunt again. He brushes his middle and index fingers up and down your folds one more time before slowly sinking them inside, pumping them in and out of you. You’re soft—velvety, and warm inside.

“Fuck…. Oh my…” you almost choke on your own saliva at the sudden intrusion. You raise your arms and grip Levi’s shoulders behind you, tightly, almost pinching his skin.

“How does it feel, doll? Describe what you’re feeling.”

“S-So…full—mmm—it’s a lot. I feel hot.”

A sly smile forms on his lips. You really know how to make him feel good about himself.

“Yeah? Are—”

You gasp when his fingers nudge the sensitive spot within you. He chuckles at the adorable interruption. Crimson drips down his knuckles and his palm, mixing with your arousal. You are no longer focused on how much of a mess you’re making, your mind too delved into the feeling of Levi’s fingers doing a beckoning motion inside you.

“You’re so warm, sweetheart. Gonna cum for me?”

“Mhm…Levi, please..” you whine, writhing against him.

You can feel his bangs tickling the nape of your neck when he bows his head to kiss your shoulders. He nips at your ear, whispering the words you love to hear.

“My gorgeous girl. You’ll cum for me, won’t you?”

All you can do is whimper and nod your head.

His thumb rubs your clit as his two fingers continue to fuck your hole. You clench around them, feeling like you’re about to burst.

“U-Um… Gonna cum… Levi… Levi!” You moan breathily, riding his fingers through your orgasm. You squish his hand between your thighs, rolling your hips against it until it’s too much. You still yourself, thighs still twitching slightly post-orgasm. Levi pulls his fingers out, running them through your folds. You stop him by grabbing his wrist, putting an end to the overstimulation.

You sigh, contentedly, rolling up into a ball on top of Levi. He looks at the aftermath of pleasuring you with his fingers and decides that it’s not as bad as he thought it would be. It’s…interesting. The blood is starting to dry, and his fingers feel suffocated.

“Wake up. You need to eat.” He pokes your forehead with his clean hand.

“No, thank you. Sleeping.” You mumble.

“I know how to get you to wake up.” His hand goes beneath the towel, reaching for his belt and unbuckling it.

Your eyes widen when you hear the clanking of the metal, and you quickly stand up, wrapping the towel around you in the process. You bend down to grab your clothes and make a beeline to the bathroom.

Levi smirks triumphantly. He sits up on the bed, looking everywhere on the sheets to see if any blood got on them. None. Nowhere else, either. Except…

He looks down at a dark spot on his trousers. The spot was no bigger than the button below his belt buckle. Maybe it was a stain from earlier when he washed the dishes. He rubbed the spot, knowing what to expect but still was slightly shocked when his finger had a red tint to it. He shrugged it off, quickly going to his dresser to find some comfier clothes to change into. He’s not about to make you feel insecure again by parading around the house wearing trousers that you accidentally stained.

You peek your head out the bathroom doorway, hoping Levi was around. You see him at the dresser picking out clothes. “Hey, i’m gonna shower. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

He shifts his attention from the clothes in his drawer to you. He realizes what he’s thinking is a long shot, but one definitely worth risking.

“Can I join you?”

You know if you let him join you, he won’t let you wash yourself. He won’t let you shampoo and condition your own hair, he won’t let you clean your own back. He’s going to smother you, as if you’re helpless.

“Okay.” You leave the door open for Levi.

He grabs some underwear, a pair of sweatpants, and a t-shirt, before scooting over to your side of the dresser and getting some comfortable clothes for you as well.

He enters the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him.

His carnal needs only enhanced after helping you. He wasn’t done with you, and it’s something you realized two minutes into your shower. You felt his hands on your waist, pulling you against him. You look into his eyes, hoping to find some sort of answer for his behavior, only to see that his pupils were blown.

“Are you okay, Levi?” You ask, cupping his face.

“I’m so glad you can’t read my mind,” he mutters.

You certainly can’t read his mind, but you can read his body language, and you can feel the thick cloud of lust radiating off of him.

He looks down at the droplets of water scattered on your chest, and you look down at what’s poking your thigh.

“Wh-”

“Sorry, I know you were just trying to take a relaxing shower.” He interrupts, before you ask the question with a very obvious answer.

The heat on your cheeks cools down beneath the water stream.

“Take care of it. Use me.”

He was hesitant, not wanting to hurt you or make you uncomfortable. His uncertainty vanished when you assured him that you would be fine, and he took that green light very considerately.

You held yourself up with your hands on the walls, and Levi wrapped his arms around your waist. He was gentle for the first five minutes, watching your every reaction closely. Your moans continued to fuel his lust until his resolve snapped. He fucked you like you were a doll made to satisfy his needs.

“Fuck, Y/N… I’m sorry…love you—HAH—I love you.”

Your eyes watered due to the intensity of the pleasure. Your legs felt like jelly, but you knew Levi would never let you fall. He has an iron grip on your waist, and it got tighter and tighter the closer he got to his release.

“L-Love you, too, Levi. It’s okay,” you say, shakily. Your hands turned to fists against the slippery wall, sustaining yourself as much as possible on your own.

“Fuck, I’m gonna…—AH—gonna-“ He quickly pulls out of you, whimpering and gasping pathetically as cum spurts out and onto your ass.

You turn around to see the lazy grin plastered on his face. He sighs with satisfaction, pulling you into his embrace and burying his face in the crook of your neck. You hold him tight, playing with his hair as he mumbles incoherent, choppy, nothings.

“You could’ve spilled anywhere else, yet you chose to do it on my ass,” you joke.

He scoffs, trying to look up at you. You laugh, using a hand to keep him where he is.

“I’m kidding, baby. I’m glad you felt as good as I did earlier.”

“I don’t know what got into me, but thank you. Now, let me clean you up.”

—

You stayed in the bathroom a little longer to properly get dressed and brush your hair. You find Levi in the living room afterwards, looking at restaurants to order from.

“What do you want to eat for dinner?” His eyes stick to yours to make sure you don’t break down over this question again.

“Chinese food.”

He sighs in relief at your response, narrowing the search results on his phone down to only restaurants that serve Chinese food.

“Good choice.”

[thefanbasewhore]

7 with paul please 🥺

summary: prompt no. 7, "Here, you look hungry."

warnings: none

paring: Paul Atreides x female reader

a/n: no tags for these prompts, I'm doing these on mobile :) this takes place right after the fall of the Atreides house when Jessica and Paul are inside the tent. Also I am now doing tags for future Paul fics, if you would like to be tagged, here is my tag list, click me!!

Despite the blaring heat of the day, the night had come fast - the sand storm swirled outside, the light that the moon once provided had vanished as the sand buried the tent to create another dune.

Jessica and Paul had not spoken since Paul had told her to be quiet, he could barely stomach the thought of her speaking, he fears his mother would bring up his father, something is heart couldn't allow.

It didn't stop Paul from staring at you. Those gentle eyes swirl with emotion, red and glistening as he rests his head against his arm. He noticed the way you shiver, hands gliding across your arms to creat some type of friction to warm the ice cold skin.

His mother is already asleep, a blanket wrapped her but it doesn't stop him from leaning forward and grabbing the loose end to cover her feet.

You don't dare make a sound, don't try to ask him if he's okay in fears you will also fall victim to his distaste. Paul grabs his bag to fish out a blanket and tucks something else into his other hand.

"Here.." he sits in front of you, unfolds the blanket before draping it across your shoulder and pulling the two corners across your chest. It's left him with nothing. The still suit did little to keep you warm, let alone him as well.

"You don't need to give it to me - you're cold too." A sad smile of gratitude forms against his lips, he tries so very hard but it's impossible to feel anything but the pain that makes his heart and veins icy.

"Not cold." The other hand raises revealing what looks like a ration bar, "Here, you look hungry."

You were. The sight of the packaged snack creates wetness in your mouth, stomach flip but you shake your head, "Save it, you eat it or your mother, the baby will need it."

"You're so stubborn." Paul moves closer to you, opening the blanket just enough to squeeze in beside you, shoulder touching shoulder. The bar is passed between his hands as he stares down at it, twiddling it in his fingers as he peers up at you, "I'm sorry about earlier - I saw how you looked when I yelled. The voice, I'm not too good at using it."

