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daughter-lilith · 2 days

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❅In Every Life❅

Halsin x Fem!Reader | Modern AU, Parallel Universes Part 5 | Read Part 4 here Not the final part. I unintentionally lied in my last post?? I explain at the end of this update. For now, I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Another day on modern Earth as you finally wind down for the late night in your quiet home. All is as it should be. All is normal as you prepare for bed. That is, until a tall, hulking man with pointed ears shows up at your doorstep claiming to be your lost love from another time and realm. But he’s a stranger. A stranger who forever changes everything you thought you knew about your life.

Explicit 18+

CW (For whole story): Blood, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Tension, Oral, P in V, Shifting, Pain, Love, Grief, Halsin is Emotional!

Word Count: 7.5k

A downpour of emotions flooded Halsin’s heart all at once. His entire body trembled, heart pounding violently in his ears, and the bear within banged against an invisible cage, claws protruding, swiping, and slashing. The beast roared, the force so tremendous and powerful that Halsin felt it in his bones, surging through his veins like wildfire, and he tossed his head back and thundered an agonizing roar of his own. He felt his eyes burning, cheeks wet and stained with violent tears. When his screaming seized, his throat stung, and the muscles in his arms felt tight and sore as he clenched his fists so hard that the veins in his arms began to bulge. Halsin lowered his head, glaring through watery eyes at the vacant space you once occupied only moments ago.

His shoulders slumped and he finally unclenched his fists, though it only made the trembling in his arms and body worse. He nearly flinched when he felt a sudden warmth wrap itself around his frame, half aware of blue flames flickering on the side of his vision. “Oh Halsin,” the voice said. It sounded like Karlach, but he could hardly see, could hardly think. His mind was dazed, lost, the only function he was aware of was the endless tears leaking from his eyes.

Another set of warmth came around him, then something like a hand on his back. Halsin just sat there, on his knees, hair disheveled with several strands hanging in front of his eyes. Someone squeezed him tighter, sniffling near his ears. His stomach felt so unbelievably tight, his chest heavy and straining under an invisible weight. Images of your teary eyes looking up at him crowded his mind; the thin trails of blood that seeped down the side of your chin as you spoke your final words. It was a dream. No, a nightmare. It had to be.

The two of you were still back home, lying in bed, your naked bodies entangled in one another. The sun’s light was still spilling through the open windows, shimmering over your skin. You were still tracing lazy patterns over the hairs on his strong chest, blessing him with your beautiful gaze and occasional kisses. Nature was still singing just outside of your home, the sweet melodies inviting you both to enjoy the new day. Halsin would roll you on your side, settling himself behind you, feeling the bareness of your body curving so perfectly into him. He would—

“It should have been me… Vlaakith—” a familiar voice stirred Halsin away from the dream, painfully bringing him back into this nightmare.

The rocky surface of the Astral Plane flickered back into view, and he heard her speak again. It was Lae’zel— her voice was lower, faltering as she choked to get her words out. “That was my death. Mine.”

Halsin squeezed his eyes shut, his heart crumbling further. The bear within slumped on the floor, defeated, panting, and exhausted. “Do not say that,” he said, his voice dry and throat still burning. Halsin felt no rage towards Lae’zel, and he knew you wouldn’t want him to. There was only one person responsible, and Lae’zel had already laid her to waste.

He felt a gentle hand rest on his knee, tentative and almost fearful. He was more aware now, of the embrace and physical consolation around him. He could feel their sorrow, their grief, their pain both for him and themselves. No further words were said, only the sounds of quiet weeping and the eerie current of the Astral Plane. Halsin’s head swarmed with a million thoughts as his arms started to feel numb and heavy, useless. The magic that flowed through his essence felt hollow and drained like it too was drowning in the sudden loss.

Halsin thought back to the glowing, healing blue light that he desperately tried to pour into you. And yet it did nothing to heal you, nothing to sustain you long enough to get you out of the Planes. What good was it to be gifted with these powers, to wield such powerful magic that did nothing when he needed it most? They had the means to revive those lost, but there needed to be something to revive.

His heart lurched as the flat of his hands felt the cold ground. Where you should’ve been. Where he, Shadowheart, Gale, anyone could’ve brought you back. But there was nothing to bring back, for the damned Astral Plane robbed him of the chance. Stealing you away when you belonged to Faerûn, belonged to him; his greatest confidant, lover, and best friend.

Oak Father… Halsin thought to himself, desperate for aid, for another chance. He was Silvanus’ chosen, one of his most devout followers, surely he would not forsake Halsin now. But even Halsin knew divine intervention did not come lightly or often. And he knew better than anyone that Silvanus was a god of nature; of respecting its balance, the cycle of life, and sometimes the fierce unpredictability of everything nature brings. To even think of asking the Oak Father for such aid may be considered blasphemous, for he was not a god of necromancy but—

Halsin’s eyes shot open, his blood pumping with purpose. And with renewed strength, he rose higher on his knees, stirring those who embraced him.

“Halsin?” Karlach questioned, letting her arms fall away from him as Halsin now stood to his feet. “What is it?”

Halsin glanced at her, eyes frantic, heart racing. The others peered at him curiously, wiping their faces as they kept their attention on the risen druid. “Withers,” he uttered, his heart rate increasing by the second as he darted his gaze towards Gale whose eyes were red and patchy.

“When have you all seen him last?” Halsin inquired, an intense severity in his voice as his words came out rushed and eager. He quickly swept his eyes over all of his companions, waiting for one, anyone to respond first.

“It’s… it’s been years,” Shadowheart answered first, her cheeks and nose a deep rose, flushed with tears.

Wyll groaned as he moved to stand, and he swiftly used his armored wrist to wipe beneath his nose. “Not since our first reunion,” he added.

“You don’t think…” Gale pondered, eyes slowly widening with realization.

Halsin nodded firmly. “I do.” It had been two decades since they last saw and spoke to Withers. After the first reunion, the skeletal being teleported everyone to their respective homes and journeys, bidding them a very blessed farewell. They had long carried suspicions there was more to Withers than he let on. That he was more than a keeper of records or scribe, but an old, mysterious god perhaps. Still, none of them ever pressed the issue, content with the consistent aid Withers bestowed. But they needed that aid once more— Halsin needed it.

