#and my head hurts. i wish i could go to work n was healthy enough to so wouldnt need to think anymore at least. remember i exist this way

[seithr]

fbfghfthbbhtff

illness talk / medicine / family associated stuff i dont know

[yoredoesmore]

Okay I have a request with Hoshina Soshiro. So maybe some angst thing but fluff. Okay so since reader joined hoshina team she flirted with him, give him things , complement him yk? And he would mostly ignore her, give her extra training ANYTHING to make her go away cuz he didn't want to lose her on mission (dangerous job) but she didn't know that. So it lasted for like long time and a new member joined and he started to flirt with reader, give her flowers itp. And she unfortunately thought that making hoshina love her is like against his own will. She doesn't want to be a b so she leaves him alone. And he doesn't like that at all? I love that kind of fanfic. 🎀

Words cannot describe how much i love this request!! thank you so much for this, i hope you enjoy what i came up with!!

Attention | Hoshina Soshiro

pairing: jealous!hoshina soshiro x reader

summary: you stop giving hoshina your attention and he doesn't like that at all.

genre: romance/angst/jealousy/fluff | [wc: 3.3k ]

a/n: my very first request (so exciting!!) i hope i do your wishes justice! hoshina is kinda mean in this one, lol ^^

enjoy!

“Vice Captain Hoshina!” You chimed in an enthusiastic voice, your body moving over to the man's disappearing figure. The vice captain did not even bother to turn around, nor halt in his footsteps as he heard you approach him. Even as you finally catched up, his gaze remained focused on the scene ahead.

“Today's mission went surprisingly well, don't you think!” Excitement hung in your voice, even as Vice Captain Hoshina remained unbothered by your presence. You were all too used to his unbothered demeanor, his avoiding gazes and the lingering silence, therefore you did what you always did in these situations– keep the conversation alive.

“But honestly, with you as our Vice Captain I didn't expect anything else–”

“Your movements towards the end of the battle were sloppy and unprofessional. Talking about a successful mission, tsk, is there nothing else but air in your head? You could have seriously gotten hurt.” His voice was sharp and mocking but the worst part was, it stung.

It has been a little over a year since you joined the Third Division. Despite all your attempts of building a healthy relationship between you and the Vice Captain, nothing much has changed so far. All the compliments, all the gifts and hard work– none of them had been able to bring change to your chemistry. And watching him turn into this jolly ball of joy when talking to the other cadets definitely didn't make you feel better either. It sometimes discouraged you from continuing this sad pursuit of his attention, but only sometimes.

“Seriously, If you wanna stay in this division and continue being part of these missions you gotta be better than that. What even happened back there?!’

A strong force rushed through your lungs, your mind recalling the last minutes of battle. It silenced you immediately.

A Yoju had appeared right behind your exhausted figure, catching you off guard. In any normal situation you would have drawn your weapon at light speed and blast right through the monster but something had stopped you.

The Vice Captain himself.

Nobody else saw it, how could they have– Vice Captain Hoshina did his best to conceal his little mistake. But you took notice of it, of the Vice Captain actually missing his target. It was unexpected to say the least, distracting as well. But the Kaiju blood that ran down his face, temporarily took his vision and that caused his momentum to shift. He lost his balance for a split second and let the Yoju escape from his weapon. He immediately caught up with the monster but the worry that engulfed your stomach was enough to temporarily cause your brain to shut down.

If it hadn't been for Reno calling you back into reality you would have seriously gotten hurt indeed.

“I apologize Cap–”

“Don't bother.” And with that said he left the scene, joining the others in a discussion of how to proceed with the mission.

“Are you alright Y/n..?” Shinomiya approached you, her gentle hand finding its way on your shoulders.

“Yes, I'm alright. Guess he wasn't in the mood to talk, haha..”

This was just one of many failed attempts of you trying to charm Hoshina.

About a week later you were wandering through the hallways of Tachikawa Base. The sun had long kissed the world goodnight, leaving only the dimmed light of the moon to illuminate the building. Sleep was unable to find you, thus you decided to take a short stroll around the building.

It calmed you, watching the stars live in perfect harmony with the moon. They were able to enjoy its presence, even from a distance– just like you were still able to appreciate Hoshina.

He wasn't all that bad honestly. What happened a week ago was a rare occasion, he only got worked up like that when you gave a sloppy performance during a mission.

Perhaps he just wanted you to improve? One could view your way of thinking as delusional, yes, but you preferred to think that you were just optimistic.

On your way back to your dorm you heard subtle sounds in the distance. A few grunts here and some equipment being moved there. Allowing curiosity to take the best of you, you investigated the strange noise. What you found left you shocked and motionless.

The Vice Captain was up and about in the training room, moving in ways you have so rarely seen him in. His body became one with his weapon, it was as if they molded into one to perform something magical. Seeing him in action, in his element, it reminded you why you still chased after Hoshina. He was just perfect in every single aspect, from looks to abilities. You watched him just a little longer, until you decided to step back and return to your dorm to not get into any trouble for being up so late.

“And where do you think you're going?” A single sentence from his lips was enough for your body to become imobile. The Vice Captain was the scariest during battles, when neutralizing Kaiju, everybody knew that. But whatever vibe he was emitting right now, it felt just as dangerous. With each step he took towards your body you could feel your limbs grow weaker and weaker.

“It's quite disrespectful to stare. And on top of that you're walking around past the curfew. Honestly Y/n, it's starting to get annoying.”

“I apologize. I couldn't sleep, that's why I–”

“Give me 50.” Hoshina interrupted you, turning back around to collect his things.

“I..are you serious?” The last thing you wanted was to sound disrespectful, but his cold demeanor was starting to affect you in a way you had hoped it never would.

His body bent forward to grab both his katana and zip jacket. For only a moment his eyes met yours.

“Yes. And while you're already at it, try working on your reflexes and stealth as well, I could hear you from miles away. Your mistakes of last week's battle could have cost you your life. Don't let it happen again."

His gaze fell onto the ground and his grip on the jacket tightened. Like always you were unable to make out what concrete emotions he was hiding behind those eyes but his voice pretty much gave away what state he was currently in.

He was pissed.

As Hoshina walked towards the exit, he made sure to throw one last look at you. You didn't notice it but even if you had, it would have made no sense to you..

The following weeks continued to all look the same. While you were trying your best to uphold a positive attitude towards the Vice Captain, it felt like he was distancing himself further and further away from you. Even the other cadets were starting to wonder when you were finally going to move on and give up.

“Hoshina!” You exclaimed cheerfully, waving at the man. “I hope you had a great weekend. I'm looking forward to today's work!”

Like always he just passed you by, not even bothering to give you anything else than a roll of his eyes or a nod (when he was feeling generous).

Even when you left little notes for him or small treats on his desk, you would always later on find them in the trash.

“Wanna go out and drink something together?”

“No.”

“Excuse me, but could you please help me with–”

“I'm busy.”

“Why wasn't I called in to participate at the weapon testing–”

“Because.”

This went on for a couple more months, until a certain someone brought you back to reality.

“Please welcome Tanaka Yosuke, the newest addition to our team.”.

Tanaka was an interesting guy. He was sweet and nice and always had something positive about you to say. On missions he would have your back and even off the battlefield he would make you feel warm and welcomed. Being with him made you realize just how much attention you actually deserved and maybe even how much you wasted on Hoshina. Tanaka made you appreciate how nice it felt to be sought out for once.

Your words did not pass him by, nor did any of your actions go unnoticed by his attentive eyes. He was someone you were able to feel comfortable around.

“Y/n!” His voice immediately caused a smile to appear on your face. Tanaka stood in front of you, a playful grin shining right back at you as he approached your seated body. You were at the base’s cafeteria, enjoying a simple meal by yourself. After another failed attempt of talking to the Vice Captain you believed that you deserved a little treat.

“I got you something.” He spoke, hands reaching into the small bag he brought with him.

A sharp breath escaped your lips and a feeling so fuzzy engulfed your heart it almost knocked you off the chair.

“Look, aren't these flowers beautiful.” White Lilies swayed in the wind, brought by the Kaiju’s collapse. Only this group of flowers had stayed untouched from the destruction, maintaining their beauty.

You had made one little remark about the flowers but here this man was, surprising you with a whole bouquet of them. As your fingers grazed over the soft petals a thought suddenly occurred in your head.

What if Hoshina genuinely disliked you?

It wasn't a brand new discovery. Vice Captain Hoshina not being a fan of yours was quite obvious, yet you thought that his opinion about you could be swayed if you tried hard enough, like in movies. But seeing him dodge you like a bullet and going out of his way to hurt your feelings..maybe you were a bother after all..

Spending more time with Tanaka and less around the Vice Captain felt strange. You wondered if he noticed or if he even cared about the lack of your presence. The thought occupied your mind even while you were looking at your gift.

But did that mean that you like Tanaka..? Despite being a sweet guy, all you saw in him was a comrade who you could call a good friend. No one could ever compare to the Hoshina that you met years ago, before you joined the decision. The sweet man who saved you that day..the man you fell in love with.

“These flowers are beautiful, Tanaka.” But that didn't change the fact that Tanaka's eyes were different. They looked at you, not past or beyond, they stared right at you and made sure to perceive you.

“Not as beautiful as the one who is holding them..”

For a brief moment you felt your heart skip a beat, Tanaka's words melting on your ears like butter. While you were losing yourself in this warm feeling you didn't notice the person who was lingering behind the wall, watching the scene unfold with sharp eyes.

“Tsk..”

×

“That new guy, what's his name again?” Hoshina rested his body against one of the bookshelves, arms crossed over his chest as he watched the Captain arrange some files.

“You mean Tanaka Yosuke? What's with him?” Mina's gaze remained on the countless sheets of papers in front of her, only moving up once to give the man a questioning look.

“Something about him seems off, I don't like the guy.”

“Oh please.” The woman finally averted her attention to her friend, a smug smile hanging on her lips.

“You're just mad that Y/n is paying him attention, much more than you recently.” The last part of that sentence came out as a mumble yet Hoshina’s sharp ears picked up on Mina's remark.

“As if.” Hoshina scoffed. “It's just, he is always dragging Y/n to the front of every battle and acts as if he has known her for ages.”

“You want him to act like you? Cold and ignorant, even after knowing that she is one of the sweetest people around.” Although Mina tried to add a playful touch to her voice, the backlash of her words stayed strong.

“Everybody knows that Y/n is, or maybe now was, head over heels for you– yes even I picked up on that. Yet for some reason you are a complete asshole to the poor girl. But now that she has decided to stop paying you that special kind of attention you want to complain and talk about some "I miss her” and what not. Give me a break.”

Hearing these words come out of the Captain's mouth felt like a strong jab to the side. Hoshina found himself unable to respond, react in any way, really. Like a block of ice he stood motionless in the room, mouth slightly open.

“Play with a girl's heart for too long and she will leave you in the past. You men have the audacity to treat the woman who cares for you like trash and ignore her but get upset when she starts showing affection to another man who actually treats her right, how childish.”

A paper ball suddenly came flying towards Hoshina’s head. He let the crumbled item hit his skull. His eyes followed it as it bounced off his head and fell to the ground, rolling around for a little longer until it eventually stopped moving. A strange taste now sat in his mouth. It was bitter yet blunt, how irritating..

"Whatever reason you have to act this way, just stop. Tell Y/n face to face how you actually feel and give that poor thing a break for gods sake."

×

The day came to an end rather quickly today. Only hours ago you were out with Tanaka, enjoying some time together and now you were already headed to bed. But before you decided to tell the world goodnight you had to make one quick stop at the base's library.

There was a book about flowers Tanaka gave you that you wanted to lend out, to be able to properly tent your gift. But as you searched through the countless isles, too concentrated on quickly finding the copy, a loud noise suddenly pulled you back to reality.

“Vice Captain..” You stuttered, startled by Hoshinas' sudden appearance. The man stood in front of you, his usual nonchalant expression printed on his face. You were ready to apologize for being out this late once again but before you were even able to open your mouth you were silenced.

“You've been avoiding me..” He spoke in such a low tone you almost didn't hear him.

“I've been…what?”

“You've been avoiding me, Y/n.” Hoshina took a step forward, invading a fraction of your personal space. A gasp slipped from your lips but he continued to stare you down.

“Well..I was under the impression that I was bothering you, Vice Captain, so I backed down a li–”

“Now you can't even say my name anymore?” Another step was taken towards your direction.

Hoshina's playful demeanor had completely disappeared, all that was left was a stoic facade. But something about the way he positioned himself above you, his sharp eyes looking down at your frame as if they were guarding you– it fell off. Despite appearing cold and upset, he somehow seemed..vulnerable?

“I really don't understand what is going on here. I thought you didn't like me?”

It seemed like Hoshina wanted to say something along the lines of “what gave you that idea” but he quickly realized that those words would have not helped him at all. Thus he remained silent for a while, his arms crossing over his chest as his gaze fell onto the wall.

“That Tanaka guy, is he your latest obsession?”

“Excuse me?” You mildly snapped. “Yosuke is a friend of mine, a very nice guy and an amazing fighter.” Hearing you speak his first name so casually caused a nerve to snap in Hoshina’s body.

“He is a completely irresponsible guy if you ask me. Dragging you out to the front of every battle, making you fight all these Yoju– it's like he's setting you up for injuries.” As if the Vicevice Captain's words didn't irritate you enough, he had the audacity to add a scoff, leaving you confused and slightly vexed.

“Orrr maybe he just trusts in my abilities. But with all respect sir, what are you talking about? Are you here to hand out another punishment or is this some type of joke, pretending to suddenly care about me and all..” Silence hushed over the space as your question stayed unanswered. It was beyond obvious that your words triggered something in Hoshina but you didn't know what it was. The lack of a conversation allowed you to reflect on past interactions. Despite hish harsh words, this was the third time that the Vice Captain has mentioned you potentially getting hurt during battle.

Was he maybe..

“I apologize for my tone..” You suddenly sighed.

“But Vice Captain Hoshina, I think I have made it quite clear that I..that I like you yet you don't seem even the tiniest bit interested in me. Which is okay, I get it, but how come that now that i'm finally leaving you alone, you all of a–”

The door to the library suddenly swung open, cutting you off mid sentence.

“Y/n?” Tanaka called out, looking around the empty space.

Hoshina had reacted before you could even realize what was going on. The Vice Captain quickly pulled you into his embrace, so that your back rested against his chest, and placed his hands over your mouth. The mild sensation you felt only moments ago in your stomach now fully exploded, causing a strong heat to rush through your body.

“Weird..the others told me that she would be here..” Tanaka looked around one last time before turning off the lights and closing the door behind him. You thought that Hoshina would let you go but his grip around your waist stayed strong.

“Y/n..” He lowered his face to softly talk into your ear. Something inside the man felt relieved. Now that you were both standing in complete darkness, unable to see each other, he could finally confess what was on his mind.

“As a Vice Captain it is my duty to charge head first into battle, despite knowing that I could die any second. You are persistent by nature, I saw that during our first encounter a couple years ago, so the thought of you being stubborn enough to follow me on the battlefield and potentially getting hurt always haunted me. I..I tried getting rid of you to prevent that from happening and during the process I must have hurt you a lot and I am so sorry. I kept ignoring you because being close to you..it made it so fucking difficult to not–”

Hoshina stopped himself from continuing that sentence and let go of you, his body's heat becoming too overwhelming. With every second your eyes adjusted more and more to the darkness, until you were properly able to see him.

“Don't run after any other man when I'm right here, Y/n..”

“Hoshina..”

You could only see fragments of it but Hoshina was smiling. Hearing you finally drop the formalities made him happier than it should.

All this time, the man you thought hated you for purely existing had a special spot in his heart reserved just for you. It felt weird, being perceived by him, but at the same time there was no sweeter feeling.

“I don't know if I can just forgive you yet..” You joked. “It's gonna take a lot more than just your words to make me forget the months of blatant disrespect.”

“Don't play around too much now.” The man pulled you back into his embrace. One arm tightly held you by the waist while the other pretended to pull on your ear. For a short moment the two of you laughed together, until he suddenly spoke in a more serious tone.

“Please keep your eyes on me, don't look away.” One of his hands wrapped around yours to pull it up to his face. Hoshina's soft lips ran over your fingers, placing a strong kiss on your hand. Then his eyes fell on yours, locking your gazes.