"Don't apologize." Leaning closer into his shoulder you rest your head against it, exhaustion and hunger getting the best of you, "I don't expect you to be okay, I don't expect you to be strong. The Duke is dead, your father is dead."

Paul sighs as he peels the wrapped back from the bar and breaks it into two halves, he extends one piece with his slender hand, you gladly accept, "I'm here when you want to talk, Paul."

"I know," he says under a whisper, "You have always been here for me and I'm so lucky to have you in my life."

You smile so sweet despite the current circumstances, it doesn't feel real but as long as it makes Paul feel better, it will have to do. Paul doesn't say another word, just leans his head onto your should while taking a bite of the ration bar with the motion of his jaw moving against your shoulder. The two of you sit in comfortable silence until the storm outside settles.

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Patience (6)

Summary: You overhear a call between Bruce and what turns out to be the press. Of course someone had snapped photos of the two of you at the hospital. So... you finally have the talk. And Bruce asks a question you hadn't been counting on when you woke up that morning.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem. Reader

Wordcount: 1.9k

Rating: G

Warnings: fluff, rumors, relationship talks, adoption talks, some kissing?

A/N: Some more Bruce and Gabe softness. I hope you like it. I'm currently working on a angsty/smutty Bruce Wayne one shot, not related to this story. If you wanna be tagged let me know x

Patience Masterlist

You did not see much of Bruce in the following days. Leaving you alone with your thoughts about that kiss. A very good kiss. A kiss you wanted to repeat. A lot.

There was… a weird mood in the penthouse but you had Gabe to take care of, so you threw yourself into that. And of course you had the plans for the penthouse. Today you were with Gabe on the construction site. He was babbling along, strapped against your chest. 

Thankfully your ankle was doing good, making walking not that painful. 

He looked at everything. He wanted to touch everything. He had very strong opinions about the guys putting up a dry wall. You should have seen this coming, it was a little loud. 

But once you put a little distance between him and the noise he was okay, even whining everytime you turned away from the hammering and drilling. 

The workers were halfway ready to adopt him by the time you were about to leave.

The hearing to finalise the adoption was tomorrow and you were a little anxious. Not that you had any reason to. Alfred had helped you hire a very good lawyer who had taken care of everything. Everytime you asked Alfred what exactly the woman costs you he had just told you to not worry. 

You were pretty sure you would have to fight him to be the one to pay her. 

As you were walking back to the still intact part of the penthouse you passed Bruce’s bedroom, seeing the door open. You heard him talk. Wanting to give him some privacy you wanted to go to the kitchen for a little snack when you heard what he was saying. 

“No, I’m not going to comment on this. She’s a friend who was hurt after a bank robbery. And I helped. And if you print this fairytale you sent to me and invade her privacy on this level with your lies, I will make sure you will never find work again,” he hissed. You heard a loud groan before the door opened fully and Bruce saw you standing in the hallway. He sighed.

Gabe waved his little hands at him and Bruce looked at him with a small smile before he looked at you.

“How much did you hear?” he asked. 

“Enough to know we need to talk,” you said and sighed. 

Deep down you had wondered if anyone at the hospital had talked. You didn’t regularly check the news and you weren’t a big fan of social media. But Bruce Wayne practically carrying you into his car probably had been seen by someone. 

“How about we put some food in his little belly and talk while he takes a nap?” Bruce suggested. 

“Yeah. Yeah I think that’s a good idea,” you said. He took your hand, squeezing it gently before you both walked towards the kitchen.

“You’re getting better at this,” you smiled, eating your apple as you watched Bruce feed Gabe. Bruce didn’t say anything, but you saw him blush as he smiled. 

“He makes it easy. I feel like…” he stopped himself and you walked over to him, sitting down on the chair next to him. 

“You feel like…?” you asked, bumping your knee against his. 

“I feel like this was supposed to happen? You… Gabe… You have no idea how much you’ve changed me? All of us? In a good way,” he added. You smiled. 

“Are you getting soft in your old days, Bruce Wayne?” you teased and he rolled his eyes before he continued to feed Gabe. 

“I am not that old,” he mumbled, but you could see him smile. 

“No. You’re not,” you said softly. “And I can see how you’ve changed. And… It looks good on you.” Gabe chose this moment to grab into the bowl of his food, pressing it into his face. 

“Your son,” Bruce mumbled, fighting against his smile as he reached for a towel to clean his face. 

“Yeah. Hopefully officially tomorrow,” you said with grinning.

Gabe was down for a nap. You took the baby monitor and walked to the living room, finding Bruce sitting on one of the sofas. 

“Hey,” you said. 

“Hey,” he said, putting his tablet away. He reached for you, pulling you down to sit next to him. He just looked at you, his other hand touching your cheek before he kissed you softly. You sighed against his lips, bringing your hand to rest on his chest. 

“Are you trying to distract me?” you mumbled against his lips. 

“Is it working?”

You chuckled, pushing against his chest.

“Probably. But I wanna know…”

“What the call was about?” he finished. You nodded. 

“Someone took photos of us at the hospital. These have been all over the news for the last days but now they looked into you and… the Gazette is about to run a portrait about Bruce Wayne’s new girlfriend.”

You took a deep breath. “Okay…?”

“It’s… they are saying things that are… not true. They are calling you a gold digger, looking for a baby daddy because you had no choice but to take Gabe into your care…”

“They are writing about Gabe?” you whispered. 

“Yeah. They sent the draft to me for a comment… I’m… I’m not gonna let them drag you through the mud like that. You don’t deserve that. Just because you were seen with me…” he was shaking his head. 

He was right. You didn’t deserve that. But… you knew it was a possibility. Every living being that was seen out with Bruce Wayne became the talk of town. And it didn’t matter to the press if he was involved with them or not, they just wanted to get behind the mystery that was Bruce Wayne.

He wasn’t a mystery to you. Not anymore. 

He cared. He cared deeply for the people in his life and you could call yourself lucky that you somehow got into that small circle. You still didn’t know how you made it into it. It was probably mostly Gabe’s doing. No one could say no to his little cute face.

But… all joking aside. You cared for Bruce too. Deeply. You weren’t ready to name the feelings you had for him yet. But you knew what you were getting into when you decided to say yes to a date with him. 

A date that still hadn’t happened. But you had kissed. Twice. And you wanted to keep kissing him. You wanted to do all kinds of things with him. 

There even was a little part of you, a part that was having all kinds of Bruce Wayne related daydreams, that wondered if he would play a bigger part in Gabe’s life. Even if Bruce maybe couldn’t see it, he would be a great dad one day. 

“Bruce?” you asked softly. 

He looked up at you, and you could read on his face how much this whole situation was killing him. That he was the reason the press would release god knows what to the world. 

You smiled softly at him, your hand coming to rest on his cheek. 

“While I’m not the biggest fan of anyone calling me a gold digger… We… I knew that at some point, if we want to this, us, the people would talk. I really don’t care what they say about me. I know what’s true. And I hope you do too. But… They can’t drag Gabe into this. He’s a baby. I’m not even officially his mother.”

“You will be tomorrow.”

“You remembered?” you asked. He nodded. 

“I wanted to offer to come… with you… to the courthouse? But I don’t know if…”

“You would?” you asked surprised. 

“Of course,” he said right away. 

“Do you think they are going to print that story?” you asked. 

“They will probably. And my reaction to it probably wasn’t helpful.”

“You wanted to protect us,” you squeezed his hand. He brought your joined hands up, kissing the back of yours. 

“I protect the people I care about. The people I…” he stopped himself, shaking his head. “I will protect you and Gabe.”

“Can we do anything to… lessen the blow?” you asked. 

“We could…” he started, looking up as Alfred walked in and you gave Alfred a smile.

“You and Master Wayne could make your relationship official,” Alfred said. You made big eyes, your head turning towards Bruce who was glaring at Alfred.

“Our… what?”

“Relationship.”

