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Matter of Pride | Hongjoong

Kim Hongjoong - ATEEZ

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~5.9k

Pairing: Lion-Hybrid!Hongjoong x Gazelle-Hybrid!AFAB!Reader

Genre: Hybrid AU!, Historical?/Ancient?, Reader-Insert, Fluff, Smut, Some Plot, Strangers-to-Friends-to-Lovers

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, very tiny mention of noncon, Pet Names (Doll, Sweetheart, Sweet, Love, etc.), Swearing, Kissing, Biting & Scratching & Marking, Bonding/Mating, Heat/Rut, Pheromones, Oral (F! Receiving), Unprotected Sex (This is pre-birth control so…), Monster(?)!Hongjoong (not really, he's a lion hybrid)

Author's Note: Okay, here we go lol. This is NOT Omegaverse, but they do both go into rut/heat. They have animals ears and tails and he's got a spiny lion cock. Hongjoong is not necessarily bigger than reality, the reader is just small. I did also imagine this more to be set in the steppe of Central Asia/Southern Siberia rather than Africa.

I am planning on doing the other members, might just take some time since we are in the process of moving. I wanted to get this up sooner as well, but I live in Tornado Country™.

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

Ever since you were a calf, the elders of your herd told you to stay away from predators. You weren't for sure why thought, since all they told you was that they were dangerous. You found that quite odd considering you were not full animals, and as far as you knew, predator hybrids did not literally eat prey hybrids. There was probably some ancient lore-based superstition or something, and it wasn't till you were older did you really think about the real facts. Despite logically knowing that they weren’t going to eat you alive, you still were a bit scared about meeting a predator.

One day you were traversing the rocky steppe of your homeland, right at the foothills of the mountains. Crouching down, you ran your fingers through the grass, feeling for the tell-tale mound of the root you were looking for. The sun was beginning to set, the cool of late-spring settling in the air.

"No." you grumbled, not feeling anything. Standing back up, your attention was quickly drawn to a new sound. Your furry ear, sticking out from the side of your head, flicked at the noise. The wind shifted and your sensitive smell picked up something unfamiliar, but it triggered a deeper, primal part of you. Predators. Logic tried to fight back against instinct, the sound was voices, not the growls of an actual animal. Still, your heart raced, the sound of blood pumping thudded in your ears. Your furry tail swished back and forth nervously, and despite your apprehensions, you moved toward the voices. Finding a path that led a bit further into the foothills, you saw fresh boot marks. Gently, like doing so would trigger something, you placed your own foot in the print, the size difference was striking. You were not a child, you were actually quite a bit bigger than the other women of your herd, but… A boisterous laugh hit your ears, your head turning toward it on its own, instinctually. Swallowing hard, you followed the tracks and when you came around a large boulder, you peered around it. There was a small clearing created by tall, jutting rocks, and a camp had been set up there. Three figures sat around a firepit, great furry pelts wrapped around their shoulders and necks. Lions. There was a fourth figure, leaning against one of the rocks, making him closest to you. Peering closer, he was beautiful. Sharp eyes and jawline, his hair wasn't as long nor as shaggy as the others. His pelt was much nicer as well, and he was the only one with a tunic shirt on underneath. A large axe-like knife was attached to his belt and he had a deep red cloth tied around his bicep. You felt the end of your tail brushing over the rock as it swayed, your nose twitching as the wind carried their scent. You had a hard time pinpointing the exact fragrance, but the one closest to you was the most potent. And the most pleasant. The three around the fire smelled like the smoke wafting around them, and like sweat and dirt. The other one though, he smelled like spiced tea and fragrant tree bark. The wind shifted again, coming up from behind you, carrying your scent right into the clearing. You barely had time to realize what had happened, trying to back away and completely out of sight, but he noticed. As you ducked to hide, his deep golden-brown eyes met your own. The intense look shot fear through your very DNA and you turned to bolt, using your species' long and fast legs to sprint. You didn't make it very far though, and the back of your tunic was seized and you bleated as you were hauled back. Turning to look at your captor as best as you could, it was the handsome one. He smelled even better so close and looked even better. Your face was hot, for many different reasons, and you wondered if he could smell your fear. Was that an actual thing?

"What's wrong Hongjoong?" One of the other lions called and he was able to hide you with his own body. He wasn't as big as the others, but still a good seven or eight inches taller than you.

"Smelled a doe, I'm going to see if I can get her." He shouted back and they went back to their raucous conversation. The lion holding you wrapped his arm around your middle rather than gripping your tunic and easily carried you around the boulder fully and down the slope. You hung there, not sure what else you could do, and he only let you go when he got to the end of the path that led you in.

"S-sorry!" You spun around to face him, not trusting him at your back, "I wasn't eavesdropping!"

"I'm not worried about that, doll. Be glad the smoke covered your scent for the others."

"W-why? Would they…" You swallowed hard, your quivering obvious to him. So were your twitching ears, and he could see your tunic shifting from your wagging tail.

"Would they eat me?" Your question threw him off, to the point that he flinched back.

"What?" He huffed, "No, of course not. Is that what you were told?" You shrugged, feeling embarrassed now.

"That's not what I'm worried they would do to a cute thing like you." Your arm reached around your back, twisting so you could wrap your fingers around the end of your braid, tugging on it. You couldn't meet his gaze, especially because you understood his implication. Also, you weren't sure how you felt about him calling you cute.

"What are you doing around here? What herd are you with?"

"I was gathering herbs…I'm with the gazelle herd southwest of here." You motioned vaguely behind you.

"What were you looking for?"

"Valerian root. It's too early for the plant to be flowering so it's hard to find." He didn't reply for a bit, glancing behind him.

"There's a big tree, east of your village?"

"Y-yes?" You were a little concerned he knew the area so well, but at the same time if they knew where your herd was, and had left it be, it was probably okay.

"What else have you been looking for?" His change of subject caught you off guard, but you answered.

"Meet me at that tree tomorrow evening, and I'll have some for you. Don't come back this way, those others aren't safe."

"You are, though?" Your question didn't sound as bold as you wanted it to. He chuckled a bit, then exhaled hard through his nose.

"Short answer, yes. I don't want to be working with them, but I don't have a choice right now."

"What do you want in return?" You asked, why would he help you just to be nice. It would be a lot of work to gather the herbs you were looking for.

"We'll see how hard it is, then I'll tell you. Deal?" He held his hand out and you eyed it. Finally, taking it, the strength behind the grip jolted you.

"I'm Hongjoong. Do you have a name I can call you?" He smirked softly and you pulled away from the handshake like he had burned you suddenly.

"(Y/N). About this time?"

"Sure, doll. Now go home, and don't come back here." Hongjoong stepped back and nodded for you to do so. Turning back to look at him a few times as you went, you trotted back home, your bag lighter than you had planned on it being.

All through the next day, your eyes kept flitting to the sun behind the clouds, waiting for it to reach the right point in the sky. You were glad you were the head healer, if you had not come back with a good haul before your mentor retired, she would've swatted your hands. In the beginning, it was weird to return to an empty tent, but after nearly six months, you were used to it. It wasn't like she was dead; it was just weird she wasn't there anymore. Your hands moved on muscle memory as you worked through the day, thoughts spiraling, always returning to the image of the lion you met the day prior. It didn't help that he was so attractive, the encounter would have been significantly less captivating without that factor. It was clear he didn't like his comrades, even past that, his appearance was very different from theirs. He had been standing far away from them as well and had even lied when he found you.

The closer toward the horizon the sun grew, the more distracted you were, and you were so antsy that for the last hour before the designated time, you stood at the edge of the village. Some of your herd had questioned your odd behavior through the day, and you brushed it off, telling them you were thinking hard about where to find more herbs. That time of year was difficult with so many different plants sprouting up, and most people accepted your reasoning. Only your mother wasn't convinced, but she also knew not to press too hard, or you would lose your patience. You didn't have too much of that.

From where you were standing, you could kind of see where the tree was, well, the rock that was hiding it. It was behind the big rock. Glancing up at the darkening sky, you could finally see the twinkling of the northernmost star, and you started to trek out. After you descended the slope, and gotten over the hill after it, you knew you were out of sight, and broke into a quicker pace. For some reason, you were excited. Was it the thrill of doing something that others would frown upon? Was it that you got to bask in the presence of the extremely attractive lion once more?

You reached the boulder faster than normal, it seemed your body was just as eager, and had decided to move faster than your brain realized. Swallowing hard, your hand brushed over the smooth stone surface as you moved around it, peaking around. Feeling a small sense of déjà vu, when you could see around the rock, you saw him under the tree.

"There's no need to hide, doll." His voice was warm and you giggled a little in embarrassment, fully coming around. Right when you got close enough, he took a bundle off his shoulder, leaves poking out from the leather wrap. Taking it gently, you crouched down so you could untie it and look. You gasped seeing everything that was there. Not only did he find everything you needed, but there was also a lot there.

"H-How did you get so much?" You looked up at him from your squat and he shrugged. No verbal response, but you were too grateful to question.

"H-here." You reached into your own bag, your string of coins jingling as you pulled it out.

"No, (Y/N). You don't need to pay me."

"But!" When you moved to give him the coins, he wrapped his fingers over yours so they wrapped around the metal pieces.

"What do you want as payment then?"

"Don't worry about it."

"I have, um. I have this mulled wine my grandfather made…" You went back to your bag, going to unite the cord of the wineskin.

"No."

"Um, okay, I have…" You shuffled stuff around in your bag, looking for the flute you still didn't really know how to play.

"(Y/N). You don't have to give me anything, it’s fine." He was closer then, trying to get you to stop your frantic search. His fingers went to your chin, forcing your head to tip back so you could meet his gaze.

"A-are you sure?"

"Yes." He dropped his hand and stepped back once more, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

"N-nothing?" You felt bad, it would have taken hours to gather that much.

"If you really want, you can sit and talk to me for a bit?" He suggested and the request flabbergasted you.

"Really?" Hongjoong hummed with a nod, turning so he could move to the tree, sitting at the base in a divot in the large roots. Sitting down next to him, you truly felt small then, scratching at a root with your blunt fingernail. Your eyes went to his own hands, sharp claws sat at the end of each finger. You also had noticed when he smiled, his canine teeth were bigger and sharper. His golden-blonde hair, rounded ears, and tufted tail all screamed that he was a lion, even if his demeanor didn't. He wasn't scary, but he was majestic and beautiful.

"Have you ever met a lion before me?" He rested against the tree trunk and you shook your head.

"Have you ever met a predator?"

"Not really. Just seen them from afar." You picked at a dried bit of some poultice you had made that was stuck on your tunic skirt.

"You weren't as afraid as I thought you would be, then."

"If it had been one of the others, maybe."

"Why was I different?" Hongjoong's gaze on you made your face hot, you couldn't return the look.

"You could have given me away to the others, and you didn't." Yep, that was it. Nothing more to it.

"That's it?" He sounded a bit disappointed.

"Why didn't you?"

"I told you; I don't care for them."

"Then why are you travelling with them?"

"It's hard to be a solo male out here. It's easier to work with a group before I try and get my own pride."

"Oh. So, like, a bunch of wives?"

"More like two or three. Not like full lions, but..." He didn't sound super eager for that.

"Are all lion hybrids like that?"

"More or less. Never appealed to me much, to be honest."

"Really?" This piqued your interest, and you didn't dwell too much on why.

"It's rare for lions to have one spouse, out in the wilds anyway. I've debated leaving for the capital, but…"

"Why not?"

"I don't mind living off the land, but I don't know where else to go to find a wife. Most lionesses also want to be in a pride, like some ancient call."

"Huh."

"Are gazelle monogamous?"

"Hybrids are. Have a shit ton of kids though." Your response made him laugh; the sound rumbled through you.

"Can you roar like a full lion?" You were too curious. You needed to know.

"Uh, no. Can you actually bleat like a full gazelle?"

"Not really…" Now you felt stupid, ears flicking nervously. Your tail thumped a bit on the ground, your eyes meandering down to look at his. It was much longer than yours, like his full animal brethren.

"What about you?"

"Me?"

"Do you want to get married and have a shit ton of kids?" You hummed in thought. No. It was more because you didn't want to be pressed into a mold. Most herbalists never marry, let alone have offspring, that was part of the reason you chose the trade.

"No."

"You even want kids?"

"Don't know. One would be nice, but that's not how it works…" You stared in the distance toward your village.

"How many siblings do you have?"

"I'm the oldest of eleven."

"Fuck." He huffed and his reaction made you burst into a guffaw.

"Yes."

"Is your mother…okay?" This made you laugh harder.

"Uh, I can't imagine five singletons plus three sets of twins would make anyone okay."

"Not your ideal future?"

"Oh, fuck, no." Hongjoong smiled at your obvious newly relaxed state. It was then you noticed the sun had set completely, little white stars twinkling in the dark purple abyss.

"I need to get back!" You shot up, retying the bundle he had given you.

"Wait!" He stopped you with a hand on your wrist. Turning to look back at him, he licked his lips, letting you go.

"Can you meet me back here in two days. Same time?" Your eyes widened a bit at the request, but you felt a smile tug at your lips.

"Yeah, I can."

You did go back when he asked.

"You came!" Hongjoong seemed genuinely surprised, standing up straight from where he had been leaning against the tree.

"Of course?" You were genuinely surprised at his reaction, "why wouldn't I?"

"I was a bit worried you only came last time for the herbs…" He wouldn't look straight at you, and you noticed he had something in his hand. It was obviously plants.

"Is that why you brought that?" You pointed to them, and he brought them around from behind his back.

"Y-yeah."

"Hongjoong. You're the first guy that still gave me the time of day after saying I didn't want to have twelve children." You motioned behind you toward your village, "honestly I've been really impatient, waiting for…now." Your face warmed and you swiped your leg back and forth, drawing an arch in the dirt with your toe.

"You're the first girl who didn't look at me weird when I said I only wanted one wife…" He huffed, the confident smirk coming back to his face.

"Is it weird, that we're so different?" You voiced the obvious concern between both of you.

"Maybe. But it doesn't feel like it."

For nearly two months you met at the tree, every two days. One night, under a full moon, when you arrived at the tree, he met you right as you arrived, immediately sweeping you into his arms. A bit shocked, you returned the hug, warmth flooding your whole body. You spoke like normal, sitting together, shoulder to shoulder. That time though, there was something in the air. You couldn't place your finger on it, and when you went to leave for the night, he hugged you once more. When he pulled back, his hand went to cup your cheek.

"I…I don't want to let you go." He barely pulled away from the hug but did release you. His head was bowed to be closer to yours, forehead brushing yours.

"Hongjoong?" You weren't for sure what he meant, considering he literally let you go.

"Run away with me. Come to me. Stay with me." He tilted his head, nose brushing yours, his breath mingled with yours. Tears pricked your eyes, a rush of emotions knocking your breath away as he stole it. His lips were hot on yours and a tear escaped your eye. When he pulled back, his eyes met yours, and he grimaced at your tears.

"Tomorrow. I'll come to you. Here?" You asked, ready and willing. You did want to at least say goodbye to your family, gather your things.

"No. There's a cave near where we first met-"

"Behind the vines?"

"Yes."

"I'll be there."

Your mother didn’t ask too many questions. She knew there had been something on your mind, and she knew and saw that you weren't happy there. You never would be, especially not after meeting Hongjoong. You didn't have the heart to tell your father, so you said goodbye to him like it was any other time you went to gather herbs. It wasn't like you would never see them again, but you weren't sure when you would go back, not sure where you would end up. With one last glance behind you, you left your village, your bag more full than usual, but no one noticed. Standing at the entrance of the cave, you swallowed hard, parting the hanging vines and stepping in. He was there. Of course he was, it seemed he had been staying there. A very convenient hole lay in the ceiling, casting the sunlight in. The whole cave smelled of him, and once he saw you, he moved forward. You gasped, his hands cupping your jaw, lips sealing over yours. That kiss wasn’t anything like the time before. Hongjoong pulled back slightly, just so you could breathe and you whimpered at the loss. Your tail rapidly flitted back and forth behind you, ears twitching just as fast. Hongjoong's spiced aroma had grown stronger, a slight rumbling building in his chest. His hands were still holding your jaw, the claw on his thumb just barely ghosting over your skin. Stepping even closer, your hands fell on his chest, and you marveled at the hard muscle underneath the pelt around his shoulders. The rumble grew stronger under your touch, and you could already feel your core clench around nothing. Swallowing hard, you breathed in his scent, over and over, like it was a drug.

"Fuck, (Y/N)." He practically growled, one hand moving to rest on your waist. His face buried into the crook of your neck; nose pressed to your jugular. Your blood spiked and you felt your whole body shudder. You were unsure if it was arousal, or a sense of danger, having the large fangs of a predator near your weakest spot.

"You smell so good." Hongjoong groaned, hauling you closer, leaving barely a space between you.

"Like what?" You wanted to add, 'like a meal or a mate?', but didn't want to ruin the moment.

"Like when the apricots blossom." His other hand on your jaw moved instead to the back of your head, the one on your waist to the small of your back. You gasped at the pressure of his body, feeling him growing hard against your stomach. His face left your neck, and he kissed you again. You wondered if that was what the elders implied, being eaten alive. His tongue had easily entered your mouth, swiping over yours, his large canines clacking against your much blunter ones. You had expected his tongue to be rough, but he didn't know yours would be as well, though not nearly as coarse as your full animal kin. It seemed though, that he was literally drooling, the extra saliva made his tongue glide around yours. You whimpered again, the muffled noise was nearly a bleat, and the rumble of his chest nearly a roar. Hongjoong's lips left yours, a strand of spit connecting your mouths, another trail leaving the corner of his mouth. He licked away the extra, breaking the trail, his pupils had narrowed to narrow slits. Your own pupils were blown wide, the black nearly eclipsing the color of your iris. Part of you felt the need to run, flee, that you were being hunted. Somehow though, that thought turned you on all the more.

"Are you sure, (Y/N)?"

"Huh?"

"Once I have you, I won't let you go." His voice rumbled through you, straight to your cunt, and your scent of arousal built to the point you could smell it yourself. The spiced bark of his own aroma filled your nostrils, making your thoughts hazy.

"You already have me." You replied, voice very soft, to keep it from shaking. Your brain didn't register his next move till it was already done, your back pinned to the rock of the cave, his hand still on the back of your head to make sure it didn't smash against the stone.

"Tell if it hurts too bad." His voice was in your ear, nose pushing against the collar of your tunic. Your hands around his neck moved to his upper back, gripping hard into the pelt as his teeth sank into your shoulder. Your eyes rolled back, the stinging pain just aroused you further, and his hips rutted forward once, pressing his even harder cock against your tummy. As his fangs left your skin, he licked over the spot and you flinched at the sting. Just then, his scent spiked, the aroma becoming sweeter, mingling with yours. You knew predators bonded through mating bites, but you had no idea what it would do to your body. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, blood rushed in your ears and a drop of slick started to flow down your inner thigh.

"Gotta warn you, sweetheart." He huffed, a cocky smirk gracing his features, tongue licking over the drop of blood still on his lip. He palmed his hard-on through his tunic pants, "might look a little different than you're expecting."

"Huh?" You weren't fully registering what he was getting at. Hongjoong's fingers wrapped around yours, bringing your hand to his covered cock, letting you palm over him yourself. You whimpered, you had dealt with plenty of naked males being a healer, and none compared. The thing that you noticed really, what he was talking about, were the little spines at the base of his cock and below the head. Your eyes widened, normally that would concern you some, but your body was ready and waiting. Eager even, begging.

"They don't hurt like a full lion, but I wanted you to know."

"I don't care, I just want you to split me open on it." Your bold declaration made him chuckle, his tongue licking against the tip of your ear. It flicked under the touch and the hand at your head brought your lips back to his. He swallowed your mewls, the hand he had on your back moved lower, gripping the base of your tail. When he tugged, a bleat escaped your throat, and his hard thigh nestled between your quivering ones. He immediately felt the heat of your cunt through the thin leather of his tunic pants, your slick quickly dripping over the material.

"You're soaked, love." He pressed harder, your hips jumping, the slight friction intensified by whatever hex he seemed to have you under.

"Sorry, sweet. You're sending me into a rut." His chest was rumbling again, deeper than before, "It'll be hard to hold back." Is that what was happening to you? Was he putting you into heat? Yours were normally extremely weak since you were unmated, and was it much worse because he was a predator? Did your body need to compensate for his own body’s greater power? The hand on your tail moved to cup your butt, then to your thigh, prompting you to pronk up and into his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist, the bulge of his cock pressing over your bare cunt and you whined, breath hitching. You felt so small then, he easily held you up against the cave wall, broad enough that most wouldn’t even know you were there but your legs around his middle. Hongjoong kissed over your neck, down to your collar bone, rough tongue searing over your skin. Your hands scrambled, gripping and pulling at the pelt around his neck, trying to get it off. He helped you, reaching under to undo a small button and you pulled it up over his head, letting it flop to the ground. His toned arms were fully on display then, the red cloth around his arm somehow made the sight all the better. He never told you what it meant, and you just assumed it was an accessory. Before you could start trying to wrestle his tunic top off, he held you to him, carrying you to a pile of pelts it seemed he used as a bed. Softly, he laid you down on it, but his following movements were anything but. He ripped his shirt off and you didn't get time to ogle his bare torso because he proceeded to literally tear yours off. You had only been in a linen tunic dress, but still the ease with which he turned it to shreds was incredible arousing. His palms were rough against your soft skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"Hongjoo-!" Your breath was kicked from your lungs, vision spattering with dots of light when his tongue buried into your cunt. You hadn't even realized he was down there, hands pressing to your thighs to hold your legs open. Even the slight brush of his lips over your clit as his tongue licked over your walls was intense. A strong wave of pleasure was quickly cresting, your womb pulsing hard, walls clenching.

"Fuck~!" Little bleats and whimpers left you, your tail whacking against the pelts beneath you, dull nails raking through his hair. While you had never had an orgasm, you knew that's what it was. With how quick he brought you up to and over the edge, you knew you were in for a long night. Hongjoong growled, his purr rumbling through his tongue into you, drinking your essence as it squirted from your cunt. Smirking, he pulled back, thumb gathering a drop from his chin so he could lick it off.

"You think your cute little cunt can take my cock?" His knuckles brushed through your folds, careful of his claws.

"Please, need it~" Your foot came up, pressing over his hard-on. He grunted, wrapping his hand around your ankle, forcing it off so he could take his pants off. You watched, hazy eyes trying to focus as the leather hit the cave floor. Your eyes subsequently widened, brain fogging further. Little spines circled his cock, thick and long. Hongjoong kneeled between your legs, spreading them and hooking one of your knees over his elbow to keep you open for him. He chuckled at the twitch your whole body seized from when the hot head met your dripping folds.

"It might sting, love." He warned once more, the thumb of his hand on your waist rubbing small circles over your hip. You nodded, trying to relax but also steel yourself. Yes, it stung, it burned, but it was amazing. Each little bit he sank his fat cock into you, the little spines rubbed and pulled at your walls. Your slick allowed an easy glide, but his own head was swimming from the tight vice of your cunt, eagerly sucking him in. You shuddered with each breath, heat searing through you from your core out, and he was barely half-way in when you felt another orgasm cresting. You thought the pain would diminish the pleasure, but it was the opposite, the burn heated you even further. Hongjoong laid kisses over your shoulder around his mark, letting you adjust to the stretch, even if it was nearly painful for him to go so slow. As the head of his dick pressed against your eager and weeping womb, the little spines at the base brushed your clit and folds, and the final little push finished you off. You threw your head back, eyelids fluttering, nails leaving crescents on his shoulders. He groaned as your tight cunt pulsed around him, more of your slick spurting out from where he was filling you. When the waves of your orgasm faded, you still were shuddering, tipsy on the pleasure.

"Ready, love?"

"Hongjoong~" You mewled, fingers rubbing over his hot skin, blunt nails scratching a path down from where you had them. Your other leg ended up hooked over his elbow as well, and when he pulled out, only about halfway, the little barbs tugged at your gummy walls. He snapped his hips then, burying back inside, battering the fat head against your cervix. He was right, he couldn't hold back. He wanted to start slow, let you get used to it, but he couldn't. The next thrust had no warning, his pace was immediately relentless, your knees pressed up toward your ears. He was fucking you stupid, the noises you let out sounding more and more like your animal kin, bleats and moans melding. Your body had gone limp, only your arms had any strength, hands digging into the pelt under your hips. Your head lolled and your breasts bounced with each thrust. You couldn't think to let him know as he barreled through your third orgasm, more slick gushing from your cunt. His noises were animalistic at that point, anyone passing would think a real lion was rutting in that cave. His tongue ran over his long fangs, saliva spilling from his lips as he growled and grunted.