“I'm yours, Y/n. You don't need anyone else as long as I'm here so please continue to give me your attention. It gets me going like nothing else, hearing your adorable voice and seeing how much effort you put into every fight. Fuck” He chuckled, the other hand now cupping your right cheek.

“You don't know how long I had to hold myself back. But now that the truth's out, I can finally show you just how crazy you make me.”

[takusan-no-ai]

Let’s take a break

PAIRING: Lycaon x Female Reader (Romantic) (Angst)

SUMMARY: (Y/N) is a workaholic; and while Lycaon can relate to always having work to do, he also understands the importance of rest.

Lycaon loves his job dearly, always going above and beyond to achieve the best. And just as much as he loves his job, he loves his girlfriend. (Y/N), she’s a proxy of few words; not out of shyness, but simply a lack of time to speak. She works so much her inter-knot level maxed out in a month.

It was on one such days that Lycaon was lucky enough to have the day off. While the couple often worked together, actually spending quality time wasn’t as often as Lycaon would like. So anytime he could, he made it a goal to perfect every opportunity.

“Clean environment? Check. Flowers? Check. Favorite snacks? Check.” He mulled over every last detail. “She should be here soon,” he said while fixing his tie and brushing his fur. He sat on the couch, looking at the clock as time ticked by.

An hour late. Lycaon had already discussed with (Y/N) the meetup time. “She’s always been hard working, but it seems that has long gone past a healthy amount.” With his mind set in stone, Lycaon made his way to (Y/N)’s home.

“The number you are trying to reach is either turned off or in a hollow.” Lycaon tried to call (Y/N) for the fifth time; at first he thought she might’ve been away from her phone, but now his worry was growing stronger. He finally made it to her door and knocked multiple times, only to get no reply.

Lycaon leaned on the door and listened for anything. A sudden thud rung in his ears as he kicked in the door. “(Y/N)!” He screamed out.

The room was dark, windows covered with no light seeping through. Electronic equipment, takeout, and paperwork dirtied the living space. Lycaon sighed deeply, understanding the situation. He looked around until he found (Y/N), on the floor, having passed out and falling off her chair.

He moved her to the bed so she could sleep and proceeded to clean the entire house. Everything was spotless by the time he was done, and it was at that point he heard the floorboards creaking from the bedroom.

(Y/N) opened her door, having just woken up. There was a small bruise on her forehead from the bang, but it wasn’t anything permanent. She looked around aimlessly, noticing the clean interior (and probably exterior) of her home. She immediately knew what had happened. Her head hung low as she walked towards her couch and sat down.

Lycaon placed a platter of sliced fruits, veggies, and whole grains on the table. “They help relieve stress,” he said. (Y/N) covered her face.

“I’m so sorry–”

“It’s okay.”

“If I had finished the work faster–”

“That wouldn’t have fixed anything.” He quickly shuts her down. (Y/N) grabbed an apple slice and ate it. Lycaon sat next to her, placing his tail in her lap. “You can pet it if you wish.”

(Y/N) petted his tail, the stress evaporating from her, but it was still too much. She began to cry, no amount of strength to hold back her tears. Lycaon pet her hair as she leaned on him.

“Why do you torture yourself like this?”

(Y/N) didn’t say anything for a while, not until she stopped crying.

“Ever since I was little, I grew up in a house where if you couldn’t do everything yourself after being taught once, you weren’t good enough. It was like a war zone, a never ending one.” Lycaon’s ears began to droop as she continued on.

“I was ostracized in my family, but the teachers, and my employers always praised me. So I guess I clung to that feeling. And sometimes…,” she started tearing up again.

“What is it?” Lycaon asked her.

“Sometimes…I feel like maybe I don’t really love you. Like maybe I’m self consciously clinging to you because of your praise, just like everyone else. And it hurts! Because I really do love you, but I’m afraid that I’ve just convinced myself to believe that.”

Lycaon caressed (Y/N)’s cheek, making eye contact with her. “If you know that you love me, then you love me. The way your heart beats, mine is in sync with. I feel your pain and you feel mine. That’s not fake. And it never will be. I love you too, (Y/N).”

She smiled, hugging him so tight it will likely bruise. “For starters, I’m going to cut back on the workload.”

“And I will be of service to you, my love. As always and forever.”

- Fin

[tea-plantz]

could i rq general headcanons of yandere bill cipher? :-) have a wonderful day btw!!

Dude Bill is literally my fav Gravity Falls character, anyways here you go and thank you for the request!

They/them for the reader

!tw: mention of blood, violence, kidnapping, torture and typical yandere stuff, spoilers!

<Yandere Bill Cipher x Reader HCS>

Ok so first of all, Bill first stumbled upon you in a small, weird town called Gravity Falls.

You were walking around in the forest, looking at trees, picking up rocks, simply enjoying a warm summer day in the bizarre town.

Bill can’t really explain why, but you strangely seemed to have caught his attention, as he continued to watch you from afar.

You seemed rather interesting and Bill didn’t exactly have anything better to do than to follow this eye catching h/c human around.

———————————————————

After that little incident, Bill couldn’t get his mind off of you. He didn’t understand why though, you were just a mere human after all, and he was a literal demon! But there was just something special about your aroma, like you were pulling him in somehow. You just seemed so different, unique, pretty… weird huh?

Bill decided that he needed to know more about you, so that’s exactly what he did! For a few months he continued to stalk keep an eye on you, gathering some information about yourself. Nothing wrong with that, right? He was just looking out for you.

Over time, Bill’s obsession with you started to grow, and not in an healthy way. He found himself craving to talk to you, to make you smile and to kiss you…(how that works, I do not know:P)

The triangle finally decided that enough was enough. He NEEDED to have you.

After a little thinking, Bill decided that the most appropriate way to go about this would be to try and make a deal with you. It’s his specialty after all!

So one morning you woke up to find a… dorito person?? floating right above your head, staring straight at you. Had that thing… had it been watching you sleep?!

“Greetings, my lovely little muse!” The yellow thing said, while bowing down and tilting it’s hat in a formal way. “How are you, Y/n, doing on this beautiful morning? Would you like some rabbit teeth-“ “AAAAAAAAAAH”

Bill desperately tried to calm you down and tell you that he meant no harm. After a bit of a struggle, you finally calmed down and listened to what he had to say.

The demon offered you a deal that honestly seemed too good to be true. You would get whatever you wished for, and all he needed in return was just a small, little favor! Whether you choose to expected this deal or not is completely up to you.

If you expect, he would be thrilled! “Great! Just great, my little friend! Now, my dear, I just need an itsy bitsy little thing from you… you!”

If you declined, however, he would just have to resort to more drastic measures to get what he desires. Either way you’re coming with him, whether you like it or not.

——————————————————————————

Now that Bill finally has you, I feel like he’s actually going to treat you pretty decent! He’s a gentleman you know, and he knows how to treat you right.

He has a romantic side, constantly giving you gifts, telling you how precious you are, and he even plays the piano for you!

Don’t be fooled though, if you do get on his bad side he won’t hesitate to punish you.

Bill can be a bit of a sadist and his punishments are usually cruel and inhumane. However, I don’t think he’s gonna hurt you physically, like cutting limbs or torture, no. I feel like Bill, being the bizarre creature he is, is probably going to punish you by for example turning you’re legs into chicken legs! Basically anything strange or abnormal that would cause you distress. He probably enjoys it as well, seeing the look on your face as you scream and run around the room. “You’re gonna have to run faster then that toots! Ahahaha!”

The dorito man probably wouldn’t chain you up or something, unless he has to. He’ll let you walk around freely in his weird dimension, moreover, you probably wouldn’t even dare to try and escape either way , since Bill has stated various threats, and made it crystal clear that he or other creatures in his dimension will hurt you, or people you care about (y’know like in the show, with Dipper and Mabel? The “ini mini miny YOU” scene) if you leave him for too long.

When it comes to jealousy, I don’t think Bill would get that jealous, honestly. He knows you’re his, plus you wouldn’t really be able to leave anyway. Although, if anyone did look at you the wrong way, well… let’s just say he won’t hesitate to kill for you. The triangle would sometimes even bring you present to remind you that you belong to him and him alone, although the gifts could sometimes be a bit gory, if you get what I’m saying. Bill would someday want to rule over the galaxy, with you by his side. That’s his ultimate goal and fantasy.

I don’t really think this is the worst situation to get stuck in, I mean come on! He can literally get you whatever you want, just as long as you love him! With just a few dark moments here and there, I think Bill would actually be a pretty good significant other, even though he can be a bit possessive.

[joesheistyy]

aches and pains

Joe had just returned back to practice after being out with an appendectomy. While he tried to stay as fit and healthy as he could, sometimes it was just too difficult for him to manage. 

You were at home cleaning up while Joe was back at practice. For the first time in a few weeks, you were left alone with just your thoughts and your music. As you were dancing around the kitchen listening to Hozier, a message came through your AirPods.

From Joey Baby: Can you run me a warm bath please? I’m really hurting rn.

You pulled out your phone deciding to send a cute gif of a dog in a bath return. 

Sure babe, coming right up!

Heading toward the stairs, you receive another message. From Joey Baby: Thanks babe, I owe you.

Assuming Joe would be home soon, you began to run his bath. Plugging up the tub when the water was sufficiently warm. Soon after the bath had been filled, you heard the garage door open and close. Knowing Joe was worn out, you walked down the stairs to help him unpack from his practice. 

“I made your bath babe,” you said, approaching him for a gentle hug. 

“You’re a saint, y/n. I’m gonna go get in right now,” he said as he grabbed a drink from the fridge, heading toward the stairs to go enjoy his warm bath that you so thoughtfully made for him.

You soon followed after Joe, heading toward the bedroom you both shared. You  knocked slightly on the bathroom door, asking if you could have access to his relaxing time.

“Come in babe,” he let out from the bathtub. You approached your handsome relaxing boyfriend. His body looked tense and tired from the practice he had just endured. 

“Can I do anything to make you more comfortable or help you relax?” you asked, approaching him in the steamy bath. 

“Rub my shoulders?” he asked, giving you borderline puppy dog eyes. 

“Of course, my love,” you granted his wish, digging the pads of your thumbs into his shoulders, making sure to especially work out his throwing arm. He moaned out of relaxation. Sometimes, you were able to hit just the spot he needed. You kept working at his shoulders, neck, and back until he seemed more relaxed than before. 

“Feeling any better?” you questioned as you leaned in to kiss his neck that was oh so warm. 

“I am,” he spoke quietly, “do you care to let me sit here alone for a bit longer? I’ve got a lot going on in here,” he said as he poked at his forehead

“Of course babe, take all the time you need,” you kissed the top of his head as you popped his towel in the towel warmer. Leaving the bathroom, you worked to make the bed so Joe could lay down comfortably when he was done in his bath. 

About 10 minutes after you had left the bathroom, Joe joined you in your bedroom, laying face down on the neatly made bed.

“What’s wrong, babe? Still sore?” you asked, going at his hamstrings this time. All you got in return was a groan. If a bath didn’t help in the slightest, you knew it would be a hard night for him. Knowing the next steps, you pulled out a bottle of Tylenol from your nightstand. “Here Joey, take this. Hopefully it’ll help a little bit,” you handed him two long white pills. He took a swig of his drink and laid back down. 

“How about I give you a proper massage, hm?” you questioned, beginning to dig into his back this time around. 

“Oh god, yes please,” he croaked out as his head was buried in his pillow. You knew his poor body was struggling, so of course you had to take care of your sweet Joey. 

“Just relax, babe. I’ll take care of you. Even if it means I have to run a million more baths,” you let a small smile cross your face. 

“You’re the best, y/n. I just love you so much and I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he admitted, head still buried in the pillow. 

“Yeah yeah Burrow, shut it before you get too sappy,” you chuckled out. 

Joe let you take control of his aches and pains, eventually getting comfortable enough to take a nice nap.

[munson-blurbs]

Just the Way You Are (Eddie x Fem!Reader)

Eddie’s girlfriend struggles with body image issues, but he can’t understand why.

Warnings: insecurities, mentions of weight, skipping meals, very brief allusion to sex, a lil angst but mostly fluff, Eddie, Reader, and the gang are in their 20s

WC: 1.1k

A/N: This is heavily based on my own experiences with body image issues and EDs. I never liked the trope of “partner fixes your insecurities,” so this isn’t wrapped up with a bow, but I think it’s pretty realistic.

“Hi, baby,” Eddie comes up behind you, snaking his arms around your waist. He places small, soft kisses to the back of your neck. “Work was so stressful. Wanna help me relax?”

You put down the pitcher of water you were midway through refilling and gently pull away from his touch. “Maybe later, Eds,” you say, hoping he doesn’t notice your discomfort.

“Dinner first?” he asks, reaching for one of the pamphlets on the fridge. “What are we feeling for Takeout Friday? I’m thinking...Chinese.”

“’M not hungry.” You try to sound casual, though you’ve never been good at lying to Eddie. There’s something about his beautiful brown eyes and sweet smile that makes you feel comfortable enough to bare your soul.

Luckily, he can’t see the guilty look on your face as he peruses the menu. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah,” you lie again. Well, half-lie; you technically don’t feel sick, but your skin hurts from where you’ve been pinching your stomach, upper arms, and thighs. You wish you could blame the magazine articles that flaunted headlines about losing 10 pounds in 3 days or the stick-thin models that graced the covers. Those didn’t help, but the real problem is inside your head.

You worked out consistently, mostly ate a healthy diet, but you hated your body. Even when people said you looked fit, or in-shape, or even thin, you still felt it wasn’t enough. You’d never look like a supermodel or the girls on TV.

Eddie catches on to the defeat in your voice and sets the paper down. “Talk to me.” He take your chin in his hand, tilting your head so you’re looking at him. You avert your eyes as quickly as you can.

“Nope,” he shakes his head, “you’re not getting out of this.” He scoops you up bridal style and sits on the couch with you in his lap. His fingers toy with your hair and you rest your cheek on his shoulder.

“‘S nothing,” you reply quietly. “Just don’t want dinner tonight.”

“Please be honest with me,” he murmurs, lips on your temple. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

The floodgates open, tears wetting your cheeks as your façade cracks and your vulnerability pours through. “I hate how I look,” you admit between sobs.

Eddie’s brows furrow in genuine confusion. “Wha...how?” he sputters. “Baby, you’re so beautiful...”

“I want to lose weight, I don’t like my stomach, my arms look huge, and my hips are too wide.” You could go on, spend hours listing your various imperfections, but you end there.

“Am I missing something?” he asks, thumb caressing your bicep. “Your body is perfect. Wasn’t Robin just asking you if she could go to the gym with you so you can show her your workout routine?”

“But I could be thinner,” you tell him. “I still have some fat that I could get rid of.” You fidget slightly, grabbing your stomach between two fingers and pulling at it. “Like right here.”

Eddie yanks your hand away and laces his fingers between yours, preventing you from pinching yourself again. “Don’t do that.”

“It’s gonna be there whether I do that or not,” you protest, trying to wriggle your hand out of his grip, but he’s too strong.

He sighs, and it looks like he’s blinking back tears of his own. “I don’t understand,” he starts. “When I look at you, I see the most stunning, sexy, gorgeous woman. I’d keep you in my bed all damn day if I could.” He gives you a small smirk. “How can I make you feel the same way?”

You brush a hand against his cheeks. “You could support me losing weight.” Your voice is barely audible.

“You’re going to hurt yourself if you lose weight,” he argues firmly. “You’d have to, like, starve yourself.” His face falls when you don’t even flinch, and he realizes that you’re not opposed to the idea. “Oh, no. No, that is not happening.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” you stand up and head into the bedroom. You swear you can feel every fat cell in your body.

~

Eddie knows that this is beyond him; he’s way out of his element. So he goes to the experts. Nancy Wheeler and Robin Buckley sit in front of him, sipping on steaming cups of coffee. He relays the whole story to them as they consider their responses carefully.

“This is more than just some insecurities,” Nancy says finally. “I think she needs to talk to a professional about this.” Robin nods her head in agreement. 

“Like therapy?” Eddie wrinkles his nose. “Isn’t that for...?”

“Crazy people?” Robin fills in with a laugh. “No, therapy is for anyone who’s struggling with anything.” She lowers her voice slightly. “I went to a therapist after I came out to my family, and she really helped me accept myself, even without my parents’ approval.”