“Alfred I did not ask her yet,” Bruce groaned, rubbing his hand over his forehead.

“Oh,” Alfred made a face. “I’ll… leave you to it then,” he said and turned around, walking out of the room with quick steps. You frowned, turning your head towards Bruce who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. 

“Just... hear me out before you react, okay?” he asked. You nodded slowly. 

“They will run the story. They will run the story and spread lies about you and me. I never comment on rumours. So what you heard earlier? That will give them the confirmation they probably didn’t know they would get. So.. we need to put the news out first.”

“What news?”

“Us.”

“Us in…?”

“Us in like together?” he asked. You looked at him, blinking your eyes as you processed what he was asking.

“Sweetheart…” he mumbled and you just about died. You smiled shyly at him. 

“Are you asking me…”

“I want to use the official Wayne Corp. social media accounts to make a statement. About… us. I would have made one eventually but now we’re in kind of a rush and… I want to protect you… I need to protect you… Let me make that statement,” he pleaded. Your lips twitched into a smirk and his eyes narrowed. The fact that he had been thinking about this before made you all warm and fuzzy. He believed in you. You and him. 

You let go of his hand, standing up.

“Where are you…” he started but stopped once you put your hands on his shoulders and slowly sat down on his lap. He pulled his hands up, not sure where to touch until he slowly put them down on your upper thighs. 

“You have to ask me, Bruce…” you grinned teasingly. He let his head fall back against the couch looking up at you.

“You really gonna make me ask?” he sighed, shaking his head as he fought his smile.

“Yes, Bruce Wayne. I’d like you to ask me. Officially,” you nodded all serious. He straightened up, his hands running up your body until they were framing your face. 

“Do you want to be my girlfriend? Officially? It’s gonna suck a lot but I will make sure it…”

You stopped him by kissing him. Deeply, like you had been dreaming of since the first time he had kissed you. He parted his lips for you and you smiled, trying to get even closer to him as you both explored each other. 

“Is that a yes?” he mumbled against your lips. 

You nodded.

“Good,” he smiled and kissed you again. 

Taglist:

@kiwi-the-first / @phoenixhalliwell / @ciniluv / @blue-aconite / @daryldixonstorm / @paperflowerlace / @savannah-elliott / @stuckybarton /  @uncle-eggy / @blackwidownat2814

[jackrrabbit]

Adversary /// Overhaul x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: You make a deal with the devil to save your life, but it turns out Overhaul’s not interested in your soul.

A/N: Remember when I said I was going to do a fantasy collab and then dipped for like 9 months? Hahaha…anyway…

@pleasantanathema @ present-mel @shadowworks—if it’s not too late, here’s my part for the Pleasant & Strider Fantasy AU Writing Collab from a million years ago. Go check out the masterlist and gorge yourself on these amazing pieces!!

Tags/Warnings: dubcon, demon fuckery & occult things, big heresy/sacrilege/perversion of religion, sex in a church ft. Catholic sex guilt, other than that it’s not that bad lol, inexperienced reader, mild degradation, shameless camp and demon-fucking clichés, Overhaul calls you “little girl” 👉👈

He doesn’t look like a demon.

Not that you really know what demons are supposed to look like. But…red skin, right? Fangs and claws and swirling masses of bad energy. Maybe cloven hooves for feet. Yes, that’s the Disney version—but even if you didn’t expect a cartoon personification of evil, you didn’t expect this.

He looks like a doctor, you think. Lab coat hanging open, surgery mask pushed down under his jaw, stethoscope draped over his shoulders. No, he’s a little young to really look like a doctor…an intern, you amend, shifting back in your hospital bed. He looks like he fits right in here, not a hair out of place. Except for, you know, the polished black horns curling out of the sides of his skull.

Overhaul. It was written in the book. That’s the only thing you have to call him in your head.

He’s standing in the center of the sigil you drew at the foot of your bed before midnight, surveying the room critically without meeting your gaze. He looks annoyed—that’s not a good sign, is it?—but then again, of course he’s annoyed. You’d be annoyed too if you got summoned out of your cozy hell dimension in the middle of the night. According to the book, you’re lucky he even showed up…although ‘lucky’ isn’t really how you’d describe yourself most days.

“So,” Overhaul says after a long moment of silence in which you question every choice you’ve made in your relatively short life. “You’re dying.”

You nod.

“And you don’t want to be.”

You nod again, wondering if you’re supposed to be contributing more to this conversation. It’s a bit difficult when your mouth is so dry it feels like you’ve been eating dirt, but you suppose being in the presence of an unholy servant of Satan will do that to a person.

“Fine.” He sighs, frowns, and then finally lowers his gaze onto yours—and you shiver.

Those eyes. No human has eyes like that.

“Make me an offer,” Overhaul tells you, and through his open mouth you catch a flash of sharp white teeth.

Okay. Okay. The chirping of the heart monitor speeds up (as if it weren’t obvious enough that you’re terrified) and you fold your knees up to your chest and fidget with your ring and think. He’s giving you a chance to establish parameters. You’re supposed to start with his end of the deal, the thing you want from him. That’s what it said to do in the grimoire, aka the 19th century demonology volume your creepy cousin brought back from her pagan anthropology research trip in rural France. The one you keep hidden under your bed because your mother would burn it if she knew you were reading about summoning demons.

Offer nothing to a hell creature without first telling him your price. You know the words by heart, both the winding calligraphy of the original French from the grimoire and the rushed scrawl of the English translation your cousin left for you in sheets of lined paper layered between the pages of the book for you to read. Really, this is her fault. She was the one who slipped you the book, who told you that it worked, who snuck you the ingredients for the summoning. She was the one who left a bookmark at the chapter on this particular demon, one that specializes in ‘Contrat pour Remédier au Déséquilibre des Quatre Humeurs’, which she said meant a contract to cure any illness. Even his ‘name’ is translated in her hand, practically an afterthought in the margins of the page.

‘Le Malin qui Ravage et Rebâtit’— Overhaul?

You looked up the literal meaning of this phrase on your own. It did not reassure you.

“Girl.” His voice is cold, irate. Your eyes snap back up to his and it feels like that burning gaze is laser-beaming into your skull. “Do not test me. My time is limited…as is yours.”

You swallow. “How long do I have left?”

“Less than a single human year,” he tells you without a trace of sympathy. “Seven months, twelve days, three hours. Or so. You’ll be too exhausted to leave this bed in four months, and the pain will become intolerable in six… By the end, you’ll wish—“

“Stop,” you breathe out. The heart monitor is beeping wildly and you squeeze your knees into your chest, trying to calm down your breathing. “Stop, I—I want to live.”

“Of course you do.” Overhaul’s lip curls. “How very predictable.”

Be specific, you remind yourself, doing your best to ignore the stifling disapproval from the man—the demon—in front of you. Something about him (maybe how clean-cut he looks, maybe the indisputable authority in his demeanor) makes you want to impress him. But you didn’t turn your back on your religion—you didn’t draw pagan symbols on the floor in chalk, fill silver cups with various questionable substances (including your own virgin blood), and turn the crucifix your mother hung over your bed upside-down so you could let a demon make you feel guilty for wanting to survive. “I want to be cured. I’m okay with whatever natural death I have instead when I’m older, I just don’t want to die of this illness. I want you to make me healthy.”

“Simple enough. What else?”

‘Simple’? Your heart surges with something you’ve felt very little of since your initial diagnosis—hope. “T-That’s it. Just the cure.”

Overhaul glares at you. “Humans… Every vice in the world available to you, and you limit yourselves to the basest priority of survival.”

“But you can do it? You can cure me?” you persist.

Overhaul steps forward (quiet, so quiet you wonder if he really moved) and holds a hand out to you past the foot of your bed—you hesitate, and a second later you can see the muscles in his hand flex, stretching the latex of his plastic gloves tight over his knuckles.

Just do it. You give him your hand. Carefully. Like you’re scared the contact will burn you. It doesn’t (although his skin feels warmer than yours), but after a moment his grip tightens, sliding down past your hand to circle the fragile bones of your wrist and squeeze.

“Ow?” You wince.