Astarion paced around the group, waving his hands hastily. “Then what’re we waiting for? Let’s go wake up the old bastard.”

Halsin strode towards Gale and Shadowheart, each step swift, his presence demanding before he even said a word. They both stared up at him with an anxious gleam in their eyes beneath the haze of sorrow. When Halsin spoke, his words came out rapidly, hands trembling. “She once told me you all found Withers in some sort of crypt only a few miles from the Grove, how- how quickly can you open a portal there?”

“Um- I- well,” Gale stammered, the wheels in his head turning.

Karlach stepped by Halsin’s side, blue flames still dancing along her skin and hair. “Would he even be willing to help us again? It’s been so long.”

“We must try,” a sharp voice responded. Halsin glanced at Lae’zel who was still kneeling on the ground, her head still bowed.

Shadowheart, frowning, closed her eyes briefly while she turned away. She exhaled a deep breath before speaking, gathering herself. “Halsin… our magic is sapped. We only have the portal we came here in. Perhaps we should rest first and then—

“No,” Halsin’s thunderous voice rumbled the ground beneath their feet. “There is no time for rest. We will merge our energies, focus on the task and make a way.” He spoke with an intense conviction, his tone low. It was not in the way one would speak to their friends, but how a leader would speak to their followers—how an Archdruid would enact their commands.

Silence followed his orders as Halsin eyed everyone in turn, taking in their wary and doubtful appearances. Only Astarion seemed just as impatient as he was, ready to follow whatever was needed. From beyond their group, he noticed Minsc’s lumbering frame posed in front of a horde of allied githyanki warriors, becoming a barrier against those who were curious over their crestfallen victors.

Halsin tightened his brows, his heart loud in his ears as the bear within huffed, displeased at the hesitance before him. “All of you,” he ordered, “reach into the Weave, and link yourselves with me.”

A tender and somewhat firm hand rested on his shoulder. Halsin turned his head to find Wyll, the scars on his face as sullen as his expression. “Brother please, let’s not be hasty. Time is different here, right? If we rest in the Planes, perhaps only a few more minutes would have passed in Faerûn.”

Halsin sneered and shoved his hand off him, marching a few steps away from the group. Fists and teeth clenched, he stared off into the ethereal Planes, a wave of anguish and rage threatening to throw him off his balance. A part of him knew his friends were right, that they needed to rest. His own magic felt faint and dull due to the many times he wild-shaped or desperately tried to heal you.

“Where are you, Withers?” he mumbled roughly, unable to ignore the heat boiling in his blood.

Behind him, Halsin could feel his friends’ silent thoughts, their concern and hesitation to approach him. If they couldn’t help, he’d have to figure it out on his own. Why did he have to bend to time’s will? No. There was always a way, and he would find it as soon as possible.

“H-Halsin?” he heard Gale ask, but Halsin only sighed internally refusing to respond. If Gale could not help him, then there was nothing more to say.

Karlach’s voice arose next, urgent. “Halsin, look.”

Just as she spoke, he felt a surge of energy consume the space around him. A great power that felt foreign to the Astral Plane. Turning, Halsin’s eyes widened at the sight of a massive, green, spherical portal hovering a short distance away from the group. A familiar gaunt figure emerged, dressed in worn dark robes as they sauntered casually into the Planes. Halsin’s stomach lurched and a rush of the most extreme sensation of hope filled his chest. It couldn’t possibly be…and so quickly…

“I have heard thine’s call.” Withers. His rumbling echo of a voice still carried a weight of eeriness and an underlying power. “Once separated by the influence of time, our paths once again merge. Does thou require my services once more?” His dark, hollow eyes passively swept over the stunned companions before deftly landing and remaining on Halsin.

Halsin took three long strides toward the undead entity, his breathing rapidly increasing. He moved like he was almost going to tackle the fragile-appearing figure until Karlach’s strong hand tugged at his forearm.

“Easy there, soldier,” Karlach urged. “Breathe first.”

Halsin swallowed, trying to steady himself while Withers observed coolly, undisturbed by Halsin’s intensity. Towering over the undead man, he took one deep breath, speaking with purpose. “You’ve aided us before- can you aid us now? A resurrection. Any price.”

Withers surveyed Halsin silently, then examined the appearance of his friends before calmly strolling in between the group. With his gaunt arms folded behind his back, he hummed to himself as though analyzing the results of an experiment. Halsin watched intensely as the undead man continued to take in his surroundings. His heart dropped as he watched Withers stop at the very spot Halsin last held you, where he lost you.

“Ah, a hero has fallen,” Withers droned. “A great loss indeed.”

Halsin moved towards him, heart hammering. “Can you bring her back? Please.”

“Please, Withers,” Karlach added, frowning as she stepped near Halsin.

Withers was still for a moment then closed his hollow eyes, extending his skeletal arm over the area you fell. A glowing, green light illuminated his arm and Halsin watched with bated breath as the bear within paced frantically.

Withers made a few humming noises, some faint mumbling as his hand glowed brighter. His hand swayed in side-to-side motions like he was brushing something away or searching through a pile. Withers twitched, and the light burst in his hand before dimming completely. Halsin’s heart dropped at the sight, a part of him sensing something was wrong. Then Withers, ever so calmly, opened his eyes.

“Alas, their spirit has not been found, for it does not linger in the realm of where my power extends.”

Halsin stumbled, his stomach twisting. “What? Then where!?” he bellowed, his thunderous voice powerful enough to shatter the rocks they stood on.

Withers answered, impassive. “I cannot answer, for I do not possess the knowledge of such an answer. Such truths are beyond even my grasp.”

“So there is nothing you can do?” Halsin raged, incredulous. His voice was caught between yelling and trying to control his erratic breaths. “There is nothing you can do? She is just lost, gone forever?”

Withers raised a hand as if to calm him. “The Astral Planes are but a single thread of existence in the great cosmos. Fear not, mortal one, for fate spins as it should. What is lost may simply be lost, not gone.”