“Do you, uh, still have her number?” Eddie asks her. He feels some pressure lifted from his chest.

“I have her business card at home,” Robin tells him, reaching over the table to grab his hand. “You’re a great boyfriend, Munson.”

“I just wish I could fix it,” he mutters, “take away all the hate she has for herself, y’know?”

Nancy gives a small smile. “I know,” she says, “but being there for her, supporting her while she works through things...that means more than you realize.”

~

He’s nervous about presenting the idea of therapy to you, worried that you’ll be offended. But you don’t get upset; in fact, it feels like something clicks. Like there might possibly be a day when you aren’t repulsed by your appearance.

“And I’ll still be here to listen,” he rambles, parroting what he went over with his friends, “but I think it’ll be really good for you to have someone who can help you get to the root of this.” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a small beige card. “Robin recommended her; said she’s excellent.”

You cautiously take the business card, the ten digits daunting. You swallow your pride, your fear, and look into his doe eyes. “I’ll call right now,” you say, heading for the phone.

But before you can, Eddie takes your wrist and pulls you close, pressing a long, soft kiss to your lips. “I’m so proud of you, baby,” he murmurs. “I got you, every step of the way.”

And then he hugs you tight, intent on never letting go.

--

@waitalice @your-mom18-05

[armpirate]

The Only One || JJK || Ch. 44

Pairings: mafia!jk x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, mafia, contract relationship

Warnings: Prostitution, torture, blood, use of drugs and weapons

Summary: You've always wished for a better life. Every single day at work, you were hoping something would change. Although you didn't think that change would come in the form of one mysterious man and a contract.

His controlling and selfish behaviour only wanted to keep you away from any other man that wasn't him, and you only had to wait for him.

Too bad you really thought you'd be smarter than Jeon Jungkook.

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

Aprox. time of reading: 14 minutes

The bright light that peeked through the half opened curtains of their room forced her to blink again after opening her eyes, cuddling to the embrace of the man behind her as she tried to hide her face on his forearm. Y/n just rubbed her cheek against his skin, sighing lowly.

Her mornings had been like that every day since she woke up after losing her conscience in the back of the van. Jungkook was glued to her, resting his chest against her back, with one arm surrounding her neck -so she could lie on it-, and his right hand covering the thin scar on her stomach, with his thumb reaching to his mark.

At first, she thought it was just a habit he'd lose with time, that he'd let go of after the wound he kept healing turned into the soft pink scar she had then. But five months later, there he was, covering that line with his palm, as if that would keep it from opening or hurting.

She tried to crawl on the mattress without waking him up, trying to set free from his grip, but she was only able to move a few centimeters away before Jungkook pulled her back to her position with a tired groan.

—Don't go —he asked with a raspy voice—. Tell me what you need, and I'll bring it to you.

She understood that attitude when her movements were limited because of her wound, and even more because of Jungkook. He was always trying to please any of her needs, while also keeping her from moving too much. And, when he wasn't around, he made sure to leave one of their men looking after her. Although she always ended up convincing them to give her the freedom she needed. Whether she was good with words or they were more scared of her than they were of him, it was something she didn't really care about. She always ended up having it her way.

—If I need to go to the bathroom, will you bring it here? —she chuckled, moving her fingers over the reverse of his left hand.

While he puckered his lips, he tried to think of the answer, moving his thumb down to the rugosity of her scar to caress it. It was such a dumb thing to do, but it made him feel at such an ease, he just couldn't help it. It had been four months since it stopped being a danger for her, yet he still tried to make sure it was close and healthy.

—I never tried it, but maybe. Do you need to go to the bathroom?

—Oh, seriously —she huffed.

Rolling on by herself, she turned to face Jungkook and find him with a playful smile.

—You weren't treating me as if I were made of glass last night, quite the opposite actually —Y/n reprended him.

Jungkook didn't reply back to her whines, he simply pinched her chin, instantly making her smile back.

—I promised you I'd look after you, and that's what I'm going to do —he insisted, faking a serious voice—. Does my queen need to go to the bathroom? I'll take her to the bathroom.

But Y/n stopped him before he was able to get up, quickly reaching for his arms and placing them over his head.

—I can do it alone —she repeated.

He faked being hopeless and weaker just for a few seconds, allowing her to think she actually had enough strength to keep him down in that position. All it took him was a smirk from her to groan as he moved, rolling on the mattress until she was trapped under his body.

—You can —he nodded—. I just like helping you. And you're going to let me, right? —he tilted his head— Hmm, right? —he said lowly, bending over her— Let me spoil you.

Her back arched, along with a loud gasp leaving her throat when he went for her throat, instead of kissing her lips. The way his fingers pinched a concrete spot on her side and his teeth bit on her beck got her squirming, trying to move her body away as she laughed and tried to push him.

—Okay —she finally gave in—. You win.

Jungkook smiled, proud of his victory as he stood up next to their bed, ready to pick her up.

—I don't have to go to the bathroom though. It was just an example —she stopped him, when he hooked one of his arms under her legs.

His lips were pressed tight after her comment, allowing his piercing to be more notorious. He breathed in deeply, just hearing her giggles while she played with his hair.

—We're going to take a shower, anyway. We have somewhere to go later.

She couldn't guess where they needed to be. Honestly, she didn't know why they were back in Mallorca in the first place, but she didn't fight his idea. Instead, she agreed to it faster than expected, leaving his convincing justification for another day.

She was still as confused two hours later, well dressed up and chilling with the soft breeze that filled the terrace every few minutes and that came with a heavy smell of sea. That same one she didn't know she loved so much until she closed her eyes, and relaxed to the salty smell.

—You really like it here —he smiled, lying his back against the backrest, admiring her peace.

—Hmm —she nodded—. Which is ironic, because I used to hate it. I kept hearing it whenever I was on my way to the club, so I guess I ended up linking that sound and the smell to that part of my life —she frowned, finally opening her eyes—. It's so calm now —she pointed out, looking at the see brightened by the reflection of the sun.

—Why do you like it now?

—Because I'm enjoying it with you —she quickly replied, moving her gaze to him.

But just when he was about to speak, a shrill voice interrupted him. Y/n recognized that tone perfectly, and it was reflected on the way her eyes opened with surprise. The man in front of her was still calm, as if he knew perfectly what was about to happen. And, in a way, he did know. It was no coincidence he took Y/n to that terrace, while also asking her to take her Prada bag, instead of the one she usually used.

Y/n turned, seeing her mother walking to her quickly, unable to dodge the hug when she jumped at her as soon as she stood up. Both of her arms stayed on each side of her body, just waiting for her mother to feel as uncomfortable as her and let her go.

She looked older, which made sense. Seven years had gone by, and several things had happened in between. She wasn't the same as she was the day they kicked her out. But she guessed it hit her like a truck when she barely recognized her mother. That lady looked after her looks constantly, she was the type to go to the gym seven days a week, and never step out of her house without makeup on. But there she was: completely natural, with her wrinkles perfectly visible, several white locks standing out among her brunette color, and with several kilos added to her -then- thin figure.

And she could almost say the same about her father, who joined them shortly after.

Jungkook, aware of how confused and shocked Y/n was, stood and reached to them, placing a hand in the middle of her back.

—I'll explain it to you later —he whispered.

She for sure wouldn't give him time to speak after she ran away from there, because she was already planning on several ways to kill him if she ever found out he was behind all of that.

Seeing her parents after so long was a punch at her throat that she didn't expect, and even less from him. She was having a hard time sitting straight, feeling their eyes on her as they took the spot Jungkook was taking minutes before. All of her memories were colliding against one another. With every wave collapsing against the wavebreaker, a new memory showed up. All the difficulties and pain she went through, all the sacrifices she had to do... She had always blamed it all on the people that were pretending to care about her at that moment.

—We're relieved to see you're doing great —her mother commented.

As soon as she arrived at the place, her eyes fell onto the expensive bag and the latest phone that were placed over the table. In all those years, her mind barely went to her, but whenever it did, she never imagined that the future would be so bright for Y/n.

Y/n simply scoffed, looking away while the knot in her throat tightened with anger, holding back every temptation of running away from there.

—Where's the kid?

—I lost it —Y/n quickly replied—. I had a miscarriage as I worked two jobs to keep myself alive —she roughly commented, feeling her jaw tensing with every word—. So you won't have to pretend you're happy to see a kid you didn't want in your life either way.

—Honey, we're sorry. We know we made a mistake —her father chose to intervene.

—A bit too late, don't you think? —her head was tilting in a challenging way— What is this even about? What's with the family reunion?

Her mother looked at Jungkook, and later looked back at Y/n, gulping thick before she felt encouraged to speak.

—We didn't have it easy either —that comment made Y/n scoff—. Your father lost his job, and we're barely able to keep up with the expenses. We can't sell the house either...

—So you need money? —Y/n interrupted— Is that what all of this is about? What should I do? Feel bad for you? Yeah, well, I don't. I think that's the least you two deserve.

As Y/n was about to stand up to leave, her mother's hand flew over the table, suddenly stopped by Jungkook's fingers around her wrist. The sound of the skin clappin made Y/n react, conscious of the deadly look her boyfriend was dedicating at her mother before he let go of it. She knew that look. He was warning her, because the next time she tried something similar he wouldn't just stop her.

—I'll be fair with you —Y/n commented.

She opened her bag, taking her purse out and throwing two hundred euros over the table.

—That should be enough for you two to survive until you find something else. Sounds familiar to you?

While her mother ranted several things, Y/n just walked away from the table. She hated that moment, but there was something so fulfilling and pleasing in what had just happened, that she couldn't be totally bothered about it.

—And you better tell me what all that was about —she warned Jungkook, who walked behind her calmly—. Because I'm not dumb to think you had no idea.

He advanced to her position, with both hands in his pockets. His aura was so calm despite everything that had happened, that she wondered if it was because he didn't understand half of the things they talked about because of the language. But then he smirked, and she knew his calmness had to do with something else.

—Let's say Jimin turned into the partner of the company your father worked in, and they needed to leave some people behind —Jungkook shrugged—. He was left jobless, and desperate enough to cause a fire to get money from the insurance. Things happen —he shrugged—. Also, the asshole of your ex boyfriend was also quite unlucky, he was caught while trafficking with some of Pedro's merch a few months ago —as he clicked his tongue, he tilted his head.

Her heart stopped beating when he hooked his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to his body and placing one of her locks behind her ear.

—I told you: whoever hurts you will deal with the consequences of it. I will ruin them, and I will make you be above them. Always. Because that's where you belong.

Maybe she was twisted as hell for having those thoughts, but her heart skipped a beat at the fact that Jungkook was willing to do whatever it took to make her happy. He wasn't scared of getting some dirt in his hands, he put no limits to his actions for her. He was loving her, openly. And she was already loving him the same way.

He just wanted her to close a chapter that had been opened for way too long, even if she hardly ever talked about it. And there wasn't a better way than letting her realize she had overcome everything she was in her past, and left behind all of the ghosts that just sucked her back into the darkness whenever she allowed herself to feel happy.

✸ ✸ ✸

Y/n had been waiting for Jungkook to come back ever since he left to meet up with Jimin. She did spend some time outside, walking near the beach until she found Amira, carrying a paper bag that she'd later hand to her. She had asked for it when her ex-colleague was working as her only source inside the club, informing her of Pedro's every move.

And she took it, not asking any questions. Just doing what she was told, because she thought she owed it to Y/n.

—I remember the day you first came into the club, and thought how you had no business being there. But I'm still glad to see life has treated you the way you deserved.

Her lips were pressed together, remembering her words, and also comparing herself to her young self. She was scared, intimidated by everything around her, thinking there was no place for her in life, because it kept pushing her to the edge, waiting for her to jump. But there she was: making it through life, always supported by a person that loved her and respected her.

Y/n smiled fondly when she heard his voice through the door of the bathroom, able to see the smile on his face with just a word. Meanwhile, Jungkook's smile slowly dropped, confused at how dark the room was. The thicker curtains were drawn, so it'd seem it was night already. And the lights were lit in an intimate way, enough for him to see, but low enough to make it cozy and sensual.

—Doll, what's all of this?

She tried to control her smile, looking at herself in the mirror, double checking the fit was looking the way it should before she opened the door. Jungkook was sitting at the edge of the bed, looking at his phone until the lock of the door clicked and the shadow of her curves were visible on the wall opposite to the bathroom.

He would've expected anything, but not what he saw.

The fake pearls of the corset fell over her belly and waist delicately, helping to accentuate her figure. He recalled the first time he saw her with that one, walking through the darkness, under the spotlight that barely had its focus on her, before he was completely lost on the way her body moved. And almost a year later, that exciting feeling was being multiplied by ten. Not only was he craving her body like never before, that added nostalgia the corset brought made his heart sink to his chest.

It was all the same, except for his initials peeking over the strip of her bra in the middle of her chest. Although he could see the ink going lower, reaching the new scar, and he could only think of the idea of her retouching the tattoo so it hid that other wound.

Nothing was needed to be said, because a smirk from her, and an attentive look from his, and she knew it was okay to go on with her idea.

The hairs of his arm raised with the start of that familiar melody, excited to see what would be coming after. His eyes followed her as she walked to his front, tracing her body with grace as she bent back to the white bureau behind her, dedicating him a daring gaze.

—What do you want? —she asked.

But instead of asking her to dance and get naked, he got up. Her eyebrows shrinked at his sudden move, lips slightly puckering while her head tilted to the sight for a quick second.

—Do you really want to know what I want? —Jungkook inquired slowly, walking to her.

His hands covered hers, trying not to support himself at the edge of the furniture so he wouldn't hurt her. As he bent over, Y/n could feel his warm breath caressing her skin with the same delicacy his hands were using to press on hers.

The reverse of his fingers moved over her soft skin, moving the beads as he advanced over her belly up her chest, which raised and lowered notably with every breath she took. Jungkook didn't make a sound as he unclasped the corset first, still amazed by how easily she took it off back in the day while dancing, just to later take off her bra, moving the strips down her arms until her surprise was already revealed -even if it wasn't the way she expected to do it. She didn't care though. The way his pupils expanded and his eyes squeezed momentarily as he smiled was enough for her.

He carefully moved his thumb over the unhealed tattoo. His initials were back to be clearly seen over the small wounds, with an "'s" added behind it. The "s" was prolonged, with a knot in the middle, and linked to the word "only" over the scar she got after being stabbed.

"Jk's only" he thought, with a proud smile hinting on his face.

—I want you to be mine forever. That's what I want —Jungkook answered, finally looking back at her—. I want to get married to you, and make you the happiest woman forever. Y/n —he called her, sneaking his left hand in his pocket—, I want to keep giving you the life you deserve. I want us to keep being a team. I want my life to end with you.

Y/n was so focused on the way his eyes seemed to shine brighter than ever, despite the low lights, that she wasn't aware of the ring he was carrying until it was in front of her face.

Somehow, her expression was twisted. It definitely was something that took him off guard. He didn't plan to ask her that way, he had a whole different idea in his head before he saw her, but when she walked out the bathroom wearing that, with the small glimpse of that new tattoo, his head was long gone.

He didn't care about the plan, because he needed to get those feelings out of his chest.

—Actually...

Y/n mumbled, closing her eyes momentarily before she moved under his embrace, stretching her arm until it reached the back of the TV. There was a black velvet box in her hand, that she opened to show him the simple golden ring inside.

—I was going to do the same thing. 