"Aw, fuck, (Y/N)." He chuckled, burying his cock as deep as he could, pressing those little spines into your groin, pumping your eager womb full. You weren't even sure you could actually get pregnant, but he was bound and determined to fill you to the point that it would leak out of you for days. The heat of his cum inside brought you over the edge too, a much smaller climax racking you. He was still hard as a rock though. You gasped, your lungs spasming as he pulled his cock all the way out, those little barbs digging in. Your world spun, your chest and stomach to the pelts below then, and he yanked your hips up, sinking his cock back in once more. At that angle he got even deeper somehow, each rough plow of his dick battering your back walls. Your vision blurred further, eyes rolling back, fingers futilely digging into the fur below you. His hips pummeled against the skin of your ass hard, the smacking combined with his beastly grunts made your ears twitch. His hand went back to your tail, wrapping around the base, tugging a bit. Shivering shot straight up your spine from where he had you, cunt weeping along with you, tears and drool leaving a puddle on the pelts under you.

"Fucking hell, love. You're so good for me~" He groaned, chuckling as your walls fluttered through another climax. Your cunt and clit stung from the overstimulation, but you needed more, you needed him to pump you full more. The bite on your shoulder flared with heat, so did your skin as his hands wrapped around the small of your waist. His thrusts once again grew unsteady, instead they were hard and shallow, pulling back just enough to rake those little barbs over your clit over and over.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck." You rambled, vision already spotting with white, then nearly screamed when he came again, spurts of white hot jizz leaking from your hole, not able to handle the amount. Your cunt sprayed out as well, the mix of your release leaving a mess on the pelts. You gasped for air, heart thudding, sweat dripping from your forehead. He was still hard. Maybe that's why your people were warned about mixing with predators. His stamina was a beast in itself.

"Can you keep going love? Lions go for a whole day sometimes." Hongjoong groaned when your cunt clenched again, really hoping you could keep going. His body needed yours, just as bad for both of you, and he wanted to fuck you the rest of the week if he could. He might be able to, you on the other hand…

"Fuck me stupid, I don't- just your cock~!" You whined and moaned, giggling like an idiot as his hips rolled again. Picking back up to his monster pace again. Every drag of his dick seemed to eek a tiny little orgasm out of you, your body strung so tight, it sang with every one of his movements. Your brain vaguely registered as the sunlight faded from the hole in the ceiling, fading to the cool moonlight. You didn't think you could walk for a week after, he had fucked so many orgasms out of and into you, you lost count. Globs of thick seed slipped out of your cunt when he finally pulled out, cock finally softening. Your face was blank, eyes open but barely conscious.

"Sleep, my love. I'll need you again in the morning."

Master-Master List

ATEEZ Master List

#ihavethedreamies #kpop #kpop fluff #kpop angst #kpop smut #kpop x reader #kpop fanfic #x reader #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez hongjoong #kim hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong smut #hongjoong fluff #hongjoong fanfic

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shadowxamyweek · 1 day

Text

What The Fuck Do You Mean They Gave Amy Rose an Eating Disorder

Alright. I said I’d talk about why I think Amy has an eating disorder, and so here I am, ready to throw down.

Disclaimer!

Let me explicitly say- there’s nothing wrong with exercise and there’s nothing wrong with going on a diet. Not intrinsically, anyway. If you’re being smart and healthy about it, you’ve got good people supporting you or you’ve got your own good mental supports to make sure you’re not hurting yourself, that’s awesome. I am not saying these things are evil. What I am saying is there exists a very dark and obsessive undercurrent to *any* sort of health choice due to cultural expectations that, if a person is not careful about, they can get sucked into.

Trigger warnings!

This is very 'Dead Dove, Do Not Eat.' We're gonna be talking about eating disorders and self harm. It's right here on the tin. If you don't think you're gonna be okay reading this, then don't. I want you to be safe. I believe I've tagged this appropriately, but if I've missed something, please let me know.

What even is an eating disorder?

Broadly speaking, it is any behavioral condition characterized by abnormal eating habits. Some eating disorders stem from physical difficulty with eating that becomes psychological, while others originate due to psychological issues themselves. There are eating disorders that occur because people just wish to be in control of something, those that originate due to side effects of medication, those that occur due to side effects of other psychological conditions like anxiety or depression.

This is to say- not all eating disorders are due to an obsession with body image.

However, it cannot be understated just how many people develop an eating disorder because they are obsessed with body image.

I am of the opinion Amy falls into the latter category, that she is obsessed with body image and, due to that, has an eating disorder.

So what’s going on with Amy?

Let’s look at Sonic Battle (2003). It’s a PVP fighting game for the Game Boy Advance, picking up the plot directly after Sonic Heros and introducing us to Ermel (who would die and come back as Germel). Much like the previous games, you would have a singular plot that was divided into sections. We will be focusing on Amy and Cream’s chapters within the story.

Amy Rose (X)

Cream (X)

Battle is what introduces us to Amy’s boxercising. Originally, she started it to get stronger, Cream citing Amy’s desire to keep Ermel safe after briefly getting kidnapped. However, once she realizes she can lose weight via this method, she becomes obsessed. Cream talks about it, seeming visibly uncomfortable with Amy’s fixation on losing weight, but we don’t really get much in the way of details until we actually fight Amy and see this weightloss obsession in action.

In the Amy chapter of the story, she takes Ermel back to her apartment to train. They set a goal of 5 KOs, then 10. Amy feels faint, citing lightheadedness. Ermel leaves her alone in her apartment.

The next time you see her, only a few moments later, Cream is there. Turns out Amy was so lightheaded she had to go for a liedown. Cream says she’s worried about Amy. Specifically, she says she’s ‘burnt out,’ from overworking herself. Amy promptly comes back from her short break, stumbling into the room, to which Cream exclaims they can’t keep going because Amy can’t walk straight. Amy tells Cream she’s fine, and proceeds to start another goal of 10 KOs.

After that, Amy wants to keep working out, but she’s reaching her limit. She’s unable to speak more than a word or two without gasping for air. Insisting she can keep exercising, she tries to excuse herself to ‘change tactics’. When Cream follows her, it’s revealed that Amy’s been wearing excessively heavy weights on her arms and legs during this entire training spree.

Amy says to go for another goal of 10 KOs. Cream, visibly upset, says that Amy has lost her focus on training. Still, you fight her anyway.

After this, Amy collapses.

She is able to pull herself together after a second, rushing off with Ermel to keep fighting in search of the Chaos Emeralds. Cream seems relieved that Amy’s alright, saying, ‘she’s the strongest woman I know.’

The relief does not last long. After you finish Amy’s chapter, you switch to Cream’s. It opens up post boxcercise with Amy congratulating Ermel on getting strong. Cream noticeably stays very quiet during the exchange.

Then, Amy asks, ‘how much did I lose today?’

Ermel tells her that she’s burned 1000 calories during their workout session. If she wants, she can lose a kilo/2 pounds-ish per three days if she is able to keep this up, but she will have to eat only 700 calories a day max and drink 4 liters/ 1 gallon-ish of water a day. Amy gets very excited. She also says she’s going to purchase some ‘super diet-machine.’ to further her progress. She thanks Ermel for helping her get closer to her goal.

After a bit of a back and forth, Cream says to Ermel that Amy is really getting into this dieting. When Ermel asks, ‘Is getting thin good?’ Cream explains that Amy wants to be thinner so that Sonic might like her back. Ermel, understandably, doesn’t get it. Cream replies that, sometimes, a person will do anything for someone they love. Ermel stays silent, and Cream says that one day, they may eventually understand.

(I swear there’s an additional dialog option if you go back to Amy’s place to talk to her where Ermel suggests she eat nothing but lettuce leaves, but I have misplaced my own copy of the game and cannot verify this. As such, I am not going to use it as evidence, but I do ask that if anyone DOES have the game, fact-check me on this place. I’d like to know if my memory is correct or if this is just a fabrication due to… everything mentioned above.)

So okay, that’s the beats of the story. Now let’s talk about dangerous exercise and diet culture:

Exercise and Eating Disorders

Boxercise feels like a direct parallel to stuff like Jazzercise (60s-80s) or Zumba (00s-10s), which is just normal exercise with a twist of some sort that make it palatable for mass engagement/marketing. These different fun and exciting methods (and they can be- they can be fun- I’m not even gonna lie.) of workout were often sold as methods of both gaining strength and losing weight, but the losing weight often becomes their focus. This game even calls out the ‘this will make me stronger’ to ‘this will make me thin and desirable’ mental pipeline that can happen in the culture surrounding these sorts of exercise methods, unfortunately fostered despite whatever intentions their creators or individualized mentors had. There is nothing wrong with any of these styles of exercise. However, overexercise can be a hallmark of an eating disorder, and a culture of obsession that can surround fad exercises promoting extreme weightloss is dangerous. (X) (X)

It’s not new. The culture around these fad exercise methods might create a special sort of vortex, but look closely, and you'll likely pick up a few people with the same mindset at any old gym. ‘If I just keep pushing, if I just keep going, if I ignore the pain, I’ll be who I want to be.’ That’s how people get permanent injury, from Jannet going way too hard at pilates to Keith pushing far too much weight.

Speaking of weights- We are lead to believe that Amy has been wearing weights this entire time. I don’t just mean for the fight mentioned above. Think about it- she takes them off during that massive workout/fight, but when did she put them on? We don’t see it. We’ve been with her nearly the entire time. This reads to me that she has had them on the entire day, not just for her exercising.

It should be noted that wearing weights in this manner for an extended period of time can lead to damage (X) . As an aside, I have found no studies on the matter, but at least half of the people I know who have also had an eating disorder at one point or another intentionally weighed themselves down in some manner thinking they could burn more calories by doing whatever it was they were doing. This includes wearing training weights all the time, overfilling backpacks and carrying them around, and other things.

It’s not the exercise that is bad, it’s not the method that is bad, it’s not most of the community that is bad, but there is (and has always been, and will always be, unfortunately) a portion of it with this dangerous mindset that a person can get sucked into if they are not careful.

Due to the evidence above, it seems clear to me that Amy has gotten sucked into this mindset.

That’s just a part of it though. The restricted eating is where it gets really solidified for me.

Diet Culture and Eating Disorders

Now, obviously I’m going to be going off of human numbers, so if you wish to counterargue that ‘oh well they’re smaller/different species of course they’d need less calories’ that’s fine- feel free to do so- but just understand I personally don’t think the text was written with that sort of calculation in mind.

The average human body, even if it is a body largely at rest, needs about 2,000 calories a day to help maintain good health (X) (PLEASE ignore BMI it's a bullshit method of measurement). Various fad diets or crazes have come and gone across the centuries, with focuses on trying to achieve whatever body type was popular in that moment.

‘This will make you sexy. This will make you wanted. This will finally make someone love you. Before, you were unlovable. After, maybe you’ll have a real chance.’

Noticeably, in the fad diets of the 90s into today, the focus for a lot of people attempting to lose weight has been ‘restrict your caloric intake.’ That’s not a problem until you start cutting out foods with nutrients the body needs to survive and/or getting to under a 1,000 calories a day (X).

Despite what a lot of popular caloric or generalized eating restriction diets will tell you, if you keep your body from energy, it will go into protection mode. Protection mode is where your body acts like it is starving, because it is, thus slowing down its stash of burnable energy. Your average caloric burn then DROPS. This causes it to become harder and harder to lose weight the longer you starve yourself, which creates a vicious cycle.

Furthermore, if you are both working out and dieting, you need good caloric intake when working out in order to help facilitate building muscle. If you don’t eat properly while working out, you don’t build the muscle you should and, in fact, you can lose muscle or cause permanent damage since your muscles won’t have the tools/energy to repair themselves after workouts.

Crash diets/workouts like this are also not sustainable. There have been dozens of studies on how losing weight too quickly can be bad for the body, but beyond that, the mental tax of trying to maintain a non-maintainable lifestyle of limited eating/ overworkout often ends in a massive rebound (a rubber-banding if you wanna call it that) due to lethargy or mental fatigue (not helped by the lack of food.). That plus a brutalized metabolism will cause people to gain the weight they lost back, make it more difficult to lose, and might ultimately result in the person gaining more weight than they had previously. Again- vicious cycle. (X)

But the dieting industry, the diet culture doesn’t really care about that. It largely doesn’t care if its product or concept or whatever hurts you. Its job is to make money.

Because here’s the thing- Most people have a part of themselves, however small, that would love to change. Most people would like to be liked, to be needed, to be desired in some capacity. Due to this, a person's self worth is often tied up in some part of themself, often something that is visual, often something that, if given the opportunity, they’d change.

How does continued hunger relate to mood?

The concept of being ‘hangry’ is pretty well known. (X). Be hungry long enough, you get physically unwell, and you can unlock a special sort of anger that only comes with being hungry.

Not just that, but being hungry for extended periods of time can also cause issues with mental clarity (X).

It goes just beyond hangry though. Food and nutrition have long been understood to affect mood and mental well being, though not to the scientific degree able to be achieved today (X) . To summarize as simply as possible- your gut biome, which is dictated largely by your diet, directly impacts mental and physical wellbing. If your gut biome is maintained as it should be, then you overall will have a healthier mental state and overall feel better. If your gut biome is poor, due to undereating or lack of intake of needed nutrients, your biome will start to wither. This will directly impact your mental and physical wellbeing. (X)

I’m not going to dwell on this for terribly long, but I want to bring it up in correlation with the previous two sections because who amongst the Sonic crew is often labeled as being emotionally unstable and prone to moodswings?

Amy Rose.

Who is often fingered as having outbursts of volatile anger?

Amy Rose.

And who do we see starving themselves in game and working themselves past the point of exhaustion?

Amy Rose.

Listen, I confess this one is a bit of a stretch. It’s more of a continuation from the two other points that I sort of wanted to point out. If you can understand the previous arguments for her overworking and underfeeding herself, then this one feels like a natural third component in that and, as such, I felt it should be at least mentioned.

What I Personally Have Seen in Regards to Eating Disorders in Media while Growing Up.

Thank goodness so much has changed. I remember eating disorders taking up whole episodes in television series, whole issues in comics, whole books in novel series, and it has largely evaporated. The problem is still around, because of course it is, but it is far less of a joke now than it use to be.

When I was growing up, there were a lot- and I mean a lot- of stories that said, ‘Oh, if you were just a little better, someone would love you. Someone will notice you. If you were prettier, cooler, thinner, buffer, whatever- people would notice you. Someone would love you. Maybe even that specific person you wish could love you back.’

‘If you just tried a little harder, maybe it’ll happen.’

And you saw this in the real world, in the marketing, in the fashion, everywhere. Advertisements pushed that if you didn’t fit this very specific, narrow, palatable concept of beauty, then you weren’t worth anyone’s time.

When this was portrayed in media, it often manifested directly into characters doing insane things to change themselves. Sometimes it was their style of dress, or their personality. Oftentimes, it would manifest in them trying to get buff or be thin.

With a lot of stories, the character often came to the conclusion of, ‘Hey, just be you. You’re good as you- don’t do things to impress other people. Don’t be who you’re not because you feel you have to.’

But it was a coinflip as to whether or not the story would prove that to be wrong or true.

Worse still, even if the lesson was still ‘just be you,’ the whole ordeal was often portrayed as a joke.

Specifically, women- girls- working out to exhaustion, starving themselves, was portrayed as a joke.

If the goal of the story was for comedy, and the end had the character revert back to who they were previously, it can usually be put into one of two categories:

‘How could you be so stupid? How could you believe you ever needed to change? How dumb are you to fall for social pressure like that?’

or-

‘How could you be so stupid? How could you believe you could change? You’re not strong enough to change. You’re too you to ever be liked.’

On that note, let’s back up and return to Amy.

I’m the sort of person that’s got a narrow focus when it comes to Sonic properties. Specifically, if it’s not game canon, it’s not canon to me.

However, in understanding that other canons exist, other properties within the Sonic universe exist, I won’t ignore them. Even if I don’t think they’re canon, if there is a throughline within, I cannot help but to notice.

So it’s with this in mind that I ask you: Do you know of Sonic Spin and Dash?

It’s a manga. Put out in the early 00’s, it was a little series of comics that focused on Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, Amy, Shadow, and Eggman having arbitrary interactions. They’re largely cute and lighthearted. I couldn’t tell you officially what the official age demographic would be for them, but I’d have to guess something fairly young.

Volume 6 is titled, ‘A Maiden's High-Tech Diet.’ In it, Amy freaks out about having gained 3 kilos/ about 7 pounds. Despite the fact that she’s a growing girl, this deeply upsets her. She asks Tails and Sonic not to eat (in front of her? At all? Unsure.) while she’s trying to diet. Eggman shows up and offers her a solution- a diet machine that will help her achieve the weight and look she wants so deeply. 3 days later, Amy approaches Sonic again.

She’s emaciated. Wobbling in from off-stage, unable to even speak a sentence without pausing, she asks Sonic if she’s looking thinner.

Let me rephrase- she’s asking if she looks ‘thin enough’.

Eggman, via his dieting ‘robot’ which really is just a mech he’s hiding inside, asks Amy and co. to perform more insane tasks to weaken them and cause them to be too exhausted to fight him. However, even during this, Amy has other ‘slimming’ products that she’s bought which she uses to defeat Eggman.

In the end, everyone exhausts Eggman, causing him to give up his scheme and leave. By the end of all of it, he himself is looking thin, having worked off much of his weight in this charade.

It’s just played off as a joke.

Alright, but that was early 00’s. How’s Sega been about Amy now?

Well, this hasn’t really come up in games again, thank goodness. I reiterate- times have changed, and I’m very glad about that. That doesn’t mean this sort of thing is entirely gone, however. This image is from Sonic Channel in 2022 (X).

The image is accompanied by this caption:

---

“Otome Straight!” Emmy is passionate about boxercise , saying it's perfect for dieting

Indoor training on rainy days is perfect! Bouncing the punching bag and working up a good sweat with Emel's support

"Mom, do your best. Ato Sukoshi."

Let's keep a healthy body with training for the rainy season !

---

Once again, we have this focus on dieting and food reduction. Again, not a bad thing- perfectly normal- but the reason I take pause is because of the crossed out icecream picture.

@mysuperlaserpiss - I hope you don’t mind, but I wanted to bring up your comment on that initial post I put out.

…Yeah. Yeah, I 100% agree.

So when conversations around eating disorders comes up, one of the first things to discuss is, ‘what is your relationship to food?’ Essentially, it boils down to: do you see food as fuel and that it is a normal thing to have, or do you see it is something you have to earn/avoid? (X)

Amy beating the shit out of a punching bag sporting a crossed out picture of icecream, talking about dieting, smacks of, ‘you see food as something you have to earn/avoid,’ to me. It’s as simple as that. This appears as though she’s beating the desire for certain foods out of herself. Simply put, that’s not healthy.

Okay, so what?

Man, I don’t know.

I don’t know, alright? I don’t know.

I’m biased. I was inundated with the idea of ‘you need to be better’ from a young age from all angles. I am strong, but not appealingly buff. I am not what I'd call heavy, but I'm most certainly not appealingly slim and doctors have always bitched about my BMI (which again- terrible system to work off of). Not that long ago, I was hiding weights under my pant legs even in the dead of summer thinking the extra weight on me when I moved about my day would help me burn calories. Not that long ago, I was walking around 30km/18 miles a week on top of doing several hours of intense exercise a week, all while only taking in around only 500 cal a day. I am constantly combating the idea that i need to deserve to eat, but if I eat, I won’t be loveable. Yeah, I’m doing better- significantly so- but I am a biased, untrustworthy source to write about this and I recognize that. I am biased because I’ve been through it. I am biased because I have lived this very specific, isolating nightmare, and no matter how much better I am now, there are still days where all I can manage is a couple hard boiled eggs and maybe canned low-sodium fish.

I don’t know what to tell you. All I know is what I’ve been through, and when I look at Amy, when I look at her storylines through the games, I see a portion of me that I never would ever want to see in anyone else.

I see someone desperate to be wanted. I see someone disoriented and angry from lack of food. I see someone hurting themselves thinking it's normal to do so. I see someone trying and trying and trying so hard to fit this idea of ‘perfect’ and falling short.

There’s a lot of conversation right now around Amy’s character. How she was presented in early games vs now is significantly different, so of course it would be a subject of conversation. Sega seems to be trying to bring the characters into a new age, both in terms of the 2020’s and in terms of the characters' age themselves. There are those that say that Amy’s new presentation is due to her becoming older and more mature, while others argue that she’s become a shadow of her former self.

I can see both sides of the argument. Of course I can- I’ve been with this characters since almost the beginning. Still, when I look at the changes in Amy Rose, when I look at how happy she is, how energetic and content, my knee-jerk reaction isn’t to start wagging fingers.

It’s just, ‘Ah. Good. She’s eating.’

#amy rose #eating disorders #tw // ed #tw // eating disorder #tw // self harm #headcanon #*drags hands down face* I'm glad I finally got to write this- I've been wanting to write this for a long time- but wow I feel sick

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mononijikayu · 1 day

Text

“go on caring for me.” — gojo satoru.

When Gojo Satoru first appeared at your doorstep, his usual confidence and easygoing demeanor were replaced by relief. The sight of him, with his usually covered eyes now piercing through you, almost made you crumble on the spot. Those cerulean blue eyes seemed to see right through the walls you had built around yourself, and the vulnerability you felt under his gaze only intensified your headache. You had tried to hide, to disappear into the shadows, but Satoru had found you nonetheless.

GENRE: post hidden - inventory arc (2010s)

WARNING/S: domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

LISTEN: fuyu no hanashi (orchestra version) by given

NOTE: reading kafka's letter to milena and thought about how genmei (you) had a life before gojo satoru and how that impacted you. this is not my regular writing schedule, but im just to broken up to stop. i feel like i imagine them too much in my head too. both of you loved someone at one point. but after they left you, your hearts broke and you're here for each other. because that's just who satoru is. he likes being genuine towards people he loves like that, as you are too, im sure <333

addendum: im very close to 500 followers, thank you!!! i love you all!!! but this means side 500 fanfic event — so i gotta write that soon!!! 🥹🫶

masterlist

u s and t h e m

YOU DIDN'T KNOW IF IT WAS THE FEVER OR IF IT WAS THE REALITY. But you never expected those cerulean blue eyes to stare at you like this — somehow it made your migraine worse. Satoru visiting you in your Kyoto apartment was both a surprise and a relief. You had been off the grid for months, grappling with a depressive breakdown triggered by Suguru's departure.

The flashbacks to similar traumatic events were vivid in your mind. You can never escape it. Stolen glances, tender kisses, warm hands marred with bloodshed, madness, grief; You never thought it would repeat again. But well, it did. And you were stuck. Memories from your youth had been relentless, leaving you isolated and vulnerable. And it didn’t help you that a god was messing with you, voice echoing so mockingly, so full of depravity that you couldn’t take it anymore. You didn’t want anyone to see you in that light. Not in that way.

Gakuganji had reassured you that you were fine — but you were sure he was only saying that because that’s what the higher ups say. He’s still an ass kisser, you know that much. You were also his favorite. One that is seen as the prestige of that world you had wanted to leave behind. And you hated it. You didn’t want it, not anymore.

You didn't know how Satoru found your secluded hideout, but he did. You had moved a few months prior, knowing Gakuganji would send Mei-Mei or Utahime at your door again. You’d told no one that you were here. But he was here. And you couldn't do anything about it.

When Satoru first appeared at your doorstep, his usual confidence and easygoing demeanor were replaced by relief. The sight of him, with his usually covered eyes now piercing through you, almost made you crumble on the spot.

Those cerulean blue eyes seemed to see right through the walls you had built around yourself, and the vulnerability you felt under his gaze only intensified your headache. You had tried to hide, to disappear into the shadows, but Satoru had found you nonetheless.

“How did you find me?” you croaked, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own pounding heart.

Satoru didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached out and touched your forehead gently, his touch cool against your fevered skin. "You're burning up," he murmured, his voice filled with worry. “Genmei–senpai, how long have you been sick? Hey, don’t close your eyes yet!”

Before you could protest, the world went black.

When you woke up, the apartment was strangely quiet. The room was dimly lit, and you were lying on your couch, a cooling towel on your forehead. The faint smell of candy wrappers lingered in the air. You still feel too warm, but not like before. You supposed that he did his best. He couldn’t do a reversed cursed technique on you — your body’s a bit weak to do it. But he tried his best. That’s all that matters to you.