“Tsk’va! What good is a master necromancer who cannot perform this very task!” Lae’zel was on her feet now, pointing her sharp nails in Withers’ direction. “Htak’a! Is there nothing you can do!”

“Well isn’t this just marvelous,” Astarion crooned, incredulous. “Our magic is useless, the gods are quiet, and the one oh-so-powerful undead who has helped us several times before suddenly- cannot. How wonderful.”

Halsin surveyed Withers’ decrepit face as he stood almost apathetically, his body unmoving. It was hard to tell what he was feeling within those dark, obsidian eyes—if he was feeling anything at all. Withers seemed utterly unfazed by the chorus of frustrations and the occasional insults directed his way. He had never been one to show a heightened level of emotion before, why would the undead entity begin now? After another moment, Halsin turned away, taking several steps while his mind drifted and the voices of his friends grew muffled with each passing second.

The realm around him suddenly felt so distant and veiled, like he was ambling his way through a cryptic, blurred dream. A dream where angry voices were shouting in the distance but he could not decipher what they were saying, nor did he have the means to care. Withers could not help him, which meant Halsin could not bring you back. You were not just lost to him, you were gone, even your soul was apparently nowhere to be found.

The weight of Halsin’s shoulders felt painfully burdensome, his muscles tight and sore, legs threatening to betray him. The druid was defeated, broken beyond repair. Halsin looked down, bringing the palm of his hands into view at the same time. His calloused hands were streaked with crimson, a notable tremor in both. He lowered his arms and inhaled a deep breath, feeling his heart sink as a tide of gloom and agony tore through his body, penetrating his mind. Even the bear and all his wild shapes retreated deep within his essence, burrowing into the darkest corners they could find.

Halsin lifted his gaze, noticing that Withers was standing before him again, a curious glint in his sunken eyes. His friends were out of his vision, behind him, still arguing amongst themselves about what to do next or which god to call upon. As for Halsin, he had a new goal.

“Withers,” Halsin uttered, quiet as to not alert the others. “May I request one last thing, and I will no longer seek your services.”

Withers did not respond verbally, he simply tilted his head and blinked as though he were permitting Halsin to proceed.

“May you grant me a portal to The High Forest? I wish to go alone. No followers.”

Withers seemed to consider, then very faintly bowed his head.“As thou wishes.” Withers turned, lifting his hand with his palm outward as though he was ordering someone to stop. Green orbs began to glow in the center of his hollowed eyes and in the next moment, a shimmering, emerald portal flickered to life before them.

The druid stared at the sphere of green light and mist buzzing with power, waiting to be used. Halsin, posture sullen, began to step towards the waiting portal but stopped just before entering. He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of hasty steps rushing towards him. Withers lifted a hand, and his friends were instantly repelled by an invisible barrier, splitting them from Halsin.

“Hey, what the fuck is this Withers!” Karlach shouted, the pain in her voice palpable.

“Be at ease, child of fire. For the druid has requested to journey in solitude.”

Karlach scoffed, banging once at the transparent bubble that shimmered on each contact. “Journey huh? Wherever you think you’re going, big guy, we’re coming with you!”

“No,” Halsin responded, stern. “This is a path I tread alone now.” He turned away, fully facing the portal again, unable to hold her grievous eyes any longer. “Forgive me for this dejected departure, and goodbye my friends.”

“So, that’s it then?” Astarion yelled, taking a turn to thrash at the barrier. “You’re leaving us, too?” His voice seemed to choke and a harsh hiss escaped as he breathed.

“No, brother! We should stick together,” Wyll chimed in, a faint crack in his voice, “now more than ever.”

Halsin closed his eyes, stung by the pain in their voices, the desperate need to cling close together. But his heart was drained and weak, his body dense and heavy— soul shattered. And his friends, they were too much of a reminder of what they all lost.

The shouts and cries of their pleas tormented him, hearing their aggressive pounding on the magical barrier. He heard curses at Withers, vocal incantations, and consistent calls for his name. But the elf’s mind had been set, he wanted out of this blasted Plane- alone. And they could not convince him otherwise. So without sparing another glance, Halsin, head hung a bit low, walked through the portal crafted just for him. Immediately, he was greeted by tall trees and a fading sun as the sound of a loud whoosh erupted behind him, and the portal vanished.

Two years had passed since Halsin lost you. Two years since he walked away from his friends in the Astral Plane, effectively cutting himself off from any contact. The mighty elf found himself sitting in a tavern along the northern part of the Sword Coast, in the coastal city of Neverwinter that was a few hundred miles north of Waterdeep. He was pausing for the night to restock before he headed even further north, deep into the wilderness, alone once again.

Two years since he left the Astral Plane, and two years since he returned to a life of roaming, lacking the strength to return home. After spending days mourning in The High Forest, Halsin knew he couldn’t go back to the home you and him created together. His home was solely with nature now, in every and any region he could reach. Unfortunately for him, his current path had him passing through a city at his displeasure, for it had been quite some time since Halsin was surrounded by such dense civilization that the noise of collective chatter felt foreign to him.

Just the one night, he reminded himself. One night, then he would proceed north to Icewind Dale, the furthest reach of the northwestern coast, and deep into the forests along the mountainside. Winter was coming, and the bear was craving a long rest far away from civilization.

Halsin sat in the corner of the lively tavern, next to long open windows that gave a wide view of the beach and sea beyond. He hadn’t meant to pass through such a busy place, but aimlessly found himself traveling along the coast on his way north, directly into the heart of Neverwinter. While he was there, he chose to stop to fill his belly, and perhaps stay for at least half a night to rest before he packed up and moved on.

He would occasionally scan the massive room, drawn towards the bard’s lively tune on stage and the many patrons who linked arms and danced to the joyous melody. They laughed and swirled, some still holding their jugs in hand while their feet carried them across the wooden floors. Radiant musical notes hovered around the stage with some floating above the dancing patrons, the sparkling magic leaping to the same rhythm.

Halsin noted the bliss on everyone’s faces, and he wanted to smile, to bask in the jubilant energy… but joy seemed to no longer have a home in Halsin’s heart. It had been two years since he last felt a genuine smile smooth its way onto his face. Two years since he laughed and danced, losing himself to the enthralling tunes amongst wonderful company.