Taglist: @kaiparkerwifes @sheylamc @amy2006jones @allamericanuniverse @00frenchfries00 @massivelyfullenthusiast @coralmusicblaze

[thatwritterbeach]

So about that alley .5

Jason todd x ofc Alex

Dc master list EVERY OTHER PART FOUND HERE

Unedited***Also I swear Tumblr is messing up my spelling on purpose cuz everytime I re-read something I know I fixed it's wrong again

Alex: short, curvy, red hair, green eyes, redheads go through pain meds way faster than normal people to the point I personally don't even take them, it's a joke, they last 30 min at best

Summary: Alex finds out her bf is red hood, after she spills some not so great secrets to the masked man while stitching him up

****HEY LOOK HERE this part only, noncon touching, not in an assault way, Jason wakes Alex up with his hand in her pants, could be triggering to some, not a fan of it myself. Yes they are dating, yes they have had sex, but an unconscious person CAN NOT consent regardless of the relationship, unless explicit consent was given prier to event with specifics talked about. Additional warning under cut, also this part only is hurt no comfort the comfort will be later cuz I'm evil

Warnings: Vaginismus* angst, sexual assault, self-harm, depression, drug use by Alex, violence, cursing, NSFW, smut, thigh riding, vaginal fingering, guided masturbation?, p in v (not overly described), pain during s*x, hiding said pain, hickeys?, self-hate, insecurities, eating disorder, weight loss, blood, mention of suicide none descript

A/N: I do not own dc booho

Alex is undrugged for this part and Jason hurts her during sex because of her vaginismus, blood from penetration. We all know J has a big dick, like look at the man, so normal healthy people would struggle to take him, there's no way I, as a person with this condition, could begin to handle him. Like i said before it's hard to explain the feeling to someone without it, but think of getting a Brazilian for like 30 min straight, and if you're a dude (odd thing to read but whatevs) it prob feels like getting kicked it the nuts for 30 min

The feeling of fingers on her skin tickled the back of her mind and woke her from her none committed relationship with death. She panicked for a moment before it registered as Jason and she relaxed keeping her eyes closed. He was drawing circles on her hips hand tucked into her loose sleep shorts. It was still dark out and she planned to go back to sleep letting him draw on her if he wished but his hand shifted to her center and his middle finger eased into her folds to play with her clit.

"Jay, I'm tired." Still she didn't open her eyes.

"Hmm, go back to sleep baby, just need to touch you, had a bad dream," he rasped in his morning voice.

"Let me freshen up first," she whispered trying to roll out of bed but he quickly moved his hand to her stomach holding her in place.

"Please stay, don't care about morning breath," he whined resting his head on her chest and resuming his slow touches. Shit, her heart rate was spiking.

"It'll just take a second," she reasoned.

"No," he begged. Crossing her fingers he would be content to just make slow circles on her clit until he fell back to sleep she agreed to stay. Regardless of her apprehension she was quickly growing wet, Jason's slow teasing making her want to buck into his hand. Deciding she was slick enough he used his foot to nudge her legs further apart and sank a digit into her.

"So tight baby. Need to relax," he cooed into her skin pumping his finger in and out in that same slow lazy manner. The stretch burned enough to make her blink back tears and she had to work to keep her legs open, focusing on her breathing. "Gotta stretch you out for me," he said adding a second finger and curling them against her g spot. The feeling of pain and pleasure was enough to make her feel bile at the back of her throat and she started to sweat. With his face buried into her neck he was missing every cue of her discomfort. Biting her lip hard enough to draw blood she managed to cover up a cry with a fake moan and he rolled her onto her side throwing her leg over his hip and moving her shorts to sink into her. She hadn't even noticed he was nude. The intrusion forced a sob out of her and she pushed at his chest in shock.

"Stop, Jay, fuck, red, please, stop, stop!" She was full on sobbing now, gasping in pain and shoving at his chest her body too panicked to reason with. He had frozen at her first cry and was trying in vain to grab her hands and calm her down.

"What's wrong, what did I do baby, what did I do," he was begging starting to slide out to give her space but her pained 'stop' made him freeze again.

"Don't move, don't move, fuck, please-just stop!"

He was in full panic mode his own eyes filling with tears as he tried to soothe her, hands floundering around her not wanting to cause her more pain. Her hands stopped their assault on his chest to sink her nails into the flesh desperately trying to get her breathing under control.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he was saying over and over running his hands through her hair and down her side not even wincing as her nails broke the skin. With a forced exhale she moved to get him out of her and rolled out of his arms to get off the bed. The small nightlight she insisted on was casting enough of a glow for him to take in her state. Hair a reckless knot, cheeks soaked with tears, and eyes wide in panic. She shuddered and took off to the bathroom before he could get his limbs to function and made it to the door right after she clicked the lock in place. He thunked his head against the shitty fake wood, that he could blow down if he wanted, but she was scared and in pain, because of him so if she wanted the privacy he sure as hell wasn't about to point that out.

"I'm so sorry, please just...talk to me."

"I'm fine," she insisted with a shaky voice. lies.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Just give me a minute," she resisted the urge to growl at him yanking supplies out of their hiding spot and filling her syringe with rehearsed precision. She was eerily silent as she situated her self on the toiled to inject between her toes. (I don't do drugs folks and didn't want that in my search history so I'm guessing here) The quiet made him panic and he barely had to try to shove his shoulder into the door and pop it open.

"What the fuck!" They both yelled. His eyes took in the needle and the small amount of blood making it's way down her inner thigh and didn't know what to do. In the face of the worst criminals of Gotham he didn't blink, but this, in the bathroom at 6 am with his precious girlfriend injecting herself with Lord knows what after he made her bleed, he was lost. He needed help damn it. Like he wasn't even there, she finished what she was doing and calmly went through the process of cleaning everything and disposing of the used needle.

"What the fuck," he whispered this time hands stretched out towards her that were shaking.

"I said I was fine."

"What the fuck, you're not fine, what are you using," he demanded. He knew he was being too loud, knew he was shaking like a leaf and looking like a rage machine but he couldn't be calm, he couldn't.

"It's morphine, I use it for my migraines." She was so fucking calm it was pissing him off.

"I hurt you that bad," he was gonna kill himself, that's it, he was jumping in front of a train and ending the monster that he clearly was.

"No Jay." lies.

"I did, you're bleeding!"

"That happens sometimes it's ok." Like hell she was gonna comfort him when he hurt her.

"It doesn't-" he started to say before his brain caught up. The night she stitched him up, the story she told him about being assaulted.

"Fuck you lied to me," he ground out running a hand down his face trying to control the anger. "This whole fucking time you've been shooting up because I've been hurting you." His nerves couldn't take this. For weeks he'd been forcing her to drug herself because she thought he would break up with her without sex. (he wasn't forcing her but his anxiety ridden, self-hating brain was too far gone for rational thought)

"It's ok," she said again, grabbing his hands in her own and trying to convince him.

"I don't-I can't-how-I can't do this," he growled yanking his hands from hers and stomping back into her room to get dressed.

"What are you doing," she asked trying to grab him.

"Out, I need air," he snapped shaking her off of him and rushing out the door slamming it behind himself.

"Why," she whispered into the empty room tears starting down her face again.

He'd at least had the sense to grab his phone and sent a quick text in the group chat demanding someone go sit with her while he was out. Dick was the first to reply having been up to catch a train back to Bludhaven.

*I'll be there in 10 what happened* -Dickhead

*I'm a POS that's what happened* -Jaybird

*make that 5* - Dickhead

Needing to beat the shit out of something he went to his place to suit up and headed out to crime alley.

Alex had managed to shower and get dressed in loose flannel pants and a button up, Jason's, and curled herself up on the couch laying on her side from the ache between her legs while the tv played early morning cartoons. She was at least done crying, simply sitting in stunned silence while her brain moved far too fast for comfort. Her hands itched to grab her blade and slice into her flesh but Jason could be back at any second, even though she knew he wouldn't but she didn't need to give him any more reason to hate himself. Even if this was all her fault.

"Knock knock," a voice said through her window.

"Go away, Dick."

"No can do," he said landing without a sound on her floor. She needed to sweep she thought in passing as his shoes scuffed along the old boards.

"He sent you," she said, not a question.

"He did."

"Great, mean he won't be back for a while, maybe...48 hours before his damn head is back on."

"Yep," he replied picking up her legs to make room for himself on the couch then set her feet in his lap. His eyes were tracking the tv while he rubbed circles into one of her ankles wanting to fill the silence but having no idea where to start. Hell he doesn't even know what they had a fight about, surely Jason would get his head out of his a-

"He's not gonna keep me," she whispered so low he almost didn't hear her.

"What, no he loves you, why would you even think that?"

"I lied...a big lie."

"Did you kill someone?"

"No."

"Are you secretly married?"

"No."

"Did you cheat?"

"No."

"Then it's fixable," he said with such certainty it almost made her cry again.

"Not this time."

8-16-24 (see masterlist for more

[randomingoftherandomness]

your juezhi fics are the only source of energy powering the metaphorical metropolitan city that is my brain, i hope u know that

for some reason we all like making yuanzhi hurt skdjslsl i think we should have a psychologist analyze the collective hivemind

if you’re in the mood!! a short gab writes for yuanzhi when he catches his ge staring into the distance or at a certain pot of white rhododendrons - how does he react?

A/N: I have finally emerged from my fog of ibuprofen and a double wisdom tooth extraction. If I have to deal with this pain, I’m inflicting it on you guys too. Emotionally, of course.

(ό‿ὸ)ﾉ

Also, what a compliment hahaha! Thank you Nonnie. This is definitely making my week feel a little less dim ❤️ Also to @rose-tinted-vision I know I said this was coming out a few days ago but it got... delayed :>

—

There’s a distance between them that sits and splits in an endless gulf of guilt and regrets. It isn’t a new bedfellow to Yuanzhi. This void is a familiar ghost in their bed, made even more tangible with every single bloom of pale flowers that seems to glow in the midday sun.

It mocks him. Taunts him with the surety that there is nothing he can do to take away the hollow look in Shangjue’s eyes when he catches sight of them.

The distance grows each time.

And so, Yuanzhi downs his scalding tea and lets the pain of it going down his throat anchor him to the ache in his chest. Takes in the way Shangjue grows absent by his side, even when he can physically feel him there — can feel the shape of him distorting the air, can hear him inhale and exhale, can almost taste the regret in the way his gaze stays on those white petals.

More than that, he buries the pain deep in his heart and doesn’t say a word of it out loud because saying it makes it real. Makes the fact that Yuanzhi is no longer the most important person to Shangjue, real.

It hurts. In ways Yuanzhi cannot express.

He swallows down the bile.

The ghost sits in the corner of this sunny room and laughs.

Yuanzhi has to turn away from Shangjue and quickly brush away his tears. Not that his Gege would notice. Mumbling a quick excuse about how he has work to do, he scurries out of Jue residence as fast as his feet can carry him. He thinks he hears someone calling his name but he just can’t talk right now. He cannot bring himself to care.

His own attendants know better than to come to him when he is in one of his moods. They leave him be to mope around his workshop, wishing he was by Gege’s side instead. It’s just mere days before Shangjue has to leave the valley again and usually, around this time, he’d be sticking to Shangjue’s side and not even leaving half a step between himself and his Gege’s shadow.

How childish.

Yuanzhi bites down on the inside of his cheek. It’s about time he grew out of wanting to be sole focus of Shangjue’s attentions. It’s not healthy. Yuanzhi knows that Shangjue is planning to look for Shangguan Qian, knows that he can’t compete with what she can give Shangjue.

It’ll be just a matter of time before Shangjue finds her, Yuanzhi knows it. He knows his Gege has made some inquiries in the jianghu that have paid off. Couple that with the way that their Zhiren himself has wordlessly sanctioned it -- hard not to when his own wife was from Wufeng -- there's really no excuse for him not to be on a horse heading out and bringing her back.

Shangjue hasn't said a word about Shangguan Qian since the day she left even if it is clear in his eyes that the phantom traces of her linger in every corner of Jue residence. She's there at the door when he's home. She waits by the flowers and sits at their table. She blots away the spaces he had spent years carving out for himself and Yuanzhi would hate her if he didn't understand why.

The pain that twists in his chest is unbearable.

Yuanzhi sighs shakily. Sniffling, he rubs his cheek to his shoulder. It doesn't matter. He's not stupid enough to believe that what he and Shangjue have could ever account to much. Not when it is pretty much a family priority to have as many children as possible.

Perhaps this is for the best. Perhaps it's time Yuanzhi lets go of the one person he has ever loved and let him live his life without having to have Yuanzhi be a factor in his decisions in life. He doesn't want to live his life as a ghost orbiting the happiness that will be Shangjue and Shangguan Qian's life together. He doesn't even know if he can even survive watching that up close.

"Didi?"

Unable to hide the way his body stiffens in surprise, he coughs, quickly hiding his face as it burns with shame. Shangjue, thankfully, doesn't come close.

"You... What are you doing here?" Yuanzhi manages in a croak, willing himself to be calm.

"You left so abruptly," Shangjue says. "I got worried."

The ghost in the corner of his heart snarls, 'At least you know how to still be worried about me'.

Yuanzhi bats it aside. Licking his lips, he lowers his gaze to his table top. Still not looking at Shangjue even as he slowly approaches.

"You were crying."

"It's nothing." Yuanzhi rises, making to keep some space between him and his Gege. He doesn't know if he can do this.

Someone in the pantheon of deities must hate him some, because Shangjue easily pins him in space. Holding him by the wrists, the pressure and weight of him forces Yuanzhi to meet his eyes.

"Were you crying because of me?"

Yuanzhi goes still at that and it's an answer enough. "Please don't ask questions, you don't want the answers to," he eventually says. Uncurling himself from Shangjue's touch, he straightens himself. "You should go."

"Yuanzhi, I--"

"Don't." He interrupts. "Don't, please. Don't try to justify yourself, don't try to give it a reason. Please. Do me this one thing. And just go."

Yuanzhi quickly busies himself with rolling back his sleeves and rearranging the shelves of herbs, ignoring the way Shangjue's eyes burn a hole into the back of his head.

"I'll come get you for dinner," Shangjue says in lieu of a goodbye. Yuanzhi doesn't reply. Doesn't get a chance to because Shangjue leaves.

And all that is left is the ghost who sits silently at Yuanzhi's feet watching him go.

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Day 18 -- Deacon

The (nsfw) details for Kinktober, Day 18 are just below the cut!

Minors, please don't interact.

Voyeurism with Deacon x g/n! Sole

Whoops, big surprise, this got angsty. Sorry Deeks! I just can't help it with this man, I don't know why 😅 but hopefully y'all still enjoy it regardless!

Here is the link to my Kinktober 2022 Event list so you can stay up-to-date, or re-visit these works as you please.

Included: Voyeurism, (non-consensual voyeurism), masturbation, angst, wishful thinking, pining.

1.6k words.

--

Yeah. This is cute. 

Deacon’s mind said to him dryly. 

This is a healthy response to this situation. This isn’t weird. Sole will understand. They’ll get it. 

The spy shook his head, eyes closed tight as his brain spewed unwanted words of restraint, of undesired and unneeded common sense. 

What the hell is sensible about any part of this situation? We’re in an abandoned ice cream shop that Sole used to visit on weekends before giant bombs blew everything to hell, and they took a nap for 200 years. We’re surrounded by packs of super mutants on one side, and raiders on the other, and I’m biting into the back of my hand to keep quiet as they moan through the fabric of their shirt on the other side of this thin, crumbling concrete wall. Nothing about this situation is even remotely expectable. 

He could hardly fucking stand it. 

You’re both doing the same damn thing, if you’d just talk to them about it, maybe, the two of you could finally–

Deacon hissed through his teeth, his uncomfortably dry hand stroking too harshly over his erection as the frustration built up in both his mind and body. 

This isn’t the same. Another side of his mind refuted. I’m over here, pining the skin off my cock for them, while they’re undoubtedly thinking about their late spouse-- Or… anyone else, even. --at the feel of their own hand.

He didn’t know.  

I should be thinking of Barbara. Or of someone– anyone, but them. Right along with them.

They’re the only fucking friend I’ve got. I’ve had, in… what? A decade? Maybe more? I can’t count right now. 

Deacon’s head fell back against the wall, a grimace coating his expression, even as his blue eyes hazed over with climbing bliss. 

I can’t lose them over… what? Wanting to engage in a little hanky panky with them? Wanting what? A close connection? Intimacy? Vulnerability? When– in what universe would that ever happen? 

We both know I could never have anything like that again. 

A deep breath escaped him, throaty and louder than he would’ve liked as his thumb grazed over his slit, collecting some of his slick pre-cum and stroking it over his length as the only way to ease the friction of his rough hand. 

A noise sounded through the thin wall behind him, and Deacon ceased his movements, holding his breath. 

Shit. Did they just hear me?

Just as he was contemplating trying to zip his jeans up over his cock, to hide the evidence; just as some half-assed story was forming on his lips about why he was sitting back here against the wall, rather than out where he should be, out on watch, another sound interrupted his train of thought. 