The demon’s eyes flicker closed for a second, lips moving silently like he’s talking to himself—and then he drops your hand unceremoniously back onto your lap. “You could be cured before the sun rises this morning. I doubt your stay in the hospital will extend past the end of the week.”

He sounds bored, voice as flat and passionless as it was earlier, but your heart is soaring. Cured. You’ve lived with this illness for so many years, you can’t remember the last time someone told you you could be cured. And getting out of the hospital that soon? You can just imagine taking down all the decorations from the walls of your room here and setting them up in your old bedroom at home. You could see friends on the weekend and not take an oxygen bag, you could get a job or—or apply to college, you could have a life—

“That is…assuming you have something to offer me in exchange for the cure.”

Your stomach drops. You’d almost forgotten about the other half of the deal.

“Don’t tell me I came all this way for nothing.” Overhaul steps back, and the orange light of the candles you set sends strange shadows over his arrogant face. The fires look brighter now, and you find yourself tracing the lines of those shining black horns. In an odd way, they look natural—so organically framing his temples that you can’t imagine him without them.

“N-No, of course not. I have some money—I mean, my mom has some, and I can get it for you…” Which is half the truth. If you know anything, it’s that your mother’s spent most of her savings on your treatment and care. You probably have more debt than you have money in the bank right now—you’d try to get rid of that, too, if you hadn’t read in the book how important it is to keep your request as simple and straightforward as possible.

…Although it’s apparently not enough. Overhaul’s eyes narrow, molten gold irises carved into slits. “Even if I had a use for human money, do you really believe your life is worth so little?”

“No—no,” you say quickly. “I just thought—in case you were interested—”

The air crackles with energy, the candle flames spark bright blood-red, and the hair on your arms stands straight up. “I am not.”

“Okay! I get it.” You wave your hands back and forth, pulling your IV line from side to side with the motion. The book was very clear about staying calm and rational while you work out the terms of the deal, but that’s easier said than done when you have a real live (live?) hell creature in front of you. You always knew this was going to be the hard part—all the stories say there’s only one thing that a demon would be interested in, and no matter how inviting the prospect of living past this illness is, you know you’d rather die than sell your immortal soul to the devil. “I’ll give you anything except my soul! And—and don’t hurt anyone I care about, or— just don’t hurt anyone, okay? Other than that, if there’s anything I can give you, I will.”

Overhaul’s lip curls, baring a thin strip of those unnaturally sharp canines. “And is your soul really so valuable?”

This throws you for a loop. Isn’t that the standard deal? A soul for a wish? That’s how it’s supposed to work—at least in this twisted version of reality where you can summon a demon to perform unholy miracles for you. But if you think about it, it doesn’t really make sense, does it? Why would your soul be valuable to him? You can’t form an argument, especially since you’re not willing to barter it away in the first place.

Your mouth is pursed open as you search for a response, but Overhaul doesn’t seem willing to wait. A gloved hand wraps its way around the railing at the side of your bed, and he leans in closer. “Little girl…what makes you think you possess anything I desire?”

Little girl. You’re not a little girl, you’re a grown woman—and yet there’s no untruth in the statement. In front of him you feel insignificant, immature, weak. You have nothing real to offer, and something tells you that you’re not going to get rid of the demon you summoned without a sacrifice you’re not willing to make.

You twist your ring around your finger—the nervous habit you haven’t bothered to break because you’ve always had more important things to worry about—and the glint of silver in the candlelight must catch Overhaul’s eye because before you even notice him moving, your delicate hand is trapped in his larger one to give him a better view of the tiny piece of jewelry. “What is this?”

“It’s—um, a ring. A purity ring.” Has he never seen one before? Well…actually, that makes sense.

Overhaul turns your hand over in his without touching the band of silver. He’s looking at it closely, inspecting the lovingly engraved cross in the design and the inscription on the other side. “Matthew 5:8,” he reads out.

“…Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God,” you recite cautiously. It feels wrong to speak the words in front of him, but somehow you can’t help yourself.

Overhaul’s hand doesn’t leave yours. “This ring is important to you.”

“It’s a symbol of a—a promise I made to God. To save myself for my future husband.”

“To ‘save yourself’? To save what?”

You can’t believe you’re explaining this to a literal demon. You close your eyes and inhale slowly and taste smoke. “My…virginity. It’s a promise that I won’t have sex until I enter into a biblical marriage.”

At this, Overhaul is quiet. You give him a moment to answer, half expecting him to question why you think God cares about your sexual status (honestly, you’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered this yourself), but he stays quiet until you peek up at him to try and gauge the look on his coldly handsome face.

He’s still staring at the ring. He hasn’t touched it—maybe he can’t, because of the cross?—and through the latex, his skin feels hotter than a human’s is supposed to be.

“Is there…” you start, but you trail off when you realize you have nothing to ask. You give a little tug to try and take your hand away and you’re surprised when your wrist actually slides out of his grip to fall back on the nest of sheets in your lap. You didn’t think he’d let you go so easily.

Overhaul turns his head to the side, eyes drilling into you so you feel like you should lower your gaze. The candlelight flickers in strange shadows over his horns. “This will do,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“In exchange for your cure.” The demon taps his own left ring finger, the place where the purity ring sits on your hand, and your heart soars. He actually wants that? It’s just a simple silver band, not worth much, but you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it has some special significance because of the religious connotation. Your mother will be angry you’ve lost it, but you’re happy to cope with that if it means living to actually get married!

“Yes!” you blurt out before he has a chance to rethink his offer. Sure, you’ll miss the purity ring—you’ve had it since you were a kid, after all—but there’s no question you’re getting the better end of this deal. At least in your opinion.

Something flashes through his yellow eyes, something you don’t even want to try and identify. “The contract, then.”

You barely have time to notice that his voice has gentled, that it’s practically silken in comparison to before, when the candlelight flickers again and suddenly the contract is everywhere. Everywhere. Writing appears on every surface in the room, covering the walls, stretching over the ceiling, coiling around the sides of the hospital equipment and decorating your bedsheets until you and Overhaul are the only untouched surfaces in sight. The characters are inscribed in red, dark red like—don’t think about that, you tell yourself squeamishly. You can make out some of the letters, even a word here or there—French, you recognize, mixed with what looks like Latin and interspersed with what you can only guess are runes.

“I can’t read this,” you tell him, fidgeting with your ring for what you now realize will be the last time.

“I only need your name,” he purrs, and then you feel a fragile weight in your hand: a feather, pearl-black and glossy and too large to belong to any bird you can think of, its angled tip glistening with wet ink. There’s an empty space in the writing before you, and Overhaul’s gloved hand comes to yours again to guide you into place.

This feels wrong…then again, of course it does. Even if you’re getting off relatively easy and just losing your ring rather than your soul, you’re still making a deal with a demon. You sign your name, forcing yourself to think about the future you have ahead of you rather than a disapproving white-bearded caricature of The Man Upstairs wagging his finger at you for haggling with a literal servant of Satan. People have done worse things to survive, haven’t they? It’s just a ring.

You set the feather down and Overhaul sighs, thick black eyelashes obscuring his intense gaze for a moment—and then the contract is gone, leaving your hospital room as blank and sterile as it��s supposed to be (well, aside from the candles and all the other ritual stuff you threw together to summon a demon in the first place).

“Are you going to cure—heal me now?” you ask.

“…Patience, little girl.” He’s pulling his glove off, peeling it down his fingers to bare the pale skin of his hand. You catch your breath and wonder what this is going to feel like, and then the tips of his fingers meet your cheek and—

you stop breathing.

It doesn’t hurt.

Or if it does, you don’t remember the pain a second later when breath floods back into your lungs. What you do feel is energy. Strength in your muscles, blood pumping through your veins, every inhale and exhale as light as a bird and freer. You feel healthy. You’re surprised you even remember what health feels like but you do: it’s like you’ve only been half alive, and now life is surging into you and through you and around you, bubbling up in your core like a spring overflowing. You blink rapidly, thinking you might cry from the sheer pleasure of it, but when you open your mouth it’s laughter that comes out. You’re healthy. You’re alive. You barely notice the IV line literally falling off of your skin because the hole where it entered your vein is sealed shut and healed perfectly.

