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tenjikyu · 8 months

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imagine a child male reader whos siblings w scaramouche and was also abandoned so they only had eachother and encountered many people throughout their lives (fatui, traveler, that little kid who passed away, etc..). i can only imagine the heartbreak everytime scara gets hurt bc of the betrayals throughout ur travels and how the reader is tryibg his best to comfort him since hes still young and doesnt fully grasp the situation theyre both in idkk

srry for being specific i just rlly like sibling stuff 😭😭

𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 - 𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘪

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ scaramouche x m!brother!reader , angst and fluff , comfort and reverse comfort .

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ reader and scaramouche slowly age throughout the book, so keep that in mind.

the wanderer and his little brother apart is a sight nome of the seven nations have ever witnessed. wherever one is, the other is trailing behind either with excitement, worry, concern or grumpiness trailing their figures. the wanderer loves his little brother more then anything and everything in this shithole and that has never changed, nor will it ever change.

upon the creation of kunikuzishi, raiden ei (or ‘mother’) had encountered an ‘issue’ that might be solved if he had something instinctual to protect. kunikuzushi was a gentle soul, and while he loved his mother more then life as he knew it, if he was so weak that he could not hold the gnosis then what was all this for?

and so, the creation of the second kunikuzushi was in production.

“(y/n)” she had named you. you loved your name, you loved your mother who gave you your name and most of all, you loved your big brother kunikuzushi. he was your everything, and for awhile raiden ei’s plan had seemed to have succeeded.

kunikuzushi was getting stronger, he was overcoming his sensitivity and his ability to cry at every given scenario. she thought she had finally done it.

until she realised, it was all a massive lie.

she had caught you coddling your teary eyes big brother near the shine, cradling his head against your little chest and combing his hair in hopes his tears would cease. you could sense your mothers presence and you knew if she found out that he was still as vulnerable as the day of your creation, it would have major concequences.

the gods weren’t in your favour, to put it lightly.

wandering the ever so lonely woods of inazuma, you and your brother faced two more instances in which would eventually trigger his switch.

the first? a simple blacksmith that had taken you both in. he was another good soul, cheerful beyond belief and a truly comforting person to be around.

he taught your brother the craft of weaponry. he taught your brother it is okay to be vulnerable at times and for awhile, you truly believed that you had found someone who cared about you enough to love you and your brother for who you truly were.

that dream died alongside his once genuine love for you both, riddled with fear of the both of you.

kunikuzushi’s tears echoed through your ears that night, it was so loud you couldn’t even hear the rain that was ever so loudly crashing against the two of you. his body was small and shrunken, and you didn’t know how you could help. your little mind may be synthetic, but it does not mean that you comprehend things as an adult would.

you only hoped holding your big brother against you and hiding your own tears would comfort him enough to stop crying.

you couldn’t stand his tears, they broke your little heart.

the last was a young boy, only a few years younger then your current mortal state.

raiden ei claimed that to keep kunikuzushi’s guard, she would have your body ever so slightly age, until you would stop abruptly by the time your form would hit 14. this would match up with kunikuzushi as his body would go from the form of an 18-22 year old physique.

this boy was once more, a very loving being. he was full of love and wonder about the world, seeing everything as an opportunity and a blessing.

your little head couldn’t comprehend his views until it was far too late for blessings or miracles.

there, lying lifeless and devoid of emotion, going everything against you knew of the boy he lay.

CLICK

you attempted to grasp your big brothers hand, but you did not see a boy who once more needed comfort, all you could see was pure loathing.

you didn’t see your big brother in that moment. you saw a stranger in the skin of kunikuzushi. his tears were not in need of wiping, in fact no tears were to be wiped at all.

you lost your brother that day, and it would be a long while before you would see him once more.

in a sense, you lost yourself that day as well, you no longer felt that out in your stomach that lingered endlessly. only a cold numbness filled the gaping hole in which a heart should lay wishing your chest.

by the time you had reached the fatui, the both of you were completely different people.

scaramouche was cold and sharped tongued, and as for yourself? you were reserved and shrunken. you had both completed the aging process that ei had implemented for the two of you, and it was as clear as day.

you had gotten ever so slightly taller, your hair a little longer and your frown weighed heavy on your lips.

your big brother was still as short as ever, but his face was no longer chubby and round. he was sharp and cold, a glare that never disappeared unless i’m the presence of one person.

you.

you hated the fatui. you hated how they treated you and your brother. unlike the humans, they didn’t even bother to pretend to care for either of your well-being’s. you were scared of most, not daring to make any form of contact with any of them. there was only one harbinger that ever spoke to you of his own volition.

tartaglia.

an annoying redhead who treated you as if you were his own kin. that alone had scaramouche seething in his seat. who was this filthy mortal and how DARE he treat HIS little brother as his own? this had the balladeer absolutely livid and so for the sake of your dear brother, you did your very best to escape the mortals clutches.

as his time in the fatui progressed, you soon found yourself truly taking on the roll as his little brother. you seemed to be the one who was there for him, never much the other way around.

of course that’s not to say he wasn’t there, it was just normally him who needed you more then you needing him. you were the one with him against your chest, not the other way around, and honestly you never cared too much. he’s you brother, why shouldn’t you be there for him?

you didn’t realise just how sad that fact had made your big brother until it had genuinely switched.

scaramouche, as you now seemed to have to adresse him as, not once even entertained the idea of you becoming a full blown fatui member. you simply sat in his office and kept him company throughout his everyday chores and when he went in missions? you rested in his quarters until he came back.

the fatui knew of your immortality and the fact you were not human, and henceforth never bothered to check in on you, not that you cared much.

the doctor struck fear in you that you couldn’t quite comprehend and columbina was almost too cheery to be trusted. the knave seemed interested in you, however you soon came to understand she ran an orphanage and decided she was only looking for a potential member of the hearth. the rest of them never much interacted with you and you therefore have no good or bad opinion on them, all you knew is that you could only trust yourself and your big brother in this hellhole.

you had lost count on how many days it had been since you escaped the clutches of the fatui, but you couldn’t care less. you were with your big brother and he had you, and that’s all you needed in life.

scaramouche thought different.

he wanted to laugh in the faces of the mortals and god who wronged his brother and himself, to mortify the deities and to have the humans begging at his feet. he wanted absolute power, and he had finally obtained the key item to acquire this dream of his.

had anyone asked you if you feared your brother kunikuzushi, you would have laughed in their face. if someone asked you if you feared your brother scaramouche, even just slightly, you could not give an answer.

you were yet to meet this ‘damned blonde runt’ that your brother so very much despised, however you could only hope in a time like this, she might just be able to save your big brother. he claims she is nothing but a pathetic little worm that he could easily discard by the time he reaches divinity, however you had heard of the deeds she had performed for the other nations of teyvat, and you had a feeling she was going to do the same thing for sumeru.

your feelings were correct.

your big brother was falling, and there wasn’t anything you could do about it. he told you to not interfere by the time lumine came, to stay hidden in order to protect you from exposure. to protect himself from people who would use his little brother to exploit him.

too bad you love him a bit too much to allow him to fall like this. he had just quite literally lost his heart right after gaining it, and the pure horror within his vocal cords as he begged the archon of dendro to spare his heart was heavy on your little ears. you couldn’t take it any longer.

“KUNIKUZUSHI NO” you pleaded, you begged the girls to help your brother, however they just watched as he fell lifelessly. so, as you’ve always done and will continue to do, you ran to him.

he only mumbled a ‘get away from me’ and a ‘what if they see you?’ before he finally fell into unconsciousness, and that was the last straw.

all you felt in your body was a frozen and bitter hatred. you felt disappointed. wasn’t this supposed to be the ever caring saviour of teyvat? the girl who makes friends with the snap of her fingers and fights to protect ALL??

all you saw was a fake, a fraud.

ice shot out from the bottom of your heels, icing the entirety of the floors around the workshop. you were screaming.

the room was slowly icing itself around you as you held your unconscious brother in your arms. the panic was visible in the travellers companions voice, freaking out that they’re trapped in the room and that the ice is closing in, however you could only feel your imaginary heart beating harshly within your chest, pounding on your synthetic rib cage and begging to be released from the clutches of ice growing within it.

the only thing you heard before your body collapsed was a gentle tune, a tune of true harmony.

you awoke to the soft breathing of your brother next to you, seemingly in a blissful rest. instinctively, you raised your body and clutched him tightly, startling him awake. you took in your surroundings before letting him go, him reluctantly sitting up and grasping your shoulder, slouching on you.

in came the little nahida, with a tray of tea and some traditional sumerian snacks on the side.

“you’re finally awake you two! i’ve been waiting for the both of you for ages!” her little singalong voice chimed, puffy cheeks graced with a warm smile. you and kunikuzushi share a glace at eachother, almost in a “what the fuck are we doing here?” kinda look. the young archon took note of your confusion and decided to explain.

“we rescued the both of you from the doctors clutches and have been nursing you back to health! after (y/n) had gained his cryo vision, another vision slowly descended and rested on the chest of the balladeer. the anemo vision seemed to swirl a warm breeze around the both of you as the ice spread as the room started to freeze in on itself. thankfully, i was able to get everyone out uninjured, however we had unfortunately encountered the 2nd fatui harbinger, also known as the doctor. he claimed the fatui had ownership over the both of you and wanted both you and the gnosis, however i bargained that as long as he shut down all his twins, as well as giving us the both of you, he could have both of the gnosis’ i possessed!”

nahida seemed almost too cheery, however you refused to comment on it. all you did was squeeze your bothers free hand as he held you protectively, his guard instinctively high in the presence of a god. smiling softly to yourself for the first time in forever, you rested on the shoulder of your big brother.

you were finally in safe hands.

sumeru’s most notable duo, the young wanderer and (y/n) explore around the lands together, hand in hand. one in his early 20s and the other in his teenage years. though they never seem to age, sumeru does not question it. the elder with a sharp tongue and the younger apologising profusely for his big brothers harsh words. the elder studying in the akedemiya under the request of the lesser lord, and the younger encouraging him to do his best.

the elder keeping his guard up so the younger can finally enjoy his everlasting youth, after giving it up for so many years for the sake of himself. hand in hand, kunikuzushi knew you two would finally be able to rest.

just the two of you, until the end of time. <3

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x male reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x male reader #scaramouche #genshin scara #scaramouche x male reader #scaramouche x reader #kinda angsty but it gets fluffy #sibling hcs #family hcs #genshin sibling hcs #this actually took me so long you have no idea #the burnout went CRAZY #but i’m proud of it (kind of)

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nishloves · 4 months

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unsurity (tartaglia)

words : 1.4k // childe x reader // fluff, narrative

you were always sure that tartaglia wouldn't notice you at all; he valued strength before anything and you weren't strong— at least not stronger than him— not strong enough to be even called an "outstanding" paladin. but the day he saw you defeat a bunch of fatui agents in chess and soon got defeated himself when he challenged you, you saw a switch flip in his eyes.

you were sure that you won't get any special attention from the harbinger; he always knew that you were a capable agent but you weren't anything worthy of his attention— after all, you were just a normal but clever agent; slowly but surely climbing up your ranks in fatui. but soon, he started to observe just how easy it is for you to learn even the most complex of plans, understand nexus of convoluted theories and researches and how easy it is for you, to put those said plans in action, even leading when required to.

you were sure that childe was a man who valued strength above all; yes, he was a straightforward, serpentine and a loyal man, but under that mask of friendly-outgoing man, was a war hungry lunatic, who swore his life to the tsaritsa, who survived on the lone adrenaline of battles and mysteries to be unfolded, a brute living with lust for bloodshed, it was hard to surprise him but— for him, you were a sweet enigma, a cerulean bead sewn with green ones.

you were sure that the ginger-haired male always knew more than he let on; he was a man of many talents after-all; may it be his negotiating prowess, diplomatic nature or simply his strength— you always assumed it impossible to surpass him. but one day, when you were left in charge on account of his absence and were still able to pull off the best deal (which even he might've had problem to get), the male was sure that there's obviously more to you than what met the eyes.

you were sure that the eleventh always assumed for people to bow to him— to be scared of him, like hello, as if he's not one of the most dangerous persons in the world— but, the day you sheepishly admitted that answering to the eleventh harbinger made you quite nervous, his eyes were wide with shock. the sole harbinger who was never known to exploit his sub-ordinates, if he could, he certainly became even kinder to them— rather than tripling their training in case of mistakes, he only doubled them now. well, it was still better than the way the other harbingers disposed of the weak links to their dungeons or simply put up their 'wanted' posters.

you were sure that a fighter like "lumine" would be the one to catch his eyes— she might just be a bit above average with her brains, but her brawns, connections and integrity compensated for everything else— you wondered if she was even stronger than the harbingers— which didn't seem too far-fetched a theory, she was an outlander after all. but she also hated the fatui, without caring about about their end goal; there were evil people everywhere, no? so why would she hold prejudice against every fatui member? you wondered just why it was hard for lumine to grasp that fact— yet, you chose not to say anything, you weren't in her shoes.

you were sure that your leader was head over heels for the traveller, calling anyone "comrade" was probably the highest honor he could present to anyone. you chuckled as you witnessed one or two of their ministerings, panicking slightly as you found his eyes catch yours as you watched them but you simply bowed and left, you sincerely wished for him to stay happy.

all talents are recognized by the tsaritsa and she certainly didn't let your talent go to waste, soon you climbed up the ranks to become an official diplomat from the nation of snezhnaya, you weren't just an agent anymore. your position didn't surpass that of harbingers but, you certainly didn't need to work under them anymore- you were also shocked to know that a few harbingers- la signora, the doctor and marionette had themselves vouched for your promotion. it scared you to the core, you weren't under childe's protection now- you were free, independent- but shackled enough for other harbingers to use you as a puppet for their missions- and you wouldn't have enough authority to deny them either.

you were sure of the fact that you were fucked when the doctor asked you to visit sumeru with him- to handle political and diplomatic issues from his behalf as he works on his own research- but, another harbinger had requested of your help at the same time and the tsaritsa deemed it more appropriate, to aide this other harbinger at work. the other work wasn't a piece of cake- none of your work is, but ningguang was quite hard to please, you would pray that you never negotiate with her again.

you were sure that no one would care to console you after your probably hardest mission till date- you were exhausted- spent, your brain felt fried. so when you felt a strong arm grip your shoulder you didn't even have enough strength to shake it away- honestly, you probably couldn't even if you were healthy. you tilt your head as you looked at the ruffled red locks- they seemed fluffy. you smiled as you stared up at him. "good evening, lord," you said as the harbinger smiled at you- passing you a coffee to drink- your favorite one too! you giggled as you took the drink from his hands, to exhausted to register what was happening in front of you as you grinned at childe.