He felt his cock throb at the sound, as he heard Sole’s moan fill the air around him. A gasp followed shortly after, and then a bit of silence, but Deacon could still feel them there, somehow, he could feel Sole’s lingering presence just on the other side, and he knew they were just worried. Worried that someone would hear what they were doing. Worried like he was. 

What am I doing? Deacon asked himself for the upteenth time that night, and so many nights before now. 

This is wrong. It’s gross, and it’s wrong, and it’s not fair, for you to hear them like this without earning it, without them knowing. It’s wrong to be out here doing this in response to it. 

Deacon’s hand stilled on his cock, refusing to stroke himself, but gripping tight enough to hurt as his mind flooded with thoughts like these. He wasn’t unused to self-loathing, nah, he and that go waaaaay back, but this? This seemed low. Even for the likes of him.

Sole wasn’t some stranger in a pub, not some escort or one-night-stander, not someone he didn’t know on the other side of a hotel room, who just happens to be engaging in the same fun little activity as him. No, Sole was the reason for this… activity. They were in his thoughts, always, even when they weren’t in front of him, or by his side, on the days he went out on his own, they were still there. 

And he fucking hated it. 

That they were reduced to this. 

They’re his best friend, his partner, the reason his smiles aren’t so forced, the reason he feels he might still, after all this time, all these years, have the capacity to love someone when he thought that had all died long ago. 

His body jolted as another breathy sound left his partner from the other side of the wall, and his eyes rolled back in his head. 

Goddamn, if I could see what they look like when they make that sound. 

With that very image coming unbidden to his mind, Deacon’s hand unwittingly was back to stroking over his cock. He worked himself slowly, savoring the feeling, allowing his mind to wander to the possibility of him being the one to make them sound like that, to make them look as he imagined they would. Their gorgeous eyes rolled back in their head, their lips spread as they moaned his name, their skin glistening, their hair wild. Their skin would be flushed, eyes hazy as they blinked them open to steal a glance at him as he ravished their body, as he used his silver tongue to work towards a goal more worthwhile than any other. As he did as they deserved, as he worshiped them like he were one of the deacons of the old world and they were his God, shepherding their release like all the poor sinners those men would bring to the light. 

Sole’s gasps were leaving them more rapidly now, building to a crescendo that Deacon would give all that he had left to be a part of. Hell, he’d throw his choice shades off the top of trinity tower to be the one to bring about their thunderous release. 

But he was doomed to be a bystander. Invisible, as he always was, as he heard them groan out from the other side of the wall. A thud sounded against the concrete as he imagined their head falling back at the overwhelming feeling of their release. 

It was the sound that got him.

Deacon hadn’t thought he was close, he’d been so caught up in his own fantasy, all of his tormenting thoughts, he couldn’t feel his body’s signs, and now, he was caught completely off-guard. The spy bit hard into his wrist as a low grunt escaped him against his will, his light eyes prickling with tears of pleasure as he finally felt that pressure release within him.

His seed sprayed down onto the dirt, leaving him in enthusiastic spurts that had his hips writhing and his head knocking against that same wall Sole was surely collapsed against. 

The next battle came in the form of his breath, as Deacon pulled his hand away, he realized how fucking loud he was still being, even as the last white rope of his cum was emptied onto the floor. He released himself, forcing his mind to rally, to focus on easing his breath, as his cock softened where it laid over the lip of his boxers. 

“Fuck me.” He whispered, eyes closed tight as the guilt all came swirling back into his mind with a vengence. 

Again? I just did this again? One of these days, you know–

“Deacon?” 

His eyes shot open as Sole’s voice carried from the other side of the wall. 

“I-is that you?” They asked, uncertain, their voice almost shaking. 

Every thought entered his mind at a million miles a minute, swirling together in a confused traffic jam of ‘what do I say’s?’ and ‘what the hell do I do’s?’. 

“Ahh,” The sound escaped his throat, as a way of aiding his thoughts, but he hadn’t meant for it to be verbal goddamn it. 

“Ahem, uh, yeah. Deeks here.” He bit his tongue, tasting metal from the pressure. 

Sole’s silence scared him more than their call of his name had. 

“How, uh, how’s it hanging?” 

Oh my god. One part of his mind panicked, while the other tried to grasp onto some form of sanity, of common sense. But that part of his mind, he didn’t know what it was, but it always seemed it’s hands were wet, or that common sense was made of ice and sanity was liquid water, always managing to slip frustratingly from his hold.

There’s no god out there that can save you, you buffoon. Nothing can. That was it. You finally did it. Finally managed to get caught. 

He almost told his thoughts to ‘shut up’ out loud, but thought better of it at the last moment. That likely wouldn’t go over well with Sole. Especially after they hadn’t said a damn thing. 

“You heard me, huh.” 

The blood drained from his face. It wasn’t a question from their end, but worse than their certainty was the shame that he heard drip from every word. 

“That… uh, that I did. Yeah.” 

If he was gonna be the creepy asshole sitting out here while they did their personal business, he at least could own up to it. Deacon may be a liar, but Sole, Sole wasn’t dumb. They’d know he was lying, and that would make it even worse. 

“But, um…” He closed his eyes, taking a breath. “But you heard me too, so, you know. Guess we’re, uh, even. Right?” 

“Yeah…” They said quietly, almost too quietly to hear with the wall in the way. Deacon didn’t have time to try to make what repairs he could before they were speaking again, this time louder than before. 

“I won’t tell you about it, if you won’t tell me.” A light humor touched their voice. 

Deacon let out a dry laugh, his chest aching for a reason he refused to acknowledge. 

“Won’t tell you about what?” He said back, hoping they couldn’t hear the strain in his voice, the strain to sound humorous and light in return. 

He heard their laugh from the other side, a lovely sound that tugged at the sides of his mouth, despite the lingering throb in his chest. 

“Yeah, exactly. Good talk, partner.” 

“Yeah.” He whispered, his brows creased beneath his shades. “Partner.”

[99izms]

disconnected

/ get well soon (hurt/comfort, fluff) 377ct

lyric synopsis: deal with it / dont try to get by it

my brain felt fractured, and no one could see it. theyll give me useless advice that ill accept with a fake smile before thanking them. ill tell them my head is getting cloudy and excuse myself before crying in the bathroom.

beomgyu never gave me useless advice, though. i didnt even have to tell him about my broken brain, i think he could just tell.

“i think we should order in for dinner,” he yells from the couch.

“i dont have the money for that,” i sigh.

“dont worry about it, i just dont wanna cook.”

-

beomgyu never tried to solve my problems, he knew they weren’t necessarily solvable. he enjoyed waiting up for me, watching me work into the ungodly hours of the night before holding me so tight that i would stop asking him to buy me a weighted blanket.

“i feel like youre strangling me,” i mumbled into his chest.

his hands continued fondling me and i felt his soft chuckles reverberate through my skull. i felt warmer in his hold than i would in a blanket, but definitely less comfortable. still, i wouldnt trade the experience for the world.

-

oh how i wish i was okay.

i wish i was healthy and perfect, i wish i wasnt overworked. i wish i was better than i currently am.

every time i cry silently, scolding myself for not being good enough to my own standards, beomgyu doesnt ask me to explain— he gives me a downwards smile and stands behind me with a hand on my shoulders. soft coos find their way to my ears, and although i cant really understand them through my overwhelming thoughts, it always felt nice to know beomgyu was nearby.

eventually when my sobs calm down, beomgyu will say something along the lines of, “youre doing really well, you know.” ill nod and wipe my eyes, sniffling softly before raising my head to meet my gaze to his.

hes always just as beautiful upside down as he is rightside up.

“im gonna go get some candy and we can just fuck around for a bit, okay?”

i nod every time he offers.

“ive always got you, y/n,” he whispered with knitted eyebrows. “just call me, no matter the issue.”

[bonky-n-steeb]

honey,

there is no right way (viii)

summary || when you agree to be the feared mobster Bucky Barnes’ sugar baby, you expect to get enough money to pay your bills. what you don’t expect is to fall head over heels for him.

warnings || sugar baby au, mob! Bucky Barnes, fluffy bathtub times, hurt/comfort, violence. SMUT. ANGST. FLUFF. (the holy trinity). MINORS DNI.

I have decided to not do taglists anymore, so if you wished to be notified of my newest updates please follow @bonky-n-steeb-lib and turn on the notifications!

* Feel free to send drabbles, requests or asks about this series!

this is the second last chapter and I’m literally so emotional rn

series masterlist

“What I want is…. revenge.”

The muzzle of the gun was staring you straight in the eye, making you reconsider nearly every decision you had ever taken in your life. Wondering, where was it that it all went wrong?

Was it when you agreed to go on a date with Bucky? Was that where you signed your death warrant? Because if so, then you’d do it over and over again.

You did regret a few decisions you had taken in your life, but falling in love with Bucky Barnes wasn’t one of them.

You could hear the faint vibrations of Bucky shouting from the phone and you closed your eyes defeatedly. You wished there was a way you could tell Bucky how much you loved him.

Your eyes teared up and before the tears would fall down on your cheeks, Peter pounced on John like a tiger tackling it’s prey.

Peter was slighter compared to Walker, but his agility not only took you by surprise but John too. He failed to see Peter come for him and that spilt second of distraction was all that Peter needed.

Peter punched him with such force that John landed flat on his back and the gun slipped from his hand. You wondered if he dislocated John’s jaw.

“Holy fuck!” You gasped looking at Peter’s form. You hadn’t ever thought that your assistant would be so well trained in fighting because the next instant, Peter picked up the fallen gun and pointed it towards John.

“If you move even an inch, I’ll put a bullet in your head.” Peter warned and John obediently agreed. You though Walker would retaliate but instead he just laid back and raised his hands in defeat.

“I.. I wasn’t going to do anything. I was just trying to scare her. I didn’t.. I wasn’t going to hurt her.” But Peter just scoffed. “Yeah right. We clearly saw that.”

When walker realised that this tactic wasn’t working, he turned to you. “Peter works for Bucky! He’s keeping a track over what you do at any time of the day. This isn’t healthy. Bucky is a manipulative scum and you should…”

Before John could end his sentence, Peter shot a bullet really close to his face. You nearly screamed at the loud noise the bullet made in the confines of your shop.

John shut up when he gawked at the smoking hole on the floor right next to his face. “I’m really good with my aim, and you know that as well. This was just a warning.”

From whatever was happening in front of your eyes, you were sure that Peter was Bucky’s man. But it didn’t feel like betraying you at all, instead you felt an odd sense of protection. If it weren’t for Peter, you’d most likely be dead.

“Are you okay?“ Peter asked you. “I… uh, yeah I’m okay.” In the midst of all that had happened, you had almost forgotten that you were a part of it too. It felt as if you were watching a movie instead of being present in the scene.

You didn’t know how much more time passed, because everything felt too fast and too slow at the same time. But you let out a relieved sigh when you saw a frantic Bucky walk through the glass doors of your shop.

“You fucker, I’m going to ruin your whole life. I let you go before, and it was the biggest mistake I ever made.” Bucky picked John up by his collar before socking him in the jaw with his metal fist.

You winced when John spat out blood and lost his balance, only standing up by Bucky’s hold on his collar. “Take him away for I’ll fucking kill him on the spot.”

Bucky physically threw John’s limp body towards Steve and Sam who held him and took him out. You didn’t ask what they were going to do to him, because you knew you wouldn’t like the answer.

“Sugar…” Bucky placed his hand on your face to make you look up to him as he wiped off your tears. His blue eyes were wide as they searched your face and body for any signs of injury.

You hadn’t ever seen him this panicked before. Bucky always maintained a calm composure, no matter how tough the situation was. But right now, you could clearly see the cracks in the face he usually put up.

“Oh Bucky!” You hugged him tightly and buried your face in his chest. Breathing in his comforting scent, you visibly relaxed. “Shhh.. it’s okay now. I’m here. You’re safe.”

~~~

“Bucky…” you moaned out as his hands massaged your back. His fingers were feeling like heaven as he kneaded the knots and relaxed your taut muscles.

You idly played with the soap suds that floated in the bathtub in which you both were sitting. The warm water was soothing you as you hugged your knees while Bucky rubbed down your back.

After Bucky had got you home, he had frantically checked if you were injured. Once he was sure that you were unharmed, he had kissed nearly every inch of your face before making you lay down in the bath to relax you.

You turned your face around to see Bucky staring at your body with such intensity as if he was carving an Angel out of marble. He was silent for too long now and you didn’t like it.

“Bucky, what happened? Talk to me.” You placed your hand on his thigh underneath the water and he sucked in a breath. “Shhh. Let me look after you.”

Oh, now you got it. Bucky somehow felt that whatever happened was his fault. “Bucky, it’s not your fault. You saved me, you know in a way.” His eyes snapped up at you.

“No I didn’t. You were hurt and I was the reason behind it. I fired that piece of shit and he sought out his revenge with you. I… I nearly lost my mind when I heard him on your phone.” Bucky was once again fuming with anger.

“Bucky, calm down. Peter protected me, and you were the one who sent him. So in a way, yes, you did protect me.” Bucky pressed his lips together, “You’re not mad at me for keeping Peter to keep a watch over you?”

“No Bucky. I’m not. If it weren’t for him, I’d probably be dead. So I gotta thank you both. And, look, there’s not a single scratch on my body. I’m not hurt at all.” You turned around in the huge tub, to be face to face with Bucky.

“Not all scars are physical, sugar. I know what it is to stand in front of a gun,.. and imagining you going through that...” his hands clutched the edge of the tub and his knuckles whitened.

You took his metal hand, which was nearly about to break the pristine white ceramic, and gently kissed it. You didn’t know if Bucky could feel it, but you saw the way his eyes became tender at the gesture.

“I’m safe and now I’m with you, so that’s all that matters.” You ran your hand on his stubbled cheeks before pressing little kissed over his lips until he finally smiled.

“You… you don’t hate me?” His eyes were searching your face as if to find out the truth. Your faces were just a breath away as you shook your head without wasting a moment.

“Why would I hate you Bucky? You take such good care of me, better than anyone ever has. You make me the happiest person on the planet.” You wanted to say more, but you stopped yourself short.

“I’m a very bad man honey.” Bucky never regretted the things he had done to be where he was today. But right now, there was a little part of him hoping that if he was just a normal guy, maybe his life would’ve been simpler.

“You think I don’t know that? I was scared beyond my wits when you first came into my shop. But look at us now. I know what I was signing up for when I agreed to come with you.”

You thought for a moment before continuing, “What do you even do though? I mean I know what you do, but I don’t know exactly what you do.” He snorted at your genuine curiosity. “It’s better if you don’t know, sugar.”

You hummed in agreement before running your fingers through his cropped hair and the smile on hips lips spread as he relaxed further. His hands once again settled on your hips and he just relished in the feel of your warm body.

“Bucky, can I… can I tell you something?” He nodded and pulled you closer until you were seated on his lap in the tub. “Promise me you won’t…, you won’t throw me out after this.”

His face grew serious and you nervously chewed your lip. He noticed how tensed you were and placed his palm on your cheek. “There’s nothing in this world that could possibly make me do that.” He reassured.

You sucked in a breath and prepared yourself before speaking, “I’ve been thinking of telling this to you, but… I can understand if you don’t feel the same way. I don’t…, I don’t want to pressure you or anything, I just wanted to say what I’ve been feeling…”

Bucky could hear his heart beat in his ear as you kept blabbering on. He didn’t get this feeling on a regular basis, but he had a faint idea of where this was heading and he wanted to do a happy little dance.

Now he knew what having butterflies in his stomach felt like.

“I love you Bucky.” You closed your eyes shut the instant the words were out of your lips. You didn’t want to see the judgement on Bucky’s face.

“I love you too sugar.” Hearing Bucky say it back was like your wildest dream come true. You opened your eyes again to see him smiling just as wide as you were.

“Really? You love me too?” You were unbelieving of the fact that Bucky reciprocated your feeling. “Yeah. I love you so much, you’ve got no idea.” You both kissed each other with fervour that conveyed all the feelings that you couldn’t say in words.

“When I saw you for the first time, my heart just knew I had to have you. You looked so pissed fighting with Walker, I hadn’t ever seen anyone like that. And then when you agreed, I just had to make everything perfect.”

Yours eyes were looking at Bucky with such devotion, he couldn’t have enough of it. “The dates you take me on are the absolute best. I’m sure nobody else has that much fun.” You said.

“Do you know I practiced to cook pasta two whole days before I made it for you.” You openly gawked as he confessed. “You’ve got to be kidding me. That pasta was so good. But why did you make it? You could’ve made your chefs do it.”

“I told you I had to make everything perfect for you. From what I knew back then, I thought you’d get more impressed if I personally made it. And you did get impressed! And also I wanted to crack the ‘kiss the chef’ joke.”

You laughed along with Bucky, “I was so shocked when I knew you made it for me. Like the amount of dedication you put in was just mind blowing.” Bucky shook his head at his own antiques. “Thanks!”

You faintly realised that the water had gone cold, but you didn’t care. You wanted to extend this moment for as long as it went and film it in your head and play it later, over and over again.

“I can’t get enough of you.” Bucky whispered and you just hugged him tighter as the water sloshed. “Then don’t get enough of me. Just keep needing me, forever.”

“I’ll love you, forever.” Bucky promised. It felt as if your soul was getting the fix it always craved for and the cracks in your heart were healing. Bucky’s love was healing you.