He closed his eyes, jaw clenching before he took a sip of the harsh gin, hot and brutal down his throat. He used to detest the stronger liquors but found more comfort in them these days. The potent burn of the taste was but a brief discomfort, a door that opened into the calmness that followed.

Halsin’s eyes swept across the coastline from his seat, his mind partially adrift. But he wasn’t oblivious to the curious glances and hushed whispers when he first walked in, even more so once he found a place to sit down. For an elf the size of a half-orc, he was used to the wondrous stares whenever he entered new places.

Feeling an oncoming presence, Halsin turned to find two patrons sauntering towards him—a drow and a half-elf. They seemed young; the half-elf couldn’t have been over sixty, and the drow could have been anywhere between thirty and two hundred. They both wore playful smirks as they approached, eyeing Halsin keenly.

The drow stopped in front of the table. Her pink eyes, like cherry blossoms, analyzed Halsin’s face with a sparkle of excitement. “We don’t mean to intrude but… are you the Archdruid Halsin?” Her voice was smooth as silk, white hair brushed neatly down her back.

Halsin cleared his throat, leaning back, and the wooden seat creaked slightly under his weight as he moved. “Former Archdruid.”

Their eyes widened in delight and the half-elf stepped forward. “But still a master I’m sure. We’ve heard many... intriguing things about you, one being that you can turn into a bear for hours,” the half-elf exclaimed with a praising voice, his green eyes full of interest. He then gestured to the vacant seating across from Halsin. “May we?”

Halsin thought about it for a moment, torn between clinging to his solitude and not wanting to deny a potentially friendly conversation. It had been weeks since he had a proper chat with anyone, perhaps it was time to mend that. So he nodded his head and the pair eagerly slid in across.

The drow leaned forward, the descending sun emphasizing the pink in her irises, extenuated by her lilac skin. Before she spoke, her lips curved into a slight frown. “Apologies but, we couldn’t help but notice you seemed rather… downtrodden. Lonely, even.”

“A hero of Baldur’s Gate deserves company,” said the half-elf, a friendly smirk on his face.

Halsin half chuckled, darting his eyes between the pair. He analyzed their postures, how they leaned closer to the table in his direction, but also how their shoulders and arms touched naturally… familiar. Their clothing was sleek and tight fitting, save for the long thin coat the half-elf wore. They were both matching with a deep royal blue, fashioned with golden embroidery patterns, wealth seemed to be of no trouble to them.

“I rather enjoy quiet time alone,” Halsin told the pair, their smiles mildly falling. “But I will not shy away from welcoming conversation.”

The drow smirked, blinking slowly through her long lashes. “If it’s solitude you seek, you’ve chosen a rather interesting establishment.”

Halsin released a soft, quick laugh. “Interesting indeed. But I am just passing through.”

“Oh? And to where is your true destination, might we ask?” inquired the half-elf, a genuine intrigue in his tone.

“Further north, near the mountains,” Halsin told them, terse, not wanting to divulge the specifics.

“Hmm, there’s not much fun up there,” said the half-elf. “And the cold can be frigid and unforgiving I hear.”

The drow nodded in agreement. “You should stay here, basking in the gentle warmth of the city. This place is called Neverwinter for a reason, courtesy of the elemental magic warming our waters.”

Halsin sighed, taking a moment to glance out the window towards the sea. The air was strangely warm there, considering how north they were and almost at the turn of the next season. “Tempting but… my purpose remains. I am here for the night and journey onward tomorrow.”

The drow pursued her lips like she was thinking, a hint of a sulk on her dark-painted lips. She glanced briefly at her partner before locking eyes with Halsin again. She slid her nails across the table in the direction of Halsin’s mug, stopping just shy of his fingers. “Well then, former Archdruid, since we are pressed for time, allow us to be forward with you. We’ve heard more tales than just that of your bear but that you are also quite… skilled in other aspects.”

Halsin inspected them closely, humming in response with a slight tilt of his head. The faintest smirk touched his face, but he said nothing, curious to hear more of the presumably oncoming proposal.

Beside the drow, her partner spoke. “If you are interested,” he began, his green eyes bright against the contrast of his pure black hair. “We’d like to invite you to share in our bed tonight. A hero deserves to be praised, after all.”

Halsin leaned back slightly, his finger obliviously tapping against his mug. A faint feeling simmered deep within his abdomen as he surveyed the couple. The lightest stir of a change in his pulse. As he began to ponder, the drow quickly continued their request.

“You needn’t do much, master Halsin. It would be our pleasure to take care of you,” she murmured sweetly, one slender finger of hers daring to stroke along Halsin’s. “But we also wouldn’t be opposed to more… wilder sides of your druidic charms.”

“Just for the night,” the half-elf added with a sly smile. He confidently placed both hands on the table, slowly clasping them together while he awaited the druid’s answer.

Halsin gave a deep intake of breath, slow and pondering. His gaze shifted between the couple across him, their eyes watching him eagerly, a hidden flush of want and need. Halsin, in his long life, was no stranger to the attention of being desired. Many considered him to be quite exotic, awakening things within themselves when Halsin was in their sights. And it had been long since he felt the touch of another, the touch of you….

He felt himself take another deep breath as a flutter of the faintest nerves danced in his abdomen. He could not deny that the couple before him were pleasing to the eyes, and they were open and willing to invite him into their private lives for the night.

Halsin had willingly secluded himself to the bellies of nature almost entirely, like he was betrothed to it alone. But he was never promised to it. And right now that very nature was reminding him of the many gifts it offered. To deny it was to deny nature itself.

Halsin raised his mug to his lips and then downed the rest of the strong liquid once and for all. He kept his eyes on the pair as he did this and watched as the drow parted her mouth, her bottom lip seemed to quiver with an unseen gasp.

“Alright,” Halsin said, feeling a warmth pass through his torso as he agreed. “Just for the night.”

The drow clasped her hands with an excited giggle as the half-elf simply smirked and nodded his head. Halsin watched him rise, then extended his arm out to the side. “Let us lead the way, we rest our heads not far from here.”