"your girlfriend might get jealous, my lord."

you saw his brows quirk up quizzically as he stared at you, "what girlfriend?"

"lumine?"

"she's not my girlfriend- neither do i like her."

you were sure that this man was devoid of being vulnerable- yet when you sat next to him as he looked over at the red sunset over the white silky stretches of snezhnaya, you could feel him shiver- if only for a second. he chuckled as he closed his eyes and leaned back, "signora hated the chilly air, you know? now that i think, she hated the wind itself."

ah, so it was about her today,

"and the balladeer would scowl at me as i asked him to spar- sparring was perfect to not feel the cold."

so it is about both of them.

you simply nodded at your ex-boss, listening to him retell stories about his past days, with smiles and chuckles all along, until he falls silent- his eyes gazing at the shadow of what was the blazing red sun.

"at least one of them is alive- i am sure of that, he wouldn't die this easily."

you stared at your master as your hand involuntarily went over his, gingerly tracing small circles over his knuckles as he smiled. he didn't push your hand away and neither did he punish you.

"thankyou." was all that you heard.

you didn't expect him to drag you to snezhnaya's market at the break of the morning- on your holiday. and you certainly never expected him to loiter around the market, asking your opinions on clothes for his siblings that you haven't even seen before. he scrambled here and there for numerous souvenirs, rambling about how he can't return to morepesok empty handed.

he wasn't so cruel as to not reward you for making you work extra hard, he bought you a ridiculously expensive piece of gramet despite your protests and wrapped it around you by himself, singing praises of how you look even cuter now, and promised you to a fairly exquisite lunch too!

not before asking you to come with him- to morepesok.

you were sure that his eyes wouldn't linger on you for any longer than a few mere seconds. so when he stretched his hand across the table and held yours, you wondered if he was the "person of your dreams", someone you would readily give your heart to. you wonder if people like him, needed people like you. because you were always sure, that he'd never notice you, at least not for long.

maybe you were awfully wrong.

#genshin impact #anime #genshin x reader #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia x you #tartaglia #childe tartaglia ajax #ajax #childe x reader #childe #childe x you #childe tartagalia #childe genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin fluff #genshin fanfic #nish recs : anime

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i-literally-cant-with-this · 6 months

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A/N ::: There are a couple of people who are wholly responsible for me going off the rails like this. Thank you … I think you know who you are. I’ve NEVER dabbled in anything like this. Daydreaming or writing. So this is all very new territory to me. Cut me some slack. I know very little about this dynamic. This might be the beginning of something, it might be the last time I ever write about anything like this. I don’t know. I will list the C/W as thoroughly as I can.

TW ::: Piss stuff and a sexual relationship between DD's/lg. If that bothers you, kindly back away slowly.

C/W ::: F!reader (adult, 30’s), DD’s(2)/lg, yes, 2 daddies, separate sleeping quarters for DD’s and lg, piss denial (is that a thing?), Daddy Ei = Daddy Eijiro, Sir = Katsuki, very very slight age play/age regression (like, very little), pet names, sweetheart, good girl, sweet girl, baby girl, sweets, angel, sweet little, sweet little girl, oral F!->M & swallowing, slight exchange of precum from kiss, unprotected P->V, more F!->M oral, hair pulling, cuddling/aftercare. I think that covers it all. If I missed anything that you think is important, let’s talk. I’ll see what I can do.

WC ::: Just under 2500.

You woke up in your bed across the hall from your daddy's room. It was curious how you ended up there because you distinctly remember falling asleep in their bed, between the 2 huge men. The sky cast a gray gloom throughout the space. But that didn't dull the cute and bright decorations they had put up all around on the walls for you.

There were no noises coming from anywhere else in the house. Did they know you were awake? Were they awake? "Daddy Ei? Sir? I have to go potty. Can someone come get me please?" You used your words. Politely. Just like they had both drilled into your little brain so many times before. Sometimes gently, sometimes more rough. But you knew it all came from a place of love.

Eijiro disentangled himself from Katsuki's arms. "Our sweet girl is up. You want me to take care of her?" He whispered into Kats' ear after he kissed his cheek a couple of times to rouse him from his sleep. "Stay. You had a late night, I'll get up and get her." Eijiro tossed the blankets off of his warm, naked body and padded across the cold hardwood floor. Your room was across the hall from theirs. They liked it that way so they could easily hear you if you needed them for anything.

"Daddy Ei, Sir!? I - I gotta -" Eijiro peeked his head through the door and into your room. Your face lit up when you saw his wild red hair and the soft smile that graced his sweet face.

"I'm here, I'm here, sweet little girl. What do you need, now? Tell daddy what you need, baby." His half-hard cock bobbed side to side with each step he took toward you. He was tying his mane of hair back with a band. And his arms stretching up like that only accentuated the muscles of his arms and torso. You couldn't help but stare at him. A little string of drool that had been pooling in the corner of your mouth slipped past your freshly wetted lips.

"Daddy." You stood at the edge of your bed and raised up your arms to him. He bent over and wrapped his long limbs around your waist and hoisted you up so your legs wrapped around him. His cock was harder now than when he walked in and you could feel it brushing against your ass.

"Good morning, sweet little. Did you have good dreams last night? Where's my morning kiss, hm?" You wiggled in his arms, excited by the invitation to kiss him. "What's got you so excited this morning, huh? Were you lonely last night? Poor baby. Maybe tonight Sir will say it's ok for you to sleep in bed with us?" You nodded furiously at the prospect of getting to spend the night with both of them.

"Gotta pee, daddy. Pee with me?" Eijiro kissed your forehead and carried you through the hall to him and Kats' room. You slid down the front of his body to the floor. Your pussy brushed over his abdomen and it made you shiver with pleasure. "But ... gotta pee."

"You're so sensitive this morning, baby girl. D'ya think you can wait to go potty? Here. Down ya go, onto the bed." You stood there while he pulled your panties down. "Oohh, your panties are even wet. Do you need your daddies? Hm, right after you wake up you need your daddies to make you feel good? Come on, lay down. Be my good girl. Let’s see if we can’t all make each other feel good, yeah?” His voice was so soft against your ear. It made you melt right down where he laid you.

Eijiro stood at the edge of the bed, presenting himself like it was Christmas morning. You wrapped your hands around it, bringing his cock to your mouth and you looked up at him while slowly sucking on the dark pink tip like it was your favorite pacifier. "That's my good girl. Fuck, that's right, baby. Suck that cock like you need the milk. Uh-huh, yesss baby girl. Good girl, good girl." Eijiro played with his balls while you swirled your hands around the base of his dick and rolled your eyes back into your skull as your cheeks hollowed out around him.

Eijiro follows your mouth as you move to the middle of the bed and lay down next to Katsuki. He's awake but his eyes are closed. "Oi, what's this shit I hear about her being "my good girl"? 'S too damn early in the morning for that kinda talk. She's our good girl. Don't make me tell you again or there'll be consequences." Katsuki rolled over beside you as you continued working your lips around Eijiro. He took your chin in his hands and pulled you off of his cock with a pop. He kissed your slobbery, precum covered lips. "Good morning, sweets. Are you making daddy Ei feel good?"

You nodded, "Mm-hm. I wanted to help him, too. Do ..." Your voice and eyes trailed off from Katsuki. Feeling too shy to even ask him what you wanted. Katsuki laughed and took your hand and placed it over his heart.

"Ya wanna ask me something, sweetheart? You started to say something but stopped." Ever the observant man, he read you like a book.

"I - I wanted to know if you wanted to feel good, too, Sir." He smiled down at you. "You are such a good girl. Asking if I want to feel good, too. Yes. Of course I do. I love it when you make me feel good. Do you want to be in here, just you and me? Or do you want daddy Ei here, too?" You squealed with joy and put your arms up. Katsuki lifted your nightgown from your head slowly and gently. It made you feel so safe and loved when he was like this with you.

You moved up onto his lap. Your clothes discarded and his arms wide open, you climbed up onto his large legs, straddling his lap. "Like this, Sir?"

He hummed in approval. "Mmm-hmm. Just like that, angel." He wrapped his arms around your waist and began to guide you over the growing bulge in his boxers. "Want to see what daddy has for you, baby?" You nodded, drooling all over yourself and the thought of what he was about to show you.

Katsuki pulled his boxers down to reveal his throbbing cock. It stood up straight and proud, ready for your attention. "Go ahead, baby. Touch it." You slid your hands up his chest and down his arms and around to his waist before grabbing his dick. Tucking your chin shyly, you looked up at him and blushed. "You like it? You like Sirs hard cock, baby girl?" He asked.

You nodded. "Mm-hm. It's so pretty, Sir. May I?" Your lips pouted and your eyes pleaded with him. "Yes, baby. Go ahead and suck it." You slid down his body on your knees and leaned over, wrapping your lips around the tip of his cock and sliding down as far as you could.

"Oh, fuuuck, baby girl. Just like that. Sssuch - fuck, such a good girl for me." He said, not thinking that he had chewed Eijiro out for saying something similar not too long ago. It just felt too good with your hot, wet mouth around him for him to have any actual thoughts other than blowing his load in your sweet little mouth.

"Mmmm, Sir, can I suck you until you cum in my mouth, please? Pretty pleeease? I want to make you feel good." He growled at your words, feeling himself already getting closer and closer to cumming.

That was until Eijiro spoke up. He was so quiet that you both forgot he was in there. "What was that you were saying about her being our girl? Not 5 minutes ago, Katsuki. Tsk tsk tsk. And here you are, doing the same thing. Without an ounce of shame."

Katsuki smoothed your hair down on the back of your head and gave you a little extra push further down his shaft. "Shut up, dumbass." He huffed through his nose. "Yeah yeah yeah. Ok. Whatever. You wanna join us, idiot?"

Eijiro nodded slightly as he palmed his cock through his robe. "Wouldn't want to let our baby down, so yeah. I'll play."

"She's not ready to handle both of us just yet. We can't do that right now. She's not ready for that." Katsuki said, matter-of-factly. "But she can suck me off while you fuck her from behind." Eijiro grinned, taking his robe off and revealing his own, equally thick cock.

"Good idea. Go ahead and get up on your hands and knees for Daddy Ei and me, sweetheart." You obeyed, scooting off of Kats' legs back onto the bed on all fours. Smiling up at them both, you shook your ass at Eijiro and opened your mouth for Katsuki to pick up where you left him.

"You want me to take this sweet little pussy from behind, baby?" Eijiro said as he slid his cock along your dripping wet slit. He spread your lips with his fingers and ran his thumb over your clit, causing you to moan and push your ass back into him. "So wet already, so so wet, fuck. What a good girl." He saw your pussy clench around the tip of his finger as he praised you.

"Daddy Ei, still gotta pee, though." They looked at each other and laughed.

"Yeah. Yeah, we know, angel. Just do the best you can for us, ok?" You whined and began to protest but Katsuki filled your mouth before you could say anything else about it.

"Oohh-hohh, that's it, baby. Good girl. Takin’ me so deep right away. Fuck yes, baby." You moaned again as your nose brushed against Katsuki's wiry tufts of hair. You loved it when they praised you. You knew you were a good girl for them, but it felt so good to hear them say it.

Katsuki's hips started to buck as he got closer and closer to cumming in your mouth. You felt your own orgasm building up from the back as Eijiro rubbed your clit and fucked you. He grabbed your hair and pulled back so your head was up, your throat was stretched, and your mouth was open wide for Katsuki to finish.

"Fuuuck, baby girl, gonna - cuh, g- gonna - fuuuuck!" He cried out, pumping his hips faster and faster into your mouth as his seed shot out of him. He watched you swallow it all down and he pulled his cock out, dripping with your spit and his cum.

He kissed the top of your head and moved to the side, letting Eijiro get closer. "You ready, sweetheart? Want me to fuck this pretty little pussy until you cum all over my cock?" Eijiro said, rubbing your clit faster and faster.

You whined out loud. "Yes, daddy Ei. Please, please fuck me! Fill me up with your milk, daddy!"

Katsuki sat beside you and took your face in his hands, wiping away the tears that had pooled in the corners of your eyes from sucking him off. "That's my good girl. So fucking pretty like this." He whispered into your ear. "Now, be a good girl and cum for daddy Ei, ok?" You nodded as he continued to whisper in your ear. "Good girl. Cum all over his cock, yeah? Can you do that for us, baby? We want you to feel good, too.”

Eijiro thrust harder and faster into you, feeling his own orgasm building up. He wrapped his arms around your waist and hoisted you up, still on your hands and knees, but with him on his knees behind you. He pushed himself all the way into you and you both cried out with pleasure.

"Nnghh, gotta pee, daddyyy Eiii, still gotta peeee!"

"Go ahead, sweetheart. You're so good for us. Just let go. Let it all out." Katsuki said, still whispering in your ear. He reached down and began to rub your clit and kiss your neck as Eijiro continued to pump his hips into you and press on your bladder.

"Gonna, gonna p- OHHHH, FUCK! C- CUH- I'M CUMMING!!!" You screamed as your orgasm rocked through your body. Leaving you a shaking, soaked mess. The blankets beneath you were drenched, as well. "Oh no, sorry, Daddy Ei, sorry Sir. I - you said to, though." This was the first time they let you do that in bed.

Katsuki and Eijiro held onto you tight, letting you ride out the waves of pleasure with them. Eijiro groaned and came, filling you with his sticky cum.

You collapsed onto the bed, panting and covered in sweat, piss and cum. Katsuki pulled you close to him and wrapped his arms around you. Eijiro curled up behind you and wrapped his arm around your waist.

"We love you, baby girl. You're so good for us. Such a good girl." He kissed the back of your neck and stroked your hair. "Let's get you cleaned up. We've got a lot of work to do today, so let's get you nice and clean. Then we'll make you a big breakfast, ok?" You nodded and snuggled up against him, feeling safe and loved.

"I love you, too, Sir and daddy Ei. I'm sorry for the mess, though."