You turned your head slowly, and there he was, sitting on the floor beside the couch, his head resting near yours, watching over you with a look of pure concern. The figure of Gojo Satoru resting his head near you was quite something to wake up to. He must have been tired. He’s been on non-stop missions, you knew that much. Your fingers brushed against his hair. Your eyes softened more. He kept his promise, how he would never use Infinity against you.

The realization brought a mix of emotions. You hadn't felt this level of care since Kaiko's death. Memories of Kaiko flooded your mind, particularly the time during your second year when you walked home together. Namie was too sick then, she caught a cold after staying up late finishing a drama series. So in the end, Gakuganji just sent the two of you.

Somehow, she looked more beautiful in your memories. But you supposed that it's because you love, loved, her. Just as Satoru still longs Suguru, just as you long for Kaiko – there’s always going to be beauty in that longing — because it is love. It will always be love.

The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden hue over everything. The two of you walked side by side, the weight of the day slowly lifting as you chatted and laughed.

"If we ever break up," Kaiko had said, her tone surprisingly serious for a moment, "you should go on caring."

"Huh? Why'd you even think that we'd break up?"

"Dummy, it's just a hypothetical!"

You frowned at her. "I don't wanna joke about our romance ending like this, thank you very much."

"Boooo, you're no fun!" She gloats, making faces at you. "Come on, already. Indulge me once, lover! Please?"

You hated it, when she used her bright eyes against you.

But you loved her too much to say no, especially like this.

Somehow, after all this time, she just knows how to get you.

You had scoffed, nudging her playfully. "I'd go on caring for you, of course. You think I wouldn’t care about you, huh?”

Kaiko laughed, the sound light and full of life. "No, silly. I mean, you should move on and care for someone else. Love someone else."

You had paused, the weight of her words sinking in. The thought of moving on, of loving someone else, seemed impossible at the time. But Kaiko's eyes held a faraway look to them. Ever since you met her when you were children, it always feels like she was always far too much ahead of you.

You always wondered how she could be this mature for her age. How her smile was still so soft, encouraging despite all that had come past her by. Sometimes you wanted to ask her.

How she could be like that. How she could smile so beautifully, without reservation. But you didn't want to ask, not right now. You just wanted to love her. To enjoy her wonder, even from afar.

"Promise me, hm?" she had said, her voice gentle but firm. "Promise me you'll move on and find someone who makes you happy."

You had smiled back, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "I promise." you had said, though at the time, you hadn't fully understood what that promise would come to mean. “Even if it was never going to happen.”

“Oh, how sure are you that you’re going to keep me, Zenin?”

“Just as sure you are, you'll keep me whipped, Kamo.”

“Ohhhhhh, we’ll see about that!”

Now, lying on your couch with Satoru watching over you in slumber, those words echoed in your mind. Kamo Kaiko had known, even then, that life would move forward, that love would find a way to heal the deepest wounds.

You could feel Satoru mumble against your touch, slowly moving against your fingers. It was as though he was asking you to do it again. As though asking you to be tender with him again.

You gazed at him, the soft rise and fall of his chest, the way his lips parted slightly as he slept. His presence was a balm to your weary soul, a reminder that even in the darkest times, there was light.

The way his fingers instinctively tightened around yours made your heart ache with a mixture of gratitude and something deeper, something you weren't quite ready to name yet.

"Satoru," you whispered, your voice barely audible, not wanting to wake him. His hair was tousled, a few strands falling over his forehead, and you couldn't resist the urge to gently brush them away. The simple act of touching him, of feeling the warmth of his skin, grounded you in a way nothing else could.

As you continued to watch him, memories of Kaiko's laughter and her encouraging words filled you with a renewed sense of purpose. She had wanted you to move on, to find happiness, and here was Satoru, offering you a chance to do just that.

The years of pain and isolation seemed to melt away, replaced by a fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, you could find solace in each other.

Satoru stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open. For a moment, he looked disoriented, but then his gaze focused on you, and a slow, sleepy smile spread across his face.

"Hey." he murmured, his voice husky from sleep. "How are you feeling?"

You smiled back, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Better," you replied softly. "Thanks to your help.”

“You don’t have to thank me for anything.” He snickers to you, his dark glasses lowering to reveal more of his eyes. “I was around.”

“Hm, and how did you know where I was in Kyoto? And which building?”

His face turned flustered, a blush echoing on his cheeks. He rubs the back of his head. “It wasn’t that hard.”

Your face dropped. “Is that why you were more tired than you were? You used six-eyes to track where I was?”

“It’s not that bad, senpai! Really, you have a particular cursed energy–”

You flicked his forehead with your fingers, causing him to groan. “You could have messaged me, you idiot! It wasn’t worth getting a headache for, geez.”

You could see his lips turn into a pout, looking down as he rubbed his forehead. "…Is your number still the same?"

"Huh? Why would it change?" Your lilac eyes furrowed at him with confusion.

"......’uguru changed his."

You realized at that moment that you made a mistake. The weight of those words hung in the air between you, a poignant reminder of the deep chasm that Suguru's departure had carved into Satoru's life.

You felt guilt seep into you as you realize how stupid it was of you. Kaiko did the same thing. And you really had no one to help you reassure you about it. You couldn’t help but pierce your lips into a flat line.

Your eyes grew tender with apologies as you watched as he stared at the floor, his normally confident demeanor now clouded by an uncharacteristic vulnerability. It was a stark contrast to the confident sorcerer you were used to seeing, and it tugged at your heartstrings.

"Satoru…" you began, your voice softening as you reached out to gently lift his chin, forcing him to meet your gaze. "I'm not going anywhere. My number hasn't changed, and it never will. So call me, okay? Even if it's just about your new favorite mochi flavor. Tell me. Call me.”

“Genmei-senpai….”

“You're not alone. You never will be. So just, believe me, okay?”

He let out a shaky breath, one that he had surely been holding for far too long. You could see his cerulean eyes reflecting a myriad of emotions—pain, fear, and a glimmer of hope.

"It just… It feels like everything is changing. I don’t… I don’t like it, senpai. It’s like… like I'm losing everyone. Shoko’s leaving for medical school… and… Nanami’s leaving by the end of the year. I just… Where did it all go wrong?"

The raw vulnerability in his voice broke your heart. You had never seen him like this—so open, so human. It was a stark reminder that beneath his powerful exterior, Satoru was just as susceptible to pain and loss as anyone else.

Gojo Satoru always was like a little boy, he acted like one — a brat, as Shoko likes to say. But he had never looked more like it than he did now. Defeated, vulnerable. A boy who had lost everything that made him feel alive and now was longing for something to make him feel alive again.

"Satoru, you should know this but…." you said gently, moving closer to him, your hand finding his. "Life has a way of shifting, sometimes so subtly that we don't notice until it's too late. But it doesn't mean you're losing everyone. But it doesn’t mean you’ll be alone. Shoko and Nanami have their paths to follow, just as you have yours. It doesn't mean they care about you any less."

He squeezed your hand, as if drawing strength from your touch. "I know, but it still feels like everything is falling apart. Suguru… his choices... I thought we were in this together. I thought we’d always be together."

"I know," you whispered, your heart aching for the weight he carried. You thought like that too, at one point. You thought you and Kaiko would always be together. "But Suguru’s choices were his own, and they don't reflect on you. You did everything you could. So don’t blame yourself, hm?”

"But it wasn't enough," he replied, his voice breaking. "I couldn't save him."

You shook your head, gently placing your other hand on his cheek. "You can't save everyone, Satoru. No one can. We can only do our best and hope that it's enough."

His blue eyes searched your lilac ones, looking for the reassurance he so desperately needed. "But what if it's not? What if I can't protect the people I care about?"

"You can only do your best," you repeated softly. "And your best is more than enough. You're strong, and you're kind. And more than that, you have people who love you and want to help you carry the burden. You don't have to do it alone."

Satoru nodded slowly, his eyes closing as he leaned into your touch. "I don't want to lose anyone else, Genmei." he murmured, his voice barely audible. “I don’t….I don’t want to.”

"You won't." you promised, your voice steady and filled with conviction. "We're all still here. Shoko, Nanami, me… We’re here for you."

He took a deep breath, his grip on your hand tightening. "Thank you." he said, his voice a little stronger. "I just… I needed to hear that."

You shook your head, your fingers brushing away a stray tear that had escaped down his cheek. "You're not losing me." you said firmly. "I promised you that day, didn’t I? I’m not leaving.”

Satoru's lips twitched into a small, tentative smile, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. "Promise?"

"Promise," you replied without hesitation, your heart aching for the man who had always been a pillar of strength for so many, now struggling with his own inner turmoil.

He lifted his pinky finger, extending it towards you with a serious expression. "You have to make sure that it's a super promise, senpai."

You blinked at him for a moment, taking in the sight of the strongest sorcerer in the world making a pinky promise like a child. You couldn't help it; laughter bubbled up from within you, spilling out uncontrollably.

Satoru's face turned a deep shade of red, his usual confidence faltering as he became flustered. "Egh!? What's so funny, senpai? I thought that was our thing?"

You tried to stifle your laughter, but it was no use. "It's just... you’re such a boy, Satoru," you managed to say between giggles. "Here you are, all powerful and mighty, and yet you’re making pinky promises like we’re kids again."

He pouted, looking both embarrassed and indignant. "Hey, a promise is a promise! And pinky promises are unbreakable, you know."

You shook your head, still smiling. "I know, I know. It's just... it's endearing, that's all."

Satoru's pout softened into a shy smile. "Well, I'm glad you think so. So, are you gonna make the promise or not?"

You sighed dramatically, but linked your pinky finger with his. "Alright, alright. I promise, Satoru. A super promise."

He nodded, his expression growing more serious. "Good. Because I mean it, senpai. We’re going to get through this together."

You squeezed his pinky with yours. "We will. I promise."

For a moment, you both sat there, pinkies still linked, feeling the weight of the promise you had just made. It was a simple gesture, but it carried a depth of meaning that went beyond words. In that small, intimate moment, you both found a sense of solace and connection that was desperately needed.

His face slowly regained its usual mischievous glint. "You know, senpai, you laugh like that... it was nice to see."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And why's that?"

"Because," he said, leaning in closer, "it means that there's still a bit of joy left in you, even after everything. And I want to see more of that."

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, but you couldn't deny the truth in them. Despite the pain and the struggles, there were still moments of light, moments of laughter. And as long as you had Satoru by your side, you knew there would be many more to come.

“You sound confident that you’ll keep bringing it out in me, Gojo?”

“Of course I am! I’m your most dependable kouhai, Zenin-senpai!” he responded playfully, causing you to laugh.

“Hm, but Nanami’s my most dependable kouhai. Maybe even Nobu-chan?”

“Oi, that’s not fair! I thought I was your favorite?”

You snickered at him, your eyes becoming teasing. “Since when did I say that? And what’s with the ‘oi’? Where’s my honorific too? You were saying senpai properly and then you became a brat again.”

Satoru pouted dramatically, his lower lip jutting out in a comically exaggerated fashion. "Hey, I deserve some leniency here! Besides, isn't it endearing when I'm a bit of a brat?"

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. "Maybe a little," you conceded. "But only because it's you, Gojo."

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I'll take that as a win. And you know, senpai, if Nanami and Nobu are your most dependable kouhai, then I'm definitely your most charming."

You laughed, shaking your head. "You're something, alright."

“Something amazing, you mean,” he corrected, his grin widening.

You sighed dramatically, feigning exasperation. "If only your humility matched your charm."

Satoru laughed, the sound rich and warm, filling the room with a sense of ease. "But then I wouldn't be Gojo Satoru, would I?"

"No, you wouldn't," you admitted, smiling. "And I suppose that's a good thing. Because the Gojo Satoru I know is pretty amazing just the way he is."

He blinked, a bit taken aback by your sincere words. For a moment, the playful banter was replaced by a genuine connection, an unspoken understanding that despite the teasing and the jokes, there was a deep bond between you.

"Thanks, senpai," he said softly, his eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude and affection. "You know, you're pretty amazing too."

You felt your cheeks warm again, and you playfully nudged him. "Alright, enough with the flattery. Help me up, will you? I need to get some water."

Satoru immediately stood up and offered you his hand, his expression turning serious. "Of course, senpai. Anything you need."

“Medicine, I think I might need it from my medicinal cabinet.”

“Right away, senpai! Your charming, dependable kouhai to the rescue!”

“Oi, Satoru, don’t run off! You don’t know my house just yet!”

“AHHHHHH, HELP! SENPAI, THERE’S A SNAKE!”

“Satoru!?”

You didn’t know that you’ve been asleep for a while. You must have been exhausted. You tried to stay up long enough to wait for your husband. But with how early you had to wake up to get Tsumiki and Megumi up for school, you couldn’t really fault your body for shutting down itself to rest.

You didn’t hear the door but Satoru was just returning from a mission. You didn’t notice until his figure filled the wide expanse of your doorway. His bright blue eyes lit up when he saw you rouse awake, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"Welcome home, ’toru." you greeted him, your voice still weak but filled with warmth. You looked at the clock. It was midnight. You yawned. “You’re a bit early, hm?”

“Of course.” His voice rang out as he removed his shoes. “I wanna spend time with my wife, hm?”

“Shhh, don’t be too loud. Megumi and Tsumiki are still sleeping.” You say with your index finger on your lips.

Satoru's smile widened at you. When he moved closer, his presence was a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his tone was a gentle whisper. He kissed your temple. “Got some rest now, hm? You worked hard, darling.”

"I’m alway good, because you’re here. " you replied, managing a small smile. "All thanks to my dearest husband.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, though you could see the relief in his eyes. "Couldn't leave you alone in such a state, could I? Besides, who else is going to eat all this candy?" He gestured to the candy bag with a playful smirk. “Got it on the way home. Thought you’d enjoy this with me!”

You chuckled softly, the sound feeling so good in your chest. "You really went all out, didn't you?"

"Only the best for me and the missus!" He kissed you loudly on your cheek, which made you laugh.

"Hey, I thought we were supposed to keep it down. The kids might wake up.”

“Hey, it's not my fault you kissed me like that. I’m ticklish!”

Satoru grinned, leaning back with a smug expression. "Ticklish, huh? Good to know for future reference."

You rolled your eyes, still smiling. "Great, now I've given you ammunition."

He laughed, the sound infectious. "Oh, you bet. I'll save it for when you least expect it."

You shook your head, but the warmth in your chest remained. "Seriously though, thank you, Satoru. For everything. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He softened, his teasing demeanor giving way to something more sincere. "Hey, you don’t have to thank me. We're in this together, remember? I’m not going anywhere."

You nodded, feeling a surge of gratitude. "Yeah, together."

Satoru’s eyes twinkled with a mixture of mischief and affection. "So, you gonna help me with this candy or what?"

"Fine, but you better not hog all the good ones," you said, reaching for the bag.

"No promises," he replied, grabbing a handful and plopping down beside you. As you both started unwrapping the sweets, the room filled with the crinkle of wrappers and the shared comfort of being together.

You took one more look at him and smiled.

If you meet Kaiko again, you wish you could tell her.

You wished she knew that you were happy again.

That you continued to go on and care for her too.

You found someone that could truly love you well.

epilogue

Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the living room. Tsumiki and Megumi tiptoed into space, rubbing sleep from their eyes. There was no school today, it was Sunday. But they still wake up early. The two were in contrast to the two of you — early birds.

When they stepped into the wide expanse of your home, they couldn’t help but stare. They felt like this was a new sight, one that they didn’t really see that much. They paused at the sight before them: you and Satoru, curled up together on the couch, wrapped in each other's arms. The sight was unusual, but it brought a sense of warmth and comfort to the room.

Megumi furrowed his brow, glancing at Tsumiki. "Should we wake them up?"

Tsumiki shook her head gently, a soft smile on her lips. "No, let them sleep. They look peaceful."

"But what about breakfast?" Megumi asked, still unsure.

Tsumiki pointed to the kitchen. "She prepared meals we could heat up. We should let them rest and enjoy their happy dreams."

Megumi nodded, finally agreeing. "Alright. Let's heat up the food and eat quietly."

The siblings moved silently, warming up the meals you had lovingly prepared the night before. The aroma of breakfast soon filled the air, but the sound was kept to a minimum to not disturb the two of you on the couch.

Tsumiki glanced over occasionally, watching the steady rise and fall of your breaths, the way Satoru's hand rested protectively over you. You tried to move slightly for a while, but Satoru would just keep following. Tsumiki laughed silently. You both look cute together.

"It's nice, isn't it?" Tsumiki whispered to Megumi as they sat at the table.

"What is?" Megumi replied, keeping his voice low.

"Seeing them happy. They both deserve it after everything," she said softly, taking a bite of her breakfast.

Megumi nodded slowly, understanding what Tsumiki meant. For a long time, life has been filled with uncertainties and hardships. But now, in this quiet morning moment, there was a glimpse of peace and happiness. The sight of you and Satoru finding solace in each other was a small, yet significant reminder that things could be better.

As they ate, Tsumiki couldn't help but feel a sense of hope for the future. Maybe, just maybe, things would continue to get better. And for now, she was content to let you both rest, wrapped in each other's arms, dreaming happy dreams.

As she ate another bite, Fushiguro Tsumiki hoped that you both will always be happy together. That you four will always be together, too. She looked at Megumi, who glanced at you both. She smiled. She knew he wishes the same things too.

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morallyinept · 2 days

Text

Devoutness - Mature!Marcus Moreno x Mature 60+ F!Reader

Written as part of my B O D I E S Series 🤎

BODIES MASTERLIST

This story is part of my Heyday Hero universe. <- You might want to read that story first for context. But you can read this as a stand alone if you wish.

Summary: Marcus and you embrace the challenges of growing old together and enjoying intimacy.

Pairing: Mature!Marcus Moreno x Mature 60+ F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader in terms of ethnicity, Reader does have hair, however. Reader and Marcus are both in their mid-sixties, I've made Marcus 64 in this, and have real bodies with aging and Reader is on the curvier side.)

Word Count: 7.5k

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Triggers & warnings: Reader & Marcus are much older and have real bodies reflective of their age/use of Viagra & sex aids/erectile dysfunction/unprotected PIV (wrap up folks!)/oral M receiving/mild dirty talk/Marcus has superpower hands ⚡️/lots of kissing/schmaltzy romance/Marcus doesn't fuck, he makes love.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: It's important to me that all types of readers are represented in my work, therefore this collection of stories is written for readers with REAL bodies. However, anyone can enjoy them. Whilst this story may not specifically represent your own personal journey, it is my hope that it resonates and offers comfort and enjoyment. This story is specifically about aging and growing old. If it upsets you to read about mature lovemaking, then I don't what to say - you'll be this age yourself one day... Everyone's journey is personal and unique, and I have undertaken as much research as I can to write accurately and respectfully. 🤎

MAIN MASTERLIST | MARCUS MORENO MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

“Are you ready, kiddo?” Marcus asks.

“No,” Missy gulps.

“You’re not nervous, are you?”

“Were you nervous?”

“Yes.”

“Both times?”

“Yes.” Marcus nods.

“Jeez.”

“Just breathe-”

“I am breathing. I-I think I’m breathing too much!” She squeaks.

He watches as Missy wrings at her hands that are visibly shaking. He’s never seen her so amped up and antsy before, and he decides instantly that he doesn’t like it.

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” Marcus places his own hands deftly on her shoulders and rubs his thumbs into the bones gently. “You’ve got this.”

"Dad, I'm so fucking nervous. What if I trip walking down the aisle?"

Marcus frowns with a soft smile. “I won’t let you and your potty mouth trip.”

“What if I forget my vows? Oh God, shit! I can’t remember them!”

"Hey now. Remember the time when you faced the Void Fiend head-on?”

“What does that have to do with-”

“You were brave, strong, and fearless. This? Walking down the aisle to marry the man you love? It's a breeze compared to that."

The Void Fiend was a creature of pure darkness, with tendrils of shadow that twisted and writhed like living smoke. Its eyes glowed with an otherworldly intensity, casting an eerie light that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of reality. And it had temporarily cast Missy into another dimension, until she battled her way out and ended the Void Fiend’s existence with her tenacity and strength. Something she’d inherited from her now retired, ex-Heroic father.

“I’m missing the Void Fiend right about now…”

“Tranquila, estás exagerando. Tú puedes hacerlo." (Calm down, you’re exaggerating. You’ve got this.)

“I don’t know how you did this twice.” She sighs as she paces, placing her hand over the boned satin corset covering her stomach. “God, I feel sick.”

“Well, I didn’t really have a choice.” Marcus says, timidly. He takes off his glasses, rubbing at his temple.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“I know.” He reassures, and it stops them both in their tracks like a blow to the gut.

A moment of silence passes between them, filled with unspoken thoughts. Missy’s eyes soften as she looks at her father.

“Look at this, you’ve always been useless at ties,” Missy smirks, fussing with the silk slate knot at her father’s throat.

“Fingers are too big for something so slippery,” he snorts, casually.

“That’s what she said.” Missy grins.

“Behave.” Marcus sighs, rolling his eyes.

“There,” she says, as she tweaks and neatens the tie into place. She pats down the soft lapels of his dark navy suit and steps back to look at him. “I love seeing you so happy.”

Marcus smiles. “I love being so happy. For a while I didn’t think I ever would be again...”

His thoughts immediately drift to you and it makes the blood in his veins sing. Each thought of you ignites a warmth within him, spreading from his chest and radiating outward, as if you're the very sun that has lit his internal world.

“Do you think Mom would be proud of me?”

His expression becomes tender, a deep sadness mingling with his love. “She would be more than proud. She’d be over the moon. You’ve become everything she ever hoped for and more.”

Tears well up in her eyes, and she takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “I wish she could be here today. And abuela…” (Grandma)

He nods, his own eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “They both are. They’re right in there.” He points to his daughter’s heart.

“Dad! I can’t cry, my mascara will run. Shit!” She fans her face quickly. “You promise you won’t let me fall on my face in these ridiculous heels?”

“They are pretty ridiculous.” Marcus smirks, clocking the sky high heels that his daughter totters around uncomfortably in. “But I take my job very seriously. You’ll remain fully upright. Until you say I do, then you’re Sam’s problem.” He chuckles.

Missy takes a deep breath after giggling, and gathers her bouquet. It’s a stunning arrangement of flowers, each one grown and hand picked from Marcus's cherished garden, adding a deeply personal touch to her special day. Full of sweet smelling blush peonies, white roses and anemones, wrapped with eucalyptus leaves.

“Okay. I can do this.” Missy says aloud.

He nods, his eyes filled with pride. "Of course you can. You've faced far greater challenges than this, and you've always come out on top. You’re a Moreno. Just remember to take it one step at a time so you don’t break your ankles-”

“Dad.”

“-and focus on the love in your heart. Everything else will fall into place." He simply shrugs.

“It really will, won’t it?” Missy concludes, looking at him and how intensely happy he is. It just radiates off of him like a solar flare bursting from the sun.

“Sam’s a lucky man.” Marcus says proudly.

She steps closer to her father, and they embrace, holding each other tightly. The bond between them, forged in love and shared loss, feels stronger than ever.

“Thank you for always being there for me. For being both a father and a mother when I needed it most. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Marcus wraps her in a warm embrace, his arms a safe haven amidst the whirlwind of emotions that try to rattle her.

"You'll always have me, muñeca. Now go out there and show that fiancé of yours just how beautiful you look." (Doll)

“You scrub up pretty well yourself, you silver fox.”

“Stop it.” Marcus blushes unabashedly whilst he straightens his cuffs as Missy wolf-whistles at him.

His suit jacket is impeccably cut, with sharp, clean lines that accentuate his frame. A neatly folded pocket square, matching the silvery tone of his tie, adorns his breast pocket, its presence a small but significant nod to tradition and style. His cufflinks, sleek and elegant, catch the light with a gentle gleam, completing the sophisticated look.

His suit, complete with waistcoat and a white rose boutonniere, compliments the mercury that’s over taken his once dark, cocoa hair and facial scruff, both now trimmed neatly and styled for the wedding.

His eyes, a deep, soulful brown, still hold a spark of the formidable spirit that once defined him, shrouded often behind his thick, black-rimmed spectacles, that are a trademark feature. They reflect both wisdom and a hint of the mischief that lingers from his younger days. The crow's feet at the corners of his eyes deepen as he smiles, adding to his rugged charm. His body, though no longer in its prime, remains strong and capable, despite his advancing years.