Halsin stood from his seat and immediately towered over the couple, especially the drow. He heard a pleasing breath leave the half-elf’s mouth as his eyes swept over Halsin’s frame with unabashed praise. The druid noticed a few patrons casting curious glances at the trio as they strode through the tavern toward one of the exits.

Halsin’s long cloak swayed with him as he marched with confident strides through the streets while the pair occasionally glanced over their shoulders to ensure he was still there. But despite the confident advance in his long legs, and the even and focused expression he wore, Halsin’s stomach proceeded to twist and flip. It was not the first time he experienced such a feeling before acts of physical intimacy, but it was rare when it came to strangers. He was confident in his performance and cared not for the opinions and judgments of those he did not know, so why was a storm brewing within?

“We’re here,” the drow suddenly said, turning towards a grand, three-story home that was connected to a row of other houses and shops.

Halsin repressed his anxious thoughts and walked up the few steps into the house. Inside was warm, and the smell of pure vanilla and something unknown to him filled his nose, but it was sweet and inviting, sultry even. Halsin strolled further in, stepping on a rather expensive-looking red rug that covered dark brown flooring.

“This way, please.” The drow winked at him before strolling up a wide staircase with the half-elf on her heels.

Halsin exhaled, steadily aware of the rising beat of his heart. He followed them up the stairs, the steps croaking beneath his mighty weight. A breeze from an open window tickled his face and swayed his cloak as they reached the top of the stairs. The gentle song of windchimes rattled throughout the quiet house, save for the sounds of distant voices on the streets and the trio’s concentrated footsteps inside.

The couple led Halsin into a lavish, quiet room with several accents of reds and purples: the curtains, sheets, and various flowers adorning two massive wardrobes. There was a large bed at the center, decorated with bulky pillows and another red rug beneath the bed’s stand.

Halsin came to a stop but swayed slightly as a shift in his heartbeat caused a quick intake of breath. His stomach was beginning to tighten, much to his dismay, but he willed himself to force those sensations away. This was far from his first experience with couples— two at once was neither a challenge nor spectacle, so why was his body acting as such?

A sharp but quiet sigh drew from his lips at the feeling of the drow knowingly brushing her shoulder along Halsin’s side as she sauntered past him and toward the bed. She spun around once she reached the end of the bed, her movement slow and alluring. The half-elf gave Halsin a sultry wink as he came to stand parallel to her but with enough room in between. With a tantalizing smile, the half-elf gestured his arm towards the space between the couple, an invitation.

“Come, master druid, let us care for you,” the drow droned, a sultry purr calling out to him. Inside, the bear stirred, curious at the hint of long-dormant sensations being gradually stimulated.

Halsin half smiled, rolling his shoulders back which made him appear even taller, a powerful presence. “Remove your garments first. When there are more than one involved, it brings me pleasure to stand as a witness for a short time,” he told them with a confident pitch. However, his words were not entirely true.

While he did enjoy watching one rid themselves of the fabrics that shielded what nature blessed them with, he wasn’t one to linger on the sidelines much when other parties were involved, typically joining the affair with haste. But he felt the strangest need to give himself time, to ease the lurking monster of nerves threatening to simmer across his torso.

“Show me how you care for each other, and how you would wish to care for me,” Halsin said, the vigor of his voice deep and unintentionally commanding.

But this only seemed to entice the couple more. Obliging, the half-elf reached behind the drow’s neck and drew her in for an immediate, deep, needy kiss. A soft whine left her lips as the half-elf moved his hand to fiddle with the back of her constricting gown, loosening the ties and freeing her skin from its embrace. Halsin huffed a small pocket of hair, watching as her perky, lilac breasts bounced lightly. The half-elf groaned as her slender hands moved deftly over his buttoned trousers. With experienced speed and grace, the couple wasted no time freeing themselves from what few layers they wore.

Halsin readjusted his stance in response to a familiar twitch fueling his blood. The scent of a swelling salacity fluttered in the bedroom as the couple fondled and caressed the smooth, hairless planes of their bodies. Halsin quietly admired the curve of the drow’s body and the tight lines of muscle in the half-elf’s lithe physique. He watched her pull him into a searing, wet kiss, slowly reaching upward to thread her fingers through his short, black hair. The half-elf left her lips, gliding his tongue down her neck and chest before closing his lips over one of her violet nipples.

A satisfied sigh left her mouth as she tilted her head back, exposing her long neck. She yelped as the half-elf's other hand slipped between her thighs, and Halsin could barely make out his thumb running down the middle of her folds, disappearing within. His large chest rose and fell as he watched the pair, a low heat tingling over his skin. He could almost imagine the bear within rising on all fours, enticed to watch more.

The half-elf licked a long trail back up her chest, capturing her lips in another heated kiss. The drow chuckled lightly as she placed both of her palms flat on her lover's chest, halting him from further movements. “Patience my darling,” she murmured, nearly breathless. “We have another to pleasure tonight.”

The half-elf gave a closed-mouthed grin before releasing her. She turned away from him, her naked body facing Halsin fully, chest slick from her lover’s kisses. She was a beautiful creature, Halsin could not deny it. Nature was often incredibly talented with its canvases. Her eyes peered at him, dark with lust, cheeks already so flushed, and Halsin released an unstable breath as she sauntered towards him.

“Join us, master druid. Grant us your touch,” she purred, closing the short distance in little time. She placed a tender hand at the center of Halsin’s clothed chest. “Grant us the pleasures of your taste.”

A peculiar feeling cut across his stomach when she touched him, like a spark, but it was unlike one of sudden pleasure or pain. He couldn’t quite interpret it and cared not to, for it was fleeting, already gone the moment he started to ponder about it.

From behind the drow, Halsin caught the eye of the half-elf sitting on the bed, leaning back on his elbow, his bare legs wide open as he observed his lover and the druid. The half-elf reached for his long erection that rested on his thigh and began slowly playing with himself, as though in anticipation to watch his drow lover seduce and praise the druid.