No more needles. No more hospitals. Even without all the monitors beeping out your heart rate and measuring your vitals, there’s not a shred of doubt in your mind that you’re cured.

“Thank you!” you laugh, looking up at Overhaul and for the first time, not caring that he’s evil incarnate. “I feel—I’m okay! It worked!”

“Of course it did.” His expression is inscrutable, but he lets you have a few moments to enjoy your newfound health.

You roll your shoulders back, flex each muscle you can isolate one by one to test, make fists with your fingers and then run them over your hair, which is already thicker and shinier than it was a moment ago. Your body thrums with energy—you want to run, to feel the ground against your bare feet and the cold night air on your face, and you think you could do it! Your legs are already swinging over the side of your cot, ready to run barefoot out of the hospital if that’s what it takes, but before you can stand up Overhaul’s pushing you back down onto the bed.

“Have you forgotten your end of the bargain already?”

Honestly you did forget, but only for a second, only because you were so excited to just be outside again. “Oh, yeah. Of course.” Your hand goes to your left ring finger, ready to slip the ring off and hand it over, but Overhaul shakes his head.

“Not here.”

“What—?”

You’re falling. Your hospital room is disappearing, the image of your walls and your window and your bed disintegrating into yawning black, and you’re falling through it into nothing, into emptiness, and Overhaul’s still-bare hand in yours is the only anchor you have so you clutch onto it and squeeze your eyes shut. You want to scream—that’s the sane thing to do when you’re falling through miles and miles of empty space, right?—but when you open your throat the sound is swallowed up just like the light was…

Overhaul’s hand burns into yours, an improbable lifeline that you pull closer more out of terror than conscious thought. The slick, empty air rushes around you and you think I am going to die like this and then, incredibly, as soon as you’ve accepted your imminent demise, you feel your back mold onto a chilled, flat surface, vertebra by vertebra up to the back of your head, as if you’ve been lain down onto it.

Your heart thuds in your ears and you brace for an impact because your body hasn’t quite accepted yet that it’s not falling anymore—but at the same time, you know you’re lying down on something. You pry your fingers away from their vice-grip on Overhaul’s arm and feel around blindly for what’s underneath you, and when it seems reasonably tangible you let yourself open your eyes.

Way above, vaulted dozens of feet over your head, is a ceiling studded with gilt-edged frescoes and stained glass. It’s raining (even though it wasn’t in the hospital, you think) but through the massive panes of colored glass there’s enough oily blue light to make out that you’re in a church.

You’re in a church, with a demon. Isn’t that against the rules?

You sit up stiffly and look over at Overhaul, who’s standing at your side and looking down at you…which is how you realize the soft, cold surface you’ve been deposited onto is the blanket on top of the altar in the sanctuary. “Where...did you take me?”

“You should know this place.”

And you do, when you look around. It’s empty now and you’ve never been here at night, but this is a church your mother would bring you to when you were little, back before the disease got so bad you couldn’t risk traveling to it anymore. This is where you took your purity vow…the ring feels heavy on your hand. “Why—why—“

“I can’t stand human hospitals. Filthy places… How that reek of illness and death doesn’t bother your kind, I’ll never understand.” Overhaul pulls his latex glove back on. He’s dressed differently now, no longer impersonating a doctor—black shirt, black pants, and a…bird mask in red leather and gold. So are you, as a matter of fact. Instead of your hospital gown, you’re in a gauzy white dress that’s already been pushed up to pool around the tops of your thighs.

The slip is too thin for the cold, and you can feel your nipples standing up under the cloth so you fold your arms over your chest and hug yourself. “Why did you take me here?” The sound of your voice echoes off the walls eerily and you wish you hadn’t spoken so loudly. The reflection of your words sounds girlish, nervous.

“I told you. Your side of our contract.” Even in this dark, the angular features of his face are clearly concentrating—on you. “Are you already having second thoughts? Such a fickle little thing…”

“You mean the ring?” You reach for it again, ready to tear it off and throw it at him if that’s what it takes to see your deal through, but Overhaul snatches your hand away, pinning it above you.

“Not the ring,” he says. “The promise.”

The…promise?

A chill makes its way down your spine despite the heat radiating off the demon’s body and onto yours. “I don’t understand.”

“The promise,” Overhaul repeats—and you hear a sound almost like wings flapping and then he’s on the altar with you, knees straddling your hips as a single hand holds both your wrists above your head. “To remain a virgin until marriage. Your promise to God.”

A streak of lightning cracks down on the other side of the stained glass window behind the altar, illuminating the room briefly in spectacular pits of red and orange and yellow…and then it’s dark again, and the only color you can make out is the gold in Overhaul’s eyes.

“I’m going to break it,” he murmurs, lowering his head toward your ear right as the answering thunder rolls through the sanctuary, up through the altar, up into you.

///

Méfiez-vous de son piège, the grimoire said. Beware of the catch.

Of course it wasn’t just a ring.

Overhaul’s fingers are in—inside you, his middle and ring finger pumping through the length of your cunt like they belong there, like you were made to be touched this way. A mixture of your juices and your own spit cling to the latex because he made you suck his fingers before he put them in you and he hasn’t bothered to take his gloves off—not that you asked. You’ve been too busy biting your lip to try and muffle the moans that he keeps forcing out of you. He’s bracing himself on top of you with one hand and fingering you with the other, so your own hands are free to push into your eyes and hide your face…until he yanks your arm back and stops.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes are screwed shut and you shake your head back and forth, the movement shuddering your whole body right down to your pussy wrapped around Overhaul’s fingers. He slows the movement and kneels back, pushing one of your thighs up into your chest as he does it.

“Look at me.”

And you’re not sure whether it’s some unearthly power he has over you or the plain old deterioration of your willpower, but you can’t refuse him. You crack your eyes open and he’s glaring down at you, skin pale as ice in the blue light. Once he’s satisfied that you’re watching, the demon leans back in to fuck your cunt with his fingers, slowly at first and then quicker when he hits something inside of you—a spot, a place on the inner wall of your pussy that makes you feel like you’ve been shocked— heat blooms through you like blood in water and you gasp and he curls his fingers up to pet over that spot again.

“Wait—wait, that’s—it feels—weird!” You’ve never felt like this before. You’re not supposed to feel like this, it’s wrong.

“I understand you’ve never touched yourself, but don’t pretend you don’t like it.” Overhaul says, voice as indifferent and calm as ever even though your cunt is dripping clear sticky liquid over the plastic of his glove.

He pushes back in and grinds his palm over the little button on the top of your pussy—your clit?—and you want to scream. “No, I—I don’t—nnhh...”

Do you like it? The demon’s body is so hot next to yours, like he’s running a fever except you’re the one going out of your mind… You’ve heard metaphors for sexual pleasure before (that it’s like having something to drink when you’re dying of thirst; or that it’s the ultimate act of intimacy, love in physical form) but all of that’s a fucking lie. There’s nothing to compare it to, no reference that makes sense, because it doesn’t make sense—you don’t even want him to keep going, do you? You’re only doing this because you signed your name on a devil’s contract, because you don’t want to die and there’s no alternative…but that doesn’t explain why you feel so warm from the inside out, why you’re squirming and your hips are rocking involuntarily no matter how much you try to keep still. This isn’t right. You feel like you’ve been lied to.

A good girl wouldn’t like this.

Overhaul isn’t going to let you close your eyes, so you don’t—but the sounds coming out of your mouth are so…indecent (and how can you think these things about yourself? the word feels like someone else is saying it when you hear it in your head) that your hand is drifting up to your mouth before you can stop yourself, trying to stifle all of it…

“Let your voice out. I want you to hear yourself moan.”