The suit he wears fits him perfectly, tailored to accommodate the changes that time has wrought. His shoulders, still broad and solid, hint at the strength that lies beneath the fine fabric. His waist, though a bit softer around the middle, speaks of a man who has remained active and engaged with the world around him, despite slowing down in his retirement.

His hands, once steady and unyielding in the face of danger, now show the signs of age with slightly knobbled knuckles and veins that stand out against his papery skin.

Sixty-four has never looked so good on Marcus Moreno.

But at this age he feels the weight of time in his bones and muscles, a constant reminder of the years that have passed. Mornings are sometimes the hardest. As he rises from bed with you, his joints protest with a familiar stiffness. His knees, especially, ache with a dull persistence, a result of decades of wear and tear from heroic escapades.

He moves more slowly now, careful with each step, aware that a wrong move could lead to a fall. Yet, despite these physical reminders of aging, he carries himself with a quiet dignity. Marcus has grown accustomed to the small rituals of maintenances that aging requires: daily medications, regular doctors visits, the strength of exercise and stretches to keep his body as agile as possible.

And he's aging gracefully with you right by his side, watching the season's change and embracing them with a smile and contentment. There's a certain peace in accepting the changes brought by age. Appreciating a slower pace.

Life has a different rhythm now, one that allows for gratitude and reflection. He cherishes the stillness of the early morning, sipping coffee with his arm around you and taking in the scents of his garden. More moments to stop and smell the flowers.

He has more time to appreciate the small things. He's not merely growing older; he's becoming more himself with each passing day.

“I mean it, your lovely wife will need to watch her back. Those bridesmaids of mine are feral.”

“Cripes.” Marcus shudders, already feeling himself sweat at the horrid thought. “Let’s make a deal. I’ll keep you upright if you keep those hormonal women away from me.”

Missy giggles. “I can’t promise anything, Dad. One of them has the power of influence. You might be cast under her spell.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.” He groans.

Missy simply taps her nose and grins. With a newfound sense of confidence, she takes a deep breath and grips onto her father’s arm as he offers it out to her.

Marcus smiles down at her from behind his polished spectacles and slicked back hair, and beams brightly.

“Come on, let’s get you married. You’re such a pain in my ass. Can’t wait to be rid of you.” He says.

“Nope. You’re stuck with me forever. That's the deal. You made me.”

“I should have worn a condom.” Marcus grins.

“You’re such an ass.” Missy snorts ungracefully, choking on her giggles.

Sitting in the front row of the aisle lined with garlands of fresh flowers, you stand and watch as Marcus emerges with Missy on his arm, in a modest ivory dress, to a solo violinist’s rendition of All Of Me.

You clock Marcus’s face and he seems completely entranced and proud as he walks Missy down the aisle to her future husband Sam, who’s waiting and wiping discreetly at his eyes.

You smile fondly at his reaction, remembering Marcus looking at you just like that on your wedding day to him. It was an intimate and heartfelt affair, celebrated in the same garden where he lovingly tended to the flowers, now featured in his daughter’s wedding bouquet. A place that you had grown to love just as much as him.

The setting was a testament to his life's quieter, nurturing side, a stark contrast to his years of heroic exploits, and you were only too inclined to agree at the lowkey subtlety. It was a place that was special to you both and you both spent a lot of time together basking in the Texan sun, as well as your love.

The retired superhero had stood at the heart-shaped trellis threaded with lilac roses and violet ranunculi - a nod to the purple heart emoji from your early days of flirting and getting to know one another on the dating app - his heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and excitement, and looking at you like you were the only thing that kept his word spinning on its axis.

Marcus has spent years, decades, alone after losing his first wife shortly after Missy was born. A woman who had been his partner in every sense of the word. Her passing had left a void that seemed impossible to fill, a grief that lingered in the corners of his heart and a guilt that overpowered him when he thought about moving on.

Throwing himself into work and saving the world on the regular, between bringing up a headstrong and smart younger version of him, consumed him. and it was only when retirement beckoned did he realise he didn't want to spend the remainder of his life alone.

So then there was you. You were different and brought a familiarity that felt like home. You'd connected over shared experiences, laughter, your mutual love of flowers and home cooked food, and a heightened passion that sizzled between you both.

Your laughter was like a soothing balm to his weary soul and your kindness, understanding, and your acceptance of his late wife and the love he would always have for her, slowly began to heal the wounds that time had only partially mended.

Your relationship had grown slowly, rooted in deep conversations, mutual respect and compassion. You'd walked Marcus's garden many times, traversing the flower beds, conversing about the different species and plant types. Cuddled up by the pool at golden sunsets, kissing deeply in the loungers, and sharing twilight dinners and wine.

It was in his garden, that you both realised you could love again. And it was where he had proposed to you too. He'd had your ring custom made, a floral stone shape, cut with stunning teal diamonds.

You’d walked towards him on that special day wearing blue - a colour that you both loved on you - radiant and beautiful, every step bringing you closer to your new life shared together. You remember the way Marcus had looked at you as you exchanged vows, his eyes filled with unwavering trust and devotion. Tears making them glisten under his spectacles.

The ceremony had been simple yet profound, promises made in front of a handful of those closest to you, both not seeking an extravagant affair or party into the wild hours. Instead a small gathering and a lovely home cooked meal, which you and Marcus had lovingly prepared together for your family, after you both promised to stand by each other through all of life's challenges.

And as Missy and Sam prepare to exchange similar vows now, Marcus joins you by your side on the pew, his hand slipping into yours where it belongs, and you hand him a tissue.

“Thanks,” he whispers, smiling crookedly and blushing as he dabs at his eyes under his specs once more. “I'm a mess.” He sniffs.

He feels a tear slip down his weathered cheek, not from sadness but from the deep, abiding joy of witnessing his daughter's happiness.

“She looks so beautiful.” You compliment, filled with adoration for her as if Missy were your own flesh and blood.

She’s become the closest thing to a daughter to you, your relationship with her deepened and special. Sharing girl-dates together on the regular, shopping and having lunch when she’s not saving the world. Teaming up and teasing Marcus to no end until you’re all in a fit of giggles.

You’re so proud of the young woman Marcus has raised.

“She does.” Marcus whispers.

He turns his head and your eyes find his, big and watery and filled deep with sincerity. “You look absolutely beautiful, mi dulzura.” (My sweetness)

You gently squeeze his hand, feeling warm and more loved than you ever thought possible, as he places a gentle and lingering kiss on top of your head.

The grand garden is alight with fairy lights underneath a gloaming sky.

The hazy orange glow that emits from the twinkles hovering delicately above this enchanted place leaves you with a sense of warm contentment, despite the gentle nip of the cool breeze as the evening wears on.

It’s an idyllic wonderland, draped in satin and ivy. Over the course of three days it had been transformed into an empyrean view fit for a king himself, and Marcus spared no expense in giving Missy everything she wanted for her big day.

A vast lawn covered with bunting and a large white gazebo in the grounds of the Edwardian Manor House. Tables lined with crystal glasses, enormous plumes of roses that matched her bouquet.

Marcus was never an extravagant man, always mindful of living a modest life, but he wanted to make this a day Missy and Sam would never forget. His generosity, and smart investment skills over the years, is another trait of his that you love so much.

The tinkling sounds of music flows through the crowd, like an invisible ribbon wrapping itself around all the guests that litter this decadent soiree. The threads of Heroic connections between them are visible, retired and current heroes in attendance; their radiance, euphoria and harmonies hum through your ears as Marcus twirls you around on the dancefloor.

The atmosphere is a blend of celebration and reverence. There's a sense of continuity, of old and new merging seamlessly. Marcus’s past as a Heroic adds an undercurrent of awe and admiration among the guests, but tonight, he’s celebrated for his role as a loving father and husband.

The world around you seems to fade, leaving just the two of you bathed in the soft, golden glow of the twinkling lights. The band is in the middle of a slow, melodic tune, the kind that speaks of timeless romance and unspoken promises.

Marcus takes your hand with a gentle, yet confident grip, his fingers intertwining with yours as if they were always meant to fit together. You feel the familiar, crackly buzzing from his fingertips, reverberating deep into your skin and down your arm, igniting you, and he winks at you knowingly.

He leads with a grace that hints at his once superhuman agility, his steps sure and deliberate. As you waltz across the floor, your eyes lock, a silent exchange that speaks volumes. Your eyes sparkle with a mixture of joy and affection, while his reflects a depth of gratitude and love that words can never fully capture.

You both share a secret smile, the kind that only two people deeply in love can understand, and it feels as if you’re the only ones in the world.

A palpable chemistry fizzes between you, helped by the static in his fingers that he teases you with, a testament to the deep bond and joy you bring each other. The music swells, a building crescendo, his hand gently guiding yours. At one point, he twirls you gently, your dress fanning out fully, and as you return to his embrace, you both chuckle, your foreheads touching for a brief, tender moment.

There's a playfulness in your dance, a sense of rediscovered youth, as if the years between you have melted away, leaving only the pure essence of your connection.

“Have you always been this smooth a dancer?” You query as he sways with you.

“I might know how to cut a rug.” Marcus smirks.

“I’m still discovering all these wonderful secret talents about you, Mr Moreno.”

“Well, I like to keep you on your toes, Mrs Moreno.” He smirks with rosy cheeks.

As the song progresses, you pull each other closer, moving as one entity, lost in each other’s eyes. His hand rests on the small of your back, guiding you effortlessly, while your hand caresses his broad shoulder.

"You make me feel young again," he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You make me feel safe," you reply with a smile. He loves the way your eyes crinkle when you do. “And so loved.”

“That’s because you are, mi dulzura.” He presses a kiss to your temple. (My sweetness)

"Look at her," you say softly, glancing toward Missy, who is radiant in her wedding dress, and laughing with others at a table. "She's so happy."

His eyes follow yours, and he nods, a proud smile spreading across his face.

"She deserves all the happiness in the world. She's incredible, just like her mother was..." He trails off and his eyes become a little deeper.

"She's incredible, just like her father is," you add gently, squeezing his shoulder.

He chuckles, shaking his head. "I don't know about that. I always tried my best. But I'm so proud of her. She's taken on so much, and she handles it all with such grace."

"She has a great role model," your voice is filled with warmth and admiration."You should dance with her," you suggest with soft encouragement.

Marcus hesitates for a moment, glancing at his daughter, who is laughing joyously with her new husband and their friends.

"Do you think she'd want that? It's her big day."

"Of course she would," you reply, your fingers brushing his cheek tenderly. "She loves you so much. This is a special moment for both of you."

He looks into your eyes, seeing the sincerity and love reflected there. "You're right," he says, his voice a little shaky with emotion. "I just... I don't want to intrude."

"You could never intrude. Go to her," you urge with a warm smile. "I'll be right here, cheering you both on."

Marcus takes a deep breath, then leans in to kiss you gently. "Thank you. For everything. You’re incredible."

"You're pretty incredible yourself." You smile back, your eyes shining. "Go on. Make this moment unforgettable."

He releases your hand reluctantly and makes his way across the dancefloor, each step filled with a mix of pride and nervous anticipation.

As Marcus approaches his daughter, she looks up, her eyes lighting up when she sees him.

"Dad," Missy says, her voice filling with delight. "Come dance with me!"

He nods, his heart swelling. "I'd be honoured."

The band begins to play another soft, melodic tune that echoes through the sumptuous garden.

“You took your shoes off,” Marcus chuckles, noticing her bare toes peeking out under the satin hem of her dress.

“I did. Let us never speak of those evil things again.”

“You know, I used to dance with you when you were little.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. You’d stand on my feet and let me move you about. You said you were no good at dancing and would pout. It was so cute.”

“And I stand by that fact.” Missy announces.

“Nonsense.” He smiles.

“And I’m always cute, for the record.” She grins. “Can I stand on your feet now?”

“Go for it.” He smiles.

She steps onto his polished shoes and he holds her close in his arms as he moves, his chin resting on her head and smiles.

"You look so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks, Dad," she replies, her eyes misting. "I'm so glad you're here with me. I know Mom would be," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the music.

"I am too," he replies, his grip on her tightening slightly. "I see so much of her in you. She would be so proud of the woman you've become."

She nods, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I hope so."

“I know so, muñeca.” (Doll)

“But you’ve got a wonderful woman who loves you just as much. Maybe even more.” Missy says to him.

“I do,” he smiles over at you and you beam. You’re recording them dancing together on your phone, something for him to keep forever.

“I’m still pissed that you found your one on a dating app you didn’t want to join for so long…” Missy snorts.

“And after only one date too. What is it the kids say now, I’m winning at life?” He chuckles.

“Yeah. You are. You smug bastard.”

“Easy now,” Marcus remarks with a thick smirk.

As the song draws to a close, Marcus pulls her into a warm embrace, holding her tightly. "I love you. Always."

"I love you too, Dad," she whispers back, her voice full of emotion.

They part with a final smile, and he steps back to let her return to her husband. As he makes his way back to you, you’re waiting for him with open arms.

"How was it?" You ask, pulling him into a hug.

“Perfect. Thank you for encouraging me.” Marcus beams.

"Anytime," you say, kissing him softly.

“Come on, dance with me some more, Mrs Moreno.” He says, pulling you gently towards the dancefloor again.

Later that evening, after calling it quits on the late night as it shows no sign of dying down, you and Marcus ascend the grand staircase in the Manor House, a structure with an old-world charm blended with modern comforts.

The lobby is adorned with elegant chandeliers and plush seating, exuding a sense of timeless sophistication. Still glowing from the day's festivities, you make your way to your suite, hand in hand and talking softly with smiles and giggly laughter.

As you open the door to your room, you’re greeted by an inviting, romantic ambiance. The room is spacious yet cosy, with a large queen four poster, draped in crisp white linens and silky drapes. A pair of plush armchairs sit by the window, offering a breathtaking view of the city lights twinkling in the night.

A bottle of champagne chills in a silver bucket, accompanied by two flutes and a tray of gourmet chocolates.

You look around in awe, taking in the thoughtful details. "This is perfect," you murmur, your voice filled with contentment.

“Should be, we’ve paid for it,” Marcus chuckles, loosening his tie.

You smile, stepping further into the room and slipping off your heels. "It's beautiful. Just like tonight."

You move to the window, admiring the view over Austin in the distance for a moment, before you feel him wrapping his arms around you from behind, pulling you in close. You lean into his embrace, feeling the warmth and strength that has always been so comforting.

Despite the buzz of the day, your bodies remind you both of the years you've lived. His back aches slightly from standing and dancing for so long, a dull reminder of his age and the years of unrelenting vigour from his past Heroic life. Your feet are sore, throbbing from your heels, and you feel a familiar stiffness in your joints.

“This night couldn’t be any more perfect,” you sigh dreamily, enjoying the way Marcus is planting delicate kisses against your neck and murmuring in agreement.

“I may have had a thought on topping it.”

“Oh really? Do tell, Mr Moreno…” You prompt, smiling.

He turns you to face him and kisses you deeply, humming in satisfaction as his tongue massages against yours. Gentle and explorative, and leaves you utterly wanting.

“Thought that I would make love to my beautiful wife.” Marcus kisses over your knuckles one by one, planting a longer kiss over your wedding band.

“I’ve been thinking about that all night.”

“You have?” He smiles.

“Mm-hm, it’s the suit.” You smile, running your hands down his lapels. “You look so handsome and sexy.”

He blushes and it’s still the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, watching his prominent tan nose and the tips of his ears turn a little pink.

“You want to?” He asks and you nod. “Good, I came prepared.”

“I would expect no less from Mr Organised.”

Grinning, he then steps away from you and rummages in the overnight bag that has already been brought up to the room by the concierge.

You watch as he pulls out a small box and pops a little blue pill into his palm. He winks at you from behind his specs as he swallows it, and you reach for him. Your lips reconnect as you kiss him deep.

The warmth of his lips running against yours, the familiar scent of him, and the deep, unwavering love in his eyes, combine to create a sensation that’s almost overwhelming and makes you dizzy with desire.

Your knees feel slightly weak, and you cling to him a little tighter, grounding yourself in his steady embrace. The giddy sensation is both disorienting and beautiful, a physical manifestation of the profound connection you share and the intensity of the moment.

When you finally part, he leads you to the small table where the champagne awaits. He pops the cork with a practised ease, pouring you each a glass.

"To how incredibly beautiful you look," Marcus toasts, raising his flute.

You smile, feeling your own face heat, clinking your glass against his.

You sip the champagne, savouring the bubbles and the moment. But he can’t resist much longer, waiting for the pill to work its magic, and neither can you as he pulls you into his arms once more.

The skin of his hands is marked by age spots and the veins more prominent, but his touch is as tender as ever. You feel the pleasant buzz from them sinking into your skin and travelling through your nerves. It makes you shudder, your nipples rousing awake as he glides his fingers down your arms.

"I can't believe how lucky I am," Marcus whispers, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your back where your dress reveals a slink of skin. It's softer there now, a bit looser, but still so familiar and comforting.

"We both are." You agree.

You both murmur and hum into more shared kisses, each one lasting a little longer and conveying your longing for one another.

“Mmm, that’s nice,” you say as he nibbles gently on your lip and then licks over it.

“Really nice.” Marcus says, pulling you in closer.

You giggle after a few moments. “My lipstick is all over you,” you smile, wiping his lips with your fingers.

“I don’t care,” he smirks. “You can cover me in it, as long as I get more kisses.”

You giggle more as he rubs his lips against yours deliberately.

“Does it suit me, is it my colour?” He asks, grinning.

“Yes, velvet pink is your colour, Marcus.” You titter.

“Well, blue is certainly yours, this dress is just so… stunning. I like how it just-” He loses the words as his eyes roam all over you. “I like how it just kind of shows all of you.”

“Yeah?” The dress is flattering, hugging your curves in all the right places and just revealing the subtlest amount of flesh, mostly down your back.

“Yeah… God, I want to peel you out of it so slowly. I want to enjoy the view.”

He kisses across your collarbone as you unbutton his waistcoat.

“I’m just gonna take my jacket off, set it over there…” he tosses it across the room and it misses the chair as he locks onto your lips. “You look so good in blue.” Marcus compliments. “Almost don’t want to take it off.”

“Then you won’t see what I’ve got on underneath it,” you tease.

He makes a noise similar to a hungry bear, and you giggle as you reach for the zip under your arm and pull it down.

“Fuck…” he sighs as you slip the dress off to reveal a matching lace set in midnight blue. “So gorgeous,” he smiles, pulling you in for another deep kiss.

“You like it?”

“I love it…” He says, as his fingers trace the strap down from your shoulder, over the delicate cup, and he squeezes gently around your breast. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You both chuckle as he walks you backwards towards the bed as you push his waistcoat off. You pull on his tie, bringing him closer so you can taste his lips again.

Sinking into its plush comfort, Marcus climbs over you. The soft lighting casts a warm glow, creating an intimate, serene atmosphere. He kicks off his shoes as you loop his tie out from under the collar and toss it to the floor.

“See what kissing you does to me,” you whisper, guiding his hand down between your legs, and he groans when feels how warm and damp it is there.

“Quiero que te sientas muy bien…” (I want to make you feel really good) He whispers back.

“You always make me feel so good, Marcus.” You assure.

He smiles crookedly as you reach for his crotch.

“How you doing, big guy?” You say, stroking over the soft bulge in his slacks, and he sighs into your mouth.

“Almost,” he pants. “Keep doing that… feels really good.” His cock although still a little flaccid, is swelling. But the Viagra needs a little helping hand to get him there.

“Do you want my mouth?”

“Oh God, yeah.” He groans and you’ve never seen a man unzip his pants so fast.

He watches you pull out a small bottle of lube from the overnight bag. You squirt a little of it into your hands, rub them together and then slide them around his cock. He immediately groans out as you do so.

“That feel good?” You whisper, nipping on his lobe.

“Mmm… so good.”

A swollen, pale pink tip, and grey, wiry hairs that are trimmed almost to sparsity around his thick, heavy balls, greet you as you stroke and pump. Marcus has always harboured a generous sized manhood between his thighs, and aging certainly hasn't denied him of that as the throbbing length of him feels so good in your hands.

You grip a little tighter, making him work as he pushes his hips into your fist, almost like he’s fucking it.

“Oh wow!” He grunts.

You kiss over his belly, down into his thighs and then take him in your mouth, cock swollen and hardening fully around your tongue as you suck on him. He tastes good, he’s always tasted so damn good.

He repeatedly gathers your hair up, stylishly streaked with it's own grey, but it falls out of his grip, continually obscuring his view. He swipes it into a ragged, messy pony between his fingers in time to see you let your saliva dangle from your mouth and drip onto his head.

“Fuck…” he whines, as you sink his cock back into your mouth. It’s rock solid now, throbbing against your tongue. “God, I fucking want you…” He grunts with those delicious expletives tumbling out of him in that way when he gets all worked up.

“Want you inside me, Marcus.” You moan into his mouth.

He pulls down the cup of your bra and sucks your nipple into his mouth, and you both groan out in delight.

“How do you want me?” He asks, removing his shirt fully.

“Lay with me, beside me so I can kiss you.” You pant, unclipping your bra and removing your panties.

Once you’re both fully naked, he shuffles up behind you, taking your leg and folding it over his arm. He kisses you, tongue slipping into your mouth as you reach down and guide his thickness against your folds.

"Wait, do you-"

“I don’t need any lube, you’ve got me so wet, Marcus…” You pant as you swipe him against you, up and down, covering him in your slick.

You hear him growl in your ear as he pushes in, slipping through into you with ease.

“Just slides right in.” He agrees. “Fuck! You feel so good. So wet for me.”

The lewd sounds of his cock coated in your slick provides the background noise to your mutual pants and whines as he pushes in and out.

“Damn, this is such a beautiful pussy. Oh God.”

“Yours.”

“Mine.” He pants.

He kisses your knee, your cheek, your breast, your mouth - all within easy reach as his hips push back and forth, his cock sinking deeper into you with each gentle thrust.

“Oh, you feel so good,” he whines.

“Mmm, Marcus.”

“You can feel me, hmm? Right here?” He places his large palm flat on your lower abdomen and presses down a little and you groan.

“Right there!” You sigh, smiling.

You gasp as his fingers slip down onto your clit, circling around and around as he kisses you again. You feel that delicious buzzing on it from his fingers and you shudder and grin into him.

“I love that so much.”

“I know you do,” he smirks. You whine when he does it again. Little flares of electricity pulsing through you.

He’s pressed flush against you, balls deep into your cunt, and rubbing your clit. Gentle, rhythmic strokes and you kiss around his lips and neatly trimmed beard. He nuzzles his nose across yours, smiling deeply into you.

“Marcus… feels so good. Don’t stop…” You pant. He can feel you squeezing already; your breath more ragged as it pelts him in the face.

“Come for me,” he coos, as you grip onto his wrist; your thighs shaking as your clit pulls tighter under his buzzy ministrations. “Look at you, so beautiful. Come for me.”

He delves deeper, pushing that thick cock as far as it’ll go in this position - his crackly fingers gliding across your clit faster as you mewl and whine. You buck and push back, your body shaking and tensing. Your gasps reach higher pitches as you feel it rising within you.

“So beautiful when you come for me. Tan hermoso... Quiero sentirlo. Quiero sentirte venir para mí. Ven toda sobre mí…” (So beautiful... I want to feel it. I want to feel you come for me. Come completely over me.)

And that does it; the hushed whispers of the Spanish dirty talk flooding warm in your ear ignites the spark that crackles down your spine and floods in your core.

“Así es, joder, te sientes tan bien alrededor de mi verga.” (That's right, shit, you feel so good around my cock)

“Oh fuck, Marcus, the way you speak like that-”

“I know, why do you think I do it?” He grins into your cheek, his tongue licking against it. “Porque sé que te gusta y te pone tan húmeda para mí. No puedes evitarlo, ¿verdad?, cuando hablo tan sucio así, ¿hmm?” (Because I know you like it and it makes you so wet for me. You can't help it, right, when I talk dirty like that, hmm?)

You nod, smiling and heated. “Sí, sí, sí…” (Yes, yes, yes)

He continues to slide in and out of your pussy, making you groan with each measured thrust.

“Let me ride you,” you say, sucking on his bottom lip.

“You won’t get no protest from me,” he grins.

You straddle him, feeling him fill you full of him again as you sink down, all the way down on him.

“Oh God,” he whines. “Thats it, that’s it… fuck. Fuck yes!”

“Marcus!”