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart. It's ok. We'll take care of it." Eijiro kissed your shoulder and smiled. "You just relax. We'll handle the rest." You nodded again and closed your eyes. Feeling content and happy, you drifted off to sleep for just a little while longer in their arms.

Taglist ::: @millennialmagicalgirl @dcsiremc @darkstarlight82 @callm3senpaii @arlerts-angel

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elysianeclipxe · 1 year

Text

a lonely bed is a cold bed | enhypen jay

warnings: talk about nightmares, scared reader, boyfriend!jay

genre/au: fluff, maybe a little angst

prompts: "the bed is cold without you" and "i'll see you in my dreams"

word count: 1.1k

summary: nightmares suck, so here comes a sleepy clingy jay to ease your mind

sidenote: happy belated birthday jay!!! i hope you all like reading this and keep loving this man. he deserves so much love and support since we stan respectful men like mr park jongseong. literally just a 10 outta 10, omg i love you. here's part 2 <33

It's one of those nights again where your thoughts are keeping you up right after being roused from another nightmare. Time and time again, it just seems to be happening more often these days. You're tired and just want some needed sleep but no matter how hard you try, those images continue to flash in your mind when you close your eyes. "Guess it's another sleepless night for me," you whisper, slowly slipping out of bed and placing a light kiss on Jay's head before heading downstairs.

You head straight for the fridge to get some milk for your milk and cookies. Classic. Maybe eating something light might help you lull yourself to sleep, if not, then you'll likely read a random book and let boredom hit you.

Man, Jay sure is lucky to be able to sleep. i could be screaming my lungs out and he'd think i was the alarm or something, AHHH I WANNA BE LIKE THAT TOO

"Stupid nightmares and your shitty scenarios that freak me out. Oh come on! Where are the cookies.. right, cupboards!" You pull one of the cupboards open and squint your eyes, hands searching for the cookies you so desperately needed at that moment. Your hand stops moving when the thought pops into your head, "I swear if Jay placed those cookies on the top shelf again, he's gotta stop doing this."

Doing the logical thing, you head over to turn the lights on and– "AHHHHHHHH!! JEEZ JAY!" Figure hunched over and hand over your heart you try to ease your heart after that jumpscare from your own boyfriend. "What in the world are you doing? Last I checked, you were sleeping soundly UPSTAIRS."

Jay, in his adorable sleepy state, walks over to wrap his arms around your waist and lean his head against yours. You return the hug and instantly feel his warmth slowly surrounding you. "Woke up and saw you weren't there. I couldn’t go back to sleep… the bed is cold without you. (yawns) Decided to just look for you." He mumbles into your hair, grabbing your hands to fiddle with your fingers. "Why'd you leave me?"

Your eyes soften at his words.. When it came to Jay, he was quite a quick sleeper, and a heavy one at that. Everyone who knows him knew that when it came to sleep he would not budge and would always take it seriously. Sleep over people was the case sometimes. But for some reason, that case never really applied to you. In fact, he often refused to sleep without you in his arms, he was such a cuddlebug. No con in that though.

"I didn't mean to, I just couldn't fall back to sleep. I'm sorry baby." You pout at him feeling a little bad that he woke up just because of that. But my gosh does your boyfriend look so cute in this half asleep state. Clothes filled with wrinkles, cheek squished against your head, and hair all over the place from moving too much whilst asleep. Would it be so bad to just take a quick picture of him to set as your wallpaper? Hmmm, choices… “I’ll be back in a bit, don't worry. You can go ahead.”

He shakes his head and tightens his hold on you. “Don’ wanna, I’ll wait for you instead.” You try to convince him but every idea is shot down with a shake of his head and a grumble of an annoyed “no”.

AHHHHHHHHHHH he’s so fricking adorable, what did I do to deserve him

Even though you knew he would much rather stay awake a whole day with you than sleep without you, it wouldn’t be healthy for him. So, you cave. A sigh leaves your lips, “fine, then let’s head back to bed you big baby.”

Jay’s head shoots up and he pulls away to look at you, “really?”

“Yes really. I already feel bad for waking you up, I’d rather not have you stay awake any longer because of me.” He grins at you and gently takes your hand in his, intertwining your fingers with his. He seemed a lot more awake than earlier but you could tell he was still tired. That slow drag of his feet, a few more yawns, and the comfortable silence between you two.

Once both of you reach your bedroom he immediately gets under the blankets awaiting you to join him. But you just look at him with that hesitant look. So he opens his arms and smiles. It’s like he’s telling you to trust him and that you do. He wraps his arms around you once again and stares at you, “wanna talk about it?” Do you?

I want to, I really want to but I also don’t. It’s not worth thinking about again, I’m sorry

You shake your head and bury your head into his chest, mumbling a “sorry” to him. He chuckles and gently runs his fingers through your hair. “No need to apologise angel, if you don’t wanna talk about it then I’ll respect that.” And he meant that, you just know it.

“Don’ wanna go back to sleep Jay. What if I dream of it again? It’s all I’ve been dreaming about lately.” Jay can feel his heart break as you whimper and shake at the thought of that dream. He feels bad and frowns seeing you cuddle yourself closer to him. What you dreamt of must’ve really scared you.

So he tells you something to put you at ease. The only thing he could think of, although cringey. “I can’t promise that you won’t dream of it again. But if it does happen then I’ll.. I’ll magically appear in your dream and fight it off. I’ll protect you from whatever it is and keep you safe in my arms like how I’m doing right now. That I can promise.”

You slowly lift your head and stare at him before kissing him. You felt at ease from his words, like he lifted this heavy weight from your shoulders. Of course he knew how to help you, he always did. “Thank you, I mean it.” You whisper against his lips.

You can feel him grin. He tucks your head under his chin and places light kisses on the crown of your head. So full of love, this moment. Just the two of you in bed in the comfort of the other. So pure and it only makes you so grateful to have him as yours.

“Jay?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, angel. Sleep well, and I’ll see you in your dreams.”

Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated <33

#astrid writes🌸#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios #enha fluff #enha #enha x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen jay #park jongseong #jay x reader #park jay #jay imagines #jay fluff #park jongseong x reader #enhypen headcanons

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illubean · 5 months

Note

I have an obsession with viper, so can you do a Valorant Viper x fem reader with a bubbly personality. Where viper gets jealous over another agent flirting with the reader plz🙏

Jealousy is Green

Characters: Sabine "Viper" Callas Type: Fluff, Oneshot, Fem!reader

I would pay for this woman to be possessive over me. actually, I'd pay her to ruin my life

Warnings: none

After hearing about Viper bringing back another recruit, the agents of the Valorant protocol were buzzing with talk and excitement. They all wondered who this new mystery agent could be, and how you managed to impress their cold blooded Viper.

Upon meeting you, nearly everyone was elated. You weren't hard to get along with like many of the agents feared, instead being quite the opposite. You were an absolute joy to be around. You were helpful, a team player and always had a positive attitude. Even the self proclainmed 'lone wolf' Yoru warmed up to you quickly.

Viper was conflicted to say the least. Yes, she had expected you to get along well with majority of the team but not this well. Despite her usual attitude, she had taken a liking to you much more than the others. She knew you even before your recruitment, and you are one of the few people she trusts completely.

It's been about a week or so since she first brought you to the base. She watched from afar, sipping her coffee as you chatted with some of the deulists. She smiled ever so slightly at the sound of your laughter, before looking up to see the source.

Phoenix.

One of the most charismatic agents of the protocol. And he knew this. He was young, cheerful and insanely cocky. He currently had an arm over your shoulder, telling you bad jokes that for some reason still managed to get you to laugh. Viper's grip on her mug tightened ever so slightly as she failed to notice a certain frenchman walk into the room.

"You're green with jealousy, mon ami," he speaks, walking past her to open up a cabinet. Viper scoffs, drinking the rest of her coffee before setting her mug down and leaning against the counter.

"What the hell are you talking about, Chamber?"

"You have an eye for the new recruit, oui? You better act quick before someone else sweeps her off her feet. It might even be me!" He says, chuckling while returning to where he came from, now with a cup of coffee in hand.

Viper huffs before turning back to where you had been. She hates to admit it but Chamber was actually right for once. One thing she did know is that she refuses to lose, especially not to Phoenix. Finally, she leaves her spot in the kitchen to approach you.

"Oh, hey Viper!" you chime, noticing her before your male companion.

Without a word, she grabs your hand and pulls you off towards the lab she often worked in.

"Hey! What's going on?"

Once you get inside the door, she lets go of you, turning to face you.

"I don't like seeing you with Phoenix."

"What?" you question, raising an eyebrow at the woman. "What's wrong with- OHHHHHHHH!"

You cut yourself off with your own realization as a playful smirk makes it's way across your face. "I see what's happening here. Viper, you're greeennnnnn~"

"What does that even mean?" she sighs.

Giggling, you step closer to the woman before wrapping your arms around her.

"It means you're jealous. Jealousy is green," you answer, nuzzlng your face into her shoulder. Viper stood frozen for a moment, not used to physical affection. Slowly, she begins to relax and returns your embrace.

"Y'know, there's no need for you to be jealous. You're my favorite."

#viper valorant #valorant viper x reader #valorant viper #viper x reader #viper headcanons #viper #sabine callas #viper x you #sabine callas x reader #sabine viper callas #valorant x reader #valorant x you #valorant headcanons #valorant fanfic #valorant fanfiction

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hvly · 8 months

Text

most prized secret ft. getou suguru

— ⋆｡˚｡⋆ ｡˚ 𓆩𖥔𓆪 ˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆ —

sᴘᴇᴀᴋɪɴɢ : posted this on the wrong blog, but look who’s finally here ! i told y’all i’d post it on tuesday 🤭 never said which tuesday though. it was a long time coming, but i finally delivered. thank you @gayblade & @cu7ie for the help. truly saved this from going in the trenches. happy halloween, everybody 👹

𓆩𖥔𓆪 — disclaimer ! the following contains: getou's a straight up freak, kidnapping, body horror/amputation, mention of blood, wound kissing(?) implied noncon, reader is referred to as “his girl”, but there’s nothing gender specific

𓆩𖥔𓆪 — word count : 3.2k

“These are so pretty ! They don’t even look like they were ever damaged !” the woman exclaimed, gently placing her palm against the glass that separated her from the porcelain doll on the other side.

Getou smiled warmly as the woman marveled at the massive display of antique dolls, her head turning slowly in awe as she explored his workshop.

The last thing anyone would expect Getou Suguru to do for a living was play with dolls. Or at least that’s how it came across when he would casually say he collects and fixes antiques. When he was met with disbelieving stares and surprised “oh wow’s”, he would offer to show them his shop and let his handiwork do all the talking for him. He knew most people found it strange that a grown man would spend time fixing up dolls intended for little girls and lonely old ladies, but there was much more to it than that.

“They are, aren’t they?” he smiled, hands buried into the pockets of his smock as the woman continued to admire the delicate figures. She nodded, mouth agape as she returned to the counter Getou was leaning against. “You really fixed all of these up by yourself?” she asked, eyes unable to stray from the dolls on display for too long. Getou hummed, pushing himself off of the counter’s edge to admire his art. He opened a case, carefully taking out a doll in a white and blue laced dress into his hands, smoothing her honey blonde hair down her back as he gazed at her.

“When these precious things get sent to me, most of them are in pretty good shape.” He muses, rubbing a thumb over the doll’s delicate face. “Some are just a little dirty and faded. Nothing a little soap, water, and paint can’t fix. Others, like this pretty girl here,” he says, gently holding up the figure for the woman to see, “Are stripped of their beauty entirely.” He places the doll back on its display, slowly closing the case once it’s secured safely in place. “Broken with missing pieces, clothing torn; stripped of all their luster and dignity.”

Getou’s expression darkened a bit, his hands lingering on the display handles for a moment longer. “That someone could show such little care to something so delicate; it bothers me,” he said, indignation clear in his tone.

“But, no matter !” he exclaimed, throwing out his arms with a flourish, “I give them all the care they need to be returned to their former glory.” The woman stared, taking in all of what he had said. There was no doubt that he was talented at his craft. Restoring them didn’t seem easy, considering how half, if not all, could’ve been older than either one of them. It was nothing short of impressive.

Her eyes landed on the figurine Getou was previously holding, the doll’s subdued features a stark contrast to the rest of her bright lolita-esque appearance. “Is that one your favorite then?” the woman asked, motioning to the case the doll was in. Getou peeked over his shoulder to where she was pointing before turning back around, a gentle smile on his face as he answered.

“I love all my girls. But,” he paused, turning on his heels slightly. He motioned for the woman to come closer and whispered the last part, as if to not offend any of the dolls. “To be honest with you, there’s one I’m still working on that might just take that spot.”

The woman’s eyes lit up with intrigue as she looked around once more. Getou silently walked behind the counter as her head whipped from side to side in search of his current work in progress. He undid his smock and pulled the paint splattered piece over his head, his long raven hair messily draping his shoulders. The woman approached again as he was pulling his hair up into a more manageable style.

He smiled kindly as she returned, grabbing his apron and wiping his hands on a spot that was relatively clean. “Were you able to find what you were looking for?” he asked playfully, fully aware that the woman was never going to. The woman sighed in defeat, shaking her head with a good natured laugh. “No, but I doubt you’d just have an unfinished project out in the open for all to see, right?” she said, taking one last glance around the many cases in the store.

Getou chuckled lightly as he hung up his apron. “Well, this one’s a bit of a passion project. So it’s for my eyes only I’m afraid,” he spoke over his shoulder before turning to move from behind the counter space. “I like to work on it when I have some free time,” he added, kicking one leg over the other and leaning slightly against the counter’s edge. He stood with his fingers interlocked, a patient smile on his lips.

The woman hummed, catching onto Getou’s silent signal that it was time to wrap up her little visit. “Well, that’s a shame. I’m sure it would’ve been beautiful,” she said, pushing herself from the counter to take her leave. Getou thanks the woman for the compliment, walking her to the store’s entrance. The overhead bell rings as he opens the door for her, the conversation coming to an end with ‘thank yous’ and ‘take cares’ being exchanged.

Getou stands at the store entrance, waving after her until he was certain she was out of sight. With a sigh, he locked the front door and flipped the “open” sign to “close”, signaling the end of his day.