Long fingers slide their way out of your pussy and then move up to rub quick little circles around your clit and you moan, like a whore, like a girl getting her cunt rubbed by a demon— “Oh, uhhhn—something, it’s—coming—“ There’s something building up in your core—a peak, a climax, something that makes you fist your hands in the nightgown he put you in (so tight you’re surprised the thin fabric hasn’t torn) and tilt your hips up into him, begging without words because you don’t have any to express what your body is asking for…

But he doesn’t give it to you. Overhaul takes his hand away from your pussy and the shock of the cool air after his too-hot touch is almost enough to send you over that edge—almost. Not quite. And without it, you’re left shivering and quaking, thighs twitching as your baser instincts beg you to just put your hand between your legs for once and hump your fingers to completion if the demon won’t do it.

You’re not going to risk that, though. Not when Overhaul’s dragging your body closer, bunching up the blanket on the altar under your spine, so your pelvis is angled to his… He’s already shirtless and you hear him unzipping his pants but you can’t bring yourself to actually look at him, even when you feel something hard and hot nudging up against your inner thigh and then aligning to your sticky wet slit.

“This will hurt a bit, but I want you to look,” he says, and you don’t even understand at first until you make yourself feel it—his cock, pushing up against your tight cunt to finish this, this perversion of what your first time was supposed to be…

And what was it supposed to be? Roses and candles and soft kisses? A nameless, faceless husband unzipping your wedding dress and making love to you with the lights off? The way the demon touches you should be cruel in comparison but it isn’t, it’s lighting fires under your skin and turning your brains to mush, so how is your body supposed to tell the difference?

It’ll hurt, you know that, you’ve heard enough about sex to know that it always hurts the first time for girls…women. It was already a stretch to fit his fingers in your virgin pussy, so of course his cock is going to hurt. You turn your head toward the window at your side and try on look out at the rain drawing rivulets like veins over the glass, something to focus on instead of him.

“I said look,” the demon hisses, and his hips push forward a bit and you bite off a whimper of pain. “Watch me take your virginity…look at your tight little cunt swallowing me up just like it was made to.”

“N-No—“ you whine, even though it’s not like you can ignore it. “Don’t make me, don’t make me look, I can’t—“

“Then look at me.”

It’s what he wants, some kind of wicked satisfaction he gets off on, but you’re lucky enough to even get an option so you choose that one, shifting your gaze up into his face instead of the place where his cock is pressing deeper and deeper inside you. Overhaul’s eyes are half-lidded and it’s hard to tell from behind the mask but the look on his face is…pleasure? No, that would be too human. Restraint, at least. He could just thrust up into your body in one stroke, but he wants you to feel it for some reason.

Maybe because it’s a worse betrayal of your chastity if you want to get fucked.

Lucky for you, though, you can barely feel anything aside from the pain. The heat you felt building earlier is draining out of you even as Overhaul tilts deeper, layering his chest over yours. You’re almost grateful for the modest barrier the dress provides between your torso and the solid muscle of his abdomen. His cock in your pussy feels like it’s too big too deep too much and it’s the first time you’ve felt like your body wasn’t created specifically for this purpose so you hold it tight.

“Does it hurt?”

A second of clarity makes you want to snarl (of course it fucking hurts, I’m losing my virginity to a demon I summoned from hell) and you dig your fingernails into your palms to stop yourself from saying it out loud. Overhaul pulls out a fraction of an inch and then pushes back in and you feel like the breath’s being pushed out of your lungs. “Yes! Yes, it—it hurts—“

“I can make you enjoy it…for a price,” he sighs, settling into a slow rocking motion of his hips pushing into yours.

And you want to, every sore muscle in your cunt is telling you to give in and give up, give him what he wants so you can enjoy it like he says—but you’d rather hate every second of this than make another deal. You shake your head quickly and because you’re still too afraid to look away from him, you don’t miss the look of surprise that flits across his face before he tamps it down. “I don’t—I don’t want to—like it,” you gasp out between thrusts. “It’s better if—if it h-hurts…”

This time it’s obvious—his eyes really do widen, and you feel some petty triumph at having caught him off guard like this. Who’s predictable now? you think—and then he’s lifting one hand off the altar at the side of your head and tugging his glove off with his teeth, and you don’t even have time to be afraid of what he’s going to do to you because it’s too late, his bare fingers are already stroking over your mound and onto your core, massaging into the flesh of your stomach so he can feel his own cock sliding in and out of you—

and it doesn’t hurt anymore?

You only have a second to try and understand—he cured you, he healed the pain from your first time just like he healed your illness?—before he hooks his grip under your thigh and folds your legs into your chest so he can fuck into you harder than before. His cock slaps into your pussy and you can hear it, hear how wet your filthy little cunt is, smeared through with your juices. It’s sick—the sound of skin against skin, and the moaning you can’t hold back, you sound like a woman in a porno and you wish the pain would come back just so you could keep hating what he’s doing to you. “What—what did you do—“

The demon ignores you. “It feels good, doesn’t it.”

“Nn—“ It’s deeper like this…deeper and rougher and you can feel it. Now that the pain’s been reduced to the dull ache of a stretched muscle, you can feel everything—his cock sliding against that same spot in your cunt that makes you want to squeal, the friction of his body moving against your clit, all of it, everything you wanted to block out— he pumps into you and you hear your breath sobbing out a moan a second out of rhythm, the sounds of you bouncing on demon cock echoing over the walls. “Please—ah, ahhh…”

“‘Please?’ Are you begging—me, little girl?” Overhaul pushes your thigh up and drags his cock through you, excruciatingly slow, forcing you to feel the thick head slide over every gummy wall in your slick pussy.

You shake your head, mewl, try to force your hips to stop rocking back into his and grinding your clit against him. But you can’t. You’re a—you were a virgin, for fuck’s sake! Overhaul’s immortal. Probably thousands of years of experience on how to make you feel like you want this, like you’re only alive in the places he touches you… You’re at his mercy, if he has any. You never stood a chance.

“Then are you begging your god?” His body lowers directly onto yours and like you’re being controlled by puppet strings your arms fold around him and rake your fingernails uselessly into the smooth skin of his back. You can feel the vibration of his mirthless laughter through his chest. “It must hurt terribly…to know he isn’t listening.”

“Don’t—stop, please,” you sob. “Don’t say—don’t stop—please!”

“Listen to yourself, girl—“ Overhaul’s breath is faster now, but you don’t have time to question it because you feel your peak coming again, the tension rising up through your cunt and your abdomen, harsher and crueler than when his fingers were in you but you want it just as much. More. “Has he ever answered your prayers? Has he...ahh, fuck—who’s the one giving you what you need?”

“No— please, please just let me let me, please—“ You’re talking nonsense now, begging for the release—at least then it’ll be over, and you need it, you need it so badly you feel your muscles locking up, cramping, your ankles crossing each other behind Overhaul’s back.

“Good girl,” the demon breathes, and then he lifts off you so he’s kneeling upright with the two of you still connected, his thick, heavy cock still speared in your pussy, and his fingers come down again to rub at your clit. Everything’s so wet you can hear the motion of his fingers slicking themselves through your juices, sliding up and down the little button over and over and it feels so good that a tiny part of you almost wants to drag it out, to savor it, but the rest of your body is going to die, is going to go crazy if the demon doesn’t let you cum right now, right now, right now!

And he does. Praise the Lord. The pads of Overhaul’s fingers pass over your clit one last time and your head rolls back, your throat moves but you can’t even make a sound, your legs shake and you cum.

You didn’t know it was like this.

Your cunt squeezes down on his cock, throbbing and pulsing and your toes literally curl (you didn’t think that was a real thing!) and your vision goes black for a moment and—oh fuck oh fuck i want this i want more how is it possible that i’ve never felt like this—you understand, more intimately than ever, why sex is wrong:

because nothing that makes you feel this good could possibly come without a cost, could it?

///

It must take longer than you thought for you to come back to your senses, because when you regain awareness of your body you’re in your hospital bed. You’re clean, too, and you wonder for a second if Overhaul bothered to clean you up? Or no…he probably just snapped his fingers and transported you back to your room. You’re not really sure how it works.

What you are sure of, however, is that you just got fucked by a demon. You’re sore in places that you didn’t know it was possible to be sore, and there are already bruises forming on the flesh of your thighs from how tight he was holding you. You don’t really have time to inspect these, though, because apparently your…ordeal (if you can call it that) isn’t over.