“Feel good like that? Taking my cock so deep, mi dulzura… Oh shit!” He pants as you ride him harder. “That’s it, take it, take it, take it… It’s all yours. I’m all yours.” (My sweetness)

He likes watching you as you ride him, moving that bit faster, winding your hips more intensely as you draw closer to your peak. He likes to kiss you and suck your nipples as you work.

You watch him lick his thumb and press it against your clit, nodding and smiling at you to come for him, almost begging he wants it so bad - wants you so bad. You cry out as those crackles flood your core, making you clench and writhe.

He’s floored, watching as you glow riding on his cock like this. Unable to form words, you’re so beautiful. The fact he can still make you feel like this, even when his body can’t or won’t cooperate, stuns him.

“F-Fuck…” Marcus can only stammer on a barely there whisper as you lean in to kiss him some more, feeling your pussy contract and rib around him as you come undone.

You collapse gently on top of him, and he wraps his hands around your waist.

More often than not, he can't finish, especially with the Viagra. Just keeping him stiff and for your pleasure, which he’s more than happy with and to indulge in. “Just want to feel you come, mi dulzura.” (My sweetness)

Every time you come around him, he feels it, sees the joy and bliss in your eyes, hears the mewls and pants into the pillow, dusted over his lips. He’ll give you this, all of him as long as he can. As long as he’s able.

The mind is willing, but sometimes… sometimes the body can’t quite keep up anymore.

You’d both talked about it the first time it happened. The first time he lost his erection and couldn’t finish. He was so embarrassed, on the verge of tears and feeling like he'd let you down. But your reassurances and love, peppered with longing kisses, convinced him it was nothing to worry about. So he didn’t.

And he did the same for you, when you struggled to get wet sometimes. It wasn’t that he didn’t turn you on, because he sure as hell did. He still does every time you look at him - he takes your breath away.

But sometimes your body doesn’t want to play ball too, and you’ve both discovered ways to still enjoy sex together with some helpful aids such as toys, lubricant, some blue pills, but most of all, patience.

Switching up positions when you both tire easily and your joints won’t meld you into adventurous positions anymore. Spending time kissing and fawning over one another. Just being in his arms is more than enough.

You both enjoy pulling pleasure out of one another with no hurried pace or shame about how your bodies have changed, and continue to change. Your breasts have stretch marks and hang lower now, the skin under your arms flaps about a bit more - your own tummy is crinkled with wrinkly skin. And yet he always makes you feel beautiful when you’re naked in his arms.

His cock struggles to get hard without assistance now, his balls hang lower and the skin around his own waist and back is looser too. But you still desire him, you still love every single inch of him.

You’re growing old together; something that both of you are lucky to experience and embrace wholly, together.

Marcus whimpers, ragged little cries escaping his throat as you come around him. Your pussy is tightening and feeling so good that he can barely contain himself. And he’s so beautiful to you now just as he was when you first met him in that restaurant on your first date together.

He still has that golden tanned skin from tending to his garden lovingly in the hot sun. Painted with some paler lines across his stomach and pubic bone where the sun doesn’t reach. The little sag of his belly from gaining a bit of weight now that he's not working out every day. A head of silver hair, almost snowy white entirely, replaces his dark curls. Liver spots and wrinkles appear in places they weren’t before.

Now in his mid-sixties, Marcus carries the weight of his years with a distinguished grace that speaks of a life well-lived and battles hard-fought.

Despite his enduring strength, age has brought with it a touch of forgetfulness too. He might occasionally misplace his glasses, only to find them perched atop his head after a thorough search. His keys sometimes elude him, turning up in the most unexpected places, like the refrigerator shelf or the bathroom sink.

These small lapses are met with laughter and gentle teasing from you, and you always help him find his missing items with a patient smile. One morning recently at breakfast, he hesitated, trying to remember if he’d taken his morning vitamins. But you, ever attentive, nudged the pill bottle toward him with a knowing smile.

"You didn't take them yet," you said, your voice filled with affection.

"Thanks," he replied, a bit sheepishly. "What would I do without you?"

"You'd manage," you’d teased, "but it wouldn't be nearly as much fun."

These moments, far from diminishing him, add to his character, painting a picture of a man who has lived fully and continues to do so with grace and humility. His forgetfulness becomes a part of your shared experiences, something that brings you closer and provides moments of light-hearted humour and tender connection.

“Oh fuck, you look good on top like this, so good on top… like that, that’s it. Oh God, use me. Keep doing that…” He’s drawn back to you, to this moment where you garner some more strength to keep going.

“Marcus!” You cry as you grind a little harder.

“I just wanna hold you right here…” He pulls your forward and keeps you in place, crushed against his chest as he thrusts up into you. “God, you’re so hot, I can’t get enough of you!” He pants.

“Oh fuck, Marcus! I’m gonna come again!”

“Yes, come, come, come, come…” He chants in your ear.

You wriggle and squirm in the throes of your pleasure. He grips onto you tighter and pushes himself deeper into you.

“Marcus!” You call out, your eyes rolling back.

Gripping onto his shoulders, he almost roars as you come again, body tensing and sweat pouring off of him. You can hear him wheezing in the back of his throat as you shake and tense above him.

Then, a small whimper rolls off his tongue as he strokes your back, hearts thudding against one another.

He taps over his heart. “Oh shit, it’s beating like crazy.”

“You okay?”

“Oh yeah, I’m fine.” He chuckles breathlessly.

“Don’t wanna give you a heart attack.” You smirk.

“No, no, no. I’m good, really good. Although, it'd be a good way to go.”

“I don’t know CPR.” You muse.

“I know the hymen-lick manoeuvre.” He waits for a second, before you burst out laughing.

“That was terrible!” You cackle at his stupid joke.

“You laughed, it counts.”

You hear him giggle, and then you giggle too as he looks at you with deep, brown eyes.

“Not bad for an old guy, hmm?” Marcus smiles, nuzzling into you.

“Not bad at all.” You agree, planting your lips on his.

“I love you. Te quiero.” (I love you)

“Te quiero mucho.” You reply, kissing the tip of his nose. (I love you so much)

You lay there together for a while, cuddled up to him and savouring the tender, peacefulness between you.

“You wanna go again? I’m still hard. Will stay like that for a few hours…” Marcus grins.

You snort, laughing into his lips. “Are you trying to finish me off?”

He nods. “I’m banking on the life insurance policy. This wedding has cost me a fortune. I need to top up.”

“You’ll be lucky. Christ, I can only imagine what it would say on my death certificate.”

“Fucked to death.” He chuckles, pulling you against his chest, and you can’t help but laugh with him.

"You silly man." You smirk, planting a kiss into his neck.

The following morning, you both spend time together in the elegant bathtub, washing and caressing one another in the fragrant soapy bubbles.

You lay in his lap as he strokes you gently to a soft orgasm with wet fingers, and tells you how much he loves you. You take your time with him, stroking his cock in your foamy hand until he eventually bursts, spilling warm and pearly over your grip, shaking and panting into your mouth.

You smile, watching Marcus pull on a soft sweater, and then you both laugh as he realises, whilst putting his suit in the suit bag, that he’s put it on backwards.

Once dressed and packed, you both head down for breakfast in the Manor House’s elegant dining room. The room is bathed in warm morning light, with large windows offering a stunning view of the lush gardens outside.

The table is set with fine china and an array of delicious breakfast options, from fresh fruit and pastries, to a variety of hot dishes on offer and cooked to order.

Marcus pours out fresh coffee and you pick Marcus a fruit bowl whilst you wait for Missy and Sam to join you both as previously arranged.

You feed pieces of melon into Marcus’s mouth. He eyes you suggestively as he sucks your fingers free of the syrup.

“Mmm,” he murmurs with a wink behind his dark-rimmed specs as he leans in to plant a sugary-sweet smooch on your lips.

"You two are worse than teenagers," Missy teases, a playful glint in her eyes. "How do you still act like this in your sixties?"

Marcus grins and squeezes your hand. "Love only gets better with age, muñeca." (Doll)

You smile softly, leaning into his shoulder. "We've had plenty of practice," you add, your eyes twinkling. "Besides, we're just setting a good example for you two."

Sam raises his coffee cup in a toast. "Well, if we end up half as in love as you two when we're your age, we'll consider ourselves very lucky."

Missy smiles warmly, looking at you both with a mixture of admiration and amusement. "Alright, alright, I get it. Love doesn’t have an expiration date. But still, maybe keep the lewd PDA to a minimum while we eat?"

Marcus laughs, his eyes glimmering with joy and pats your thigh affectionately. "No promises, but we'll try to behave.” He looks at you, with a cheeky glint in his eye. “For now..."

I really hope you enjoyed reading this story with Marcus, and welcome your comments/thoughts. I'd appreciate a re-blog if you liked it so others can find it on their dash to read and enjoy too - thank you very much! 🖤

BODIES MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

MARCUS MORENO MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #pedro pascal characters #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno x f!reader #mature!marcus moreno #marcus moreno we can be heroes #marcus moreno smut #marcus moreno fluff #bodies series #every body is beautiful #diversity #inclusion #jett's writing

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shakespeareanwannabe · 2 days

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As You Wish, Chapter 12

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister (but biological relation is never discussed), reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, drinking, swearing, reference to an accident

32nd Street Naval Station, 12 years ago

The situation was almost eerily familiar. He stood in his crisp khaki uniform, in line with Bob, Natasha and Javy, just like he had that day almost a year ago. The differences were marked, however. Not only was Rooster in line with them, waiting to be tapped out, but his ring now lay on her finger and his babies were growing in her belly.

Three months. They had been gone for three damn months, and that had been three months too long in Jake’s book. Would he be able to feel the babies kicking now? How close were they to coming? Would they remember the sound of his voice? And how had his Buttercup done in his absence? She had been so worried that she wouldn’t be able to handle his deployment so soon, only two weeks married and five months pregnant with twins in a city she didn’t fully feel comfortable with yet.

Communication between the two had been spotty at best; reduced to a handful of phone calls and one lowly Facetime call. He had received three care packages from her though, filled with his favourite snacks, ultrasound photos, and a couple of raunchy photos that had kept him up half the night with the desire to touch her and hear her voice. He thanked god every day that their mission had wrapped up relatively quickly and the aircraft carrier had been able to dock sooner rather than later.

Bob was the first one pulled out of line, tapped out by his mother, who had come to stay with Buttercup for the last two weeks. Then Javy, his sister smiling over at Jake, who waved her off. He would be tapped out by his wife and only by his wife. Nat gave him a mocking salute as she strode off with Yale, and Rooster flashed him a playful middle finger as Mav tapped him on the shoulder.

Finally, finally, he spotted her, waddling slowly through the thinning crowd. She had grown since the last time he saw her, the skin of her belly stretched tight as their babies grew, but still she looked thinner than he thought she would, especially in her face. And she was moving so slowly, both hands resting under her bump as she navigated her way toward him. Jake’s heart raced as he took her in. She was beautiful, of course, but she looked so…tired. Sad.

A spark of joy raced across her face when she locked eyes with him, and he felt a weight lift off his shoulders as she smiled brightly at him and sped up as best she could.

“Hey hotshot,” she whispered, standing toe to toe with him. “Kiss me.”

All it took was her hand tapping his shoulder lightly before he wrapped her in his arms and kissed a sweet kiss to her lips, his hands journeying downward to help share the weight of her belly.

“As you wish, darlin’,” he whispered against her lips. “As you wish.”

Seresin Ranch, Clifton, Texas, Now

The drive back to the ranch had been…awkward, to say the least. Savannah, thankfully, had gone home with her parents, her mother claiming that she would be in touch in a few days, but Jake had never pictured being in his truck with his two daughters and his ex-wife, a rental car packed with their nearest and dearest trailing behind them.

Buttercup had been strangely quiet on the drive to the ranch, her sharp eyes taking in the scenery while her ears no doubt were honed in on the rapid conversation her daughters were having in the back seat. Not that Jake blamed her for her silence. They’d both been taken aback when faced with the blackmail their daughters had laid at their feet. The girls would tell them which girl legally belonged to which parent at the end of their seven-day trip to the ranch, during which they would go on the annual trail ride, swim in the pool, go to one of Javy’s football games, and probably have a backyard bash to celebrate all the birthdays and Christmases they had missed out on.

Jake couldn’t help but swallow down his nerves as he turned down the long driveway that led to the ranch house. The last time he and Buttercup had spent any extended amount of time together, it had ended with tears and a courtroom. He still woke up sometimes in the middle of the night, the sound of the judge’s gavel ringing in his ears and the sight of Buttercup’s gaunt and teary face flickering behind his eyelids. But the girls needed this, and, frankly, Jake thought he and Buttercup needed it too. Time to act like a family, co-parent without an ocean in the way, and, Jake reminded himself, time for both the girls to get to know their future stepmother and for Buttercup to feel secure in allowing another woman near her children.

“I missed it here,” he heard Charlie sigh, his eyes jumping to the rearview mirror to see if he could spot which twin had spoken, but both of their mouths were clamped shut, as though they knew he would try to suss out which one was legally his responsibility.

“It’s pretty…” Buttercup murmured beside him, taking in the fields and the trees that lined the driveway. “I thought you said your grandfather’s ranch was kind of run down?”

Jake felt a smile tug on his lips. She remembered. He’d only mentioned it once or twice, in conversations about how they could manage the holidays when they got married, but she remembered.

“Coyote, Rooster and I fixed it up,” he replied in a smooth voice, pulling his truck up to the side of the farmhouse. “Took a bit, but we got it done, and now it’s a pretty successful working ranch.”

“Tourists can come here too, mom,” one of the girls piped up. “There’s cabins for city people who want a dude ranch experience.”

“Or for people who just want to get away,” the other girl smiled as the truck was shut off.

Jake sighed and stepped out of the truck, watching the SUV full of their friends and family coast up the driveway behind him.

“Alright, Abby, you, Buttercup, your aunt and uncle are all staying in one of the empty dude cabins—”

“No, we’re not,” one of the twins (Charlie, maybe?) glared at him. “I already texted Claudia. She had Luke move the futon into the bedroom. We are staying together.” She linked arms with her twin and they nodded decisively at him.

“And mom isn’t staying in a dude cabin with Uncle Bob and Auntie Nat,” her sister added. “She’s staying in the guest bedroom. In the house. With us.”

“Girls, I don’t think—”

“Please?” they batted their eyes at them. “We just want to know what it feels like for all of us to wake up under the same roof. Like a family.” They pouted, their eyes shining.

Jake groaned as he crouched to meet their eyes, waving a warning finger between them. “This is emotional blackmail, and you both know it.”

They both shrugged. “And we’re okay with that.”

Jake couldn’t tell if he wanted to laugh or hit something. They were definitely his daughters. Only someone with his DNA could come up with a scheme like this. Only someone who grew up with Rooster and Coyote would even think of something like this. And he had no doubt that the two men had something to do with it as well.

“Are you okay with this?” he turned to Buttercup, a gentle look in his eye. She’d been quiet, too quiet, since they’d left the hotel. “If you’re not, we could always ground ‘em for manipulating their parents.”

She smiled weakly at him. “It’s fine. It’ll be fine. It’s only for one week anyway. If we can’t handle one week living under the same roof…” she trailed off with a sigh, and he could read her mind just as well as he always had been able to. They’d planned on living under the same roof for the rest of their lives. They’d planned on growing old together. If they couldn’t handle one week together, then it was just further proof of how badly they had failed their girls.

Before he could doubt himself, he reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “It’ll be okay,” he murmured. “I promise. No asshole-ish, condescending behaviour from me.”

She snorted, the tension between them breaking. “So, you’re saying that you won’t be yourself?”

He pressed a hand to his chest dramatically, gasping and groaning. “You wound me, Buttercup.”

The girls giggled, sharing a look between them before Natasha stomped between them, heading for the house like she owned the place. Jake turned and looked at the SUV in time to watch Javy striding towards his cabin, muttering under his breath and kicking at a weed that was in his way.

“Jesus, what happened there?” he muttered to Buttercup, who shook her head.

Rooster strolled toward them, his hands pressed deeply into his pockets as he shook his head, his usually tan skin pale.

“Rooster?”

He shook his head at them. “I’m surprised they didn’t kill each other, man.”

Buttercup bit her lip, concern spreading across her features as she turned to watch her friend walk into her ex-husband’s house. “What happened? Why are they at each other’s throats? I thought they—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Rooster griped at her, looking at Jake. “I’m goin’ to make dinner.”

Jake nodded before turning to grab the luggage out of the bed of his truck. “Girls, you know where your bedroom is. Buttercup…” he bowed with a flourish. “Right this way and I’ll show you to your room.” She raised a hand to take her luggage from him, but he turned before she could even think. “You know me better than that, Buttercup. C’mon now.” He turned to lead them inside. “Since Phoenix seems to think she can stroll into my home whenever she pleases, you can come with us and I’ll show you to your cabin later, Bob.”

“You do put out quite the spread, Rooster,” Buttercup complimented as she dug into her mushroom risotto. “Everything is delicious.”

Rooster’s grunt had Jake aiming a kick at him under the table. Rooster shot him a sharp look in response, but Phoenix cut off any retort he might have been able to muster.

“What the hell, man? Why couldn’t you cook like this before? You nearly burned down the old apartment trying to make toast one time.”

“Needed something to keep me busy during retirement. And these two idiots would’ve let Charlie and I starve to death if I didn’t step up.”

“Are you self-taught?” Bob questioned, cutting up his baked chicken breast.

He shook his head. “Culinary school. Luckily for me, Uncle Sam was willing to pay my tuition since I was sinking all my money into this place.”

“I thought it was the Seresin Ranch?” Buttercup looked at Jake, who shrugged.

“Been a family ranch for decades. But Rooster and Coyote are equal partners with me. Mostly silent partners, but it was Coyote’s idea to turn the south field into a tourist trap. Ever since, we’ve been doing comfortably for ourselves.”

Buttercup looked around the cozy but elegant dining area. “Looks like more than comfortable to me.”

“Well, you’d know, wouldn’t you, Buttercup?” Jake smiled at her over his wine glass. “New York Times bestseller list? And I heard that you’re not one of those hacks who buys a bunch of copies of your own book just to make that list.”

Buttercup blushed into her rosé. “I’ve done okay for myself.”

“Better than okay,” Phoenix piped up with a reproachful look at her friend. “They’re trying to get her to host a TED Talk about creative writing and literary themes.”

Javy whistled under his breath. “Damn, kid. That’s awesome. What’s holding you back from sayin’ yes?”

Buttercup shifted uncomfortably. “There’s a reason I write under a penname, I suppose. I don’t really want to bring attention to myself. Or to my family.”

Rooster huffed under his breath. “And here I was thinking that it was because you didn’t want Jake to find you when you disappeared.”

Everyone froze, Jake’s laser glare slicing through the frosty air towards his friend.

“I…I…” Buttercup felt her eyes well with tears and she gripped her wine glass so tightly she was afraid that the stem would snap in her hands.

Rooster stood with a screech of his chair against the hardwood. “I’m done,” he muttered. “Enjoy the rest of your dinner.”

Buttercup half rose out of her seat as though to follow him, but Jake’s gentle hand on her arm gave her pause. “Ignore him. He’s got his own crap to work out. It’s not your fault, darlin’.”

She sniffed but nodded. “I…I didn’t mean to disappear. I called you. A bunch of times. But you never answered.”

Jake nodded, the tension remaining thick, the girls watching them warily. “I tried to call you too. Finally got an answer once too. But it was some British guy yelling at me to stop calling him at 3 o’clock in the morning. Figured it was a new man in your life.”

Buttercup shook her head. “It wasn’t. I mean…I’ve been too busy to try to date. But I can see why you thought that. And why you’d stop calling. I guess maybe the court transcribed my number wrong?”

Jake shrugged. “Must be. Tried calling Bob and Phoenix too. But it would only ring once then send me to voicemail.”

Buttercup sighed and glared at her family. “You blocked him?”

Bob shrugged but Phoenix met her eyes. “Yeah, I did. I barely wanted to talk to him when I had to work with him. Why would I want to talk to him when I didn’t have to?”

Jake, Charlie and Abby flinched at the venom in her voice.

“Nat…” Bob murmured under his breath in warning, but it was Javy’s voice that caught her attention.

“Sure, Phoenix, keep blaming us for your problems,” he bit out, eyes on his food. “I guess being angry at the world is easier than being angry at yourself.”

Phoenix slammed her fork down on the table. “Are you saying that getting grounded was my own fault?”

Javy stood, looming over the table. “I would never say that. But we all tried to be there for you when you were forced into retirement. It ain’t our fault that you couldn’t handle it and pushed us all away. Now you’re all alone and you can’t blame anyone but yourself for that.”

Phoenix stood to retort, the hairs on her arms standing at attention, but another screech of a chair stole their attention.

“That is enough,” Buttercup hissed. “My children are present, and they have enough going on without you two having a petty argument. If you need to whine at each other, do it outside. Because they do not need to hear this. Be adults or get out.”

Phoenix blinked at her for a moment before throwing her napkin down and stalking out of the room. A second later the front door slammed shut and everyone flinched.

Javy’s head hung low as he leaned against the table. “I’m gonna go too. Night girlies.” He bent to press kisses to Charlie and Abby’s hair as he passed them and left the room after clapping Jake on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Buttercup whispered to Jake, resettling into her seat. “But that’s not the kind of argument they should be having in front of our kids.”

The girls were indeed picking at their food, skin ashen.

“Don’t worry about it,” he promised, reaching out to squeeze her hand before picking up his fork again. “It’s not the first time Rooster or Javy have been tossed out of here for having a temper. I doubt it’ll be the last.”

Buttercup nodded, clearing her throat. “Girls, why don’t you tell me about this trail ride we’re going on tomorrow? You’re so insistent on going on it, but you haven’t really given me details.”

Charlie smiled brightly. “We leave way before the sun comes up and we get back the next night in time for Uncle Roo’s famous chili. We go all over the ranch, through the forest, up into the hills. Sometimes we see the cattle! And we camp out in tents and eat smores and hot dogs and Dad lets me stay up way late and tells me stories!”

Jake bit his lip to hide his smile. That was definitely his Charlie girl, but he wasn’t going to call her on it. Not when he wanted his girls to stay with him for as long as they could.

“I started the tradition when Charlie was just a baby,” he smiled. “We didn’t have a whole lot of ranch hands back then, so my granddad and I went out to round up the cattle with Rooster and Coyote. Charlie rode with me, strapped to my chest. She came with us every year until we had enough hands to do it on their own. That’s when we decided to move the trail ride to the last week of summer. As a kind of celebration before school starts again.”

Buttercup was smiling softly into her glass. “That sounds wonderful. I’m sure you’ll all have a wonderful time.”

Both girls made a sound of protest, and Jake chuckled. “Oh, c’mon now, Buttercup. You’re not gettin’ away from me that easily. You’re coming too.”

Buttercup bit her lip and looked pleadingly at him. “Jake, you know I can’t ride. And I’m an indoor human, not an outdoor one. I don’t do camping. I hate the outdoors, except for the beach. And I’m way too old to be sleeping on the ground.”

“You rode well when you took me out riding on the beach for my birthday,” he smiled. “And you came to the Daggers camp night, when we all slept out in Mav and Penny’s backyard. And you’re not old. You’re just as young and beautiful as you were the day I met you.”

Buttercup felt her cheeks blaze with heat. “Jake, please?”

The twins leaned forward and jutted their lower lips out. “Please mom?”

“For us?”

Buttercup shuttered her eyes. “No! Please, no more puppy dog eyes!”

Jake leaned in and gave her a similar, pleading look. “C’mon, Buttercup. You can’t say no to all three of us, can you?”

Buttercup groaned when she saw the look on his face. “You’re incorrigible, and their puppy dog face is clearly all your fault.”

The three of them cheered.

“You won’t regret this, I promise,” Jake murmured in her ear before sitting back in his chair and finishing his dinner.

Buttercup arose to the sound of a car door slamming, and thought, for a moment, that she was back in her flat in London. But the bed was unfamiliar and pale blue walls were not the lilac of her own bedroom. The distant sound of a horse whinnying brought back the flood of memories from the day before.

Jake. She was at Jake’s ranch, with her daughters. Both of them. Rooster was there too, and angry as all hell at her. Javy and Natasha were at each others’ throats. Bob was silently stewing out in a cabin somewhere on the property. It all felt like something she would write in one of her books, not live out in her real life.