“Now then,” he muttered, walking over to a display far in the back and reaching behind it. A loud click sounded from behind the shelves before it began to slowly swing open, rumbling softly as it did. An engraved wooden door revealed itself from behind the shelf, an intricate design carved into the mantel overhead. Getou dug a key out of his pocket, unlocking the hidden door and pushing it open.

The heavy door groaned as it slowly opened, a steady shhh as the bottom of it dragged across the floor. The inside of the room was barely lit, overcasted in a soft white light. It wasn’t enough to see anything in detail, but it was enough to make out there was indeed furniture. A bitter sweet smell permeated throughout the room. A combination of cleaning products and a faint trace of a sickeningly sweet perfume. Getou clicked his tongue upon the scent hitting his nostrils, his face scrunched up in discontent. He had to remember this room didn’t have the greatest ventilation system and to maybe tone back the cleaning.

Getou reached over to the light switch, slowly turning the dial to an appropriate brightness. The room was cutely decorated, cream colored walls with various accents of soft pinks and white. Pretty stuffed animals and plush throw pillows were scattered freely (but neatly) around the room. It looked like something straight off of a soft girl’s pinterest board.

Well…with the exception of the operation cart and the statuesque person who sat silently in bed in the farthest corner of the room.

“Hello, my love,” he said, his voice soft as he made his way across the room. “I see you’re sitting up today. That’s quite the improvement,” He gazed at you tenderly, his hand gently caressing your face. He placed a gentle kiss on your temple and his lips lingered for a few seconds longer before he moved back, a placid smile gracing his features. You made no motion that would suggest you acknowledged his presence or if you even recognized someone was there to begin with.

You stared far off into the distance, eyes void of any emotion or awareness. Getou tucked his leg under him as he sat on the bed, pulling the medical cart placed beside it closer to his side. An array of medical instruments were neatly lined up on the stainless steel tray, along with various bandages, gauzes and antiseptic cleaning sprays. “Maybe we'll work on using our voice today, hmm?” He asked as he pulled on his latex gloves, watching you intently as they snapped against his skin.

You blinked at the sound, something reminiscent of a flinch. Getou cooed at your – frankly, interpreted – reaction, his hands coming to gingerly cup your face. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, dearest,” he reassured, rubbing calming circles on your cheeks with his thumbs. He adjusted to face you, carefully pulling the blanket that covered you to the side to reveal what should have been your legs.

Instead, there was a white casting that ended right before the knee. Same for your arms, surgical tape wrapped securely around where the rest of your forearm would be. Getou exhaled, cautiously taking one of your legs into his hand. He slowly and carefully unwrapped the material, going over and under in one smooth motion until it was fully unraveled into a pile on the floor. He breathed a sigh of relief upon the sight of your wound. The dark purple bruises along the stitches were clearing up, fading nicely into your natural hue. The stitches themselves also seemed to be faring well, the material less prominent against your skin from when it was first put there.

The wound was in the early stages of healing, your skin starting to mend back together with a fresh scab to aid in the process. Getou rubbed a gloved thumb along the suture before looking back at you with a small grin. “It’s healing really well,” he said, reaching over to grab gauze and saline solution to care for your stitches. He hummed to himself as he wet the cloth, being careful not to over saturate it. “In a couple more days, I’d say these stitches will completely dissolve.”

With his free hand Getou steadied your leg and prepared to clean your wound. He glanced at you one more time. “Alright, you know the drill. If you feel any discomfort,” he paused, giving your thigh a firm but gentle squeeze. “Let me know.” The last bit sounded something like a plea rather than a general statement. You continued to stare flatly at the wall and Getou took your occasional blinks as confirmation that you understood him.

Getou took a deep breath before exhaling, dabbing the damp gauze along the stitches. Once it was thoroughly cleaned, he took a dry gauze and patted it dry. He quietly repeated this process again on your other leg, the clattering of objects on the surgical tray being the only sound in the room. As he worked, Getou let his mind wander to fill the silence.

How long has it been since he last heard your voice? A couple weeks now? Maybe longer? God, it felt like an eternity had passed since then.

You were someone who frequented Getou’s shop often. Bouncing around display cases, enamored by the beauty of the countless dolls, childlike wonder dancing in your eyes. At first he paid you no mind, treating your visits like he would an elderly woman coming to reminisce and tell him stories of “how she had a doll just like this” when she was younger. Polite and available if you had any questions or just wanted him to lend an ear. But the more you visited, the more he felt drawn to you. Your guilelessness intrigued him, your excitement to see dolls you had already seen at least 50 times by now never waning.

Then one day you bounded up to him, smile wide and eyes bright.

Full of joy and genuine curiosity. It was like a bottle of pure sunshine was opened right in the center of his shop. He felt warm in his soul when you looked at him, your jovial energy palpable and infectious to any and everybody. Getou couldn’t remember when he genuinely felt so calm and happy in the presence of another person. He wanted to bottle up this feeling and get drunk off it for the rest of his life.

“Do you have any new dolls you’re working on? I’d love to see it when you finish.”

At the time, he hadn’t received any damaged or donated dolls. But he knew at that moment, you were what his shop was missing. What he was missing. Among the shelves upon shelves of porcelain figurines he possessed, he had nothing that encapsulated what you embodied. Full of glee, full of youth, full of wonder. He needed you for his shop. For himself.

In the beginning, you kicked and screamed, swearing someone would find you and expose him for the sick bastard he was. Cursing his existence and spewing phrases and words that he was positive you didn’t mean. Getou let you vent your frustrations with no threat of punishment. He let you scream, hit, bite as much as you wanted. It worked more in his favor than it did yours. Besides, it’s not like you could run away. He had made sure of that from the start. But now…

Getou was pulled from his thoughts when he heard something. A choked cry. Your voice.

“____?” He snapped his head up with wide eyes, sure his ears were deceiving him. He looked at you in stunned silence. Your face was wet with sadness, tears and snot steadily streaming down your cheeks and collecting to drip off your chin. Your mouth was open as your chest rose and fell rapidly, occasional sniffles and whines leaving your lips. Getou’s eyebrows scrunched in concern, his hands instinctively coming up to wipe your face. “What’s wrong?”

He paused, gloved hand inches away from your tear stained cheek. Where his palm should have been blue, it was red. He looked down at your leg, quietly gasping at the sight. The sheets underneath you had also been stained, a consistent line of crimson seeping from the once closed wound. Your stitches had torn from the pressure, peeling back your scab and opening your wound again. That would’ve been an easy enough fix had Getou not been lost in his thoughts and applying anything but gentle care to it.

He clicked his tongue, cursing under his breath at his negligence. He removed his gloves, tossing them somewhere on the ground and cupping your face with his hands. “I’m so sorry, my darling. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said softly, wiping underneath your eyes with his thumbs. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you. You know that, right?” He looked at you fondly, but expectantly. Silently praying that after so long, you’d acknowledge him again. That you wouldn’t look at him with empty, blank eyes.

That you’d speak to him again.

He searched your misty eyes for that sign, but was met with nothing but silent tears and quiet sniffles. Getou sighed and stood from the bed, gathering the soiled bandages and gloves to be disposed of. He made his way across the room, opening a drawer to gather more bandages to dress your wound. Various sized bandages rolled to the front, snow white fabric unraveling then neatly wrapping itself back up. Getou stood for a moment, hands placed on either side of the counter space.

He gripped the corners tightly, the cool marble squeaking underneath his hands as he stared into the drawer. He was so close to hearing your voice. So close to that pure, unadulterated joy you possessed. And you were denying him that. Was this your way of trying to get back at him? Keeping him from the one thing he wanted most? What he so desperately needed?

Getou was a relatively patient man. He could wait for the things that were worth it. But, this? You? There was no more waiting.

He closed the drawer and turned on his heels in your direction, taking steady strides back to your bedside. Your eyes were closed now and your breaths were steady and even. Getou’s gaze was locked on your face. Dried tears streaked your cheeks, giving you the appearance of a crying angel. Even so, you were still as beautiful as ever. He sat in his previous spot, looking down at your reopened wound.

The opening glistened in the soft lighting, the former trail of blood drying and beginning to start the process of scabbing again. He hovered a finger over the tear, following the outline down to the blood soaked sheet. He would never hurt you. He lowered himself to your residual limb and gently kissed it, following the stitch line. He continued leaving kisses up your leg, leaving a trail of bloody lip prints up to your thigh

Getou peeked up at you, lips still pressed to your supple skin. You stayed still, eyes still shut as if you didn’t feel a thing he was doing. He would never hurt you. Getou opened his mouth to let his teeth graze against your skin, saliva dripping out of his mouth. He bit into it hard enough to leave a mark, but not hard enough to really hurt. His black eyes were trained on you, ready to catch any change.

He bit harder, spit dripping down your leg. His other hand snaked up to cup your leg, fingers sliding underneath it. His knuckles rested on the bloodied sheets as his thumb traced over your wound. He would never hurt you. Getou pressed lightly into it, his digit being met with soft meat.

Your eyes fluttered for a moment, but remained closed. Getou frowned, digging his teeth into the meat of your thigh. He would never hurt you. A small whimper rumbled in your throat, your eyebrows scrunched together in discomfort. Getou kept biting while continuing to push his thumb into you. You were almost there. He just wanted to hear your voice. The last thing he wanted to do was..

“Pl-”

His mouth was no longer attached to your thigh and he felt a cool breeze on his thumb. You were looking at him again, eyes wide open. You looked like a frightened deer. Big eyes glittering with tears that threatened to spill with one blink. Your lip quivered as you opened your mouth. Getou sat up, watching you intently.

Your voice barely came out above a whisper. It was shaky and breathy. “Pl…Please…stop. Hurts.”

Getou stared silently before chuckling softly to himself. He pushed a few strands of hair out of his face, an unsettlingly soft smile spreading across his face. He inched closer to you, stopping mere inches from your face. You looked away, eyes averted towards the ceiling to keep yourself from crying.. He gently pulled your chin back in his direction, stroking your bottom lip with his bloodied thumb before kissing you.

“There’s my girl,” he breathed. He placed kisses along your jaw and into the crook of your neck, whispering sweet words into your skin with each one. You took a shaky breath, closing your eyes tight as he slowly ran his hands up your sides and under your gown. “Please…,” you whispered, warm tears beginning to stream down your face. Getou shushed you, placing a kiss to your wet cheek. He looked at you with the same kind and tender eyes he had when you came to visit him in his shop. The same eyes that lured you here. And you couldn’t help but sob

“You know I’ll never hurt you. I take care of all of my girls.”

— ⋆｡˚｡⋆ ｡˚ 𓆩𖥔𓆪 ˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆ —

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reneeyxs · 19 days

Text

dating hadeon.

❛ !¡ pairing; hadeon x gender neutral!reader.

❛ !¡ summary; you have found yourself in quite the situation, have you not ? divine eyes peering over you, filled with what could be affiliated with… adoration. handle him carefully, no one knows what a traitor god might be capable of doing.

❛ !¡ warnings; idk bro’s a redflag himself.

❛ !¡ a/n; i hate him sm hope he dies.

SMITTEN.

. the infamous traitor god of the world commonly referred to as ipalon IV. the one that witnessed the rising of the city of cheori and tried with all his might to bring it down from the shackles of his prison in the rift of the planet, using his minions in an attempt to shake the heavens above that have denied him of his previous doings. so much to correct a world seen as sinful in his own eyes darkened by his selfish desires, and a cowardice that… fell apart as he caught a glimpse of you.

. that poor little you, survivor of the numerous wars that kept happening at the surface. deciding ultimately to go live at the outskirts of the main city, near a forest and close to the harbor in case of emergencies or for an ease in grocery and maintaining relationships with others. quite the unusual way to live in his eyes, as many would cling to all they knew and stay along with their peers.

. from now on, he would either task the young otherworldly woman in tagging along, letting her do as she wished as long as he got the reports he wished to hear, or he would send your way a small butterfly that would stay concealed in a corner of the room you are in, burning away to a crisp the second you were a tad too close from finding him. leaving behind strange ash that you can either ignore or discard without a single care in the world. though, i recommend the latter, as the former would cause another butterfly to appear from the remains of the last one once your mind cleared away any suspicion. slowly, he will stop asking the blue haired individual to watch over you, and will do the job himself with his small insect.

. he will be satisfied with only watching from afar for a short while, simply peering over you to see the daily life you are engrossed in. wake up, shower, breakfast, work, lunch, work, home, shower, diner, sleep, and rewind. quite the boring routine for him, but it had to be expected knowing that he used to be the executor representative of the gods when his glory was spread far and wide, days filled with bloody battles and endless outings everywhere around the world to catch who the others deemed as criminals. meanwhile, human life has always lacked those exciting flavors he has been craving.

. but, one day, upon getting back home, you may find a small portable talisman waiting for you on your pillow. neatly folded in an expensive fabric. a silvery chain attached to the lonely image of a butterfly etched with rubies. rub it twice, and see as you are taken to an everlasting garden, dying in a winter that will never cease to exist. a figure sitting all alone, waiting for you under a safe cover. a warm cup of your favorite beverage is awaiting for you,

“won’t you come over ?”

WOOING.

. after quite the discussion of your life with the mysterious man called hadeon, discussion that felt more like being questioned as if you were at the last line of your life, and he has a way to look at people, making them agree to his very wishes, or perhaps he can read minds or control people, you have no clue right now, you were quite delighted with the fact that you could return home. only to be lost in a forest, guess that talisman isn’t that precise. it forced you to go back to see him, only to realize it was merely a small scheme on his end to have you come back and hear your voice as you asked for his kind help, under the promise of visiting him quickly afterwards.

. he is, undoubtedly, a tease, and he unfortunately knows what he is doing very well. having been used to having gods and humans and demons alike ready to offer their lives for him in his younger years — not like he lost on his pretty looks. and he has a way of doing it that would certainly make your heart runs laps all around the place: fingers brushing against yours gently, before holding it with an unseen softness as his thumb brushed over your knuckles while he pulls you close, face drawing dangerously close to yours as a mischievous smirk makes its way in his expression, asking the question he had previously uttered with a lower tone. no matter your reaction, he will always end up chuckling under his breath.

. anyone that might be bothering you would be disposed of, their body either found in the deepest parts of the closest river available (the young lady taking care of them under his orders is not known to be clean, unfortunately). try to bicker with him all you want, your words will fall upon deaf ears and you remain lucky that he is not keeping you against his wishes in this little sanctuary.