~~~

“Fuck NO!” You cursed when you saw the flat tire. You looked around to see if anyone had caused this mischief because the car was a brand new Audi that Bucky had gifted you.

Originally, Bucky was going to give you a classic vintage car which was even more expensive, but you’d rejected knowing that the place where you worked wasn’t suitable for expensive cars.

You nearly wanted to cry, but you controlled yourself with deep breaths. You took out your phone to give Bucky a call before you could do that, a familiar voice called you.

“What happened?” Peter asked as he came behind you. You sighed with relief knowing he was still around and hadn’t left after closing the shop. After he saved you from Walker, you trust in him had increased by tenfolds.

“Look at this Peter. This is a brand new car, and it’s somehow got a flat tire. I bet it’s Bella’s doing.” Bella owned a cafe not far from you and you both hadn’t ever been on good terms.

“I’m sorry. But I could drop you!” You smiled as Peter suggested this idea. The night was cold and you didn’t want to stand freezing until a cab arrived. “That would be so kind of you.”

“Mr. Barnes’ place, right?” Peter asked and you nodded. You couldn’t place exactly when, but you realised that you’d somehow moved into Bucky’s house a really long time back.

“I gotta call him.” You murmured to yourself as you opened your call logs. “No wait!” You froze when Peter nearly screamed. He had been behaving a little off lately.

“I mean we are going to his house only. So there’s no need to call.” Peter tried downplaying his outburst. “Hmm you’re right. But after the whole Walker incident, Bucky’s getting a little too worried about me.”

Bucky was constantly checking up on you by calling you incessantly and had told you to strictly call him while leaving a place. Though you did understand his concerns, it was getting a little overbearing.

“Do you want some water?” Peter asked pointing towards a water bottle in the cup holder. “No thanks. I’m fine.” You denied.

“Umm, I think you should drink some though. Working near the oven all the time makes me so damn thirsty.” Peter pressed and took the bottle and handed it to you.

“Now that you say it like that, I think I am thirsty.” You chuckled as you opened the lid and drank some water. In your own excitement to meet Bucky after a long day, you failed to notice the relived sigh Peter let out.

Just a few seconds after drinking the water, you started feeling drowsy. Your eyelids were heavy and you felt like falling into a bed and just going to sleep.

You didn’t even stifle a yawn as you slumped back into your seat. You blinked your eyes stupidly when you realised that the road Peter was driving on didn’t lead to Bucky’s house at all.

You tried protesting but somehow your body was too lax to say anything. Your vision blurred until only the faint semblance of the street lights remained before the world went completely dark.

[whatstheoccasion]

— SITTING THERE, IN BLACK AND GOLD.

Maybe he can ask you to tattoo your initials on him tonight. Wouldn't be the first time he's thought about it. "I can't believe I signed up for this," you say, eyes not leaving his hand. "I'm almost done, so behave."

Law huffs, smart eyes dropping to your lips and resisting the urge to kiss them, and he waits.

> being law's lover means you're now his personal tattooist, apparently.

tags: gn reader. fluff. established relationship. kissing. +16 for suggestive thoughts bc law is whipped. warnings: cursing, post-time skip but no spoilers! word count: 660

a/n: i read the law novel and i have many feelings about him </3. also contains very inaccurate descriptions of tatting!! title from jasmine - dpr!

playlist: loveeeeee song – rihanna ft future, jasmine – dpr live

It was that time of the year where Law had to, grudgingly, retouch his tattoos.

His calloused hands were constantly washed over the years, clean of blood, dirt, and ink. It's only logical the tattoos fade. But it was the first time you were going to tattoo on them for him.

He has no excuses. He wasn't injured, his arms were perfectly healthy and his vision hasn't worsened one bit. He could do it himself.

But you've been together for years, now, and this is the first time you've asked him. That was it. Law would rather die than tell anyone that your smile was enough to make him cave, though.

(Having you sit on his lap for long periods of time didn't hurt, either.)

"Babe, stop moving."

He's not. It's your hands that shake, carefully trying not to screw this up, but he's in a good enough mood he doesn't feel the need to mention it. "I'm not moving."

Law likes your face like this, focused and– fuck, he'll never say it out loud– adorable. He can't keep himself from staring at the hood of your eyes, sweet shape of your nose and lips, bitten in worried concentration.

He wishes he could bite them for you instead.

"Stop looking at me like that."

Carefully lifting an eyebrow, his lazy grip on your waist tightens. "You're making an awful amount of commands tonight."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

He rolls his eyes in response, hating the way his lips curve slightly up, and his free hand leaves your waist to rest his head on it.

Law's content with watching you work on him for the entirety of twenty seconds before his thoughts start running wild, the slight pain of the ink needle stabbing his fingers and the mouthwatering press of your chest against his arm– yeah, he needs a distraction.

Trying to break your concentration, he waits until you're busy attempting to finish his H to make his lips twitch, faking a painful expression, "Fuck."

"What? Oh my god, I'm sorry!" you quickly bring the hot needle away from him, looking at his face then his irritated knuckles in a frantic manner and your thighs tense on top of his– until you see his bastard smile threatening to break his face.

You stare at him in disbelief, your own amused eyes following the wide stretch of his lips. "You little–" punching his shoulder, your eyes fall back to his entertained grey ones, "insufferable little shit. I thought I hurt you!"

"Sorry." His eyes follow the way you pout, shoulders relaxing and back to work already. How cute. The things he'd do to you, if he were a lesser man.

He is a lesser man, to be fair. There's only so much the pirate can keep from his racing mind when you're sitting on him like this, pretty face so close to his and body resting so innocent on his thighs. Vulnerable and his, the thought rising goosebumps on his skin.

Maybe he can ask you to tattoo your initials on him tonight. Wouldn't be the first time he's thought about it.

"I can't believe I signed up for this," you say, eyes not leaving his hand. "I'm almost done, so behave."

Law huffs, smart eyes dropping to your lips and resisting the urge to kiss them, and he waits.

Soft waves lulled the submarine in the night, effortlessly taking the crew to their next island. Inside it smells like you both, your night clothes are spread next to his on his black sheets, and if he turns his head to the right all he can see is yourself in his room, his quarters.

Law struggles to believe this is all his, sometimes, that it's enough having you on his lap, kissing and loving you, that you won't leave. In moments like this, he thinks life can be worth living for.

"All done, Captain!"

[erin-bo-berin]

hey I love ur writing sm!! But i was wondering if you could make a Steve x Reader based on the reader having some sort of eating disorder and Steve just try to help as much as possible even though he doesn't know much about it (I’m really in a shitty mood rn since I’m trying my best to recover from my ED and idk if this could be a way to cope but yeah.) if it’s okay with you!!

Thank you! And I would love to write this. I’ll try to make it a bit vaguer since I don’t want it to be too triggering for you or anyone else. It will also be from Steve’s point of view if that’s okay ☺️

Also, my love and thoughts are with you. I’ve never personally dealt with it, but I do have mental health issues I struggle greatly with. I know that’s not the exact same thing, but I know it’s a hard uphill journey.

That being said, I believe in you, anon. You’ve got this. Don’t let those demons win because you’re stronger than you think. I love you, you can DO this ❤️

One Day At A Time

Steve Harrington x Reader

Warnings: Mentions and descriptions of reader suffering from an eating disorder

(If you find you aren’t in the right head space to read this, please if you need to, save it and come back to it when you’re in a better place. I promise I won’t be mad ❤️)

Steve spent an entire weekend at the library doing research.

He wasn’t too familiar with eating disorders, though he’d heard about them. He still felt like shit that he hadn’t even noticed anything wrong with you. He’d been your boyfriend of more than a year and he’d hadn’t noticed anything unusual. What kind of boyfriend did that make him?

Turns out, people learn to hide it well.

You had from him.

It was only until you’d started looking too thin, your clothes hanging off of you that he’d started to worry. The once lively spark in your eyes, the happiness that you always radiated had vanished from your eyes.

He’d had no idea just how hard you were fighting unseen demons.

After the diagnosis, your parents had sent you to treatment and he hadn’t seen you for a month. It was a short stint, peppered with phone calls to each other as he wasn’t allowed to visit. You and he were reuniting today and he’d spent time trying to figure out how to help you.

Obviously, he wasn’t trying to heal you himself, but he wanted to be as supportive as possible. After all, he hurt too seeing you in such pain.

He knew it was going to take time, it was going to be difficult, but he believed in you with his whole heart. But, he was determined that you weren’t going to go through this, alone.

•

The moment you stepped into his arms when you first arrived, he wrapped you in his arms, holding on to you tightly.

Maybe if he kept you safe in his arms, the bad thoughts wouldn’t be able to get to you. How he wished it worked like that.

You looked better, more at peace. You didn’t look tired, beaten down and worn like you had just a month ago. There was color in your cheeks and a small, happy smile one your face.

“I missed you,” you murmured into his chest.

He ran his hand over the back of your head, cradling it, kissing the top of your head. His hand slid down to the back of your neck and he pulled away enough to look down at you.

“I missed you too, Y/N.”

He leaned in to kiss you gently and you returned the gesture, pulling away after a moment, your smile a bit brighter.

He’d offered for you to stay with him for the first little while—if you were comfortable doing so. You’d readily agreed, nervous to be alone in your place. It wasn’t a big deal anyways since you spent most of your time at his place anyway. In actuality, he just wanted you to be close. Not to smother you or watch you like a hawk. He just wanted to be there for you, even in your darkest moments. That’s why he voiced his next thought out loud, just to remind you.

“You don’t have to do this alone.”

•

“I’m not hungry,” you’d said quietly, avoiding his gaze.

He’d fixed dinner for the both of you, something that was completely healthy and even smelled so good, he was looking forward to it. He’d managed to whip up some lemon pepper chicken, stir fried broccoli and rosemary garlic potatoes.

Nancy would be proud. For all her tough exterior, the girl knew how to cook and she’d helped him in the month you’d been gone.

He had learned that that was just a diversion tactic of your illness, so he didn’t push. He sat the two plates he was holding down on the coffee table in front of you two and sat down next to you.

He wouldn’t push it. He knew better than to be hard on you.

“That’s okay,” he said, “Is it a bad day?”

He’d read enough to know, like with anything, you were going to have your good days and your bad days. You may be on the road to recovery, but recovery wasn’t linear.

You nodded a bit.

“Yeah. It’s been hard today, knowing I was coming home.”

He didn’t talk about the food, didn’t scold you. He just took your hands in his and looked at you, genuinely wanting to know.

“What’s been scaring you about it?”

You let out a deep sigh and his heart clenched. Such a heavy sigh shouldn’t be coming from your beautiful self. He just wanted to wrap you in his arms and never let go.

“I’m afraid I’ll relapse. They said it’s possible at the center,” you said.

“Yes, it is. But you’ll get through that too, I know it. It’s a normal part of recovery,” he said.

You looked at him quizzically, almost amused.

“You almost sound like my new therapist.”

He blushed, looking sheepish.

“Sorry. I spent the entire weekend at the library learning all I could to help you, baby.”

Your look of bewilderment turned to one of awe, a slow smile spreading on your face.

“You did that? For me?”

“Of course I did. I want to be supportive and help you. If you’re having a bad day, I want you to be able to talk to me about it, to lean on me. If you’re having a good day, I want to still hear about it and celebrate that good day. I meant it when I told you that you don’t have to go through this alone.”

You stayed silent for a moment, pulling your hands out of his. You cupped his face in your hands, bringing him down for a kiss, your emotions swirling at how hard he’d prepared to help you, just to be there for you.

Steve watched without a word as you reached for your plate, picking up a piece of the chicken with your fork, bringing it to your mouth.

He tried not to be insulted when you looked at him with widened eyes, shock clear on your face.

“This is amazing, Steve. When did you learn to cook?”

“Nancy taught me,” he shrugged, nonchalantly, “And I’m not that bad of a cook!”

“Babe, you’re usually a pro at burning toast,” you leveled him with a look.

He huffed, pretending to be insulted, but he couldn’t help the grin and laugh that came from him. You were so distracted, you ended up eating a bit more.

“I’m so proud of you,” he smiled, putting his arm around you, pulling you into his side.

“Thank you,” you whispered, “For doing all of this for me.”

“Of course,” he paused, rubbing your arm, “You know what we’re going to do?”

“What’s that?” you asked.

“We’re going to take it one day at a time.”

[tsumune]

more than enough

pairing: gn!reader x suna rintarou

synopsis: suna feels insecure about what he offers in your relationship, and after seeing how excited you get listening to your friend talk about the extravagant things her boyfriend does for her, he decides to try something himself.

tags: angst?? to fluff (just slight angst)

suna comes home from practice to find the house silent. that’s odd, he thinks to himself as he looks for you. his muscles hurt, he’s sore, and a small part of him is irritated that dinner isn’t ready, but all those thoughts are wiped from his head when he turns on the lights in the bedroom and finds you fast asleep, your eyebrows creased together and your nose slightly red as if you had just cried.

“y/n? what’s wrong, are you okay?” suna softly shakes you awake.

“mm.. rin? ah, what time is it?” your first thought when you wake is to look at the clock, and to your horror it’s already 8PM. “oh no, rin i’m so sorry i didn’t make dinner yet. i’ll go make some now-”

“hey no, it’s okay. tell me what’s wrong first, were you crying?”

“it’s not a big deal rin. don’t worry about me, but you need to eat.”

suna’s own eyebrows crease at this. “why are you so intent on getting me to eat?”

you look at him with confusion, as if the answer was obvious. “because your game is coming up soon, rin. you have to keep your body healthy and not worry about other things.”

suna frowns at this. he knows he’s not the most expressive boyfriend, but he cares about you so much and wants you to know you’re not second to the other things in his life, no matter how busy he gets. “just because i have a game coming up doesn’t mean i’ll ignore you. tell me.”

he’s taken aback by the sudden tears filling your eyes, and in a panic his hands quickly wrap around your figure. “i got yelled at by my boss... i don’t want to lose this job, rin.”

“shh, you won’t baby. you’re doing so well, one mistake doesn’t define you.” you calm down as suna continues holding you in his arms and smoothing your hair, and the both of you enjoy some takeout and your favourite movie after you relax. but suna can’t shake the heavy feeling in his chest that you were bottling up your feelings in an effort to not worry him, and the guilt that his first thought when he came home was that you didn’t make dinner. it worries him even more.

days have passed since the night you broke down, but suna still feels a bit tense. he won his game, and in celebration you asked if he wanted to go out with your friends. in truth, he just wanted to make you feel better, but you hadn’t brought up the topic since that night, so he decides going out and forgetting about everything might be a good thing. as the night goes on though, his heart only feels heavier.

“and then, he opened the trunk and there were bouquets of flowers and balloons in there!”

suna watches your eyes light up as your friend talks about the latest dramatic gesture her boyfriend did for her. he used to internally roll his eyes at this and think he was being over the top, but looking at how happy your friend was talking about him and how excited it seemed to make you feel, he wonders if you ever smile that brightly when you tell your friends about him. actually, do you talk to your friends about him at all? does he do anything that warrants a story like this? suna isn’t sure if he can remember. sure, you go out for anniversary dinners, but everyone does that, don’t they? if you don’t go to him for comfort, and he doesn’t plan big surprises for you... what does he do for you?

“rin. rinnie. rintarou!” suna snaps back to attention at your voice combined with the flick to his forehead.