With a sigh, she rolled out of bed and stretched. The girls had told her that they left for the trail ride before the sun even came up. Well, Charlie had told her, but she didn’t want to call her out and ruin the deal they had made. Jake had been right when he said that they all needed this. They needed to learn how to co-parent, and the girls deserved to spend more time with both them and each other. And part of that would be going on the trail ride as a family.

Slowly, Buttercup dressed in her oldest jeans and a cotton t-shirt, draping the flannel Jake had leant to her over her arm before hoisting the backpack Jake had helped her pack with camping essentials onto her shoulder.

Despite the arguments from the night before, Buttercup had enjoyed her first night on Seresin Ranch. Both her girls were clearly enamored with their father, and their father with them. Though she loved her family dynamic in London, she had to admit that their family meals were few and far between. Bob was flying more and more flights with overnight layovers, and Natasha would be out with friends more often than not. So, it would just be her and Abby around the dinner table. And she loved that, she really did, but she couldn’t help but feel that her daughter felt a little lonely in their small bubble.

Her girl wasn’t the biggest social butterfly (a trait she had undoubtedly inherited from her mother), though Buttercup knew that she had a few solid friends at school. Her girl got good grades, enjoyed her riding at the local arena, and loved spending time with her aunt and uncle when they were available. Still, Buttercup had always wanted to give her daughter a huge network of people she could rely on. Charlie clearly had that on the ranch, and Buttercup wanted to stick around long enough for at least some of those people to adopt Abby as their own as well.

Buttercup treaded softly over the hardwood floor and down the stairs, only stilling when she heard a sweet, feminine voice echoing off the walls.

“I told you, sugar. All is forgiven. I don’t blame you for not talkin’ about your other little girl. It must’ve been so painful for you to even think about her,” the voice simpered.

“I know it’s not ideal, Savannah,” Jake’s voice replied as Buttercup crept closer to the kitchen. “I’m sorry I lied to you. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to reconsider everything. You planned on becoming a stepmother to one child. Not two.”

Buttercup leaned against the wall next to the kitchen doorway. From her angle, she could see Jake standing in the kitchen, his strong hands resting on Savannah’s hips.

“Oh tush, sugar! It’ll be twice the fun with two little girls runnin’ around here. I’m sorry I fainted. I was just overwhelmed. But it’s not going to happen again. I promise.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to take some time to think about it?”

Buttercup watched as Savannah leaned in and planted a deep kiss on Jake’s lips. Her stomach roiled and Buttercup took a few steps away. She had no reason to feel nauseated at the sight of Jake kissing another girl. He was going to marry this woman. She would be the stepmother to her children. Sure, nobody but Jake seemed particularly keen on Savannah, but the same could be said about Buttercup herself, given Rooster’s reaction to her the night before. Whatever she was feeling, she would have to just get over it. That social network she wanted to build for her daughters would include Savannah, and it was Buttercup’s job as a mother to help build that bridge between them.

“Oh!” Buttercup looked up and found Savannah in the doorway, staring at her. “I’m so sorry, honey. I didn’t realize you were there.”

Buttercup forced a smile onto her face as she tamped down her nausea. “No, no. It’s my fault. Jetlag, you know? I was feeling a little dizzy and had to take a minute to breathe.”

Savannah smiled brightly at her. “Oh, that’s a darn shame. Jakey was tellin’ me that you’re an author?”

Buttercup blinked at the sudden change in topic but nodded. “That’s right.”

Savannah squealed. “That gives me the best idea ever! You should write my vows for me.”

Buttercup fought hard to keep the damper on her nausea as her stomach threatened to roll over. “I’m sorry?”

Savannah’s smile twitched, the sugary sweet smile changing to something predatory and feline for all of a second. “It’ll just sound so much better coming from a professional writer,” she simpered. “All those words of love and commitment, from me to Jakey,” she sighed. “It would be ten times better than whatever I could come up with.”

Buttercup bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to bleed as she smiled faintly at her. “I…will think about it.”

Savannah squealed again. “Ah, just think about how much it would mean to your girls. Havin’ their mother help welcome their new stepmama into their lives. It would be so sweet.”

Buttercup rolled her shoulders and nodded kindly. “Of course. I’ll think about it.” A sliver of an idea formed in Buttercup’s mind as she considered the saccharine woman in front of her. “You know what? While I think about it, why don’t you try to get to know your future stepdaughters more?”

Savannah blinked at her, the too-white smile on her face dimming as she stared at her. “How would you want me to do that?”

Jake stood in front of the four horses he had tacked up that morning. His own horse, Firewall, stood with the majority of the camping equipment stored behind his saddle. Lovebug had saddlebags full of food and water. The other two horses, a sweet chestnut gelding named Starburst and a black mare named Angel, would carry their other bags as well as Abby and Buttercup.

“C’mon you two punks!” he called as Charlie and Abby raced out of the house. “Let’s get a move on! We’re burning daylight!”

“Sorry dad,” Abby panted, moving towards Starburst. “Our bathroom is way too small for two people.”

“Where’s mom?” Charlie patted Lovebug as she stared toward the house.

Almost like she had been cued, Buttercup emerged from the house, dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a tank top.

“That what you’re ridin’ in, darlin’?” Jake called. “I don’t know if that’s the best getup for a trail ride.”

Buttercup shook her head, cradling a cup of coffee between her hands. “I talked to my editor this morning. I have a deadline coming up and owe her a hundred and fifty more pages.”

Jake felt his heart sink as the girls bemoaned the news.

“But mom—”

“—you promised!”

Buttercup smiled softly at them over her mug. “I know, my darlings, and I’m so sorry. But I figured you could use this time well anyway.”

“We already know dad, Mom,” Charlie griped.

“That’s not what I’m talking about, baby,” Buttercup grinned, an almost wicked look on her face. “I thought you could get to know your new stepmother on this trail ride. After all, she’ll be part of the family too.”

Jake’s heart sunk even lower as Savannah strode out of the house, looking like a model for a horse magazine, all dolled up in the latest riding gear.

Abby and Charlie stared at their mother with an unreadable look on their faces as Buttercup winked at them. “Enjoy!”

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#jake seresin x reader #glen powell #top gun maverick #as you wish fic #jake seresin #parent trap au #top gun fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman fic

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genocidecomics · 3 days

Note

Hey so in reference to my previous ask, can you do one were the reader is having trouble controlling their powers (you can decide those) and either Kurt or Erik comfort them after a bad day and end up confessing to the reader. You can ad smut if you want but if not that's totally fine too☺️.

Your Existence is Grand

Erik Lehnsherr x gn!reader

Erik notices you having a rough day with your powers and decides to shower you with praise.

(This is my first fanfic literally ever so feedback appreciated, but also... Sorry for any mistakes!!!!)

Trigger warnings: cursing, suggestive themes (I don't know what else to write here, pls let me know if there's anything else I should add!)

The air around me begins buzzing and crackling, becoming charged with electricity and I sigh, deeply frustrated before I reach for the metal doorknob in front of me and receive a shock so strong that all the muscles in my arm cramp up painfully. I curse under my breath, forcing my arm to bend and stretch the tense muscles as I walk into the lounge, getting a glimpse of the others outside. Some might say I’d been gifted with a particularly powerful mutation, that it made me strong and intimidating. That I am admired for it, as if it’s a blessing to be grateful for.

But in this god-forsaken world, all I could see was a curse that plagued my body. I never bothered to understand the science behind it, as much as others might have tried to explain it to me. Something about the electricity in my body behaving abnormally, affecting the air around me and in turn, other electronics or conductors of electricity, turning me into a walking hazard around power lines, or thunderstorms. Let's not even mention the sheer amount of electrical fires I’ve caused. Sure, it sounds cool. But the reality is basically hell.

One of the ‘best’ parts about my mutation is that it is terribly unstable, especially when you’re constantly surrounded by electricity no matter where you go. Everyone else who charges up some static then touches a piece of metal receives a little sting from a silly little shock. It might be a little funny or perhaps surprising! Maybe it happens when you touch fingers with someone else and you shock each other, what a cute moment!

Try getting fucking electrocuted every single time.

Nowhere near as cute, nor as fun.

Some days are worse than others and the more restless I become, the worse it is for me in the end. But unfortunately, I can’t lay in bed immobile for an entire day to lower the voltage my body is producing, resulting in my current conundrum. Avoiding the rest of the X-Men in order to avoid any potential accidents, especially with Jubilee. Fireworks and a highly-charged mutant body surrounded by a bunch of high-tech only spells out bad news. Luckily, it seems like most of them were outside on the basketball court. That’s what I thought, at least.

“I take it you’re having a bad voltage day?” the voice of none other than Magneto startles me out of my thinking. It’s been more than a few months of him living here with us, but his presence is still unexpected. I had a hard time training the knee-jerk defensive reaction out of my body for the first few days, my body becoming charged up so quickly that I wouldn’t even have the chance to blink before I shot a bolt of electricity at him.

He was quick to show that a little spark didn’t do much to him, given that he was essentially a walking magnetic field.

I turn to him, his large form standing at the entrance to the lounge, “What makes you say that?” I turn back to watch as Scott and Logan start another argument, their voices muffled by the glass.

“The air keeps crackling and I have a hard time believing there’s a storm inside the building” he approaches until he pauses at my side. I chuckle a little, giving a wince once I feel my sore muscles constrict. He turns to watch me.

“Hm, I don’t know, maybe Storm has had enough of those two at each other’s throats” I try to joke but my voice falters, as my heart begins to race again and the sound of the air buzzing around me becomes overwhelming. Tremors begin rippling across my muscles, a mixture of them cramping and relaxing too fast for me to keep up with. Losing the strength in my legs, I stretch a hand out toward the glass in front of me to hold myself up but I miss the glass by a couple inches. Erik’s hands are quick to grab onto my arms before pulling me into his chest, supporting my weight as the crackling noise fills my ears and I let out a pained shout. My body releases a strong burst of electricity, most of it absorbed by Erik’s magnetic field, whilst the rest causes the power in the building to go out. I pant loudly, trying to catch my breath, feeling like my heart might’ve stopped in the middle of that.

The lights flicker around us before the power in the school hums back to life. Erik’s hands are still around me, I realize before beginning to step away, but his hold on me tightens. He pulls me back against his chest and I try to fight back the heat that’s slowly creeping up to my face. This is a bit embarrassing. I’ll admit it, I had grown to like Erik in the time he’d been with us, not to mention I had quite a few run-ins with him before I ever joined the X-Men. He always seemed so… Powerful, he always felt safe to be around. As radical as the Professor may claim he is, he always seemed… Right. You could hear the passion in his voice when he spoke of mutantkind and it made you want to side with him, to be loyal and to follow him to the ends of the Earth.

He had a powerful presence, and as I am now discovering, a powerful touch. One of the very few people who could come near me without fear of being electrocuted. My muscles had begun to twitch in the aftermath of the shock. These are the unfortunate moments where I wish I could be rid of my mutation. I could barely hold myself up and here I was in Erik’s arms.

“You should be resting” his voice was stern, but there was a hint of concern in there. I raise my gaze to meet his, feeling a bit of shame.

“I can’t just lay in bed all day, the world is still turning, there’s things to do…” I muttered.

“Precisely, the world is still turning and it will still continue to turn if you are at rest. You, on the other hand, are not a planet and you need to care for yourself”

I stare into his eyes, feeling them pierce through my soul. He always seemed to be right about everything… I chuckle under my breath as I regain some strength in my legs, straightening back up.

“I’m sure you must be tired of having to run after all of us like a babysitter” I joke as his arms come to rest on my shoulders once I’m stable on my feet.

A glint crosses his eyes, “I do wonder how Charles managed, and then I remember he’s a telepath, so it must’ve been quite easy for him” he replies with a smirk gracing his face that makes me laugh a little.

“He still struggled, you shouldn’t compare yourself to the Professor”

He begins to lead me toward the couch behind us, helping me take a seat before joining me. I still feel a hot streak of shame across my stomach, having him help me. Burdening him.

“Sorry, by the way… You’re right, I should be a little more considerate of others” I mutter.

Erik turns to look at me as I avoid making eye contact, “I don’t believe those were my words…” his hand reaches out toward my chin, gently turning my head to face him, “I only ask of you to rest and care for yourself, forget what the others may think”

I blinked up at him, “The Professor always wanted me to push past my limits, so that I can perhaps get stronger… Control my powers better”

“In a perfect world, you wouldn’t have to restrict your abilities, you could rule this planet with a wave of your hand, what you have is something to be proud of, not ashamed” he places his hand against my cheek and I find myself leaning against his warm touch, “Your mutation is a blessing, not a curse”

I scoff, “Sure doesn’t feel that way, I can’t even live among humans without shutting down an entire city’s power”

“Your powers shouldn’t be hidden, controlled, or restricted for the sake of humanity” he says the word with disdain, “but those are my beliefs, your existence is grand mein liebling”

My heart thumps against my chest loudly at his words. It feels… Intimate. How could he speak such high praise toward me?

“I see you hurt and I watch as you restrain yourself around others, as your mutation basically eats your body alive and it pains me…” his eyes gaze across my face, pausing at my lips before trailing back up to my eyes, “It pains me that you live in a world where you feel you cannot rest, where you feel you must hide the power within you”

“Erik…” I whisper, almost afraid to shatter the moment between us, “What are you… What are you saying…?” I peer into his eyes, seeing something brewing behind his gaze. Could it be possible that he’s… No, there’s no way.

“What do you believe I’m saying?” he whispers softly, leaning in toward me. I jump as a few sparks fly out from where he has his hand on my cheek. I can’t help my eyes dropping to his lips before rising back up to his eyes.

I feel the tension rise and in a desperate attempt to avoid it, I joke, “If I was delusional, I might think you’re trying to confess to me right now” I laugh a little to dispel the tension. His gaze was still just as intense so I failed, but I tried my best.

A smile graced his features, “Yes… Perhaps if you were delusional, you might see that I am actually confessing my feelings for you right now” he says it so casually I almost think he’s playing along with my joke, but as my eyes widen, so does his smile.

“Are you…?” my voice wavers a little. I feel my heart drop, realizing he’s probably joking with me. I turn away from his hand, lightly pushing his chest to put distance between us.

“Is this some sort of joke? Come on, Erik… You know that’s… It’s unrealistic” I mutter, a man like him would never love someone like me, that’s not how it works… Maybe in the movies, or in a fairytale perhaps.

“Mein liebling, perhaps I haven’t been clear enough with you” he wraps his arms around my shoulders and pulls me in close, closer than before, “do you prefer a visual demonstration instead? I can give you that, you only need to ask” he smiles before slowly leaning in, giving me enough time to back out if I wished, but I find myself leaning in, eager to feel his lips against mine.

As soon as our lips locked together, sealed at last, a burst of electric sparks flew out from our lips and I giggled into the kiss. I mean, how ironic is that? I felt real, literal sparks and fireworks from the kiss and it made my lips tingly. Erik smiles into the kiss before deepening it, his hand rising up toward my hair while the other trailed down my back and I found myself desperate to be closer to him, wrapping my arms around his neck, clumsily climbing over to sit on his lap. We part right as I begin losing my breath and he trails a burning, tingly trail of kisses down my jaw before he stops by my ear.

With a whisper that blew across the nape of my neck, “I see more than just greatness in you, so much more…” The words are charged with intention, passion, and sincerity. I shudder as the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and I bite back a moan as he continues kissing down my neck. I take a sharp breath in as he begins sucking on a tender spot before I suddenly realize what we’re doing…

Where we’re doing it.

I turn slightly to peek at the windows, making sure the others are still thoroughly distracted with playing before I feel Erik bite my skin and a moan breaks out, “Wait! Erik… We’re… In the lounge…”

He lifts his head, and the dark look in his blue eyes makes me clench my legs in anticipation, “We’ll just have to be fast… And quiet… Can you do that?” He taunts me with a question I don’t even get the chance to answer before he lays me down on the couch, climbing over me, “I’m just helping you relax, that’s not a sin, is it?” He looks down at me with a hungry gaze and I feel my cheeks burn.

“I guess not”

“Show me what else you can do with these sparks of yours”

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pickingupmymercedes · 11 hours

Text

I'd like to believe - Lewis Hamilton

Alternative sequel to Maybe in another life / When I get to meet you

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: mentions of mourning, angst, will make you emotional

wordcount: +1K

a/n: Alternative-ish ending (this was actually my first draft to continue their story, so the happy-ish one is the alternative, sort of).

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

MILD TRIGGERING CONTENT UNDER, PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

______________________________________________________________

My dearest little one,

Today marks ten years since you should have been here, celebrating another year of life. Ten times the snow has fallen, making everything quiet outside.

They say time heals all cuts, but some cuts go real deep, leaving scars that never quite go away. And I still find it hard to believe that a whole decade has passed.

You'd be so grown now, so full of life and curiosity, brimming with questions and dreams. I often wonder what you'd be like – would you have my stubbornness and determination, or your mother's grace and patience?

Maybe a beautiful blend of both, creating someone truly unique.

I’m going to visit your stone again later today. Leave this letter like every year. I suspect there’ll be fresh flowers, as always, probably from your mother.

She never forgets.

We never reconnected, not like I'd hoped for. But I think about her often.

I searched everywhere for her. I just really needed someone to share the pain with, someone to hold onto while everything fell apart. We tried talking, spilling out all our feelings, but the words wouldn't come out right. Maybe we were afraid of saying the wrong thing or making things worse.

Maybe we were both thinking the same thing – maybe if we'd done things differently, maybe you'd still be here.

After a while, the space between us just kept getting bigger, too big to cross. You see, your mom, she found a way to move on. She built a life for herself, a life where the pain was still there, but it didn't control her anymore.

I hope she's found peace and happiness, something she deserved more than anyone. She was an incredible woman, and I wish I had been the man she needed me to be.

I hope she reads these letters someday, that she understands how much I loved you both, how much I regret not being there when you needed me most.

Maybe one day, when the weight of these years starts to feel a little lighter, I can finally forgive myself.

Maybe then, I can find the strength to reach out to her, not to get back together, but to find some peace, a simple way to say thank you for the love we shared and sorry for the loss that tore us apart.

You know, life has changed quite a bit since I last wrote to you.

I'm with someone, have been for the past four years. She's patient, kind and knows about you. I don't think we'll ever have children though. She's got her own ghosts.

I retired from racing. Shortly after I won my eighth championship with Ferrari. It was a dream come true, but also bittersweet because I couldn't share it with you. I work as a consultant for the team now, just like Niki was for me at Mercedes. You’d have loved him.

It's a different kind of thrill, guiding the next generation of racers, helping them navigate the same challenges I once faced, but it drives me forward.

I’d like to believe you’d be proud of your old man for that.

I sometime wonder if you would have been drawn to racing too, or maybe you'd have found your passion in something entirely different. Whatever it might have been, I would have supported you every step of the way and with all my heart.

I think about the things you'd enjoy often; you know?! The hobbies and interests you'd develop.

Maybe you'd love music, like your mother. She had an incredible ear for it, always humming a tune or singing softly to herself. It’s what got us close in the first place so many years ago.

Perhaps you'd have a knack for building things, creating something out of nothing with your hands and imagination.

Either way, I hope you'd have found joy in the simple things, just like I try and do now.

There's so much I wish I could’ve shared with you. So many lessons I've learned the hard way and would to show you. Life isn't always easy, my little one. It's filled with ups and downs, triumphs and failures.

One of the most important things I wish I could’ve taught you is the value of love. Real love, the kind that fills your heart and soul, and is worth every bit of pain and sacrifice.

I had that with your mother, even if I didn't realize it at the time. She saw right through me, saw the man behind the driver, and loved me for who I was. I'd hope you'd find someone like that, someone who understands and loves you unconditionally.

It might hurt sometimes, but that's how you know it's real. Love isn't always easy, but it's the most beautiful thing.

I would want you to know that it's okay to make mistakes though. I made plenty, and each one taught me something valuable. The key is to learn from them, to grow and become a better person. But each moment, whether good or bad, shapes who you are.

I wish I could have been there to guide you through it all, to help you navigate the challenges and celebrate the victories. My motto has been “Still I Rise” for the longest time and if you wanted it could’ve been yours as well.

Life isn't about being perfect; it's about being true to yourself and striving to be the best version of you.

In the quieter moments I still dream about you, you know. In my dreams, you're a whirlwind of energy, your laughter filling the air. We go on adventures, explore the world together. I teach you what I know, and you teach me about everything else.

Those dreams are my sanctuary, a place where we can be together, even if just for a moment.

Sometimes, I catch myself talking to you out loud, as if you were right beside me. I tell you about my day, about the races, about the world. It might sound silly, but it brings me comfort. It's my way of keeping you close, of making sure you're never forgotten.

Even though we never got to meet, you are a part of me, and I carry you in my heart every day.

You are my greatest loss, but also my greatest gift. You've taught me more about love than anything else in this world.

Sometimes, under a sky full of stars, I imagine you up there with the constellations, looking down at me with curious eyes. And I need you to know that we love you still, deeply and unconditionally.

Ten years old. A whole person with your own personality, dreams, and wishes.

The world missed out on knowing you, and so did I.

But your memory, my precious child, it lives on. It lives on in the way I cherish every moment, every sunrise, every laugh shared with a friend. It lives on in the way I try to be a better person, kinder, someone who would have been a good dad to you.

This letter is my vow written down. A promise that even though you're not here, you'll never be forgotten.

Happy birthday, my sweet child. I hope, wherever you are, you're smiling, knowing that you are loved and cherished.

You are my light, my angel and a part of me. And though the path I walk may be lonely sometimes, I carry you and your mom with me in my heart, always.

With all the love that would have filled a lifetime.

Dad.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #lewis hamilton #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 1 day

Text

The Intruder

Jennifer Jareau x fem!reader Warnings: REALLY BIG trigger warnings for CM-style violence, including an attempted rape, general fear and alarm and danger, explicit language, gun violence, injury, happy ending (don't worry, I would never do that to you bbs), let me know if I've missed anything! Word count: 1.7k

Summary: When an at-large unsub with a grudge breaks into your and JJ's home, everything–and everyone–you hold dear is suddenly at risk.

You woke to the sound of breaking glass, soft and muffled but unmissable. You sat up quickly, as still and as quiet as possible. Maybe you’d imagined it? But then you heard the back door creak open and shut and fear shot through you like ice.

You grabbed JJ’s arm, shaking her shoulder, trying desperately to keep yourself calm.

“What, babe?” JJ mumbled, still half-asleep.

“Jayje, there’s someone in the house,” you whispered, voice shaky and high.

She shot up, listening closely, unconsciously moving her body to shield yours. There was no mistaking the creak of the hardwoods. JJ launched herself out of bed, quiet, brows furrowed, and you knew then that this JJ was not JJ your girlfriend. This was FBI agent JJ. This was taking-down-serial-killers JJ. Counter-terrorism-in-the-Middle-East JJ. JJ who had killed and would kill again without hesitation if she had to in order to protect her people. And you were scared. Not of her, but of whatever had come into your home and brought this JJ to the forefront. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

Keeping her eyes on the door to your bedroom, JJ reached into the nightstand to pull out two handguns and her phone. She checked the clips, then turned off the safety and carefully pressed one of the guns and her phone into your hands. Your breathing was frantic, and you were trying very hard not to cry.

She looked at you then, right in the eyes, and it was the only time in what felt like hours since you’d woken up that she’d made eye contact with you.

“JJ, I can’t,” you gasped, voice quiet.

“Yes, you can,” she replied firmly, molding your hands around the gun. “Call 9-1-1. And if you need to, point and shoot. Just like we practiced.” She directed her gaze back to the doorway, eyes adjusting to the dark, holding her own gun comfortably at her side, practiced instincts kicking in. “I’m gonna check it out.”

“JJ, no!” you begged, grabbing her arm, eyes wide. “Please.”

She pulled away, a little more harsh than she meant to be, but this wasn’t a time for sentiment. Someone was in her home. Someone who could hurt you. And she wasn’t going to let anyone hurt you.

“Point and shoot, baby” she repeated, raising her gun and walking out of the room.

You shook, hating the feeling of the cold metal against your fingers. You’d practiced with JJ, you’d been to the shooting range. She made sure you knew how to handle firearms. But you didn’t think you’d actually have to handle them. You clicked JJ’s phone on, but for the life of you, you couldn’t remember her password. You silently cursed your panicked brain. You knew her password, you’d known it for years. What a time to forget. And yours was where it always was at night–plugged in on the kitchen counter.

You craned your neck, listening for something, anything. But all was quiet. You didn’t know what would be worse–the sounds of an altercation or this absolute silence.