“So thick with muscle,” the drow breathed as her hand traveled along the wide planes of Halsin’s strong chest. Her eyes roved over him appraisingly, and she leaned up towards his face, a soft gasp leaving her lips. “And such scars… a true fighter you are.” Her breath tickled his skin and a shiver ran down his back, accompanied by the same bizarre flip in his stomach. Still, Halsin felt himself swelling, breaching against the confines of his trousers.

The drow raised one hand to the side of his face and gently coaxed him to bend down towards her. Halsin caught a light floral aroma hovering over her skin as she rose on her toes, closing the distance. Her breath felt surprisingly cool as she angled her chin towards his mouth. Halsin watched her closely, her pupils so dilated with a brazen desire like she was already intoxicated from the exertion of passion before they even began.

With bated breath, he watched her eyelids close as her lips pressed softly against his own. Another flip inside his stomach, this time stronger, fiercer. A shiver rocketed over his skin but it wasn’t pleasurable, and his abdomen tightened. Halsin stood still, the wheels in his head spinning, his entire body growing rigid with each passing second. It felt bizarre, it felt wrong. The drow’s touch felt wrong, his body rejecting.

“You can kiss me, druid,” the drow murmured, smiling as she stared into his eyes after pulling away briefly. She leaned forward once more but Halsin drew back, causing her to gasp softly in surprise as her hand fell away.

“Perhaps this was a mistake,” he said, as gently as he could. All desire that was rising in his blood was rapidly waning, his heart pacing for other reasons entirely. Even the firmness of his cock began to reverse, the interest in what was to come no longer enough to awaken it.

The drow simply smiled, whining playfully. “Aww, don’t say that.” She bit her bottom lip, staring at his mouth with supreme volumes of yearning. “I can be slower if you’d like. I can ease all of the tension I know is trapped in those broad shoulders.” She reached for his face again—

“You cannot.” Halsin gripped her wrist, not enough to harm her but enough to seize her movements. The sternness in his voice sliced through the room, the aura of an Archdruid, destroying all flavor of the carnal atmosphere.

A flicker of surprise and fear flashed in her pink irises, and from the corner of his eye he noticed the half-elf take a cautious step towards them, eyes narrowed, but Halsin continued. “There is only one whose touch I crave most, and I will not find that here. May you both enjoy yourselves.” He let go of her wrist, then glanced once at the half-elf before turning his large body away from the couple and headed out of the bedroom.

The last he remembered was their dumbfounded stares as he turned to leave, having not a single care about what else they might have to say to convince him to stay. They still had each other, far more than what Halsin had, and that would have to be enough.

Halsin was already back outside, marching faster through the streets than he realized, ignoring all curious glances and stares along the way. The indecipherable noises, faces, and scents were a blur as he almost blindly strode down the stone-paved streets. His heart was hammering, his breathing coming in rapid, trembling currents. He needed to be alone again, to throw himself into the solitude that he should’ve never released in the first place.

His large legs brought him back to the lodgings adjacent to the tavern. He stormed inside, ignoring any greetings, and made his way upstairs where the volume from the streets became muffled. Halsin rushed through his door, slamming it behind him, and immediately fell forward against it. His forearm was leaning against the large door, with his head resting against the taut muscle.

He stared aimlessly at the mahogany floor, so incredibly aware of his blood rushing through his veins. “My heart,” he uttered, shakily. “I need you.” Images of your sweet face flooded his mind, the harmonious sounds of your laughter echoing in his ears, a faint memory.

Maybe two years was too soon, maybe he needed more time. He immediately buried that thought, there would never be enough time. “You are still all I want,” Halsin whispered, feeling his eyes starting to burn, naively hoping you’d somehow respond.

“Silvanus give me strength.” He closed his eyes, desperately trying to level his breathing, to calm his thundering heart.

It had been two years since he felt the true touch of another. Two years since he felt your touch. For someone of his lifespan, one would think he'd be immune to the effects of two simple years. But it was far from simple. Two years felt like two lifetimes without you by his side. Nature offered him a chance today to reap its bounties, but his heart was unmoved, his flesh disinterested.

One night. Just one night of rest, and he would gather his things and continue north to Icewind Dale. He’d trek deep into the wilderness for the next few weeks or months, alone again with nature and the memories of you. He’d spend his nights finding you in his meditations, and sometimes when he was exhausted enough, his dreams.

The thoughts alone sent a shrill up his back as he proceeded to conjure more images of you, imagining you standing right behind him, comforting him. Halsin sighed, deep, his body prickling at the visual of you running your hands up his abdomen, pressing yourself against him while you whispered alluring praises and admirations in his ears.

He could almost feel it, the ghost of your touch, an airy sensation hovering over his long body, blanketing him in love and desire. A voice tickled his ear, breathy and sweet, and he let his eyes flutter closed, bringing his other arm against the door to better support his weight. His mouth curved into a closed smile at the faint sound of his name again, from a voice he adored from the moment it graced his ears a little over twenty years ago. Your voice, a sweet tune blessed by the gods themselves.

A sensation of peace washed over him at the feel of your touch, almost swearing he could feel the pressure of it as though you were truly right behind him. His heart thumped in his ear, desire coursing through him once again. With his eyes closed, he could picture you much clearer, could feel you better. “Halsin…” He swore he could hear you whispering right along the tip of his ear. And he sighed happily, smiling wider now.

“I’m here, my heart.” His words were soft leaving his lips, falling deeper into the image of you and the surroundings he created in his mind’s eye.

“Halsin?”

This time your voice sounded much clearer, like it was a part of his realm, his space. Halsin released a deep breath, blinking rapidly a few times like he was shaking off a daze. The memory of himself leaning on the door washed away like sand being called to the ocean.

“Halsin?” you asked for a third time, tilting your head to survey his face. Halsin blinked, exhaling as his warm eyes found yours.

You smiled, running a finger teasingly down his center as you held his gaze. “I lost you for a moment… It seems like we’re both experiencing much tonight.” You stroked his cheeks tenderly, speaking so softly and he immediately weakened at your touch.

Halsin, chuckling quietly, nodded in agreement. “It would appear so.” His brief laughter waned and he shook his head, slightly frowning, surprised at how overcome with emotion he was that he let his mind drift in such a way. “I never thought I’d feel your touch again, and yet…” he trailed off, breathing deeply as took you in, his entire being teeming with pure elation. “You are here and I fear my very mind and soul can scarcely handle it.”