Overhaul’s still here.

He’s facing the hints of sunrise through the east window, dressed again in the immaculate lab coat and surgeon’s mask. “You’re awake,” he says without looking at you.

You nod hesitantly. You’re not really sure what the protocol is in this situation, but at least you’ve finally held up your side of the contract, right? And so has he. Despite having been up all night doing sinful things, you’re still itching to get out of this bed and test the limits of your healthy body. “You’re…going to leave, right?”

“Yes—”

At that, you sigh in relief and settle back into your starched bedsheets.

“But there’s one more thing you owe me.”

“Goddamnit,” you swear for the very first time in your life. After what you just did, taking the Lord’s name in vain seems like a relatively minor sin.

Overhaul’s mildly irritated expression doesn’t change, but he holds his hand out to you, palm up, the way you imagine someone would if they were helping you out of a car or requesting a dance at an old-fashioned ball. And really, you want all of this to be over—you want to get out of this hospital, you want to taste what the air outside is like, you want to distract yourself from what you just gave up in exchange for a future. At this point you’re just going to have to hope God isn’t as picky about the whole premarital sex thing as you grew up believing.

So you put your hand in Overhaul’s.

Slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid it’ll burn him, he slides your purity ring down your finger and balances it in the palm of his bare hand. It sizzles when he touches it, glowing orange until it eventually burns down into a ash-black circle in the center of his palm. Once he’s satisfied that your pretty little ring has been reduced to nothing more than a scorch mark, he closes his hand around yours and you feel something sharp, painfully hot, etching onto your finger.

It’s over in a second, but you still yelp and yank your hand away from him as soon as he lets you. “Ah—ow, what was that?”

He burned you, he literally burned you! He’s already healed it, but there’s still a thin, pale scar, an intentional one left wrapping around the skin at the base of your left ring finger. Like a wedding ring.

When you look close, you can make out a symbol on the back of your finger where the cross used to sit—and even though your conscious mind doesn’t recognize it, the sight of it rings out something inside your ribcage, deeper and truer than flesh and blood. It’s the devil’s mark, you think. It’s his.

“…A promise,” Overhaul says softly, and even though it’s a chilly morning, you can feel the heat of his hands on yours a long time after he vanishes back into the dark.

[winter-soldier-vibes]

I have a request for your future work. If you are comfortable writing this topic, I'd love to read it.

I have always had very bad cramps when I'm on my period. I also have PMS so I struggle with pain a week before my period starts. And It makes me think, if I could not let go of this cruel pain until menopause, I'd rather stop living. (Sorry it sounds heavy)

I want Bucky to comfort women who are struggling with serious period cramps ( Dysmenorrhea ) and PMS.

Thank you for reading my request! You can ignore this if you are not feeling right!

I love you so much❤️

Of course!!!

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

PMS for Please Make it Stop

Bucky x reader

Summary: Reader suffers from severe cramps and PMS symptoms on and in between her periods. Bucky, her boyfriend, comforts her as much as he can.

Word count: 1666

Warnings: talk of everything that comes with periods, pain and cramps, PMS, fluff

A/N: Thank you for the request, and I am so sorry that it’s so painful for you! I’ve had a lot of experience with “that time of the month” feeling completely unbearable, and I hope that this fic is helpful! I don’t know exactly what you’re going through because each person has different symptoms with different severities and time spans. I truly hope that this helps you! I’m always here to talk as a fellow person with periods and the emotions that come with them!

Tags: @mardema @buckfics @stucky-on-spiderman @buckys2thicc @abitgryffindorky @barnesplums @thatfangirl42 @freigeistundanderes @babyboibucky

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You rolled over in bed, curling in on yourself and using your pillow to suppress a groan. It was early morning, you could tell because the sun was up but Bucky hadn’t left for his run with Steve yet. It was that time of the month again, the one you hated so goddamn much. The one every woman hated so much. But it was never just the few days of blood they had taught you about in sex ed.

You hadn’t been prepared for the cramps, bloating, mood swings, headaches, cravings, and pain…

So. Much. Pain.

You could handle blood, that wasn’t an issue for you. You had seen your share of bloodshed on the battlefield. It was the horrible cramps that felt like something was stabbing you from the inside out constantly for a week preceding the bloodshed that was too much for you. It paralyzed you in a way. It hurt to do anything at all. As much as you hated to admit it, you could deal with any cut, burn, or broken bone. But these cramps had you curled in a ball with tears in your eyes.

You let out another groan and felt Bucky stir next to you. He turned over and rubbed one of his hands up and down your arm and pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

“Sweetheart, why are you awake?” he asked softly, sleep still lacing his voice. There were only 2 reasons that you would be awake. Either you had a nightmare, or...

You let out a small whimper as another wave of pain came over you.

...cramps.

“Hey, it’s okay, come here,” he said before carefully wrapping his arm around your stomach, rubbing small circles over your stomach. He brought his body flush against you so his chest to your back, without squeezing you too tightly. You sighed in relief, his warm body easing your pain slightly. He pressed soft kisses to your temple, whispering reassuring words in your ear.

He had learned a lot rather quickly when it came to helping you with your pain. He hadn’t known much at all at first, growing up in the 40’s where people never talked about it. When he had first walked in on you curled in the fetal position, crying and whimpering, he had been so worried. So when you referred to it as ‘just a period’ and that ‘it’s happened before', he was very confused.

He thought a period was something you ended a sentence with.

You had sent him to Nat and Wanda to explain what was happening. You had synced up with them naturally, but their cramps weren’t as severe as you. Everyone's experiences of periods, their symptoms, and PMS differently, but they felt bad for the severity of yours.

He was very confused as to why he had to ask other people about your pain. When he approached the two wide-eyed and confused, asking why you were in severe pain with no injuries, they had to try not to laugh.

They explained the basics to him, and what was off-limits. No assuming it was happening because of mood swings, no expecting you to keep functioning at peak condition, no mentioning how the emotional mood swings were happening

He was just in awe of it - how women were expected to just act naturally as if they weren’t bleeding at a constant rate while dealing with horrible pain and emotional mood swings. He thought that it was amazing that it was expected that they act naturally.

It took a little bit of trial and error and a lot of patience on both your parts, but he knew how he could help make these days as bearable as he could.

He would spend these days close to you, showing you a lot of affection. He would be gentle and patient with you, reminding you how much he loved you. He would get you anything you needed, be it food or pads or tampons. Once you had sent him to get pads and tampons and he had come back with one of every box with a sheepish look on his face.

“I didn’t know which ones you wanted so I got...all of them.”

You had laughed so hard that it hurt, but it was worth it. He made you promise not to tell Sam.

But eventually, he had learned what you needed. How he could help. The heat helped ease your cramps, so he’d hold you close, but not tightly. Rubbing your stomach helped too, in slow, lazy circles.

While he hated seeing you in pain, he loved taking care of you. Anything he could do to help you he would do.

Another cramp made you shift slightly, trying to find the impossible position that would help relieve the constant pain. You let out a small groan, trying to curl in tighter on yourself. Bucky pressed a small kiss to your temple.

“It’s okay angel, it’s alright.”

“It hurts,” you said, voice cracking.

“I know it does, I know,” he said, using his left hand to brush some hair out of your face.

“I just want it to stop hurting so much,” you said, letting out another pained whimper.

“I can’t imagine,” he said, sincerely. He couldn’t imagine the same pain every month with no relief or solution. He knew just how strong you were, strong as anyone on the team if not stronger. Seeing you in this much pain must have meant it was unbearable.

“I can’t make it go away but I’m here to do whatever I can to help, okay?” he whispered against your skin.

“I’m sorry about this,” you said.

Bucky took a deep breath. “Did you choose to go through this?” he asked softly.

“N-no.”

“Then you have nothing to apologize for.”

You nodded slightly, your heart melting. You tried to take slow and even breaths. After a few moments passed, he asked “Can I help you to the shower? You always say how much the hot water helps.”