But then you heard a crash, and you knew. Sound was much worse. Your stomach was in your throat as you listened for more, but the house had fallen quiet again. You started to hyperventilate. There were only two possibilities. First, that JJ had apprehended the intruder. But surely she would have called out to let you know it was safe? Second, that the intruder had apprehended JJ. And that stirred a fear so deep, so consuming it could swallow you whole. You felt sick to your stomach.

You waited and waited, breathing somehow both too much and too little, gripping the gun tightly. You watched the doorway, begging the universe for JJ to come around the corner. You saw movement and, for a brief moment, you were flooded with relief. But it was replaced by the most sickening, gut-churning terror you’d ever felt in your life when your brain registered that the person in the doorway was not your girlfriend.

It was a man. Tall. Broad. In a black ski mask. You thought you might vomit. From sheer panic. From the thought, shooting through your body like a bolt of lightning, that if JJ wasn’t here that meant she wasn’t okay.

Your chest heaved as the man approached you, so fast you could barely register him. You wanted to scream, you knew you should scream, but it was like your voice was stuck in your throat. You were frozen in place. You tried to raise the gun, but the intruder was too fast, wrenching it from your grasp with large hands. He tossed the gun to the side as if it were nothing, then shoved you into the headboard with such force you saw stars. You writhed and fought, but he was so much bigger than you, so much stronger. With one of his hands, he pinned your arms about your head and, with the other, circled your throat in an iron grip. You coughed, eyes watering. Somehow you still couldn’t scream, still couldn’t find your voice. But you had to fight somehow.

You raked your fingernails along the man’s wrist, pressing as hard as you could, hard enough to break through the skin. He growled and yanked your wrist back, snapping the bone. You screamed, and he pressed a gloved hand over your mouth, yanking off his mask. Tears leaked down your face as you took him in. Nothing special. A man, just like any other man.

He smiled at you, and you thought you might be sick.

“You don’t know who I am, do you?”

Even if you could’ve answered, you wouldn’t. You had no idea who he was.

He sneered, moving his face so close to yours that you could smell his breath: stale cigarettes and something older, fouler, like a rotten tooth.

“Pretty girlfriend didn’t mention me, did she? Didn’t want to scare you?”

Another wave of tears streamed down your face at the thought of JJ. What had he done to her? Was she okay? Was she even alive?

“Oh, don’t worry,” he said, and you flinched as he caressed the side of your face, his gloves rough on your skin. “I’m sure she’ll come around just in time to see what I’ve done with you.”

A panic unlike any you’d ever felt before flooded your body as he removed a glove and yanked down your pants before starting to unbutton his own.

“No, no, no!” you screamed, kicking, fighting, doing everything you possibly could to get away, but he was just so much bigger than you. The weight of him on top of you, his hand bending your broken wrist back so that you writhed in pain, his knees pressing into your lungs so that you could barely breathe.

The way he looked at you–like you were something to be devoured, to be destroyed and torn apart for his own enjoyment–you would never forget it. You pinched your eyes shut as he ran his tongue over your face. He grinned again, a nasty, leering grin, and sat up a bit to survey you.

But then–a bang and a red flood pouring from the center of his forehead. You squirmed away, shaking and gasping, yanking your pants up. Seeing someone else in the room, you grabbed the gun and pointed, whimpering.

“Y/N, it’s me!” JJ yelled, raising her hands. “It’s me, baby, don’t shoot!”

You were so relieved to see her you thought you might black out. Panicked sobs coursed their way through your body, and your vision swam with tears. JJ eased the gun out of your hand and placed her hands on the side of your head, frantically looking you over.

“Are you okay?! Are you hurt!?” she said, eyes wide and frantic as she wiped the blood from your face. You used your good hand to examine JJ’s head, her hair that was caked with blood.

“You’re bleeding,” you choked out, wondering how it was possible to be both so relieved and so scared at the same time.

“I’m fine,” she said, her voice breaking. “Head wounds just bleed a lot.”

She sniffled, eyes wide with fear as she grasped your face. “Did he…?” She couldn’t bring herself to say it, the words stuck in her throat. She almost couldn’t bear to hear the answer.

You shook your head, and JJ let out a sob of relief, kissing the side of your head and pulling you into her.

“Okay,” she breathed, rubbing your back, hands all over you, as if to assure herself you were really there, really alright. “You’re okay. You’re safe, baby.”

She was assuring herself more than you. You let yourself rest on JJ’s shoulder, shaking, holding your swollen wrist to your chest. JJ ran her fingers through your hair, holding you so tight you thought she might never let you go. And you didn’t want her to. You never felt safer than when you were in JJ’s arms, now more than ever. She kept pressing her lips to the side of your head, breathing you in, feeling the solidity of you.

The blue-red lights of police and paramedics flashed outside your window, and you tilted your head up to look at JJ, her face illuminated.

“You’re okay, baby,” she said again and again, her voice shaky, tears still threatening at the corners of your eyes. “You’re safe.” Like a mantra, like something that could ward the evil away from your home, away from your bedroom where it had intruded on something pure and beautiful.

“JJ,” you whispered, cupping her face with your good hand. She stopped speaking for a moment to look at you–so much love, so much fear and relief in her eyes. “I’m okay,” you reassured her. “I’m safe.”

“You’re safe,” she repeated, as if she couldn’t quite believe it, like she needed you to prove it, confirm it.

“I’m safe,” you said again, your eyes shining. “You kept me safe.”

“You’re safe.” JJ let out a shaky breath, pulling you into her chest, and if you could stay there forever, you would.

#jennifer jareau #jennifer jareau fanfic #jennifer jareau x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic

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bones4thecats · 1 day

Note

hello, I would like to make a request to Ignihyde with a reader like Magara from Hercules (note, magara! reader being Idia's boyfriend(girlfriend) please

The Reader Being Twisted From Megara

Characters: Idia and Ortho Shroud Requester: @marinahavik A/N: Heyo there, Marina! I know this has taken a while to get out there, but I've been busy with some extra side-hassles with the blog. Note; there will be an announcement after this comes out! Anyways, I do hope you enjoy this pieces despite coming out a while after requested😅 Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Book 6 and mentions of Death

••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●•

»»———————————- 　 Idia Shroud 　———————————-««

🎮 Wow, talk about opposites attract

🎮 This guy is literally known around Night Raven College for being a shut-it, meanwhile you are known for being a fairly obvious and cynical person. One that is hailed at being worse than Professor Trein when upset

🎮 Now, for the many years you and Idia have known one another, he by far believes that he deserves to have a friend as cool and chilled out as you around him. He’s a 'weird otaku' for crying out loud

🎮 When you guys first met, you were settling down from fight with another classmate. Apparently, he had tried to hit your younger sister, and in a fit of rage, you grabbed his hair and began to beat him senseless. And while you were fairly cynical when replying to the principal’s questions, Idia was more timid

🎮 You and him were released from the office, and when you introduced yourself and found out he got in trouble for messaging his parents because it was the date of his younger brother’s death, you swore to stand by his side. No take backs

🎮 Ever since then, Idia has been hooked onto you, which led to your relationship blossoming into what it is today

🎮 Idia is definitely nervous of being in a relationship with you, as you had a bad experience with your past boyfriend who was known by many names, Donovan or Don, or even Adonis! Talk about a spoiled narcissist

🎮 But, every time you notice that he is burying himself into these awful thoughts, you would jump in and begin to help him by reassuring him that he is far better than Donovan ever was to you. As he actually listens and talks to you instead of ignoring you and belittling you in front of his friends like Donovan

🎮 Speaking of Donovan, when he came by and tried to offer to rekindle your relationship, Idia showed a whole other side of him that scared all that witnessed the event

🎮 As the golden-haired man held your hand while bent down on one knee, your boyfriend literally blew up in flames, but, instead of blue ones, they were a hellfire-red and orange. And once he saw just how pissed the dormhead was, Donovan lunged out of there, but not before he praised on how you would regret rejecting him and for 'embarrassing' him

🎮 Please, he's an embarrassment on his own.

🎮 But, despite your cynical and disgusted-appearing nature, you really were a sweetheart inside. This was shown to Idia when you first interacted with Ortho, or, the robot-him that is...

🎮 You held his hand as he walked to practice, you'd allow him to recharge in your lap, hell, you would even allow him to do whatever he wanted with your extremely long and thick hair- sometimes the tiny mech would even match both you and his brother's hair

🎮 Don't mind Idia, he's just rebooting in the background- something about losing to much XP or whatever

••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●•

»»———————————-　 Ortho Shroud　———————————-««

🤖 Ortho is absolutely the biggest sweetheart you have ever met in your life!

🤖 When he first came back to life after Idia's overblot, he had no idea what happened or who you were. But, once you explained everything about you and Idia's bond, leaving out his death date and such, since he was no doubt overwhelmed with the fact his brother had an S/O

🤖 Ortho hugged your tightly as you just chuckled and gave him pats on his tiny robotic back

🤖 Idia awoke from his small nap in the nurse-ward to see you and Ortho curled up on a nearby sofa, the younger male being propped up in your arms like a toddler would with his mother

🤖 The younger Shroud would be lying if he said that he didn't love teasing you and his brother! He's the younger sibling, and as the younger sibling in a family, it is our job to make the oldest regret wishing for us. I can guarantee that, I have two older brothers

🤖 Like I mentioned earlier, you allow Ortho to hold your hand whenever he walked, have him recharge/rest in your lap, and let him style your hair

🤖 Speaking of your hair, whenever he does both you and his brother's to match, he just chuckles mischievously in the background as you hold Idia up and try getting a bottle of water in his mouth to cool him down from his embarrassment

#Twisted Wonderland #TWST #Ignihyde #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #TWST x Reader #Ignihyde x Reader #S/O! Reader #GN! Reader #Idia Shroud #Idia Shroud x Reader #Ortho Shroud #Ortho Shroud x Reader

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leviackermansjewishwife · 2 days

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Headcannon: Levi dealing with your self harm and eating disorders (massive trigger warning)

‼️Massive massive trigger warning, please if you can not handle these topics do not engage with this post! ‼️

I have been clean from sh for five years now, and clean from disordered eating and eating disorders for about three years now, and I remember when I was really struggling with these issues I would constantly read Levi headcannons and fics, and it would make me feel better, so now I want to write these, to see if it would make anyone else feel better! Though be aware I’m still getting used to writing headcannons so if they aren’t the best be aware. I am basing this off my own experiences, so if you don’t like how I characterize things, move on.

Self harm - cutting mostly implied

- If he catches you doing it, he slowly takes the weapon out of your hands, and kisses gently at your cheeks, especially if you’re crying.

- If he finds the scars he just stares at you, not really knowing how to handle it

- He doesn’t push you to talk about it, but if you ever want to, he is completely ready to listen.

- If you allow him too, he loves kissing among your scars.

- He removes all sharp things from your room, and he hides all the sharp things in his room, he doesn’t want to take any chances.

- If you ever have any urges, he talks you through them, or sometimes if you want to feel pain really badly, he will take out to the courtyard and train you in a fight.

- He mostly comforts you by distracting you from urges and pain, he’s not exactly great on comforting you through words but he tries his best.

- If you ever feel bad about wearing something that can show your scars, he encourages you to, and if someone has a problem with it, he’ll handle it.

- Ultimately he is the best help you could ever have in your life during this time.

Disordered eating and eating disorders:

- When he first sees that you avoid eating purposely, he’s a little confused. Not in a mean way, but growing up with so little food he’s confused on why someone would purposely avoid eating.

- If you ever get uncomfortable eating in front of other people, he eats with you in your room, or his office, which is the preferred spot to eat in.

- He starts brewing special tea for stomach cramps, and any other complications, he has a tea for that.

- If you suffer from bulimia (which is what I suffered from), he will constantly give you stuff to repair your throat, and stomach.

- If he ever catches you vomiting back up your food, he helps you get the last of it up, he holds back your hair, and he wipes off your face. But he doesn’t let you get off incredibly easy.

- He doesn’t let you binge so that you can’t vomit back up, he doesn’t let you be alone after you eat.

- He of course let’s you go to the bathroom alone, but if he hears the sound of vomiting he will rush in.

- He never presses you to talk, but he does eventually take you into his arms, and kinda begs what made you do this. He blames himself in a way, because he feels like a bad partner by not looking out for you more.

- But he doesn’t beg for your assurance, that it’s not his fault, he’s not a dick.

- When you tell him the reasoning, what ever it is, he just holds you. If someone made you feel this bad, that you had to resort to not eating or vomiting up your food, consider them dead and cold.

- On recovery, he doesn’t let you eat alone. No matter what you suffer from, he doesn’t want you to eat alone. So you don’t calorie restrict or so you don’t binge.

- He encourages you to eat better by talking about how beautiful your extra weight is, and loves leaving kisses along any parts of your body you consider “ugly”

- To help you recover he challenges you to eat certain foods, and is always there with you when you did it.

- No matter what he sticks by your side, and always reassures you you’re beautiful.

#levi ackerman #attack on titan #tw self h4rm #tw eating issues #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman thoughts #levi ackerman x oc #levi aot #aot levi #levi snk #snk levi #levi shingeki no kyojin #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman headcanons #levi ackerman x you #husband levi ackerman #levi ackerman imagine #levi angst

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nevadancitizen · 1 day

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-> ATOM BOMB BABY!

synopsis: you're a nomadic survivor in a post-apocalyptic wasteland until you get transported to a strange, new world. these demons were obviously expecting a human that was softer, less spikes-and-thorns and more fluff-and-wool. how will they react and adapt?

word count: 3.3k (~530 each)

characters: lucifer, mammon, leviathan, satan, asmodeus, beelzebub, belphegor, post-apocalyptic! reader

trigger warnings: canon-typical violence, it's implied that the reader has killed before and will kill again lol

notes: new vegas and obey me! have been kicking me in the head repeatedly recently. so there are some allusions/references to new vegas in this one but you don't need to know jack about new vegas to understand this :) also mammon's is longer than everyone else's and he's pining hard for mc because i'm soooo in love with him it's not even funny and IGNORE that there's a lot of holes you could poke in this.. okay? okay <3

It had been a… a miscalculation, really. An embarrassing one. Diavolo had accounted for many things to ensure the success of the Exchange Program, but he failed to account for the most important thing: the fact that, at the end of the day, humans are better at killing than any other living thing.

Was it wrong for him to assume that things had been the same way they were two hundred years ago? Yes, of course. It was stupid not to check in on the human world, because if he had, he’d find that it was razed by nuclear bombs, the land and water still tainted with the fallout.

So, no, neither he nor the brothers know what to do when you quite literally fall out of the portal. They’re shocked when, instead of being confused and scared and fragile, you’re vile, scarred, spitting threats as if they came naturally. Wait – are you wearing riot armor? And – yeah, that’s a gun. Definitely a gun. A gun you’re currently pointing at them.

-> LUCIFER

Honestly, this is the last thing Lucifer needed: another fucking headache. He supports Diavolo with all that he is, but he can’t ignore the fact that he’s sometimes so careless that shit like this happens. He’s the one who talks some sense into you and gets you to holster your weapon, as he’s the only one with a level head in the room. (Well, Diavolo would be the other, but he’s… weirdly excited that this human is challenging and has so many thorns you’d think they were born in a briar bush!)

He’ll try his best to accommodate you, even if that means teaching you that yes, you have to shower at least once every two days if you’re to continue living in the House of Lamentation. And no, you cannot hoard food and water in your room. He knows it’s instinct for you at this point, but it causes problems with Beel.

He basically takes over teaching you how to be a regular, functioning member of polite society, kinda like how he did with Satan. (Really, he thought he’d never see the day where the Devildom was considered part of polite society, but after seeing snippets of the human world through you, he knows that this place is way better than the human world.) He teaches you how to use proper cutlery, how modern plumbing and refrigeration works, and how to solve your problems with words rather than bullets.

Lucifer is also… oddly patient when it comes to you. As much as he hates to admit it, he sees part of himself in you – the part that had just been cast out of the Celestial Realm, the part that took months to adjust to the world of the Devildom. He knows what it’s like to be subjected to new and confusing ideals – but instead of just a completely different way of life, you’re introduced to the same on top of an legit, organized education system that you’ve never encountered before.

And if that trigger finger of yours ever gets itchy, he’ll take you to go hunting. He’s inexperienced when it comes to hunting with guns instead of claws, but this is the only time he’ll set his pride aside, sit back, and learn. What better hunter to learn from than someone who’s hunted everything, from mutated creatures to fellow man?

If you ever take him to the human world, prepare for him to be silent and observant. He’ll be that way for a while, just looking over the rolling hills and plains that were once green, killed and turned brown by radiation. Then, slowly, softly, unsure if he’s speaking to himself, you, or his Father: “What a splendid world you ruined…”

-> MAMMON

When Mammon comes into the Student Council Room (because he was running late, as per usual) to find you, gun holstered but hackles still raised, his first instinct is to get the fuck out. He’s been in situations like these before, and he knows when to bounce.

But, of course, he’s still assigned as your guardian even though you clearly don’t need one. He thinks that your guns and knives are enough to deter any demon, honest! (Even though that doesn’t deter him from trying to pick your pocket. What really deters him is when you catch his wrist and hit him with the most threatening glare he’s ever seen on a human. Jeez, you honestly look like you’re about to clean his clock…!)

But still, since the Great Mammon was assigned as your guard, he’ll stick around. He doesn’t really mind, because you’re kinda cool anyways – not that he’ll ever say it to your face. But really, with the kinda armor that you’re wearing, plus the grime of the wasteland that doesn’t go away no matter how many times you wash… you’ve got a unique style, and that’s all he has to say, okay? If you really want, he guesses he can hook you up with a modeling gig – but only if you’re with him! Uh – only because he wants to make himself look better in comparison, y’know?

Yeah, even with someone from the wasteland, he’s still absolutely head over heels in puppy love. He’ll show you stuff he got from the Old World (as in, the pre-war human world) because, as much as he denies and deflects, he wants you to have some sense of normalcy. A place that isn’t filled with raiders and ghouls and slavers and someone trying to kill you at every other turn. He’s nice like that.

But he still really wants to know what the New World is like! You can’t get those Old World Blues if he’s just as enthusiastic about New World Hope, right? He asks about your weapons (and takes the spent bullet casings from your guns because they’re shiny), your occupation, your lifestyle – everything, honestly. He wants to know about your family – assuming they’re still alive – and your friends – again, assuming the same. He’s eager to know as much as you’re willing to share, even the more gruesome things you’ve seen or experienced.

He also wants to know about what… ahem, what affection is like. Surely you can’t trust easily when people are willing to kill one another over a sack of rotten vegetables, right? So he’ll be gracious and allow you to playfight and get rough with him, since that’s your weird human way of showing affection! What do you mean that’s not – that’s not how humans show affection now? Humans show affection in the New World the same way they did in the Old World? Well, he just assumed because you hadn’t been showering the Great Mammon in praises and loving touches and – ugh! Just drop it, okay?

Yes, he assumes a lot, mostly based on the apocalypse movies he’s seen. Unless you actually have a sit-down with him and talk about what life is really like in the wasteland, he’ll ride on these weird assumptions. Assumptions like the existence of radiation-riddled zombies, super-mutants and their variants, and other beings that would otherwise be labeled as supranatural if not for the complex and long-winded explanations Mammon comes up with.

If you ever take him to the human world, he’d be delighted to see what remains of Las Vegas – or is it called New Vegas now? Who cares! He’s all-too-excited to bust out whatever human world money he has and get those dice rolling! Sure, he knows that the deck is stacked and the dice are weighted and the games are rigged in every possible way, but it’s about having fun with his human, right? (That’s what he says until he’s forced to fold and cash out. Then it’s “no fun anyway,” and “a waste of time,” and he’s itching to check out the nearby towns and settlements. For something to steal? Hell, probably.)

-> LEVIATHAN

The first thought that crossed Levi’s mind is that you’re obviously cosplaying the main character from It’s a Federal Offense to Mess with the Mail, Man!: Tales of Gunslinging Wastelander Couriers Solving Convoluted Demon Family Drama’s way less popular spinoff, I was Doing Fine Scraping by as a Nomadic Wastelander, but Then I was Transported to Some Strange, New World with Seven Demonic Suitors who are Fighting Over Me as we Speak! Though, if that were the case, where was your convention badge? And that armor doesn’t look fake. It doesn’t really click until he hears the very real sound of you cocking your gun that you’re not playing pretend, nor are you fucking around in any capacity.

He so desperately wants to cement the fact in his mind that you’re a normie, you like doing normie things like cleaning your guns and knives and talking about the politics of the wasteland, which actually reminds him of this game he’s playing and you’d totally love it and –! Oh no. It’s true. You’re cool. Like, really cool. Like, not-a-normie-at-all cool!

Even though you’re not an otaku (and depending on where you’re from and your education, you might’ve never even heard of Japan), Levi will slowly come out of his shell and try to ask you questions about the wasteland. Like Mammon, he has a lot of assumptions based on the games he plays, but they would actually be more accurate. Instead of supranatural things, he thinks about the logistics of the world at large – blame the RPGs he plays.

But, this leads to him thinking he knows all there is to know about your life and how you live it. Depending on your temper, it may lead you to snap at him, telling him that your life isn’t a video game. This isn’t Grognak & the Ruby Ruins. The wasteland is grueling and cruel and unforgiving. You have seen starvation, debauchery, reignited fascism and misled democracy. You have seen people be crucified for not agreeing with the slavers putting them up on the cross. What you’ve lived through isn’t fun. It’s not a fucking game. You can’t respawn if someone gets a lucky hit. You die. And that’s it.

And of course it causes a blow to his ego, reinforcing the idea that he’s just a “yucky otaku” or some shit like that. You have to reassure him that you have nothing against him personally, it’s just that he was being kinda patronizing and acting as if he’d lived in the wasteland all his life instead of you. After some time alone to sulk, he eventually comes back around and realizes that you’re right, and that you’re really cool, and he wants to be friends with you, so after that brief period he apologizes.

Good luck trying to drag him to the human world! Levi’s a shut-in, and much prefers experiencing the wasteland through video games than real life. Though if you’re bound and determined, call him up on whatever the equivalent of facetime is on your DDD and talk him through what you’re doing while in the human world, even if you’re just walking along an abandoned highway. He really appreciates your effort and might even work up the confidence to travel the wasteland with you, but sticks to walking the desolate wastes as opposed to going into towns and… ugh, socializing.

-> SATAN

Satan immediately wants to laugh in Lucifer’s face because he fucked up so immensely. Seriously, how could you not know a nuclear war happened? (This is ignoring the fact that he didn’t know, either. He just thought that humans haven’t put out anything worth reading in a little while. He’s a demon, so two hundred years is… not a significant amount of time for him.)

He’s a hardcore nerd, so he wants to pick your brain about the politics, the logistics – everything about the wasteland. He’s kinda insensitive about it in the beginning, but will eventually turn and not treat the deaths of people close to you like a plot point in a book. He’s unashamed about it, too, and will ask you as soon as the question pops into his mind, lest he forgets it. This leads to weird topics of conversation over dinner, all spurred on by his question of “How many people would you say an average person has killed? Assuming they’re competent enough to kill, of course.”

Your weapons are another point of interest for him. Obviously big gun manufacturers aren’t around anymore, so where do you get your guns? Are there modifications on them? Are the mods homemade, or do you get them from a designated seller? Does the seller need a license, or is it a free-for-all? If it’s a free-for-all, how do you know the quality of the mods they’re selling? And other exhaustive lists of questions that leave you wishing that Mammon would just burst through the door with another stupid money-making scheme on the tip of his tongue.

He knows how overwhelming school can be, and organized education in the wasteland is sparse to none, so he takes up the title of being your tutor. You’re obviously frustrated with this new thing you don’t have a choice but to partake in, and Satan can sympathize. You’ve never even studied in your life, so he tries his best with trying out different studying techniques to help you form healthy habits that promote a healthy school-life balance.

If you ever take him to the human world, he’ll be elated. Not because of your trust in him to bring him to the wasteland, but because he can actually do a case study on humans! Not on anything in particular, he’s just curious. He takes soil and water samples to test the levels of residual radiation, talks with locals – both in small settlements and more populated areas – about their life experiences, their political opinions, their religious beliefs… basically everything under the sun, really. He comes back with a new appreciation for humans and a few books that have been published in the New World by doctors and the like.

-> ASMODEUS

Ew… what sewer did you crawl out of? Asmo respects people’s kinks and lifestyles and knows that someone’s yuck is someone else’s yum, but he holds the firm belief that it shouldn’t impact other people. And that blood on your boots and the… whatever that’s on your armor is seriously grossing him out. (Though the drop knife strap that’s hugging your thigh is really doing something for him. But that doesn’t make up for the fact you haven’t bathed in a week.)