. he will not stop watching over you, even doing it openly now by letting his butterfly rest atop flowers that have been gifted to you, your body reacting too late as it all burned to ashes together. why would you want gifts from others when the people working under him deliver gifts to your front door ? consider yourself fortunate enough that the gifts aren’t the severed heads of your friends, but instead the leaves of your favorite tea to make one at home or stolen jewelry of deceased elderly people.

. he will not confess, not out of pride or because of an ego a bit too big for who he became and what he is now, but rather because he wants to be sure of your feelings first. sure, he might have the insight of the factor that your simple tolerating of his advances has slowly morphed into accepting them and, on rare occasions, returning them however you wish to. but he won’t deny that seeing you stutter over your words, which ends up with shoving the bouquet of flowers right towards him as he caught it efficiently, walking away grumbling at the falsely innocent tilting of his head and the rise of an eyebrow. you cannot leave though, and when you look back at him, the small talisman is swinging between his fingers. kiss him better, will you ? you hurt his little feelings now. no, not the cheeks, the lips this time.

. you cannot try to strangle him to calm yourself down at his winning smirk, and if you try to ignore him you will have an annoyed lady at your doorstep asking for you to visit him before she goes crazy from listening to him all day long.

ENGAGEMENT.

. now, you are stuck with him, and it will only get worse from there. you will not blame him if your house suddenly burns down, will you ? he did absolutely nothing at all, he cannot do anything while being stuck in that lonely place without you by his side. you can still go into the world, visit the harbor, walk around for a bit. but at the end of the day, he is the only one waiting for you, as your friends either tremble and run away upon spotting you on the streets, or are nowhere to be found ever again.

. but he is so sweet to you too, who would pass down such a beautiful love ? his warm hands cupping your face, his nose rubbing against yours before he kisses you all over, leaving a tingling feeling inside of your chest. before bringing you into his arms, sitting you on his lap as you have the luxury of playing with his hair he cherishes so much. scratching his scalp, braiding the strands and soothing his mind away. don’t be so foolish as to think his hold might falter, it will only tighten, surely, he is a selfish individual, and your affection is his.

. over time, more and more of your things would end up at his place. it would start with bringing a blanket as he told you the stars would be easily seen tonight thanks to the meteor shower, and you will need it to be comfortable. safely wrapped in it as your head stays over his chest. sweet words coated with sugar and honey uttered to your mushy brain as sleep overtakes you. aren’t you feeling so good here, with him and only him ? sure, there is quite a lot of snow here, but the temperature is always nice, except during the nights, but he will be there to hold you when your body becomes frail and shaky. isn’t he the best ? caressing your cheek with a finger and rubbing your sides with the other hand as a comforting gesture. his lips won’t leave your skin, and his marks will always linger.

. slowly, you will bring clothes to stay here if needed when you spend multiple days by his side. a small part of the place slowly became yours and yours only. he never peeks into your belongings, preferring to watch from afar with a small cup as you arrange things to your liking. almost as if you were considering staying with him forever, isn’t that cute ? like a true, married couple, moving in together in the same place to spend the rest of their lives. only the two of them. you won’t need anybody else, and he also won’t need anybody else.

. and soon enough, you won’t want to leave too. you have everything here with him. you are being loved, you are your little trinkets, you are in an endless garden filled with snow that will never melt and you can get all the food you want. ask, and the two working under him will go search whatever you want. don’t cry too much when the talisman suddenly stops working, he will find a way to make a new one, he promises. until then, you can stay with him all you want now. poor you, having missed the crossing of his two fingers behind his back as you dozed off on his shoulder.

TAGGING: @aventxsha; @astrililu; @dxmoness; @lilyuwon; @lxdymoon0357; @sweetlyvibe; @trailedstar

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farfromstrange · 6 months

Text

Do No Harm

CHAPTER THREE: Broken Glass

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: You have a really shitty night, and it only gets worse until a man in a black mask saves your life.

Warnings for this chapter: ANGST, graphic description of domestic violence (flashback), panic attack, mention of blood & injury, alcohol abuse, sexual assault, Reader tries to play the hero and it backfires (might piss you off)

Word Count: 7.6k

A/n: I worked very long and hard on this one, that's why I didn't post it last week. This is very heavy, so heed the warnings. I hope you all had a lovely Christmas! I’m spending New Year’s in London, and I won’t have my Laptop, so I’m already wishing you guys a happy new year! Spend the day with people you love. Do something that you love. Just enjoy yourselves and we’ll see each other again in 2024!

Read Chapter 3: Broken Glass here on AO3

The loneliness eats you alive like a parasite. As soon as the door of your apartment shuts behind you, the noise coming from the city disappears into the distance, and you are faced with the silent reality of being utterly alone.

It feels like you are living in a haunted house in the middle of nowhere, not a small apartment in the heart of Hell’s Kitchen.

There are no picture frames on the dresser in the hallway. The two plants you bought for yourself are slowly dying of thirst. The fridge is empty. You don’t own any decorations—you don’t even have a shelf for all of your books, and more than half of them are medical research material, anyway.

You may be living in this place, but it isn’t yours. After two years, you are no closer to settling down than you were when you first came to New York.

Every day, you ask yourself how long this peace is going to last, and every day ends the same—you’re still safe, but you are deeply unsettled. Your thoughts keep turning against you like demons that you can’t exorcize. Every day, you wonder when you will have to run away again because your past has a way of catching up to you when you least expect it, so you remain on edge. That’s how you live your life.

If you knew how to accept peace, maybe you would have settled down and personalized your apartment by now, but then again, do you even know who you are? Do you remember the girl you once were? Your memories of the past are scrambled.

You can only remember what it was like to live in a bubble, to be forced into a cage like a bird and turned into someone you never thought you would become. You remember running. You haven’t been yourself in years. Even if you wanted to, there is nothing left for you to put up that would feel like it belongs to you without feeling like pretentious bullshit at the same time. So, you don’t even bother.

It’s lonely though, having nothing and no one. Claire is your friend, sure, but you had nothing and no one back then, and you still barely have anyone now. She’s your friend, but that’s all she is.

You can’t admit it out loud, of course. You can’t admit that you feel lonely, and you can’t pick up your phone and call the one friend you do have to take up on her offer because of reasons not even the rational part of your brain wants to understand.

The lamp in the living room casts a dim light over the main area of the apartment and the open kitchen. You place Matt’s business card on the kitchen counter.

Should you call him? A million questions go through your mind, firing rapidly like bullets from an automatic gun. You’re not even sure if you want to call him. You felt comfortable around him, but enough to abandon all your principles? If you call him, he might ask you out, and what do you do then? You don’t date, not anymore, and you definitely won’t let a stranger into the mess that is your life. You can’t do that to a kind soul like him. Matthew is special in a way that you can’t put into words, and that makes the decision so much harder.

You know exactly what’s holding you back. It’s the same invisible string of feelings that is keeping you from personalizing your living space. You don’t know when you might need to run, and then what?

Your lungs contract. Air is a lot harder to come by when you’re all wound up. You hope that a nice glass of white wine will help put some things into perspective. Fooling around with someone can’t hurt, but anything more than that could lead to a catastrophe. You have had enough of those for a lifetime.

You like keeping to yourself. It keeps your heart safe. What happened today, meeting Matthew after you so miserably sought a place to be alone, it was a coincidence—a welcome distraction. And you seemed so like-minded at first glance. He was intriguing and you’re still wondering about his injuries and how he got them, but that’s not the point. None of this is.

The point is that you are not the kind of person he thinks you are. That’s why you can’t call him. And strangely, that hurts a lot more than simple heartbreak, knowing that you have been ruined for all relationships to come because you made one wrong choice and fell down the rabbit hole—unfortunately not into Wonderland.

“Shit!” you curse when a drop of wine lands beside the glass.

You lick your finger, trying to wipe the liquid on the counter with a paper towel. In the process, your hand accidentally brushes against the glass, and the sole touch sends it hurdling to the floor. You try to catch it, but the fragile glass has already hit the tiles of your kitchen floor. It shatters into a million pieces.

The sound reverberates in your ears. Like a shot in the dark, your body is jolted awake into a state of panic. The crash reminds you of hell, and the all-too-familiar flames start touching your skin again, set out to burn you alive. It’s a feeling you know by heart—a feeling you wish you weren’t so painfully aware of.

Glass breaks before your inner eye.

You were trying to make him a drink, you remember. He wanted Whiskey, no ice, and at perfect room temperature—it was always the same. After the first black eye that you had to hide under mountains of concealer, you taught yourself to perfect it. You didn’t want to disappoint him. You didn’t want to get into trouble.

You spent more money than you could afford on the one brand of Whiskey he always told you to get, even if that meant traveling to a store miles away from home. He always wanted that Whiskey, and who were you to deny him?

You didn’t pay attention for one second, and the glass shattered on the kitchen floor. Your heart stopped. The last drops of the brown liquid spilled everywhere, including your clothes. The glass was his favorite. Expensive, too. It broke because you weren’t looking. You were so stupid.

Fear froze the blood in your veins. Your heart stopped beating. You couldn’t breathe. You reached for a cloth with shaky hands, trying to pick up the pieces in time, but the sound of the glass breaking—that godforsaken loud sound that reminded you of obnoxious screaming—was instantly followed by an even louder echo of angry footsteps.

Over time, you became painfully aware of those footsteps. You knew how they sounded on wooden floorboards, carpet, and the stairs in the hallway of the apartment building. You still remember how they sounded when he was wearing those squeaky sneakers on the linoleum floors of the hospital.

It’s a sound that always sends shivers down your spine; everyone has those sneakers, but his footsteps were much heavier, much more demanding even when he wasn’t demanding anything.

And back then, you knew what would follow as soon as you heard them.

“What is this?” his voice reached your ears.

Your throat tightened. You didn’t even dare to look up. If you had met his eyes, you would have seen your fate in them, and the empty black hole that was his soul. “I’m sorry, I– I lost my grip and–and I dropped it,” you said. You thought that would fix it. How foolish of you, to have faith in someone who never had faith in you. “I’m so sorry,” you couldn’t stop repeating it.

You thought this time, he would listen to your apology. He would let you fix what you broke. You would have done anything for his approval, for his praise, and for him not to be mad at you. You didn’t want to fight. The evening had started so well. He even kissed you when he came home because you finished dinner in time. He smiled because you managed to clean even the last crevices of his apartment after your shift. He promised he would reward you.

You fucked up. You knew you fucked up, but you prayed to God that his good mood would keep you safe this time. That he would give you a pass because you have been so incredibly good. You’ve been the best girlfriend he could have asked for, so obedient, never questioning, and always on his side—you were wrong. So, so wrong.

He saw the empty bottle of Whiskey. He picked it up. “That was the last sip of my good Whiskey,” he remarked.

You stopped moving.

“I’ll pick up a new one,” your voice was barely above a whisper. “Stores are still open. This is my fault. Let me clean this up and I will–”

“You had one job.”

The sound of his voice turned cold, colder than usual. You exhaled a shaky breath.

“You had one job,” he said. “I go to work, I save lives, and I teach young, useless doctors like you how to do the same. All I asked of you was to cook dinner, clean the apartment and make me a fucking drink.”

With each word, his volume ascended. Your shoulder started vibrating, but you forced yourself to hold your breath. You couldn’t let the fear show. Being afraid, in his eyes, equaled weakness, and he would prove to you time and time again what weakness truly meant to him. He would turn you into a weak mess and laugh about it. You were trying your hardest to avoid any more unnecessary punishment. You had to tread lightly. He was in charge, not you.

And you breaking the glass was so stupid, all you wanted was to surrender. In your twisted mind, he was right. It was just a glass, but he told you how useless you were many times before, and you were slowly starting to believe it.

Without him, you were nothing. No one else could have possibly put up with you.

“What do you do?” He reached out and slammed the empty bottle on the ground.

You barely had time to react before some of the bigger shards hit your cheek, slicing the skin. It took you a second to process, the pain not even kicking in because you expected his hand to come down on you, not an entire glass bottle. The trajectory almost hit your eye. Almost.

“You spill my fucking drink!” this time, he yelled.

A sob escaped your lips. There it was, the smallest sign of fear and pain.

He rolled his eyes. You shouldn’t have sobbed, you knew that. “Get up,” he said.

You winced when he grabbed you and yanked you off the floor. The trail of blood ran hot on your cold cheek. It stung. Your heart was pounding in your chest, hammering against your ribcage and the fresh bruise that still hadn’t healed.

You were scared, and the tighter he grabbed you, forcing your chin upward to look him dead in the eyes, the harder it got to hide what you were truly feeling. In his eyes, you were nothing. And you were so weak, all you could do was to submit.

“Look at me,” he said. His eyes roamed your face.

You couldn’t not look at him. It was impossible. What you saw made you sick to your very stomach. It tied a noose around your neck, threatening to kick you off the high chair. Your feet were dangling dangerously close to the cliff.

“You’re pathetic, you hear me? Useless. You had one job. One. And you couldn’t even do that right.”

You opened your mouth, but instead of letting you speak, his hand tangled in your hair and he pulled, hard. “No!” he bellowed. “You have lost the right to speak to me.”

He said your name. He always said it in a way that made you want to vomit. Your first and last names were tainted because of him. He used them in vain. He used you. He used everything as he saw fit and believed he was entitled to it.

You hated him, but you also loved him.

“You’re going to clean up the mess you made, and then you’re going to go to the store, buy me another bottle of Whiskey, and you’re going to make me another drink. I don’t want to hear a single word out of you,” he said. “Are we clear?”

You nodded. He pulled a little harder.

“What was that?”

“Yes, sir,” you choked out.

When he finally let you go, you fell to the floor, your chest heaving with dry sobs. Perhaps he was too annoyed or maybe leaving you alone, finally, was a display of humanity.

The man you once believed to have loved you turned out to be a monster that would not have wept, not possibly, if you had died. He only wanted to control you, and whenever he felt like he couldn’t, he punished you. You stayed way too long because you believed in someone who was never there in the first place. The real him you believed to know once had never been real. He had been a fraud. He did anything he possibly could to lure you in, and then you were stuck.

But even knowing this, you wanted to please him, and you took what he gave you. You ate it up like a starved cavewoman. You had no one else but him, and that alone is a sad thought that you keep entertaining now.

The sound of broken glass has haunted you since that day. Whenever it happens, either to you or someone else, you find yourself in a state of shock. It’s never the same memory, but always alike. And it hurts. It hurts so much, you can’t breathe.