Your hands were solid against him, real, no longer just a spectral touch of longing memories and fantasies. And though he was larger than you by far, it was your touch that he felt so unbelievably safe in, your eyes that he trusted more than anyone. He traveled dimensions for you, and he’d do it again and again, letting no god or cosmic force get in his way.

“Then let us ground each other tonight,” you said to him. He felt your thumb swipe over his bottom lip before resting at the corner of his mouth. “I’m with you, my Halsin. Are you with me?”

Halsin leaned down, resting his forehead against yours, never breaking his gaze. “I am with you, my love. I am truly, truly with you.”

Okay, part 5 was supposed to be the final. Taking a mini trip into what Halsin went through wasn't a part of the original plan, but I had the idea come to me literally a day after posting part 4 and I couldn't shake it! Our favorite druid went through a lot! Was this part necessary? Not really, but I think it makes the reunion all the more sweeter and powerful. And lastly, I mentioned a few names in this chapter: Neverwinter, High Forest, Icewind Dale. I'm sure some are already familiar with the names, but if it helps with the visuals of where these places are, I wanted to share a link of a map this awesome person created! The places mentioned are all on the west to north-western coast of the mainland, along the Sword Coast. Baldur's Gate is far below Neverwinter, in the middle of the coast. See you soon!

#halsin x reader #halsin x you #halsin fic #halsin x tav #halsin bg3 #halsin fanfic #bg3 x you #bg3 fanfic #halsin imagine #halsin fiction #halsin x female tav #halsin x fem!reader #halsin x oc #halsin

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juliaia · 3 days

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Rainy Nights in Hell's Kitchen

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Summary: You’ve been dating Matt for about a year—you always sleep better when you’re with him.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x gn!reader

Warnings: Swearing, nightmares, fluff, overuse of em-dashes.

A/N: This is super short and sweet, but I wanted to try writing for Matty. Totally feel free to request stuff if you enjoy, but I post fics at random whenever the urge strikes, so I’m not like an “official tumblr fanfic person” or whatever—but I sure am here!

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It was a dark and stormy night—and usually you wouldn’t mind that. The rain is pretty peaceful, and with the windows open you can catch the cool night air and the smell of petrichor on the breeze.

But today has been long and tiring, and lately you’ve been having really vivid, unpleasant nightmares.

You’ve kept them mostly to yourself, tying them to the general stress of day-to-day life and maybe a dash of unresolved trauma—but they’re just nightmares. They’re silly, and you are definitely not afraid to go to bed tonight in your own room in the dark, with the occasional, startling boom of loud thunder in the background.

The fact that you immediately answer a much too eager, “yes”, when Matt asks if you want to stay over at his apartment is totally unrelated.

So now, you’re sitting in the bathroom with Matt, getting ready for bed.

He looks so damn pretty in the slightly dim lighting. His face is cast in a soft glow, his bare chest is looking like a very warm, very comfortable pillow, his sweats are fitting him very nicely and making his butt look exceptionally cute—but to be fair, he always looks sinfully good. You’re pretty sure you could watch him just exist for hours on end.

You see a grin creep onto his face as he feels your eyes on him.

“You’re staring, sweetheart.” He says, pushing his hand through his hair as he turns towards you and holds out a hand. You take it, and he leans in to kiss your forehead.

“Just watching you. You’re pretty.” You say. His grin softens to something less mischievous and more fond and sweet, and he leans in again, this time planting a soft kiss on your lips.

“You’re prettier.” He murmurs—he’s got this shamelessly lovesick look on his face. You chuckle and roll your eyes.

“Says the blind man.” He gives your hand a playful squeeze.

“I can still tell you’re pretty—ready for bed?” He asks. You hesitantly nod.

“Uh, yeah, alright.” He raises an eyebrow.

“…You’re usually more enthusiastic about sleeping.” You sigh, the two of you walking over to settle into bed on top of the cool silk sheets.

“I’ve just been having weird, bad dreams.” You explain. Matt’s face goes all soft and sympathetic.

If there is one thing Matt is, it’s protective. Which is usually sweet, but occasionally overdramatic to the point of hilarity. For example—two weeks ago, you got a papercut while opening a package (one of those awful cardboard-paper-cuts), and the moment Matt heard you let out that little hiss of frustration and pain, he came rushing over to fuss over you, face painted with concern as he took your hand and frantically examined the wound. It’s especially funny considering how he insists you don’t need to worry about him when he shows up at 3 in the morning after patrol, bleeding from a stab wound in his side, or on the verge of passing out from a concussion.

So, you mention the nightmares, and Matt goes all soft, pulling you against his chest, holding you close, kissing the top of your head.

“Oh, angel, I’m sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks. You shrug.

“Eh, you’ve got other stuff on your plate—they’re just nightmares.” Matt shakes his head, nuzzling his face into your hair and inhaling deeply.

“They’re upsetting you, and ruining your sleep.” He murmurs, kissing the top of your head.

“Matty, babydoll—“ He cuts you off by pulling back and pressing his forehead against yours, his warm eyes unfocused and unseeing but somehow still so damn emotional.

“Sweetheart,” He says. “You always take care of me. Let me take care of you, please?”

Dammit—Matt and his stupid puppy dog eyes. That sweet soft sad look he gives you, the pleading, pouty face, his pretty pink lips and big dumb wet eyes. You relent, sighing in defeat, and he grins, pulling you into his arms, kissing your cheek, and dragging you to bed, laying down with you.

“I’m here, okay?” He murmurs, kissing the top of your head. You grumble, folding yourself into his arms, smushing up against his chest. He rubs your back, holding you close. “Nothing gets to ruin your sleep except for me.” He says. You snort, giving his bicep a squeeze–oh those wonderful thick arms of his.

“Dork.” He pulls you over, tucking you against his chest for a cuddle. He nuzzles his face against the top of your head.

“I’m here. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. No nightmares.” He says. You smile, hand finding his, fingers lacing through his own.