At first, he distances himself a little because you distance yourself. You don’t want to be judged for something that’s considered normal in the human world. Purified water is a precious commodity, and people don’t want to waste it showering when they could be drinking it. A dip in the river – yes, the ones with the sediment and the radiation and the mutated fish – suffices for most.

Though after a while, he decides that it’s high time he’s bonded with the human that’s living under the same roof as him. Maybe you just need a makeover, then you’ll unleash your full potential as a scarred, gunslinging wastelander hottie? Some demons are into that.

So, with little to no warning, he decided it’s time for a shopping spree. Even though you’re uncomfortable wearing the “high fashion” that’s at Majolish (because it provides literally no protection, armor-wise), he’s able to compromise by getting you some loungewear that you won’t be going out in anyway. While you’re out with him, he drags you to a shop that sells soaps, perfumes, and the like. You’re obviously not used to things that smell good and it’s obviously overstimulating, so Asmo just picks some of his favorites and gets you out before you have a scent-induced breakdown.

Once you’re back at the House of Lamentation, he drops all the shopping bags in your room and drags you to his – it’s time for a makeover, because you’re in dire need of one! He gives you a nice manicure (and adds some nail polish if you’re okay with that) and breaks out the “Doctor Asmo” title to diagnose what kind of skin routine would work for you. If you take issue with the scars you’ve accumulated throughout your life in the wastes, he tries many gels and creams to heal the tissue and reduce the starkness of the scars (even if he thinks that it’s kinda futile because the scars have existed for so long or have been exposed to the sun too much).

Honestly, Asmo cringes at the thought of going to the human world after having you describe it to him. Even the slightest dosage of radiation that’s above the regular background levels can be really detrimental to your skin, and he doesn’t want to risk radiation poisoning – even at a minor level! Raiders can’t be stopped by his beauty alone, and he doesn’t want to chip his acrylics while handling a gun. Instead, he’ll get the human world in little doses through you.

-> BEELZEBUB

Not to sound rude, but when you first arrived, you smelled far too rank for Beel to eat. Yeah, he’s eaten inedible things before, but he knows when to suppress his hunger because eating something rancid will hurt more than it’ll help. But don’t worry, after you freshen up and bum some clothes off Mammon (because you didn’t bring any other outfit – obviously), Beel’s appetite is back! Good for you…?

He’s actually really excited to sample some New World food when it’s your turn to cook dinner. Even if you tell him it’s nothing to write home about, he’ll eagerly wait at the kitchen island, not-so-subtly sneaking tastes here and there while you cook. He’s not deterred by the weirder-sounding and even-weirder-looking foods like squirrel stew and coyote steak. If anything, that just makes him more excited!

If Mammon’s not attached to your hip while you’re walking the halls of RAD (and surely yapping your ear off all the while), Beel’s there. He mostly sticks around to see what snacks you can conjure up from things he never thought of eating before, like when you plucked a bug out of the air that was flying around the courtyard and snapped its head off before eating it. He stared at you for a second, just enough for you to start to fluster and get defensive, before doing the same. Protein is protein, after all.

He also wants to introduce you to fangol! From what you’ve shared, he’s deduced that sports aren’t really a thing in the wasteland – you can’t waste your energy playing when you need it for your continued survival. But you’ve got a lot of energy from being cooped up in the House of Lamentation, so he can help you in a way that benefits both you and Beel: you get rid of your excess energy, and he gets to practice. Practice with someone who’s very inexperienced, yes, but still – it’s practice!

And if you ever itch to get a hint of your old wanderer lifestyle back, he’s all-too-happy to take you on a hike or to go camping with you. Even if it’s purely on a whim with no preparation whatsoever, he’ll grab whatever he can carry from the fridge, stuff it in a backpack, and, after sending a text to Lucifer detailing where you and he are heading, be ready at the front door, all within ten minutes. The food he brought won’t be enough, surely, but he can strip the leaves off a tree like an elephant if needed.

If you ever take him to the human world, make sure to pack ample food for him because, if pushed, he will strip the nearby towns and settlements of their food supply that was meant to last the next three months. Yes, he’ll pay them for the food, but still – it’s a shock for the wastelanders to see this towering figure push a bunch of money in their hands without even counting it and rattling off what he wants like he’s ordering at a restaurant.

-> BELPHEGOR

He’s in the attic and a wastelander like you has enough common sense to not trust him. Good ending he stays locked in the attic forever lol goodbye twat

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her-power · 2 days

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Fixation on the Darkness (Part Four: Dark Romance! e.m. x fem! reader)

‼️🚨 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 🚨‼️

Trigger/Content Warning: Dark! Somewhat Souless! Eddie! Strong sexual content, blood play, unprotected p+v, choking, hair pulling, rough intercourse, fingering (f receiving, m receiving), masturbation, oral (f receiving *for now*), fight or flight responses, grief, thoughts of unaliving self & others, manipulation, violence, smut, some fluff, angst.

Summary: Full summary on Part One.

Word Count: 4.2k

Eddie Munson Masterlist

A/N: You guys are awesome and I love you and I’m so sorry this took forever. This is gonna have two more parts before it’s completed so it’s not over yet!

It had been a week since you saw Eddie. He didn’t come to your house, or make it known that he was there. You were getting worried; he had left your house so fast that night. You did what he had asked and told Dustin everything. Had explained to him about his soul, about how he made a deal with Vecna just to return to you. Dustin couldn’t believe it at first, and then started asking questions that you couldn’t answer. He asked why you hadn’t said anything before, and he wanted to tell Wayne, but you told him not yet. Not the way Eddie was now, you told him. He was too dangerous.

Another murder was committed, in the woods where Will Byers went missing all those years ago. It was a female, older, she wasn’t from Hawkins. The police said that she might’ve been a hitchhiker. It was the same scenario, barely any blood at the scene, body mutilated but her skin was pearly white. The police issued a curfew for everyone to be inside their homes at sunset, lock all the doors and windows. It was still Winter, and it got dark earlier, so your boss made you go home at two o’clock everyday.

It was freezing tonight, the heating system in your house was older than dirt and the highest it would get was maybe 70 degrees. You bundled up in a large sweater, wool socks and leggings. You stare blankly at the television, a rerun of I Love Lucy was on, but you didn’t pay attention. You were too worried about Eddie.

You didn’t know why, the Eddie who loved you and who you loved was most likely trapped inside his torture chamber in another dimension, and soulless Eddie was most likely roaming the town feasting on not so innocent individuals who maybe did deserve to die.

He was mean; he was dangerous, he was…

He was still yours.

A loud thump from outside startles you from your thoughts. You freeze on your spot on the couch, your eyes fixed on the front window. The thump is heard again, and you sprint off the couch. Stupidly, you go to the window and peek behind the curtain to get a view of your porch. The porch light was dim; the bulb needed to be replaced, but it didn’t stop you from a shriek escaping your lungs as you catch the silhouette of a person hunched over on your steps. The soft light reflects of the eyes and your heart is in your throat.

Eddie.

He’s moaning your name.

“…open…the fucking door!” His voice is muffled, and the only reason you sprinted to the door so fast was because he sounded like he was being maimed from the inside out. He was in so much pain, and you can see just how much as you open the door. He’s bent over your front steps, his fingers gripping at his stomach, a stream of blood was falling like a river through the gaps in his fingers. He’s paler than normal, he looks gaunt, monstrous.

“Please.” He begs, meeting your eyes and you run to him, practically dragging his body into your house, slamming your door shut. He collapses in the foyer and your eyes widen at the severity of his injuries. He’s covered in dirt, scratches adorn his cheeks, his neck. His shirt is ripped to shreds and dark with dried blood. He’s still gripping his stomach and you kneel down in front of him, trying to pry his hand away.

“No.” He groans through his teeth.

“Let me see.” You tell him, pulling his hand free and you gasp. There is a three-inch long gash across the middle of his stomach, any deeper and his insides would be on your floor. “What happened? Why aren’t you healing?”

“I don’t know.” He groans as you gently lean his back against the wall, looking more closely at his wound. “I think it was an animal, or some…thing. Just out of nowhere. I couldn’t see what it was it dashed through me like lightning…ow! Fuck! Don’t fucking touch me, you—“

You grip his chin hard in your hand and he flinches, almost smiling as you stare into his eyes with a hard stare. He was too weak to fight you back, and you used that your advantage. “I could just leave you here to bleed to death or do myself a favor and take that knife from my kitchen and slit your fucking throat because you’re already half dead, but I’m not gonna do that. You came to me for a reason, do you want my help or not?”

He grins, his teeth stained with blood. “I like it when you’re rough, should I bend over so you can fuck me too?” Your grip tightens on his chin, a low chuckle rumbles in his throat.

“Why aren’t you healing?” You ask him again.

“I don’t know.” He mumbles again and you pull your hand away. He’s skin was almost gray, you get to your feet, find a dishrag and soak it in water from the faucet. You kneel in front of him and his hand snaps up to grip your wrist hard. His eyes stare into yours, and you can almost see the pleading behind them.

“Let go of me.” You tell him.

“A rag soaked with water isn’t gonna heal me, princess.”

“It’s so you stop bleeding on my fucking floor, let go of me.”

You pull your wrist out of his grasp and he growls but doesn’t fight you. He flinches when you place the rag on his wound; you gently wipe his skin, and blood continues to pool from the gash. You’re worried now, what could’ve caused this injury?

You meet his eyes again, your heart racing. “Will my blood heal you?”

His eyebrows come together. “What?”

“My blood. If I give you some of my blood…will that…help you?”

He smirks at you, flinching again as a wave of pain hits him. “Won’t…know…until we try.”

You sit back on your bottom, moving your hair away from your shoulder, exposing your neck, your heart racing. He carefully moves towards you, and you tilt your head to the side. You close your eyes, feeling his breath close to your neck as his cold hand cups the side of your face. He startles you when you feel his lips press lightly against yours. It was a gentle kiss, a kiss you were more familiar with when it was your Eddie. He pulls away from you, and stares into your eyes. You have no words.

His fangs grow as he smiles and the peaceful feeling you had was now gone, replaced by some fear…excitement. His teeth graze your neck and you shudder. Before you have a second to think, he bites down and you feel your entire body become hot. He grips your hair, slowly moving on top of you as he continues to drink from your vein. You were trying to speak, but all that came out was a soft moan as an unexpected wave of pleasure forms in depths of your lower belly. He was grunting softly as his tongue laps the blood up from your neck.

He was taking too much, you realize. Your head was buzzing, your fingertips were numb, you couldn’t feel your legs. “Eddie…”

He doesn’t hear you, he’s too busy enjoying this. Your nails dig into his back and you try to find as much strength as you can to get him to realize. You lift up your foot, and kick him hard in the leg, and you scream out his name. He flies off of you, you’re certain it was reflex because you’re not that strong. His back hits the cabinet doors, and you can’t move. Everything was getting dark. He says your name, and you try to focus.

His eyes are brown again.

“No. No. Oh no. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” His hands lift your head up and you blink back tears. “I’m gonna fix this, I’m gonna fix this.” You focus as he bites into his wrist, and you see the crimson fall from his veins.

“I don’t want to be…like you…”

“You won’t.” His voice sounds so far away. “Just drink, drink baby.”

You feel the blood against your lips and you weakly open your mouth, feeling its warmth drip slowly down your chin. He’s gently angling your head back so the blood goes down your throat, everything was still getting dark and you couldn’t keep your eyes open.

“Stay with me. Stay with me!”

He came back, your Eddie. He came back to you, but how long would he stay this time? How long until the monster that wears his face comes back to finish the job? You could already feel the affects of his blood, it was almost unbearable and it made your stomach churn but you couldn’t move.

“Are you…healing?”

“Yes.” His voice is shaky. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s okay.” You mumble, your eyes flutter and smile. “I can rest now.”

“Your color is coming back…”

“Eddie…”

“I’m here baby.”

“I can’t kill you…”

“Sweetheart…”

“There’s been more murders…curfew…what attacked you?”

You couldn’t hear his voice anymore, you were so sleepy. You felt lighter as you drifted off, calmer. You were Princess Aurora who just pricked your finger on the spindle, in a deep sleep; awaiting a kiss from your true love.

When you awoke, the sun was rising. Your body was sore; was last night a dream? You sit up, throwing the covers off of you. You feel your neck, there was no feel of a mark, or bandage.

“Finally, she arises.”

You yelp, almost falling off the bed but Eddie catches you. You stare at one another deeply, his discolored eyes staring into yours. You want to scream, wishing they were that beautiful brown again. Although, there wasn’t anything menacing about this stare; it was almost like he was studying you, like that good part of himself was slowly filling himself back up again as he looked at you.

He smirks at you.

“Boo.” He says and the breath from his lips causes your hair to move. You rip out of his grasp, pulling the covers back over yourself.

“You almost killed me.” You snap at him.

He grins, pacing around your bedroom, running his fingers along the top of your dresser. “But I didn’t. Your little boyfriend was there to save you. I was trying to figure out the blocks in my memory at the most random times, and then I realized it’s because of other me. He really gets bent out of shape when it comes to you, it’s gross.”

“Must suck, not being able to love someone that deeply.” You narrow your eyes at him.

He growls and he’s in front of you, you didn’t have a second to blink. His breath is against your lips as he leans in close to your face. “I know exactly how to love deeply. You have been unconscious for three days, if I wanted to kill you I could’ve. And if you haven’t noticed, sweetheart, your Eddie lives in the deep, deep depths of my dead heart so I can feel his love for you.” He almost looks pained as he’s telling you this, you hold his stare. “I could never kill you, and if you died... That’d be the end of me. Of us.”

You blink and almost smirk. “Bring him back then.”

“What?”

“Bring back my Eddie. If you really love me, you’ll bring him back.”

He laughs. “I’m not made of magic.”

“Aren’t you?” You counter. “He seems to pop up in stressful situations, he knows how to get out of that trap Vecna holds on you.”

His eyes narrow. “Don’t say his name.”

“Why not? He’s weak, practically dead, right? Why are you afraid of him?”

“I’m not.” His tone changes, it scares you and he smiles. His hand reaches up to smooth out your messy hair, he moves his mouth closer to yours. “I’m afraid of you.”

You tilt your head up to meet his eyes, awkwardly leaning back on the bed. “Why me?”

“So many fucking questions.” He sneers his lips barely grazing yours. “No matter which way this ends up, you will be the death of me.”

“Bring him back.” You whisper.

“No.” His cool fingertips glide up your neck and you shudder, your eyes fluttering closed. You feel his lips against your chin. “Tell me…” He kisses your skin gently and heat floods your cheeks. “How did he make love to you?” He moves behind you, his hands gliding around your throat before resting on your shoulder. He kisses the back of your shoulder, and you gasp quietly. “Was he soft? Did he worship every-“ you let out a moan as his fingers grip your hair in a ponytail and roughly pulls you back against his chest. “Inch of this beautiful skin?” You feel his tongue dance along the vein at your throat, his grip tightening its hold on your hair.

“Get your hands off of me.” You say through clenched teeth. Your nails digging into his thigh, but he doesn’t release his hold on you. His free hand glides over the fabric of your t-shirt, under the covers that shields your lap, and you hold your breath as you feel his fingers dance against your clit. He moans softly against your throat, and you lean your head back against his shoulder as he moves your lips apart, feeling the wetness that pooled inches from his fingers.

“Did he whisper that he loved you? Telling you how beautiful you are?” He rubs faster on your clit, and you moan loudly. The grip you had on his thigh loosens, and you knead at the fabric of his jeans gently.

“Y-yes.” You breathe out.

“Mmm.” He coos in your ear, and you turn your head towards his. His presses his lips against yours, kissing you sweetly as his other hand cups your cheek. You open your mouth with his, his tongue like silk against yours. Your hand moves lower to his crotch, and he lets out a breath into your mouth as you rub his erection through his jeans. You deepen the kiss, turning your body so you’re straddling him, his hand still not leaving in between your legs. He tries to pull away from you, but you pin your body closer to his. Your hand finds his zipper, and you miraculously expose him with just the flick of your fingers. And before he could object, you push his hand away from your clit and lower yourself onto him, feeling every inch of him burying in your cunt. He moans loudly, and you rock your hips. His hands grip your thighs hard as you pick up your rhythm, your skin was prickling with a sensation you couldn’t quite make sense of.

“You are one dirty girl.” Eddie whispers against your cheek, his breath hot. “Show me how you’d make him come.”

You groan, your head falls back and sweat forms behind your neck. You reach behind you, cupping his balls in his hands and he lets out a small laugh, his knocks his head off of your headboard as you continue lower and lower until your finger is at the opening of his ass. He gasps as you slide your finger into him. “Oh…my…��

“God?” You say, leaning forward to bite his lip. “I thought he didn’t exist.”

He whispers your name, and a low growl starts in his throat as you pump your finger faster, the angle causing him to rock his hips faster into you, causing you to scream out. He pushes his mouth to yours roughly, his fingers curl in your hair as he forces you on your back. He slams into your hard, your nails claw at his back through his t-shirt. Your blood sang, your entire body was vibrating, you wondered if maybe his blood was the cause of it. You feel your orgasm approach your core, and you feel him trembling.

A sudden thought pops into your head as he continues to move above you. If he wouldn’t bring your Eddie back himself, there had to be a way for you to bring him back. He seems to come back during stressful moments, but what if you could get him out of the upside down for good? Pull him out by using dark Eddie’s mind. You needed help though. You glance around your bedroom, your eyes fixing on the ceramic lamp that sat on your nightstand. His blood gave you a superhuman strength that he doesn’t even know about, and you knew if you used all the strength, especially while he was vulnerable, you could knock him out. His head was buried in your shoulder, and you carefully reach your hand towards the lamp. You realized how morbid this was, knocking him out while he was buried inside you.

Could be worse, you thought.

You are able to get a good grip on the base of the lamp, you turn your head to the side, squeeze your eyes shut and bring the lamp down as hard as you can onto his head. The lamp shatters in your hand and you knew immediately you had cut it; he goes limp on top of you.

Holy shit, it actually worked.

You wiggle out from underneath him, pushing him off the bed and onto the floor. You poke him with your toe. He didn’t even budge; you were relieved when you could see his chest rise and fall. You zip him up in his jeans, for his modesty. Blood drips from your hand as you stand over him, just watching him.

The taste of copper hits your tongue and you realize you’re licking your blood off of your hand like a starving dog.

What the fuck.

You rush to the bathroom, rinsing off the blood from your hands and wrapping it with a small towel. You get yourself dressed in decent clothes and go back to your bedroom where Eddie still laid unconscious. You pick up the receiver of the telephone and dial a number, you keep your eyes focused on him, your heart pounding in fear that he will wake up.

The person picks up on the other end.

“Dustin. I need your help. Bring bungee cords and duct tape.”

***

Dustin stares at Eddie’s unconscious body, he’s been staring at him with his eyes wide and puppy like for the last five minutes.

“Dustin?”

“Yeah?” You startled him, and he meets your gaze. “Sorry, it’s just…he’s…alive.”

“I know…well, partially, I guess. We have to get him downstairs.”

Dustin nods, you go by Eddie’s legs, and Dustin goes by his head. You both squat, grunting and you feel your legs almost give out as the two of you lift him off the ground. You didn’t think this through, Dustin scolds you as you awkwardly make your way towards the stairs. It was a struggle getting halfway, Dustin had lost his footing and the two of you squeal when you end up dropping Eddie down the rest of the way. The two of you just stare at the ground where he laid.

“Well, if he was waking up. He isn’t now.” Dustin says with a chuckle, and you groan, awkwardly dragging Eddie into the living room. Dustin gets a wooden chair from the kitchen, and you sit him upright. Dustin wraps the bungee cords around the chair legs and Eddie’s, continuing to look up at him to make sure he was still there. Your heart broke for him, for so long Dustin held onto a guilt that he couldn’t properly explain. Now, he still felt that guilt, and it was because Eddie didn’t come back as himself.

After the two of you had securely and tightly tied Eddie to the chair, you weren’t sure what to do now.

“Do you think this is gonna work? Do you think you can bring him back?” Dustin asks you.

You move Eddie’s hair from his face, his breathing coming out in soft waves. “They don’t like heat, right?”

“Right.”

“I have space heaters in the garage, go grab them.” You peel off your sweatshirt, going to the thermostat, turning the heat up to 90 degrees, it might work, it might not. It was a wait and see. “If he kills us, at least we know that we tried.”

“He won’t kill us.”

“You don’t know who he is now.” You look at Dustin. “He’d kill me out of love if it came down to it.”

“And you still love him?”

“Always.” You look back to Eddie. “Go get the heaters.”

You sit on the couch across from him, watching his chest slowly rise and fall. You hear the side door slam as Dustin goes into your garage.

You had a realization.

If this didn’t work, you knew you would have to kill him.

You didn’t want to admit that to yourself or to Dustin.

But you couldn’t do this anymore.

You missed Eddie. You missed the boy who walked into your life when you were fourteen years old who made you a flower out of guitar picks. You missed the man who carried you home from a house party when you were too drunk to walk. You missed the way he’d take strands of your hair between his fingers, tucking them behind your ear. You missed the way he would give you a certain look when you knew you were being crazy and unreasonable whenever you got into an argument. You missed the way he would kiss you. Really kiss you.

If you had to survive another minute with this Eddie, you’d rather suffer with the grief all over again than have to deal with a monster.

You take in a deep breath when you hear Dustin walk back in, and you feel the sweat pool behind your neck.

This was suicide.

But sometimes, you have to do crazy things for love.

The house was scorching, it had taken only fifteen minutes before the heat started to take full effect and Eddie began to move. Dustin was bopping his leg, the nerve settling in as Eddie groans. You had a knife next to you on the nightstand, ready to use it if needed. He lifts up his head, his hair falling into his face as he realizes his hands are tied tightly behind his back.

“What the…” he struggles in the restraints and then meets your eyes, and then Dustin. He laughs, a squeaky chuckle. “This is kinky, tying me up like this. Are you gonna watch?” He asks Dustin, his eyes lifeless and cold, a smirk on his lips. Dustin doesn’t move, his words are stuck in his throat. You move closer to Eddie, squatting in front of him.

“Bring him back.”

“That’s what this is about?” Sweat drops from his neck, you could tell he was uncomfortable. “You could’ve asked nicely.”

“I have.” You growl. “And I’m tired of asking. I’m tired of you.”

“Aww, break my heart.” He teases and struggles again. “You think these are gonna hold me? You’re stupid if you don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“I do know what you’re capable of. You almost killed me.”

You feel Dustin’s eyes on you, but you ignore him.

“But didn’t you want a forever ever after?”

“Not like that.”

“Pity.” He lets out a groan, his jaw clenches. “Turn the heat off.”

“No.”

He goes to launch for you, his fangs out but Dustin did a good job with the knots. You laugh at Eddie.

“Scared?”

“Not even close.” He growls, his eyes menacing, his teeth bared.

“Good.” You turn the knob on the space heater all the way up, the heat blasting and he lets out a sound you’ve never heard before. He struggles more, the veins in his neck bulging, his shirt was soaked with his sweat. “Bring him back!” You scream.

“Fuck you!” He yells at you and screams in pain. “Ughhhhhh, turn it off!”

Dustin jumps back. “It’s hurting him!”

“Don’t you fucking dare touch that!” You snap at Dustin who had reached for the heater.

Eddie lets out a psychotic chuckle, his fangs still exposed. “You’re both dead when this is over.”

You grab him by his hair, making him look at you. “I thought you couldn’t live without me?”

You take the space heater and push it against his chest. He screams, loud, painful, and he thrashes so hard he falls back to the floor. The chair breaks underneath him, but he’s still screaming. You push Dustin into the kitchen, the knife in your hand as Eddie struggles to break free. You keep Dustin behind you as you walk backwards when Eddie gets to his hands his knees.

He gags.

And then he vomits.

Black liquid spills out of his mouth and onto your floor, you both watch with wide eyes as his body heaves and it kept coming and coming.

Until it stops.

His body is still heaving but he’s not moving, not trying to attack you, not screaming anymore. You couldn’t see his face; his hair shielded it like a blanket. You move towards him, but Dustin grabs your arm, fear in his sweet eyes.

You free yourself from his grasp and walk closer to Eddie. Your hand still gripped the hilt of the knife as you walk closer, hearing him breathing heavily, catching his breath.

His head whips up to you and you jump back.

His eyes.

They were brown.

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