You touch your left cheek. The scar is barely visible anymore, but whenever you touch it, it feels like a mountain of regret. You can still feel the blood pooling under your fingertips, the liquid as sticky as it was hot.

You stumble over to the sink, circling the broken glass. Cold water; your senses need a sudden slap across the face or you will cower in a corner and surely die. Your heartbeat is racing in your ears, and your fingers shake as you form a bowl with your hands to catch the water from the tap.

Air returns to your lungs. Burying your face in the cold water, you focus on the way it seeps into your hot skin.

Broken glass triggers you. Squeaky footsteps in the hospital hallways trigger you. You zone out so easily. You can’t talk to strangers without suspecting the worst. Every time you pass the hospital administrator’s office, you’re scared you will get fired—that you will lose your job and your entire career.

He took everything from you. He broke you and the optimistic young woman you used to be. You were so bright, so ready to change your life for the better. You worked hard to escape the toxicity of your childhood, and you still managed to run into the arms of an abusive narcissist who saw you as nothing but his property.

It’s sad, and it’s utterly ironic; you told yourself you would never make the same mistake your mom made before she died, and you still did. You were foolish, and you’re still foolish now.

You can’t call Matthew. You can’t trust anyone, not even yourself, and even if he is trustworthy, he doesn’t deserve someone as damaged as you.

The business card lands in the trash can under the sink. You give it one last teary-eyed look before slamming it shut. It’s better this way. The excitement you felt when you first held it in your hands was bound to only be temporary. You knew reality would screw it up, maybe it truly is for the best. Or maybe this is the trauma talking and you’re sabotaging yourself, but even then it’s better this way.

It’s early in the morning, and you leave the broken glass on the sticky kitchen floor. You can’t touch it, not even with gloves. Every time you do, the scar on your cheek stings, and you lose your breath. Every bone, muscle, and nerve is hurting in your body, and every breath tears right through your soul.

You don’t want to live like this anymore.

The warm water of your small shower rains down on your clothes frame. The bottle of wine in your hand is no longer cold and mixed with water, but you don’t care. Your mind is fuzzy, intoxicated, and in agony. It’s a raging wave of anger with no possible point of release. You’re drowning in despair, buried in a grave of your own making. Alcohol knowingly doesn’t mix well with heartache, but it’s the only thing that will make the voices go away. It silences your thoughts just long enough for you to find a sliver of rest in this stormy ocean, something to hold onto so you won’t drown completely.

Your heartbeat aligns with the rhythmic pattering of the water. It serenades you. The fog engulfs your brain, weakening your already strained muscles. The cocktail in your veins is poisonous. You should know better than to do this to yourself. You’re a doctor, after all. You are well aware that liquor is not medicine, but it’s the closest you can get. You don’t care as much about your own well-being as you should.

Getting drunk all by yourself under the hot shower stream fits right into your miserable state.

The sun rises and falls over the next couple of hours. Your alarm goes as night befalls Hell’s Kitchen, but you don’t hear it. Only after it has gotten dark and your phone has started ringing with calls from the hospital does your mind registers that something isn’t quite right.

You wake up in a cold sweat. Your head is pounding. The wine bottle lies empty on the nightstand next to you, together with a bottle of tequila that you decided to open. Glasses are strewn around with empty takeout containers that are more than a few days old. At first, you’re disoriented, reaching beside you for your phone, which is still in the living room next door.

You forgot to close the blinds, but you were so out of it that you didn’t notice the hours pass by. The analog clock on the bedside table tells you that it’s a few hours before eleven. At night.

Your shift was supposed to start at ten.

The information takes a moment to connect and process, but as soon as it does, you snap out of whatever hungover state you are in and force yourself out of bed. You stumble over empty bottles and dirty laundry on your way to your phone.

“Shit, shit, shit!” you curse. You almost step into the pile of broken glass in the kitchen. “Fuck me! Shit!”

You are screwed, you know that. You’re not even sure if all the alcohol has left your system. You might as well lose your job tonight.

With one hand, you dial the hospital administrator’s number, who called you over thirty times over the past hour, while you try to find something to wear with your other hand.

The line finally clicks after what feels like an eternity. “You better have a damn good reason why you aren’t here, Olivia, or I swear to God–”

You cut her off. “I’m so sorry, Shelly,” you say. Your voice is slightly shaky, but you keep it together. “I didn’t hear my alarm a-and I slept in. This has never happened before. I’m usually a very light sleeper. I… I’m already halfway out the door, I promise. I’m sorry.”

“You slept in?!” Shelly answers, her voice resembling a screech. “What— Liv, seriously, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I just… I slept in, that’s all. I’m so, so sorry. I know I screwed up.”

“Unbelievable. First Claire calls out with a mystery illness that apparently still hasn’t gone away, and then my best trauma surgeon sleeps in.” You can hear her shake her head over the noise of the hospital in the background. She sighs. “You’re lucky that this is your first tardy,” she says. “I’ll let it slide just this once. Just… hurry, okay?”

A weight falls off your shoulders. You let out an audible sigh of relief. “Thank you,” you tell her. “You have no idea how much this means to me. I–”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just make sure you get here before midnight. And you will have to work the time that you’ve missed, even if that puts you at risk of having to pull a double shift. This is not up for debate. I feel like I’m working at a children’s daycare.”

You’re not sure if that was meant for you or if she simply forgot to hang up.

You grab your bag and your keys in one swift motion. “I’m leaving now. See ya!”

The bus you usually take to work at this time of night is long gone. There is one more that could take you to your destination, but you arrive at the bus stop just a millisecond too late. It takes off right in front of you, refusing to turn back even when you start sprinting after it, flailing your arms around wildly.

It’s late, it’s dark, and you’re all alone. The walk to the hospital is over half an hour long, and you promised Shelly you would make it in time before midnight. The next cab is miles away; you’ve checked the app twice, and anything beyond that would be too expensive.

Hell’s Kitchen is dangerous at this time of night, but you don’t have much of a choice. If you don’t try, there is a high chance Shelly will fire you. If she fires you, you would have to find another country to start over in—you burned bridges in all possible States, and anything closer to where you came from would be too dangerous for you.

Darkness doesn’t scare you; broken glass and loud footsteps scare you, but the dark of the night has always been somewhat of a soothing companion to you. What scares you is what could be lurking in that very darkness, and the thought makes you walk a little faster.

Your head is still pounding. Every step you take delivers a punch to your temples. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat. The streetlights are suddenly too bright for your sensitive eyes, but you push through. You have to.

“So stupid,” you mutter under your breath. “Universe, if you can hear me, just kill me now.”

Passing a particularly dark part of town with the mace on your keychain clutched tightly in your hand, a loud scream pierces the air. Your feet glue themselves to the ground.

Some things you can only understand if you have experienced the paralyzing feeling of dread that would cause a human being to scream bloody murder.

You would be lying if you said that the scream you heard coming from that alley wasn’t in any way familiar to you. Perhaps that’s why you choose to abandon all rational thought and run toward danger rather than away from it. Adrenaline is a funny thing, and when it interacts with trauma and anger that has been building for years, there is no knowing what the human body might be capable of doing.

With the mace in your hand, you walk toward the alley. The closer you get, the louder the desperate pleas grow. The helplessness in the woman’s voice paints a clear picture of what is happening.

“Hey!” your voice resembles a shout in the poorly lit alley. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” you ask. Your voice becomes a foreign language.

The man, dressed in a pair of ripped jeans and a hoodie, is towering over a terrified woman. The bottom of her dress is slightly ripped, and it keeps riding up as she struggles against his grip.

From the corner of your eye, you can see the shiny handle of a knife sticking out of his boot; there is no telling when or if he will pull it. And when you look into his empty eyes, you realize you overestimated yourself.

“Get lost!” the man tells you. He must be around your age, judging from his features.

You shake your head. “I have no intention of letting you live out your disgusting rape fantasies on a real-life human being,” you retort. “Let her go, or I will call the cops.”

He takes a step toward you, his hand reaching for the knife. Instinctively, you extend your keychain and spray the pepper directly into his eyes. You empty the entire bottle on him, the adrenaline in your veins locking your thumb to the fragile button.

The woman slides out of her attacker’s grasp when he topples over in agony. He cries out. The spray is quickly causing the skin around his eyes to redden and swell. For a moment, he’s completely incapacitated.

You can tell that he didn’t calculate for this to happen. He also doesn’t seem to know the woman he decided to attack personally. He just saw a woman walking alone at night and thought he could take what he wanted like the animal he is.

Your eyes flick toward the woman. Sweat is starting to pool from your pores, mixing with the adrenaline.

She adjusts her dress, her sobs turning into heavy panting. You know that look on her face all too well. She has scratches on her thighs and arms. It’s hard to tell just how badly he already hurt her before you came along, at least in this lighting and from where you’re standing.

You reach out to support her. “Are you alright?” you ask her.

She looks down at her shaky hands, then back at you. She reminds you of a deer in headlights. With a gentle tug, you pull her further out of the alley. The man who attacked her is still blinded, clutching his skull and scratching at his eyes, making the effects of the pepper spray worse. In your mind, he can’t hurt you anymore, but you still need to get her away from him—as far as possible, too.

“A few cuts and bruises,” you observe, trying not to touch her as you assess her injuries. “Listen, I’m going to call the cops and we’re gonna get you to a hospital, alright?” You search her eyes until she finally looks back at you. “This is nothing I can’t stitch up in a few minutes,” you say, “and then I’ll get you someone who can help you process what happened. Just know that he can’t hurt you anymore. I promise. I’m a witness, and I will make sure he gets what he deserves.”

You should know better than to make promises, especially in the heat of the moment. This is not something you can confidently promise because things might not turn out in your favor.

The woman pulls her arms away suddenly. “No! No cops, no hospitals,” she pleads.

“I know you’re scared, believe me, I do, but–”

“No!” She shakes her head again, her voice becoming more determined as the seconds tick by.

You wish the world wasn’t as cruel as it is. You can’t force her. If it were easy, you probably would have turned to law enforcement too, but it’s not easy. What hurts the most is that you understand why she is so adamant about not calling the police and not going to a hospital, even with so many variables still unknown; you understand too well what it is like.

Shame and fear are powerful emotions—when all else fails, they take over.

“I’m sorry,” the woman’s voice quivers. She looks between you and her attacker once more. “Thank you, really, but I can’t—I have to go. I’m so sorry.”

“Wait!” You try to stop her, but she slips through your fingers before you can convince her otherwise.

She disappears down the street. Calling the police seems almost futile now. You look down at your phone. You’re still a witness to a crime. You should speak up about what you saw. You should try to get justice, even if it will be your word against his.

Your finger hovers above the call button, but a dark voice from the alley stops you in your tracks. “You bitch!” the man shouts. His voice carries, making you shiver. Now that you’re alone with him, you realize how helpless the situation really is.

You can’t move. You can’t run. You can’t hide. Your eyes widen. Even half-blind, he has managed to pull the dirty knife from his boot, and he is charging right at you. As if you are the substitute for the woman you just saved. You should have run with her. This was a bad idea.

“Fuck,” you curse under your breath. You press down on your keychain, but it’s empty now. You’re weaponless with a lot of fake confidence that is slowly swindling, and somehow, you still can’t move.

You’re frozen in place. Your own recklessness will get you killed. No one will miss you. Your corpse will be buried in a strange cemetery in a strange city that has only been your home for two years, and no one will ever know who you truly were because you told Claire to take your secrets to the grave with her. You will die alone with the familiar feeling of fear and despair spreading through your veins like wildfire.

Something inside of you cracks, and it melts your frozen muscles. You snap out of your haze when he is only a few inches away from you. In an instant, you have started backing out of the alley almost entirely. You’re running, and you’re running fast.

You believe that karma comes back around, but sometimes, it takes the wrong direction. You lose your footing suddenly, stumbling over your own shoes, and your ass hits the pavement with a force that knocks the breath out of your lungs. Your wrists bend at a painful angle as you catch yourself, and you look up into the red eyes of what you expect to be your certain demise.

The impact from the knife never comes. You know what it feels like to be impaled by a sharp object. You know what pain feels like—but it never comes.

You open your eyes when your ears pick up on the sound of bone breaking—the sight you’re met with startles you, and for a second, you wonder if you’re still alive. You touch your wrist to check for a pulse; it’s still there. You’re not dead, and you’re not hallucinating, either. This is real.

You’ve seen the news reporting on a man in a black mask scouring the streets of Hell’s Kitchen at night. For weeks now, gang bangers, suspected rapists, and drug dealers have been piling up in the emergency room with several fractures, some of them severe enough to require extensive surgery, but none of them were ever hurt enough to die from their injuries.

A Russian was dropped from a building a while back. He fell into a coma and then died suddenly a few nights ago, but that was the only patient who got beat up by the infamous Devil of Hell’s Kitchen who lost all quality of life.

You don’t like to judge, but there is something about him that makes you feel safe rather than afraid. He only beats up those who are in the business of committing injustice and pose a danger to innocent lives. He’s there when the law fails. And so far, he has never killed anyone. The injuries on the patients you treated were quite severe and suggested that whoever did it has a great collection of anger issues, but he has enough self-control not to kill.

He’s not a threat to people like you. He is, however, a threat to the kind of man who tried to rape an innocent woman and then threatened you with a knife.

Your attacker drops to the ground with a pained grunt. The man in the mask is towering over him, his chest heaving. You admire his physique for a moment too long. Your eyes trail from his toned chest in that tight black shirt to his backside in those tight-fitting black pants.

He seems oddly familiar yet, at the same time, he is a total stranger. A stranger in a mask. A stranger who throws fists like a professional boxer. A stranger who could crush your head within seconds. And still, there is something about him that reminds you of someone else, someone you just recently met, but you can’t put your finger on it. It wouldn’t even make sense if you tried.

You’re still sitting on the cold asphalt, staring up at the man who saved you. He turns his head toward you, slowly. His plump lips glisten in the moonlight.

“You hurt?” he asks.

Your throat is all dried up. One glance down at your palms tells you that you only scraped the skin, but you’re not injured. So, you shake your head. Maybe there is a little fear mixed into your stunned eyes, but only because this is a very strange situation to find yourself in, and you have been in a lot of very strange situations in the past.