“ow!” you laugh, and that was enough to ease a bit of suna’s worries. he decides he’ll take some (albeit dramatic) inspiration from your friend’s boyfriend, and step up his antics so that he can hear that laugh more often.

“can i open my eyes now?”

“no wait, not yet,” suna drags you a bit farther. “okay, now you can.”

you open your eyes, and to your surprise, your bed is decorated with flowers in the shape of a heart. you can’t stop the laugh that bursts out of you.

“rin, what is this,” you wipe your eyes as you laugh. “since when were you so corny?”

suna feels his heart drop at your comment. he worked hard on this. he thought you would like it, thought it would be something he could do for you. thought it would put him up there on the good boyfriend list next to your friend’s boyfriend.

“rin, why did you use whole flowers with the stems still on? don’t people usually just use the petals? silly guy.” you say cheekily, thinking to tease your boyfriend for his random cute act a bit. you admit it’s a bit odd coming from suna, but it’s endearing in a clumsy way, and you appreciated it. but when you turn around to face him, suna’s head is turned to the ground and he looks unexpectedly serious.

“sorry if you don’t like it. just thought i’d do something different for a change,” he says through gritted teeth before leaving to the living room.

“hey rin, wait!” you try to catch his arm as he goes, but he just shakes you off. “rin? i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to dismiss your work like that. i was just kidding.” instead of responding, suna plants himself facedown on the couch.

you start to worry. “rin? are you okay? can you talk to me about it.” silence. “rin... i talked to you last time. can you talk to me too, please?”

at this, suna turns his head. this time, it’s your turn to be surprised at the uncommon sight of his glossy eyes. “i just wanted to be a good boyfriend... you didn’t come to me last time you were hurt, and then i saw how excited you were when your friend talked about her boyfriend’s stupid surprises... i thought you would be happy if i did more of those things too.”

“oh rin.” you sigh and climb onto the sofa, softly squishing him. your hands cup his face and you stare into his eyes, neither of you moving until suna gives in. “what?”

“you’re more than enough for me, rin.” suna has heard these words countless times before. you’ve said them to him often, and in his heart he knows you’ve always felt this way, but with the recent events and mix of emotions he’s experiencing, he feels like he’s been knocked off his feet and swept away by the undeniable love in them. “you don’t have to do the things you see others do, i love you just the way you are. you don’t have to change yourself for me, rin, you’re already everything i could wish for as is. you’re sweet and attentive and always put me first, i’m aware of that, and you show me you care in the little things, like what you just tried.” suna’s eyes shift to the side in embarrassment at the thought of the flowers still sitting on your shared bed. “i wouldn’t mind if you never did that again, but i also wouldn’t mind if you wanted to try again. and i promise i’ll take you seriously. just use only petals next time,” you playfully pinch your boyfriend on the nose, and this time he laughs with you.

the two of you head back to the room to pick up the flowers and put them in a vase (suna was beet red the whole time), and then lay down on the bed to cuddle. after a while, suna turns to you.

“promise me you’ll talk to me if you ever feel upset again,” you open your mouth and suna already knows what you’re about to say, “i know. i know i’m not the best at it either, but i’ll try harder too. you just really had me worried.”

“i didn’t want to worry you before your game.”

“yeah, and i was worried what it meant that you didn’t want to talk to me. so your plan backfired,” he pouted.

“okay okay,” you laugh with a defeated sigh. “from now on, better communication. pinky promise.”

“what are you, five?” suna scoffs, before connecting your pinkies together. “pinky promise.”

a/n: methinks this could’ve been executed better but i just wanted to write something lol might rewrite/reuse the premise of this idea sometime

[jackrrabbit]

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t look like a demon.

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

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

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

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

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

You nod.

“And you don’t want to be.”

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

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

Those eyes. No human has eyes like that.

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

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

Offer nothing to a hell creature without first telling him your price. You know the words by heart, both the winding calligraphy of the original French from the grimoire and the rushed scrawl of the English translation your cousin left for you in sheets of lined paper layered between the pages of the book for you to read. Really, this is her fault. She was the one who slipped you the book, who told you that it worked, who snuck you the ingredients for the summoning. She was the one who left a bookmark at the chapter on this particular demon, one that specializes in ‘Contrat pour Remédier au Déséquilibre des Quatre Humeurs’, which she said meant a contract to cure any illness. Even his ‘name’ is translated in her hand, practically an afterthought in the margins of the page.

‘Le Malin qui Ravage et Rebâtit’— Overhaul?

You looked up the literal meaning of this phrase on your own. It did not reassure you.

“Girl.” His voice is cold, irate. Your eyes snap back up to his and it feels like that burning gaze is laser-beaming into your skull. “Do not test me. My time is limited…as is yours.”

You swallow. “How long do I have left?”

“Less than a single human year,” he tells you without a trace of sympathy. “Seven months, twelve days, three hours. Or so. You’ll be too exhausted to leave this bed in four months, and the pain will become intolerable in six… By the end, you’ll wish—“

“Stop,” you breathe out. The heart monitor is beeping wildly and you squeeze your knees into your chest, trying to calm down your breathing. “Stop, I—I want to live.”

“Of course you do.” Overhaul’s lip curls. “How very predictable.”

Be specific, you remind yourself, doing your best to ignore the stifling disapproval from the man—the demon—in front of you. Something about him (maybe how clean-cut he looks, maybe the indisputable authority in his demeanor) makes you want to impress him. But you didn’t turn your back on your religion—you didn’t draw pagan symbols on the floor in chalk, fill silver cups with various questionable substances (including your own virgin blood), and turn the crucifix your mother hung over your bed upside-down so you could let a demon make you feel guilty for wanting to survive. “I want to be cured. I’m okay with whatever natural death I have instead when I’m older, I just don’t want to die of this illness. I want you to make me healthy.”

“Simple enough. What else?”

‘Simple’? Your heart surges with something you’ve felt very little of since your initial diagnosis—hope. “T-That’s it. Just the cure.”

Overhaul glares at you. “Humans… Every vice in the world available to you, and you limit yourselves to the basest priority of survival.”

“But you can do it? You can cure me?” you persist.

Overhaul steps forward (quiet, so quiet you wonder if he really moved) and holds a hand out to you past the foot of your bed—you hesitate, and a second later you can see the muscles in his hand flex, stretching the latex of his plastic gloves tight over his knuckles.

Just do it. You give him your hand. Carefully. Like you’re scared the contact will burn you. It doesn’t (although his skin feels warmer than yours), but after a moment his grip tightens, sliding down past your hand to circle the fragile bones of your wrist and squeeze.

“Ow?” You wince.

The demon’s eyes flicker closed for a second, lips moving silently like he’s talking to himself—and then he drops your hand unceremoniously back onto your lap. “You could be cured before the sun rises this morning. I doubt your stay in the hospital will extend past the end of the week.”

He sounds bored, voice as flat and passionless as it was earlier, but your heart is soaring. Cured. You’ve lived with this illness for so many years, you can’t remember the last time someone told you you could be cured. And getting out of the hospital that soon? You can just imagine taking down all the decorations from the walls of your room here and setting them up in your old bedroom at home. You could see friends on the weekend and not take an oxygen bag, you could get a job or—or apply to college, you could have a life—

“That is…assuming you have something to offer me in exchange for the cure.”

Your stomach drops. You’d almost forgotten about the other half of the deal.

“Don’t tell me I came all this way for nothing.” Overhaul steps back, and the orange light of the candles you set sends strange shadows over his arrogant face. The fires look brighter now, and you find yourself tracing the lines of those shining black horns. In an odd way, they look natural—so organically framing his temples that you can’t imagine him without them.

“N-No, of course not. I have some money—I mean, my mom has some, and I can get it for you…” Which is half the truth. If you know anything, it’s that your mother’s spent most of her savings on your treatment and care. You probably have more debt than you have money in the bank right now—you’d try to get rid of that, too, if you hadn’t read in the book how important it is to keep your request as simple and straightforward as possible.

…Although it’s apparently not enough. Overhaul’s eyes narrow, molten gold irises carved into slits. “Even if I had a use for human money, do you really believe your life is worth so little?”

“No—no,” you say quickly. “I just thought—in case you were interested—”

The air crackles with energy, the candle flames spark bright blood-red, and the hair on your arms stands straight up. “I am not.”

“Okay! I get it.” You wave your hands back and forth, pulling your IV line from side to side with the motion. The book was very clear about staying calm and rational while you work out the terms of the deal, but that’s easier said than done when you have a real live (live?) hell creature in front of you. You always knew this was going to be the hard part—all the stories say there’s only one thing that a demon would be interested in, and no matter how inviting the prospect of living past this illness is, you know you’d rather die than sell your immortal soul to the devil. “I’ll give you anything except my soul! And—and don’t hurt anyone I care about, or— just don’t hurt anyone, okay? Other than that, if there’s anything I can give you, I will.”

Overhaul’s lip curls, baring a thin strip of those unnaturally sharp canines. “And is your soul really so valuable?”

This throws you for a loop. Isn’t that the standard deal? A soul for a wish? That’s how it’s supposed to work—at least in this twisted version of reality where you can summon a demon to perform unholy miracles for you. But if you think about it, it doesn’t really make sense, does it? Why would your soul be valuable to him? You can’t form an argument, especially since you’re not willing to barter it away in the first place.

Your mouth is pursed open as you search for a response, but Overhaul doesn’t seem willing to wait. A gloved hand wraps its way around the railing at the side of your bed, and he leans in closer. “Little girl…what makes you think you possess anything I desire?”

Little girl. You’re not a little girl, you’re a grown woman—and yet there’s no untruth in the statement. In front of him you feel insignificant, immature, weak. You have nothing real to offer, and something tells you that you’re not going to get rid of the demon you summoned without a sacrifice you’re not willing to make.

You twist your ring around your finger—the nervous habit you haven’t bothered to break because you’ve always had more important things to worry about—and the glint of silver in the candlelight must catch Overhaul’s eye because before you even notice him moving, your delicate hand is trapped in his larger one to give him a better view of the tiny piece of jewelry. “What is this?”

“It’s—um, a ring. A purity ring.” Has he never seen one before? Well…actually, that makes sense.

Overhaul turns your hand over in his without touching the band of silver. He’s looking at it closely, inspecting the lovingly engraved cross in the design and the inscription on the other side. “Matthew 5:8,” he reads out.

“…Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God,” you recite cautiously. It feels wrong to speak the words in front of him, but somehow you can’t help yourself.

Overhaul’s hand doesn’t leave yours. “This ring is important to you.”

“It’s a symbol of a—a promise I made to God. To save myself for my future husband.”

“To ‘save yourself’? To save what?”

You can’t believe you’re explaining this to a literal demon. You close your eyes and inhale slowly and taste smoke. “My…virginity. It’s a promise that I won’t have sex until I enter into a biblical marriage.”

At this, Overhaul is quiet. You give him a moment to answer, half expecting him to question why you think God cares about your sexual status (honestly, you’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered this yourself), but he stays quiet until you peek up at him to try and gauge the look on his coldly handsome face.

He’s still staring at the ring. He hasn’t touched it—maybe he can’t, because of the cross?—and through the latex, his skin feels hotter than a human’s is supposed to be.

“Is there…” you start, but you trail off when you realize you have nothing to ask. You give a little tug to try and take your hand away and you’re surprised when your wrist actually slides out of his grip to fall back on the nest of sheets in your lap. You didn’t think he’d let you go so easily.

Overhaul turns his head to the side, eyes drilling into you so you feel like you should lower your gaze. The candlelight flickers in strange shadows over his horns. “This will do,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“In exchange for your cure.” The demon taps his own left ring finger, the place where the purity ring sits on your hand, and your heart soars. He actually wants that? It’s just a simple silver band, not worth much, but you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it has some special significance because of the religious connotation. Your mother will be angry you’ve lost it, but you’re happy to cope with that if it means living to actually get married!

“Yes!” you blurt out before he has a chance to rethink his offer. Sure, you’ll miss the purity ring—you’ve had it since you were a kid, after all—but there’s no question you’re getting the better end of this deal. At least in your opinion.

Something flashes through his yellow eyes, something you don’t even want to try and identify. “The contract, then.”

You barely have time to notice that his voice has gentled, that it’s practically silken in comparison to before, when the candlelight flickers again and suddenly the contract is everywhere. Everywhere. Writing appears on every surface in the room, covering the walls, stretching over the ceiling, coiling around the sides of the hospital equipment and decorating your bedsheets until you and Overhaul are the only untouched surfaces in sight. The characters are inscribed in red, dark red like—don’t think about that, you tell yourself squeamishly. You can make out some of the letters, even a word here or there—French, you recognize, mixed with what looks like Latin and interspersed with what you can only guess are runes.

“I can’t read this,” you tell him, fidgeting with your ring for what you now realize will be the last time.

“I only need your name,” he purrs, and then you feel a fragile weight in your hand: a feather, pearl-black and glossy and too large to belong to any bird you can think of, its angled tip glistening with wet ink. There’s an empty space in the writing before you, and Overhaul’s gloved hand comes to yours again to guide you into place.

This feels wrong…then again, of course it does. Even if you’re getting off relatively easy and just losing your ring rather than your soul, you’re still making a deal with a demon. You sign your name, forcing yourself to think about the future you have ahead of you rather than a disapproving white-bearded caricature of The Man Upstairs wagging his finger at you for haggling with a literal servant of Satan. People have done worse things to survive, haven’t they? It’s just a ring.

You set the feather down and Overhaul sighs, thick black eyelashes obscuring his intense gaze for a moment—and then the contract is gone, leaving your hospital room as blank and sterile as it’s supposed to be (well, aside from the candles and all the other ritual stuff you threw together to summon a demon in the first place).

“Are you going to cure—heal me now?” you ask.

“…Patience, little girl.” He’s pulling his glove off, peeling it down his fingers to bare the pale skin of his hand. You catch your breath and wonder what this is going to feel like, and then the tips of his fingers meet your cheek and—

you stop breathing.

It doesn’t hurt.

Or if it does, you don’t remember the pain a second later when breath floods back into your lungs. What you do feel is energy. Strength in your muscles, blood pumping through your veins, every inhale and exhale as light as a bird and freer. You feel healthy. You’re surprised you even remember what health feels like but you do: it’s like you’ve only been half alive, and now life is surging into you and through you and around you, bubbling up in your core like a spring overflowing. You blink rapidly, thinking you might cry from the sheer pleasure of it, but when you open your mouth it’s laughter that comes out. You’re healthy. You’re alive. You barely notice the IV line literally falling off of your skin because the hole where it entered your vein is sealed shut and healed perfectly.

No more needles. No more hospitals. Even without all the monitors beeping out your heart rate and measuring your vitals, there’s not a shred of doubt in your mind that you’re cured.

“Thank you!” you laugh, looking up at Overhaul and for the first time, not caring that he’s evil incarnate. “I feel—I’m okay! It worked!”

“Of course it did.” His expression is inscrutable, but he lets you have a few moments to enjoy your newfound health.

You roll your shoulders back, flex each muscle you can isolate one by one to test, make fists with your fingers and then run them over your hair, which is already thicker and shinier than it was a moment ago. Your body thrums with energy—you want to run, to feel the ground against your bare feet and the cold night air on your face, and you think you could do it! Your legs are already swinging over the side of your cot, ready to run barefoot out of the hospital if that’s what it takes, but before you can stand up Overhaul’s pushing you back down onto the bed.

“Have you forgotten your end of the bargain already?”

Honestly you did forget, but only for a second, only because you were so excited to just be outside again. “Oh, yeah. Of course.” Your hand goes to your left ring finger, ready to slip the ring off and hand it over, but Overhaul shakes his head.

“Not here.”

“What—?”

You’re falling. Your hospital room is disappearing, the image of your walls and your window and your bed disintegrating into yawning black, and you’re falling through it into nothing, into emptiness, and Overhaul’s still-bare hand in yours is the only anchor you have so you clutch onto it and squeeze your eyes shut. You want to scream—that’s the sane thing to do when you’re falling through miles and miles of empty space, right?—but when you open your throat the sound is swallowed up just like the light was…

Overhaul’s hand burns into yours, an improbable lifeline that you pull closer more out of terror than conscious thought. The slick, empty air rushes around you and you think I am going to die like this and then, incredibly, as soon as you’ve accepted your imminent demise, you feel your back mold onto a chilled, flat surface, vertebra by vertebra up to the back of your head, as if you’ve been lain down onto it.