You paused for a moment before you nodded, and he pressed another kiss to your temple before standing up and moving to the other side of the bed to help you stand. Moving from your position sounded like the worst idea right now, but you took a deep breath before taking his hands. You sat up slowly, groaning as your hand wrapped around your stomach. You stood up shortly after, bending forward slightly as you made your way to the bathroom with Bucky. He had noticed a bloodstain on the bed, but he didn’t say anything. You didn’t need to know that.

He turned on the water for you, checking the temperature every few moments. Once he deemed that it was hot enough but wasn’t going to burn your skin, he told you and gave you a quick hug before giving you some privacy. You had always enjoyed intimate showers together just...not when you had your period to worry about. When he closed the door, you started to slowly undress to get into the shower. You got into the shower, sighing in relief as it helped soothe your cramps.

Bucky, meanwhile, was working fast. First he texted Steve that he wouldn’t be able to make it to training today, knowing he would understand. He then moved to make the bed with clean sheets, so you wouldn't see the small bloodstain on the current ones. He didn’t want you to worry or feel bad about it. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants and one of his t-shirts that you had always loved. He cracked the bathroom door open and placed them on the counter, careful not to disturb you. He then quickly ran down to the kitchen, still empty for the moment, and grabbed a few of your favorite snacks along with a few water bottles to bring back upstairs.

When he came back to the room, he noticed the water had been turned off. He set the water and snacks on the bedside table as you opened the bathroom door, hair in a messy bun and looking much more refreshed. “Feeling better?”

“A little,” you said quietly before wincing slightly. Bucky gave you a small smile before taking your hand and bringing you over to the bed, him sitting down and leaning against the headboard. He helped you sit down between his legs so you were able to lean your back against his chest. You laid your head back against him and he wrapped his arms around you so his human arm was on your lower stomach, his metal arm resting over it. You let out a small sigh, relaxing back against him. He pressed a small kiss to your temple, rubbing smooth lazy circles on your stomach.

“Try to get some rest, doll.” he whispered. “We can watch your favorite movie when you wake up.”

You turned slightly to look up at him. “But you hate that movie.”

“But you don’t,” he said simply.

You felt tears brim your eyes even though it felt so stupid. “I love you, Bucky.’

“I love you too angel,” he whispered, pressing a last kiss to the side of your head. “Try to get some rest.”

[uwuwriting]

How the boys SIMP! w/ Bakugou, Kaminari and Todoroki

Request: I got like five requests about several of our favorite boys simping over their girlfriend so yeah, here we are. 

Hi I’m not dead, yet at least. I;m starting to believe that my brain will turn to goo after all the chemistry and biology I’ve been studying. Sorry for not posting, my tumblr decided to be a dick and deleted my queued posts so haha yeah. Anyways my posts won’t be as regural as they used to because school....kill me. Love ya. 💖💖💖

masterlist

rules

warnings: SIMPING

Bakugou Katsuki

-Okay he is rather subtle with his simping. 

-He won’t straight up kiss the ground you walk on. 

-BUT he will be kinder and a little softer. 

-Maybe sometimes to the point others notice and it’s not a good look on him. 

-Or at least that’s what he believes. 

- “I have a reputation to keep, baby.”

-That was said behind closed doors at 3 am on the rare occassion he stayed past his bed time. 

-And yes he will ignore his bedtime for you. 

-One of his simping tactics. 

-He will cook for you, he will pretend that he’s annoyed that you aren’t eating well enough or healthy.

-So he becomes mama Bakugou and starts cooking for you.

-Bento boxes for school, snacks while you are studying, dinner and breakfast.

-He will teach you how to cook some dishes for when he is not here and you get hungry. 

- “We’re doing your favorite.”

- “Aww Katsuki, you know my favorite.”

- “Shut up dumbass and pay attention.”

-Speaks rather softly after a while, showing you how to correctly cut the ingredients and how to stir the mix without making a mess. 

-He will just leen on the counter and watch you add all the ingredients with that little concentrated pout on your lips. 

-His heart goes oops. 

-He will be so engrossed with your beauty that you’ll have to give him a small shake when you need him. 

-Pretends to enjoy what you’ve made if you messed it up somehow but will give you honest feed back and advice so you make something edible next time.

-You tend to spend the night at his dorm and he loves it. 

-It’s usually on accident.

-You cuddle him while he goes to sleep and your plan is to get up and leave once you have taken your fill. 

-But he is warm and oh so cuddly that you fall asleep as well. 

-He wakes up around ten o’clock everytime to make sure you left and when he still feels you next to him he just lets out the most genuine smile. 

-He will pull you flush to his chest *if you are not already* and take in your scent saying a little I love you before going back to sleep. 

-The next morning he will wake you up before anyone else gets up and walks you to your room. 

-Thankfully you are on the same floor so you don’t have to go far. 

-He always walks with you to and from class no matter his mood.

-He monitors his tone when he can help it and will warn you when his mood is really awful. 

-In general it’s the little things with him not grand gestures and all out simping. 

Kaminari Denki

-Worships the ground you walk on. 

-All out simping no shame. 

-He will straight up give his soul for you. 

-And he is rather proud of that fact. 

-The polar opposite of Bakugou. 

-And he can get on everyone’s nerves with his simping. 

-Picks you up form your dorm room every morning, carries your bag to class and opens every single door you come across.

-Gives you his food if you show the slightest of interest in his meal. 

- “Denki I just want a bite.”

- “I CAN GET ANOTHER ONE BABY!”

-Calm down sir....calm down. 

-Has canceled game night because you had period cramps. 

-The thing with that is you never actually asked him to come cuddle or something you just mentioned that you were heading to Recovery Girl for some pain killers. 

-Man was waiting you at her office in -0.5 seconds. 

- “I thought you were playing COD.”

- “I canceled.”

- “YOu wHAt?”

-Bakugou legit thinks you are the reason Kaminari keeps blowing them off. 

-That you are some type of overly clingy girlfriend. 

-DENKI IS AN OVERLY CLINGY GIRLFRIEND. 

-Has gone off on a russian dude because while you were playing COD together he said something about girls being really bad at video games. 

-Your man almost got banned.

-He skips class if you’re sick which is rather sweet but simultaneously really really dumb. 

-Aizawa is coming fro his ass in 3....2....1.

-Boy didn’t even reach your door. 

-You just heard your boyfriend’s girlish screams coming from down the hall followed by pleads of mercy. 

-You were -><- this close to going out there to see what was going on but then you heard Aizawa’s monotonous voice and just went back to sleep.

-He later came over and narrated his traumatic experience. 

-Poor baby just wanted to take care of you.

Todoroki Shouto

-He’s a mix of Bakugou and Denki.

-He likes being subtle and showering with affection behind closed doors but also will be at your beck and call. 

-In your or his room he likes to hold you close like really really close.

-Oh you are studying?

-Will just hug you from behind.

-You are watching something on Netflix?

-Will rest his head on your shoulder. 

-You do the same really because he is a very very touch starved baby and he needs more love. 

-He Likes to bring you food that Fuyumi makes. 

-He visits his sister on the regural so he always or almost always comes back with a small bento box with your name on it in Fuyumis delicate writing.

-Fuyumi loves you and she knows what a simp her baby brother is for you.

-In public he isn’t on Denki’s level.

-Yeah sure he will open the door for you.

-Sure he might ignore everyone else and only answer to you. 

-But that doesn’t make him an immediate simp.

-No no.

-What makes him a simp is the way he treats you during free period. 

-Clingy boy to the fullest.

-And a bonus, will do anything you ask. 

-You are doing a project and you need to test something in extreme heats? He has laready rolled up his sleeve.

-You are thirsty from studying? He is already on his way to buy you a water bottle. 

-He’s more of a protective simp.

-Considering who his father is he really gets protective over you whenever he is around. 

-Also doesn’t like training with you because he doesn’t want to accidently hurt you. 

-The last simp characteristic of his is drum roll......

-Your sleeping schedule. 

-It’s fucked up basically.

-You tend to study until you pass out in his room and he will always carry your to your dorm unless you tell him otherwise. 

-Will risk detention for being out past curfew just to get you to your room. 

-I LOVE HIM!

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