He tilts his head ever so slightly. His nostrils flare. “You’re bleeding.”

You don’t even want to know how he knows that.

“Just a scratch,” you finally manage to speak up, although your voice sounds embarrassingly small.

You wipe your palms on your pants and slowly rise to your feet. Every bone in your body hurts. Standing across from him, you realize how much taller he is in person.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he says.

“I know.”

He stops. You can’t see his eyes, but the lower part of his face reveals the confusion that has taken him over.

“I’ve dealt with men worse than you,” you state. “I’m not scared.”

He chuckles darkly. “You’re welcome.”

People usually don’t talk back at him, it seems. At least those he saves usually don’t.

“I could’ve defended myself. In fact, I already did.” You lift your keychain. “I don’t know if playing the hero is your thing, but I’m not a victim.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Excuse me?”

“I wasn’t trying to play hero,” he clarifies, a humorless smirk resting on his lips, “I was saving your life ‘cause you were trying to play the hero. Next time, I suggest you don’t bring mace to a knife fight.”

“And I suggest you don’t put your nose where it doesn’t belong,” you retort.

You were grateful for no longer than a second. Now, you’re just annoyed.

The alley is still. The atmosphere is heavy with the aftermath of the danger you only narrowly escaped—thanks to him, and you hate admitting that even to yourself. He seems unfazed, almost amused, by your attempts at asserting your independence, and the arrogance radiating off him is hitting the wrong nerve.

“This guy was gonna kill you because you decided to do the right thing,” he says, adjusting his leather gloves. “I decided to save your life. We both made decisions tonight, and it doesn’t matter whether we are happy with them or not. What matters is that no one got hurt.”

“Tell that to the woman he traumatized for life.”

He sighs at your words. “You still did the right thing.”

“I know,” you say.

“Are you always this feisty?”

“Only to masked vigilantes who think I’m some damsel in distress that needs saving and that everything can be solved with their pretty little fists.”

“Well, my pretty little fists are the reason you didn’t end up stabbed, so,” he answers, and his lips curl into a smug smirk. He shrugs, his black shirt riding up only slightly, revealing a sliver of marble skin. You can’t help but let your eyes wander.

“I don’t need a thank you,” he says, “but you need to be more careful next time. Don’t go into dark alleys alone, especially at night. It’s not safe.”

You want to give a snarky remark, but the sound of church bells in the background signal to you that it’s midnight, and you are supposed to be at work. Checking your phone would be a death sentence. Sirens can be heard in the background, but they are not headed for you.

Maybe Shelly won’t fire you if you’re honest with her about what conspired tonight—if you bare you allow her a glimpse into your soul—but you will suffer the consequences of your own stupidity gravely in the days to come, that much you do know.

You exhale an exasperated sigh. “I don’t have time for this,” you mutter.

“Got somewhere to be?” the masked man asks you.

“As a matter of fact, I do. But that’s none of your business.”

You wonder if he’s frowning under that thin cloth that is hiding his real identity. He still seems so familiar to you. How can he fight if he’s keeping his eyes covered? It’s not the first question you have asked yourself about him, but it surely is the most prominent one because no explanation for it makes sense to you; at least not one you can think of. You want to ask, but you also don’t want to keep encouraging him. You shouldn’t care.

You look back down at the man he knocked out. He’s still unconscious, and he’s bleeding profusely. The angry woman in you wants to let him rot here and let the masked man have his fun, but the doctor in you can’t just leave him there.

“What about him?” you hear yourself asking, but your mind is far away.

He tilts his head toward where you’re pointing, not actively looking. How could he? His eyes are covered. His eyes… You can’t make sense of this, and it is affecting your judgment. It’s making you frustrated.

“He can’t touch you anymore,” his dark voice suddenly sounds so soft.

A sliver of humanity shines through his facade. Your angry demeanor cracks. “You beat him up pretty good. He could have lasting brain damage,” you remark.

He pauses, tilting his head further toward the man on the ground. “No,” he says, pouting a little. “He’s still breathing.”

“He could still have brain damage.”

“He has a few broken bones, cuts, bruises, but he’s alive.”

“Those things are totally unrelated. You’re not a doctor, you wouldn’t understand. I’ve already treated more bad guys in the past month than I could possibly count on my fingers, and all of them seemed to fear the same man. Now, not many things can scare a gangbanger to death. Not many people can deliver blows so deliberately without actually fatally wounding anyone. I know it was you,” you say. “Everyone knows it was you, and they’re afraid of you. I’m not, but I am a doctor, and I took an oath to do no harm. I vowed to help those in need, including those I believe may not be worthy of my help. This has nothing to do with judgment. I know you don’t kill; I see it with my own eyes every damn night, but the Russian you beat up a couple days ago?”

That catches his attention. His head whips back around to you, his upper lip twitching slightly as if he is tasting the air. His attention is entirely on you. The question, “What?” gets lost as nothing but a breathless whisper in the cold night air.

“He was in a coma,” you continue, “and then he died. It’s probably unrelated to what you did, but there was only a small chance he would have ever woken up again anyway. Just because someone is still breathing doesn’t mean their brain is alive. What makes us human, who we are, that is all anchored in our brains. We can’t survive without it. You may not have killed him, but that guy barely had any brain activity left, and that is not something you can consider life.”

You didn’t expect him to sneer. You must have hit a nerve with your words, but it must have hurt him deeply.

“My point is, I am not letting you do the same to this guy. I’m calling an ambulance and the police, and I will let them figure this out.”

“He’ll walk,” he says, and his voice is dark again. It sends shivers down your spine.

You look at him, your confidence not wavering this time. “Then so be it, but I am not letting him die,” you say.

“How is having a rapist walk the streets of this city not doing harm?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Beg your pardon?”

“He will do this again, and maybe next time there will be no one to step in and he will hurt another woman.”

“So what, you want to kill him instead of surrendering him to the authorities?”

“That’s not what I do.”

“Then what do you do?”

“I’m trying to make this city a better place!”

His voice bounces off the walls building a cage around the alley. “And I’m just trying to save a human life, even if it’s a shitty one!” you shoot back. “It’s not our choice who gets to play God, okay? Death would be too kind for a man like him, and leaving him here won’t solve anything either. Like it or not, but I’m not breaking my oath.”

You made a promise when you became a doctor, and you are not going to risk letting someone die on your watch. That could get you into a lot of trouble.

You approach your attacker’s limp body. When you kneel next to him, a gush of wind blows through your hair. You assess his skull, his abdomen, and his limbs. So far, all you can see are superficial wounds, and the same fractures you have seen pass through the emergency room more than once in the past couple of weeks. He did a number on him, but his pulse feels normal and he is breathing.

You lift your head, but when you do, you find the spot before you empty. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen has disappeared into the darkness, leaving you to fend for yourself. You should have seen this coming.

The ambulance takes a while to arrive after you’ve dialed 911. You try your best to keep the man stabilized, but he remains unresponsive. When help finally arrives, the emergency responders are followed by police, and you don’t hesitate to give your statement. You leave the masked vigilante that saved your life out of it—you may not have seen eye to eye just now, but you don’t want to rat him out either. You owe him as much.

Just as you’re picking your purse off the dirty ground to follow the EMTs to the hospital in the ambulance, giving you the perfect excuse to give to Shelly on why you are even later than you already were, a glimpse of silver in the shadows catches your attention.

“You did the right thing,” the Devil speaks only loud enough for you to hear, hiding in the darkness protecting the fire escape of the nearest building.

You swallow your pride. “Thank you,” you finally tell him.

He chuckles. “For telling you that or saving your life?”

“Both,” and you even offer him a small smile with your gratitude. That is all you’re capable of giving him, for now.

“Take care,” he says.

The glimpse of silver disappears, causing the metal of the fire escape to shake under his weight, and he is long gone before you even whisper, “You too.”

Tag List: @shiorimakibawrites @allllium @siampie @auroraslibrary @roseallisonparker @abucketofweird @thatonegamefish @capylore @kniselle @sumo-b98 @peachstarliight @danzer8705 @kakamixo @littlehappyperson @atemydadforbreakfast @stevenknightmarc @zheezs14

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #reader insert #doctor!reader #matt murdock imagines #charlie cox #do no harm

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seeingstarks · 1 year

Text

the cream on the cake wants to escape

summary : being newly signed to all elite wrestling, you don't know many people and expect no one to show up to your birthday party but end up with company of the devil himself and mr. best in the world. pairing : mjf x cm punk x plus size afab!reader cw : cursing, many sexual innuendos, teasing, breast grabbing/kneading, daddy/babygirl/daddy dynamic, implied cmjf references, thigh riding, cock/clit teasing, begging, male masturbation, blowjobs, dirty talk, double penetration, creampies, butt-plugs, slight bondage, ass slapping, utter filth. a/n : my birthday is in three days and with cm punk coming back soon i just had to whip something up also i love cmjf but basically this is something small i made for myself. i hope you all enjoy it though and as always reblogs are very much appreciated!! my ask box might be open soon for drabbles as i'm slowly getting the inspo for writing again. <3 there may be a few spelling/punctuation errors. word count : 2,518 words tag list : @josiewrites , @baysexuality

some of the talent backstage had their suspicions when you became apart of bullet club gold in just a matter of months after being signed to all elite wrestling.

the rumours began to spread, hushed whispers down the halls the moment you left a room. there was no getting away from your ex - however none of them knew what actually happened.

you carefully hand-wrote each invitation to your birthday party being held later that night, allowing everyone to bring a plus one. in each envelope corner you curled a cursive letter heart with your initials on it.

not knowing many people at all elite, you felt doubt that anyone would come. if you had known more people maybe they would have thrown you a surprise party instead of doing one for yourself.

with a sigh you sat down at catering after grabbing a boxed cupcake juice robinson gave you earlier but didn't have time to sit down and eat until now.

glancing around, not many seemed to even care or notice it was your birthday. they were either too wrapped up in their own lives or didn't see you sitting all alone.

pulling out a lighter from your jacket pocket you attempted to ignite the flame a few times but had no luck. "seriously, the one time where things go to absolute shit and it's my birthday!?" you cursed out weight shifting as you felt someone's presence next to you.

anyone but him. "how is my switchblade babe doin', aye? need a light?" jay questioned with a smirk before pulling out his lighter and igniting the candle on the cupcake as if it were nothing.

you rolled your eyes before even taking a glance at jay, "didn't need your help, and don't call me that. we're not together anymore. don't even know why we're in a stable together." you crossed your arms at your ex.

"wow.. last time i help a friend out. well, i'll leave ya' be then." jay stood up and walked away while you took the wrapper off your cupcake and took a bite from the sweet treat.

a single tear fell down from the corner of your eyelid, today of all days you felt most lonely. the salty liquid ran all the way down to your lips and you didn't want anyone to see you crying. luckily bullet club gold wouldn't be needing the locker room today as you booked it and locked the door behind you.

the rest of the day seemed to go by at an agonizingly slow pace, you began to set up pastel decorations and blew up a few balloons as the clock ticked down nearing the time for guests to arrive.

walking into the washroom, you fixed up your h/c hair and brushed it off to the side while fixing your black dress which hugged your curves perfectly. not having the time to put a bra on or even caring about it, you shrugged while looking in the mirror and threw a light jean jacket on over the dress while slipping on a pair of combat boots, comfort and style.

once ready, you took a seat on the sofa and waited a good ten minutes before someone knocked on the door, "coming!!"

once seeing who was in your doorway your mouth fell agape, so many questions filling your mind but words unable to form.

"you 'gonna just stand there or welcome me in, i'll move ya' if i have too." shaking your head, you simply giggled and stepped aside.

"how- when- where?" you questioned and raised an eyebrow while looking the chicago native up and down who did indeed age like fine wine.

"okay.. see lemme' explain. me and uh- let's say a co-worker of mine paid off the others not to come in order for you to have a special night, that is... if you want."

you punched phil on the chest, who didn't flinch the slightest. the chicago native pretending to be hurt and scrunching up his face, "ouch that hurt soooo much."

"i was crying earlier and this so called co-worker of yours is nowhere to be seen!" you yelled at him and punched the man once again.

"shhh, babygirl. there he is." your eyes left his and looked up to meet with a pair of dark hues belonging to the devil himself who locked the door behind him.

"aw, are you two getting started without me?" maxwell asked.

gulping thickly you hid you your face in the crook of the chicago native's neck, your cheeks starting to heat up the moment phil wrapped his large hands around your waist and gave a slight squeeze.

"so brave before and now look at her hiding... we're gonna' have fun with you tonight, such a shy doll isn't that right?" maxwell taunted and approached the two of you, the heat of his breath running down your own neck sending chills down your spine, "but tonight is all about the birthday girl.. tomorrow me and phil have our fun.. that is if you can still walk by the time we're done."

stepping away from phil momentarily, you allowed him to still hold your hips as you looked up at him with a soft smile. "well... i've always wanted to try thigh riding.." you admitted shyly while glancing between the two men as they each shared a knowing look which could only mean trouble.

"oh? whose thigh do you wanna ride first?" phil pulled you in closer, rubbing his hands along your curves and pressing his growing hard on up against you, "look what you're doing to me already baby.."

maxwell smirked as another pair of hands went behind your figure, going under your shirt and massaging your breasts as you let out a soft moan for the devil, "fuck- not wearing a bra, is that just for daddy?" he asked and pinched your nipples causing a whine to escape your lips all at the same time when phil brushed the tip of his cock up against your clothed entrance.

"n-no it mm- happened by coincidence but i will make sure to wear em' less for both my daddies." you responded with a grin.

"did you hear that phil? she's got two daddies now- will be fun adding a chick into our little adventures, hm?" max questioned the chicago native who simply nodded as the two men continued to tease you.

throwing your head back you let out another moan, your underwear soaked at this point simply by the fact of phil teasing your clothed clit with his cock and maxwell tormenting your breasts with his hands, kneading at them as your nipples hardened under his touch, "more daddy- please-" you begged and took a sharp breath.

lifting your arms up, maxwell helped rid you of the black dress and phil briefly picked you up off your feet to slip the combat boots which were discarded haphazardly toward the floor.

you looked down and attempted to take your underwear off which caused phil to shake his head, "not yet, baby. don't think we forget about your little request."

phil took his clothing off and laid back on the sofa, luring you over with a finger wave as you straddled his thigh he pushed his knee up against your clit.