Your heart thuds in your ears and you brace for an impact because your body hasn’t quite accepted yet that it’s not falling anymore—but at the same time, you know you’re lying down on something. You pry your fingers away from their vice-grip on Overhaul’s arm and feel around blindly for what’s underneath you, and when it seems reasonably tangible you let yourself open your eyes.

Way above, vaulted dozens of feet over your head, is a ceiling studded with gilt-edged frescoes and stained glass. It’s raining (even though it wasn’t in the hospital, you think) but through the massive panes of colored glass there’s enough oily blue light to make out that you’re in a church.

You’re in a church, with a demon. Isn’t that against the rules?

You sit up stiffly and look over at Overhaul, who’s standing at your side and looking down at you…which is how you realize the soft, cold surface you’ve been deposited onto is the blanket on top of the altar in the sanctuary. “Where...did you take me?”

“You should know this place.”

And you do, when you look around. It’s empty now and you’ve never been here at night, but this is a church your mother would bring you to when you were little, back before the disease got so bad you couldn’t risk traveling to it anymore. This is where you took your purity vow…the ring feels heavy on your hand. “Why—why—“

“I can’t stand human hospitals. Filthy places… How that reek of illness and death doesn’t bother your kind, I’ll never understand.” Overhaul pulls his latex glove back on. He’s dressed differently now, no longer impersonating a doctor—black shirt, black pants, and a…bird mask in red leather and gold. So are you, as a matter of fact. Instead of your hospital gown, you’re in a gauzy white dress that’s already been pushed up to pool around the tops of your thighs.

The slip is too thin for the cold, and you can feel your nipples standing up under the cloth so you fold your arms over your chest and hug yourself. “Why did you take me here?” The sound of your voice echoes off the walls eerily and you wish you hadn’t spoken so loudly. The reflection of your words sounds girlish, nervous.

“I told you. Your side of our contract.” Even in this dark, the angular features of his face are clearly concentrating—on you. “Are you already having second thoughts? Such a fickle little thing…”

“You mean the ring?” You reach for it again, ready to tear it off and throw it at him if that’s what it takes to see your deal through, but Overhaul snatches your hand away, pinning it above you.

“Not the ring,” he says. “The promise.”

The…promise?

A chill makes its way down your spine despite the heat radiating off the demon’s body and onto yours. “I don’t understand.”

“The promise,” Overhaul repeats—and you hear a sound almost like wings flapping and then he’s on the altar with you, knees straddling your hips as a single hand holds both your wrists above your head. “To remain a virgin until marriage. Your promise to God.”

A streak of lightning cracks down on the other side of the stained glass window behind the altar, illuminating the room briefly in spectacular pits of red and orange and yellow…and then it’s dark again, and the only color you can make out is the gold in Overhaul’s eyes.

“I’m going to break it,” he murmurs, lowering his head toward your ear right as the answering thunder rolls through the sanctuary, up through the altar, up into you.

///

Méfiez-vous de son piège, the grimoire said. Beware of the catch.

Of course it wasn’t just a ring.

Overhaul’s fingers are in—inside you, his middle and ring finger pumping through the length of your cunt like they belong there, like you were made to be touched this way. A mixture of your juices and your own spit cling to the latex because he made you suck his fingers before he put them in you and he hasn’t bothered to take his gloves off—not that you asked. You’ve been too busy biting your lip to try and muffle the moans that he keeps forcing out of you. He’s bracing himself on top of you with one hand and fingering you with the other, so your own hands are free to push into your eyes and hide your face…until he yanks your arm back and stops.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes are screwed shut and you shake your head back and forth, the movement shuddering your whole body right down to your pussy wrapped around Overhaul’s fingers. He slows the movement and kneels back, pushing one of your thighs up into your chest as he does it.

“Look at me.”

And you’re not sure whether it’s some unearthly power he has over you or the plain old deterioration of your willpower, but you can’t refuse him. You crack your eyes open and he’s glaring down at you, skin pale as ice in the blue light. Once he’s satisfied that you’re watching, the demon leans back in to fuck your cunt with his fingers, slowly at first and then quicker when he hits something inside of you—a spot, a place on the inner wall of your pussy that makes you feel like you’ve been shocked— heat blooms through you like blood in water and you gasp and he curls his fingers up to pet over that spot again.

“Wait—wait, that’s—it feels—weird!” You’ve never felt like this before. You’re not supposed to feel like this, it’s wrong.

“I understand you’ve never touched yourself, but don’t pretend you don’t like it.” Overhaul says, voice as indifferent and calm as ever even though your cunt is dripping clear sticky liquid over the plastic of his glove.

He pushes back in and grinds his palm over the little button on the top of your pussy—your clit?—and you want to scream. “No, I—I don’t—nnhh...”

Do you like it? The demon’s body is so hot next to yours, like he’s running a fever except you’re the one going out of your mind… You’ve heard metaphors for sexual pleasure before (that it’s like having something to drink when you’re dying of thirst; or that it’s the ultimate act of intimacy, love in physical form) but all of that’s a fucking lie. There’s nothing to compare it to, no reference that makes sense, because it doesn’t make sense—you don’t even want him to keep going, do you? You’re only doing this because you signed your name on a devil’s contract, because you don’t want to die and there’s no alternative…but that doesn’t explain why you feel so warm from the inside out, why you’re squirming and your hips are rocking involuntarily no matter how much you try to keep still. This isn’t right. You feel like you’ve been lied to.

A good girl wouldn’t like this.

Overhaul isn’t going to let you close your eyes, so you don’t—but the sounds coming out of your mouth are so…indecent (and how can you think these things about yourself? the word feels like someone else is saying it when you hear it in your head) that your hand is drifting up to your mouth before you can stop yourself, trying to stifle all of it…

“Let your voice out. I want you to hear yourself moan.”

Long fingers slide their way out of your pussy and then move up to rub quick little circles around your clit and you moan, like a whore, like a girl getting her cunt rubbed by a demon— “Oh, uhhhn—something, it’s—coming—“ There’s something building up in your core—a peak, a climax, something that makes you fist your hands in the nightgown he put you in (so tight you’re surprised the thin fabric hasn’t torn) and tilt your hips up into him, begging without words because you don’t have any to express what your body is asking for…

But he doesn’t give it to you. Overhaul takes his hand away from your pussy and the shock of the cool air after his too-hot touch is almost enough to send you over that edge—almost. Not quite. And without it, you’re left shivering and quaking, thighs twitching as your baser instincts beg you to just put your hand between your legs for once and hump your fingers to completion if the demon won’t do it.

You’re not going to risk that, though. Not when Overhaul’s dragging your body closer, bunching up the blanket on the altar under your spine, so your pelvis is angled to his… He’s already shirtless and you hear him unzipping his pants but you can’t bring yourself to actually look at him, even when you feel something hard and hot nudging up against your inner thigh and then aligning to your sticky wet slit.

“This will hurt a bit, but I want you to look,” he says, and you don’t even understand at first until you make yourself feel it—his cock, pushing up against your tight cunt to finish this, this perversion of what your first time was supposed to be…

And what was it supposed to be? Roses and candles and soft kisses? A nameless, faceless husband unzipping your wedding dress and making love to you with the lights off? The way the demon touches you should be cruel in comparison but it isn’t, it’s lighting fires under your skin and turning your brains to mush, so how is your body supposed to tell the difference?

It’ll hurt, you know that, you’ve heard enough about sex to know that it always hurts the first time for girls…women. It was already a stretch to fit his fingers in your virgin pussy, so of course his cock is going to hurt. You turn your head toward the window at your side and try on look out at the rain drawing rivulets like veins over the glass, something to focus on instead of him.

“I said look,” the demon hisses, and his hips push forward a bit and you bite off a whimper of pain. “Watch me take your virginity…look at your tight little cunt swallowing me up just like it was made to.”

“N-No—“ you whine, even though it’s not like you can ignore it. “Don’t make me, don’t make me look, I can’t—“

“Then look at me.”

It’s what he wants, some kind of wicked satisfaction he gets off on, but you’re lucky enough to even get an option so you choose that one, shifting your gaze up into his face instead of the place where his cock is pressing deeper and deeper inside you. Overhaul’s eyes are half-lidded and it’s hard to tell from behind the mask but the look on his face is…pleasure? No, that would be too human. Restraint, at least. He could just thrust up into your body in one stroke, but he wants you to feel it for some reason.

Maybe because it’s a worse betrayal of your chastity if you want to get fucked.

Lucky for you, though, you can barely feel anything aside from the pain. The heat you felt building earlier is draining out of you even as Overhaul tilts deeper, layering his chest over yours. You’re almost grateful for the modest barrier the dress provides between your torso and the solid muscle of his abdomen. His cock in your pussy feels like it’s too big too deep too much and it’s the first time you’ve felt like your body wasn’t created specifically for this purpose so you hold it tight.

“Does it hurt?”

A second of clarity makes you want to snarl (of course it fucking hurts, I’m losing my virginity to a demon I summoned from hell) and you dig your fingernails into your palms to stop yourself from saying it out loud. Overhaul pulls out a fraction of an inch and then pushes back in and you feel like the breath’s being pushed out of your lungs. “Yes! Yes, it—it hurts—“

“I can make you enjoy it…for a price,” he sighs, settling into a slow rocking motion of his hips pushing into yours.

And you want to, every sore muscle in your cunt is telling you to give in and give up, give him what he wants so you can enjoy it like he says—but you’d rather hate every second of this than make another deal. You shake your head quickly and because you’re still too afraid to look away from him, you don’t miss the look of surprise that flits across his face before he tamps it down. “I don’t—I don’t want to—like it,” you gasp out between thrusts. “It’s better if—if it h-hurts…”

This time it’s obvious—his eyes really do widen, and you feel some petty triumph at having caught him off guard like this. Who’s predictable now? you think—and then he’s lifting one hand off the altar at the side of your head and tugging his glove off with his teeth, and you don’t even have time to be afraid of what he’s going to do to you because it’s too late, his bare fingers are already stroking over your mound and onto your core, massaging into the flesh of your stomach so he can feel his own cock sliding in and out of you—

and it doesn’t hurt anymore?

You only have a second to try and understand—he cured you, he healed the pain from your first time just like he healed your illness?—before he hooks his grip under your thigh and folds your legs into your chest so he can fuck into you harder than before. His cock slaps into your pussy and you can hear it, hear how wet your filthy little cunt is, smeared through with your juices. It’s sick—the sound of skin against skin, and the moaning you can’t hold back, you sound like a woman in a porno and you wish the pain would come back just so you could keep hating what he’s doing to you. “What—what did you do—“

The demon ignores you. “It feels good, doesn’t it.”

“Nn—“ It’s deeper like this…deeper and rougher and you can feel it. Now that the pain’s been reduced to the dull ache of a stretched muscle, you can feel everything—his cock sliding against that same spot in your cunt that makes you want to squeal, the friction of his body moving against your clit, all of it, everything you wanted to block out— he pumps into you and you hear your breath sobbing out a moan a second out of rhythm, the sounds of you bouncing on demon cock echoing over the walls. “Please—ah, ahhh…”

“‘Please?’ Are you begging—me, little girl?” Overhaul pushes your thigh up and drags his cock through you, excruciatingly slow, forcing you to feel the thick head slide over every gummy wall in your slick pussy.

You shake your head, mewl, try to force your hips to stop rocking back into his and grinding your clit against him. But you can’t. You’re a—you were a virgin, for fuck’s sake! Overhaul’s immortal. Probably thousands of years of experience on how to make you feel like you want this, like you’re only alive in the places he touches you… You’re at his mercy, if he has any. You never stood a chance.

“Then are you begging your god?” His body lowers directly onto yours and like you’re being controlled by puppet strings your arms fold around him and rake your fingernails uselessly into the smooth skin of his back. You can feel the vibration of his mirthless laughter through his chest. “It must hurt terribly…to know he isn’t listening.”

“Don’t—stop, please,” you sob. “Don’t say—don’t stop—please!”

“Listen to yourself, girl—“ Overhaul’s breath is faster now, but you don’t have time to question it because you feel your peak coming again, the tension rising up through your cunt and your abdomen, harsher and crueler than when his fingers were in you but you want it just as much. More. “Has he ever answered your prayers? Has he...ahh, fuck—who’s the one giving you what you need?”

“No— please, please just let me let me, please—“ You’re talking nonsense now, begging for the release—at least then it’ll be over, and you need it, you need it so badly you feel your muscles locking up, cramping, your ankles crossing each other behind Overhaul’s back.

“Good girl,” the demon breathes, and then he lifts off you so he’s kneeling upright with the two of you still connected, his thick, heavy cock still speared in your pussy, and his fingers come down again to rub at your clit. Everything’s so wet you can hear the motion of his fingers slicking themselves through your juices, sliding up and down the little button over and over and it feels so good that a tiny part of you almost wants to drag it out, to savor it, but the rest of your body is going to die, is going to go crazy if the demon doesn’t let you cum right now, right now, right now!

And he does. Praise the Lord. The pads of Overhaul’s fingers pass over your clit one last time and your head rolls back, your throat moves but you can’t even make a sound, your legs shake and you cum.

You didn’t know it was like this.

Your cunt squeezes down on his cock, throbbing and pulsing and your toes literally curl (you didn’t think that was a real thing!) and your vision goes black for a moment and—oh fuck oh fuck i want this i want more how is it possible that i’ve never felt like this—you understand, more intimately than ever, why sex is wrong:

because nothing that makes you feel this good could possibly come without a cost, could it?

///

It must take longer than you thought for you to come back to your senses, because when you regain awareness of your body you’re in your hospital bed. You’re clean, too, and you wonder for a second if Overhaul bothered to clean you up? Or no…he probably just snapped his fingers and transported you back to your room. You’re not really sure how it works.

What you are sure of, however, is that you just got fucked by a demon. You’re sore in places that you didn’t know it was possible to be sore, and there are already bruises forming on the flesh of your thighs from how tight he was holding you. You don’t really have time to inspect these, though, because apparently your…ordeal (if you can call it that) isn’t over.

Overhaul’s still here.

He’s facing the hints of sunrise through the east window, dressed again in the immaculate lab coat and surgeon’s mask. “You’re awake,” he says without looking at you.

You nod hesitantly. You’re not really sure what the protocol is in this situation, but at least you’ve finally held up your side of the contract, right? And so has he. Despite having been up all night doing sinful things, you’re still itching to get out of this bed and test the limits of your healthy body. “You’re…going to leave, right?”

“Yes—”

At that, you sigh in relief and settle back into your starched bedsheets.

“But there’s one more thing you owe me.”

“Goddamnit,” you swear for the very first time in your life. After what you just did, taking the Lord’s name in vain seems like a relatively minor sin.

Overhaul’s mildly irritated expression doesn’t change, but he holds his hand out to you, palm up, the way you imagine someone would if they were helping you out of a car or requesting a dance at an old-fashioned ball. And really, you want all of this to be over—you want to get out of this hospital, you want to taste what the air outside is like, you want to distract yourself from what you just gave up in exchange for a future. At this point you’re just going to have to hope God isn’t as picky about the whole premarital sex thing as you grew up believing.

So you put your hand in Overhaul’s.

Slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid it’ll burn him, he slides your purity ring down your finger and balances it in the palm of his bare hand. It sizzles when he touches it, glowing orange until it eventually burns down into a ash-black circle in the center of his palm. Once he’s satisfied that your pretty little ring has been reduced to nothing more than a scorch mark, he closes his hand around yours and you feel something sharp, painfully hot, etching onto your finger.

It’s over in a second, but you still yelp and yank your hand away from him as soon as he lets you. “Ah—ow, what was that?”

He burned you, he literally burned you! He’s already healed it, but there’s still a thin, pale scar, an intentional one left wrapping around the skin at the base of your left ring finger. Like a wedding ring.

When you look close, you can make out a symbol on the back of your finger where the cross used to sit—and even though your conscious mind doesn’t recognize it, the sight of it rings out something inside your ribcage, deeper and truer than flesh and blood. It’s the devil’s mark, you think. It’s his.

“…A promise,” Overhaul says softly, and even though it’s a chilly morning, you can feel the heat of his hands on yours a long time after he vanishes back into the dark.