"go ahead and get off on my thigh, babygirl." your cheeks heated up once given permission as you began to ride his thigh, soft whimpers and moans already falling from your lips at the friction being created from your underwear.

"look at you.. soaked already and you haven't even had a cock inside you yet. just imagine how messy you're gonna be with both me and max inside you." the mere thought of what phil just said caused you to ride his thigh even faster, the moans becoming louder, your attention being adverted for a moment as you looked over in the corner to see maxwell jerking himself off in the chair, "don't stop doll, 'wanna watch." he spoke with a pant and you kept eye contact with maxwell while moaning out, "mmm-fuck!"

you were clearly falling apart on the chicago native, his cock hard while watching the curved beauty above him get off on just his thigh. "daddy- i'm so close-" you whined and grinded up against the man before making even more of a mess in your underwear.

"fuck- i'm close too babygirl-" maxwell spoke in broken breaths and phil gave you the okay to leave his thigh but not before he took your underwear as a sort of token to his accomplishments.

you crawled off the sofa, ass in the air which was definitely a sight to see for phil as your clit was still soaked from moments before. you dropped down to your knees infront of maxwell who had cum already dripping from the tip of his cock.

you stuck your tongue out and gave him kitten licks, looking up at maxwell with hooded eyes as his hands wrapped around in your hair and tugged gently while you took more of his length in and sucked lovingly. the man was already edging himself so it didn't take long for him to fill the entirety of your mouth with his warm seed, "i forgot to buy cake but that was some good as hell frosting." you smirked and wiped the remainder of the cum off your lips.

"always more where that came from, baby. however when the clock strikes midnight we get to have fun our way."

"what does your way entail exactly, phil?" you asked in a shy tone.

"well.. let's just say instead of crying over a stupid ex it will be because of overstimulation or.." phil looked around the room, a smirk growing on his lips, "cause we tied you up with this pastel ribbon. all depends if you're a good girl for us or not. isn't that right?"

you nodded your head, "yes sir, but i rather like that idea."

maxwell stood up from the chair and approached you, "what do you say we try it out tonight?"

you nodded your head so fast if you were a bobble head it would have popped off, eager to have more fun with the two men. "yes, pretty please."

"oh.. look how desperate she is to be tied up and filled with two cocks... think she can handle us both at the same time?" maxwell asked phil.

"let's find out and see."

phil picked you up and carried you to the sofa, placing kisses on each wrist before tying them together with pastel ribbon.

"ass up, legs spread." maxwell used a demanding tone of voice which had you dripping, he ran his fingers along your folds, "such a good girl already. prepared for the devil to corrupt you?" it wasn't a question, more of a warning as he slid into your entrance, giving you little time to adjust in attempts to grasp at the sofa.

"fuck, such a beautiful sight. look at her already clenching onto you so tight max.." phil hummed and entered himself slowly into your asshole, nearly hissing at how tight you were.

"p-phil- you're huge!" you yelled out, head barely able to think of a single thought while being stuffed full of two humongous cocks.

phil slapped you on the ass while entering the rest of his cock into you slowly as maxwell started to thrust, "that's daddy to you, got it?"

"uh-mhmm! yes daddy!" words became incoherent mumbles once the two men picked up speed, both making sure you were okay but at the same time whispering absolute filth into your ears as you clenched around their lengths as if your life depended on it.

"f-fuckk! you both feel amazing!" grunts and groans alike fell from both their lips and you could've sworn you heard them both call each other daddy, leaving you to wonder what they did in the midnight hour before adding a woman into the mix. you were never one to judge but with you there it was three times the charm.

the moans became increasingly louder as they pounded into you relentlessly, you'd all probably end up with a noise complaint sooner or later.

"go ahead and cum babygirl.. we can feel how close you are." you felt the heat of the chicago native's breath up against your ear, "yes sir." the flood gates were open as you came around maxwell's cock and he released inside of you while phil did the same. the three of you continued to ride out the high but you were the most worn out.

phil was the first to pull out as cum dripped from his tip all the way down from your asshole, "i was 'gonna save this for later but.. you should open it now." he handed you a small black box wrapped with a gold bow, the contents inside being a butt-plug.

your eyes went wide as you looked over at the chicago native, "what am i supposed to do with this?"

"think y'know.. sweetheart.. want you to sleep with it in as a reminder who owns that ass." he smirked and took the plug from your hand before inserting it inside your body.

"y-yes sir, thank you for the gift daddy." you placed a kiss to the chicago native's lips which he then returned and nipped at your lower lip, leaving you to want more.

maxwell had been keeping you warm in a way with his cock as you felt him continue to twitch inside you, a whine falling from your lips when he pulled out aswell.

"don't worry baby. there is much more where that came from." maxwell revealed a brown gift bag with the words burberry inscribed on the outside.

you sat back on the couch, still panting a bit while opening the gift from max which was a matching set of burberry lingerie in just your size, on the side was a pair of angel ears.

pouting you looked between the two men and they each furrowed their eyebrows, "what's wrong, baby?"

"just wanted something to keep this cum inside me. love being full of both my daddies icing like a cake." you grinned up at them as phil had something hid behind his back, a matching plug to the one gifted, "you're in luck."

yawning, the night activities started to take a toll on you so you got dressed in the lingerie which would surely be torn apart by morning and you kept the chicago native's gifts quite warm aswell.

once returning from the washroom, maxwell and phil were in their boxers and you cuddled up between them on the sofa before shutting your eyes as they each placed a kiss to your cheek.

"how was your birthday?" maxwell asked as you rested against his shoulder and you scratched the chicago native's beard softly, noticing him start to drift off toward slumber with your loving touch.

"best birthday ever. thank you both so much. now get some sleep, knuckleheads."

phil slapped your ass playfully in response, "goodnight, babygirl."

#mjf #cm punk #maxwell jacob friedman #cmjf #mjf x reader #mjf x female reader #mjf x fem reader #cm punk x female reader #cm punk x fem reader #mjf smut #cm punk smut #aew smut #all elite wrestling #aew #cm punk (gn)#all elite wrestling smut #wrestling fanfiction

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it-happened-one-fic · 11 months

Text

Waiting For You - Jack

Author Notes: Haha! Jack fic in time for the Portfest event! That aside, this fic actually doesn't have anything to do with Porfest and, furthermore, I should not be allowed to write fics while listening to 80s ballads and feeling sad. I wrote this fic while listening to "Right Here Waiting" by Richard Marx and, as per usual, reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ Angst with comfort/ Fluff/ sfw/ Can probably taken as platonic even though I wrote this with romance in mind

Word count: 1871

It was a strange thing. To ponder if you were truly loveable or if everyone just simply accepted your presence because they had little choice in the matter. Because you were present, it was easier to just accept you rather than just shun you.

Maybe it was because you were useful to them. You knew Crowley used you, so who was to say others didn’t?

And maybe you really were only worthwhile when you were being useful. When you were facing overblots, giving others a place to stay and hide from dorm drama, or making it so they could stay in this school by forming a half of a student.

They were bitter thoughts, but sometimes, in weak moments, they came. And when they came, they seemed to devour you.

To swallow you whole and threaten to destroy everything you’d built up for yourself in this strange world of magic.

The friends you’d made, the dorm you’d been repairing, the home you’d slowly built for yourself. You suddenly found yourself questioning it all and wondering if you would ever return home to where things had at least pretended to make more sense.

Where you weren’t burdened with expectations and the lingering fear that the only reason anyone stayed close to you was because they felt they had to.

And did you even want to get home? It was a terrifying question to have. Especially when you feared that the people you’d come to love so much—the people who made you want to stay here with them rather than go home—might not care for you in the same way.

“If we leave them be, they’ll never make it.”

“They’ve saved my life; I should help them at least once.”

Were these the thoughts your friends had? That without them, you couldn’t make it? That they had to repay a favor?

It felt horrible to question others and their reasoning. Did it really matter why they lingered nearby? Wasn’t their presence enough for you? Or were you really so greedy that they had to genuinely care about you?

The sadness that suffused your entire being seemed to be beyond anything you’d felt in the past.

You were lost, and, now that you had realized you were living merely by the grace of others, you were terrified.

It was hard to believe that they cared for you when you could have such selfish thoughts. Why would they, after all? Who would care for and love someone who questioned whether or not their friends, who’d been with them through near life-and-death situations, cared?

But question them you did. Because they didn’t willingly go through those situations. They’d just been at the wrong place at the wrong time. And being by your side often seemed to be the wrong place, given how many things had gone wrong since you’d come to this school.

Your hands gripped at your legs tightly, your tears muffled by the way you curled in on yourself as you questioned if perhaps your presence here as something from outside this world had somehow caused a domino effect that resulted in the overblots.

It was an illogical thought, but one that plagued you and had become the root of all the fears that were now assaulting you as you cried within your dilapidated home. Alone.

It was almost a blessing that Grim had gone off to wander around the campus and left you alone. Because while you were lonely and did want reassurance that someone cared, you didn’t want to be seen like this.

Crying over fears that you had no proof of and that were an insult to the very idea of the friendships you mourned. Because if you were truly friends with the young men here at this school, you wouldn’t be questioning them in such a fashion.

Questioning everything and everyone like the uselessly emotional person you were. You couldn’t blame people if they didn’t like you, because why would they? You didn’t even like yourself right now.

A small logical part of you whispered that this was all just brought on by how exhausted you were, mentally and emotionally. But did that really matter? Exhaustion was just an excuse and didn’t change the fact that you were behaving like a small child right now. Hardly fitting behavior for a Prefect who took care of everyone else.

Your throat ached with restrained sobs that you forced yourself to keep muffled should someone enter. And, like a cruel answer to both your hopes and fears, someone did enter.

The front door opened downstairs, and you heard them long before you saw them, their familiar voice calling out your name in an almost curious tone, “Y/n?”

Jack. It was Jack.

Dear Jack, who was so like a stalwart companion and actively did his best to protect and look out for you. Like so many others, Jack had done so much for you.

You didn’t want him to see you like this. So broken and filled with ungrateful thoughts, even though everyone, including him, had done so much for you.

Your entire form tensed, somehow curling tighter on itself as you willed your tears to vanish like the sun behind a cloud. Praying that your eyes wouldn’t appear puffy by the time he reached where you crouched in your room, somehow unable to bring yourself to hide even further.

It was almost like there was some small part of you begging to be found and comforted while the rest of you recoiled at the very idea of it.

You heard his footsteps on the stairs, and then the door to your room creaked open. You felt yourself freeze even as he spoke once more.

“Y/-” Your name was cut off in the middle, and you heard a sharp intake of breath that caused your fingers to twitch before you slowly looked up with a forced, wavering smile and made eye contact with the young man who stared at you from the doorway.

Jack stared at you in shock, with something akin to horror in his golden eyes that were now wide, and he stood frozen in the now open doorway.

“Hi Jack, how… How are you doing?” You managed a fakely cheerful tone, as if that could hide the fact that you’d just been sobbing your eyes out for senseless reasons that you couldn’t bear to tell Jack. Not when he’d already done so much to help and asked for little to nothing in return.

You didn’t get to say anything else as the young man darted across the room to where you sat on your bed and knelt, his hands finding your tear-stained cheeks even as you attempted to pull away and hide your face. “I’m fine, Jack. Really it’s-”

“You’re not fine,” His tone was firm, and the way he was looking up at you from where he knelt on the ground brooked no argument. And something about that steady gaze of his had you nodding and biting your lip as the emotions started to overwhelm you once more.

Your eyes filled with tears that slowly began to stream down your cheeks before you gave way. Sliding off the edge of your bed and all but collapsing into Jack’s secure embrace as he held you tightly to him. As if he could hold you together even as you tried to crack into a billion pieces under the pressure of your own thoughts.

And he sat there with you, rubbing your back soothingly and not saying anything as you sobbed into his shoulder without explanation. He didn’t ask any questions but just accepted you, as he so often did. Serving as a support against the maelstrom of emotions you were currently experiencing.

Guilt, fear, sorrow, and even a little heartbreak. It was like you were mourning for all the things that you hadn’t let yourself consider since coming to Twisted Wonderland. It had been a long time coming, but you’d finally cracked under the pressure of everything and given way to your own feelings.

Slowly, you calmed down, though. Your sobs gave way to quiet sniffles before you leaned back and wiped your face as Jack met your gaze. He was still quiet as he watched you, continuing even now to rub your back in the most soothing manner possible.

His ears were down, and worry shone in his eyes, but he waited. Waited until you were ready.

“I’m sorry,” Your apology was mumbled, almost like your voice was still buried under the weight of all the emotions you’d just let loose, but Jack simply shook his head.

“It’s fine… Do you feel better now?” You nodded quietly, feeling oddly small in this moment, as you shifted backwards to give both him and yourself some room as the embarrassment and slight mortification of having just bawled on his shoulder like a small child set in.

But if Jack was judging you, he didn’t show it. Instead, he just continued to watch you carefully. Almost like he was trying to see where you were hurt even though there was no physical injury, “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head again, “No… maybe later.” The two of you fell silent, you resting in his presence and Jack just sitting there and silently supporting you, even at a distance. Waiting until you were ready and willing to talk to him. Until then, he would be there waiting for you.

You glanced hesitantly at him, meeting his gaze once more, and he looked at you almost expectantly, waiting for whatever it was you had to say.

“Can I… Lean on you?” It was an odd request in many ways, but it didn’t seem to phase him. In fact, he just nodded and held out one arm, fully prepared for you to cuddle up against his side and lean on him in exhaustion.

And as you leaned against him, tucked up against his side, safe and sound, you felt yourself slowly begin to relax and then, slowly but surely, smile despite yourself.

You had no idea how you'd questioned the people of this world... how everyone... how Jack cared for you. Because wasn’t this what love was? Sitting with someone, comforting them, and waiting until they were ready to talk to you.

And it was nice to let yourself rely on him for support, and there was a sort of catharsis to having finally let all of those messy emotions out in the form of tears.

You would have to talk about it. You couldn’t just sob on Jack and then not explain it. And it would be hard to put all of those messy feelings into words, but you would. And when you did, you somehow knew that Jack would accept it.

Because even if you doubted and needed reassurance sometimes, it was a simple truth that Jack cared for you. And in the end, if it was with Jack, you knew you could face those emotions once more without drowning in them this time.

Because if Jack could wait for you like this, then you knew he cared for you just as much as you adored him. And that was enough.

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