“I don’t know if you have any control over what I dream about, but I appreciate it anyway.” You say. Matt yawns softly, kissing your temple.

“I’m just gonna hold you so tight the nightmares won’t be able to get you.” He loves having you so close, loves being able to protect you and cuddle up with you to sleep. He presses his nose and mouth into the crook of your neck, letting out a happy growl. You reach back to ruffle his hair.

“Thanks, Matty.” You murmur. He nods, kissing your cheek.

Curled up in his arms, you fall asleep easier. The rain falls outside, soft pitter patters on the window panes as Matt’s steady breathing lulls you to sleep.

When you wake up at two in the morning, hands gripping the sheets, Matt wakes up with you, pulling you closer and kissing your temple, hands coming up to rub your shoulders.

“Hey angel, you’re okay. I’m here.” You push yourself further into his arms, body shaking slightly as you wrap your arms around his arm, holding it against your chest. “I’m here.” He rubs your chest, hand drawing soothing circles against you. “What can I do to help, hm?”

You just push yourself closer to him, and he settles you into his lap, shushing you gently and kissing the top of your head. He holds you tightly, hand gently rubbing over your racing heart in a gesture he hopes is grounding and comforting.

You tuck your face against his warm neck, inhaling the scent of him, pressing a soft kiss to his skin. He chuckles, hand coming to cup your cheek, his face tilting down and his nose nudging against yours. You wrap your arms around him, too tired and shaken up to be embarrassed about seeking him out for comfort. He cuddles you against him, laying back with you against his chest.

You’re quickly lulled back to sleep by the soothing sounds of his breathing and heartbeat, and after that, you sleep solidly through the night without any issues. Matt’s warm arms wrapped around you, blankets cozy and soft, the rain and thunder outside becoming gentle background noise.

In the morning, Matt wakes you up with a few soft kisses on the temple, stirring you to consciousness, drawing a little grumble from you. He chuckles, rubbing your back gently.

“Sorry sweetheart, I couldn’t resist.” He pecks you on the lips. You hide your face against his chest, trying to block out the light from the window. He kisses the top of your head, throwing his leg over your hip to pull you closer. He’s so warm, and he smells so good, and he’s cuddling you close like you’re the most precious thing in the world. “Did you sleep okay? Aside from the bad dreams?” He asks, hand resting on your back. You nuzzle your face against the crook of his arm. You did sleep okay, you felt safe and warm in his arms, held close in his arms.

“Mhm. Slept better with you.” You say. Matt grins, face flushing as he snuggles you closer, squishing you against him.

“You should stay over more often. Move in with me, so I can keep you safe from all the nightmares.” He says, fingers brushing through your hair. You smile softly.

“…Shit, are you asking me to move in with you?” You ask. Matt kisses your forehead.

“Depends…would you say yes if I was?” You chuckle.

“Yes, yes I would.” Matt smiles, nuzzling his nose into your hair.

“Then yes, yes I am asking you to move in with me.”

“And I’m saying yes.”

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader

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multishipper-baby · 2 years

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This is pretty dark but with the whole health issues and complications, I like to think there was a moment (even if only a brief one) where baby Deya wasn't breathing when she was just born and it was horrifying for everyone.

#ask to tag #myocs #when the doctors explained to red what was happened he legit freaked the fuck out (obviously)#which was BAD because he also wasn't doing the best after delivery so he needed to stay calm and relax #gold tried to soothe him but he also knew it was a losing game. no way red would be calm until the baby was safe in his arms #meanwhile derek was waiting outside with lunita and was already full off nerves #so suddenly hearing his dad scream about how his daughter was dying almost killed him on the spot #he almost fainted and only managed to somewhat stay sane because luna was also scared and he didn't want to scare her more #she was only like 12 at the time so he couldn't exactly fall apart when he was the only adult with her #but god did he want to fall apart so bad. and he felt so much guilt at that moment #all he could think about was of how many times he said he didn't want the baby and now... this #it felt like some sort of karmic punishment #thankfully the doctors made it all better before it escalated so they could all eventually calm down #but they all still have nightmares about that day occasionally #zephyr is not the type to cry but if he ever told seba or someone else about that he probably would #his little sunshine almost didn't make it :c #(I feel bad for them all now rip)

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coconutdays · 11 months

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going crazy

s. your boyfriend, handsome and secure suguru geto, doesn't get jealous

w.c. 4.8k

w. fem! reader, biker!geto! x reader , fluff!, smut!

a/n: based on my seat taker biker!geto au! also I feel this does not live up to seat taker! but I tried my best! so I hope you can still enjoy! likes reblogs and comments r always appreciated to know y’all liked it!!!

your boyfriend does not have a single jealous bone in his body. it’s convenient you suppose?

you’ve heard nightmares of insecure men who have to know where there girlfriends are every second of every hour, the direction they’re even going to utter a breath in. the occasional story of a girl who can’t speak to any men whatsoever because her boyfriend will berate her for doing so.

although you do always keep suguru in the loop about what you’re doing and don’t really talk to guys because at the end of the day, more often than not, they always do not plan on just being your friend, he never expected those things out of you. It was a silent form of showing your respect for him. and he did the same out of instinct too, first too.

but aside from that, he doesn’t show any jealousy.

there was a time he even tried to set you up with toji zenin when he was still crushing on you.

your boyfriend is a little peculiar, you’re very well aware of that, but you find his confidence in himself sexy. because you couldn’t look anywhere else if you wanted to. he was handsome, his face chiseled so prettily it was painful. his smooth voice that always had you reeling to get him to talk more. and his spine tattoo that always made you blush at the sight of it befriending your scratch marks after a particularly rough night,

so you don’t care about the way you dress, because he won’t control what you wear. in fact, it’s one of the things you both love about each other, a recent discovery now that you’ve been dating for a month. suguru is an avid fan of the way you dress, relishing in what new outfit he’ll see you in whenever he sees you that day, and if not possible, asking for a picture. and you love how he loves it. appreciating the fact that he loves when you wear booby shirts to campus or dates with him or particularly tight jeans that attract eyes aside from his, but are worn for the sole purpose of serving cunt–and riling your boyfriend up.

it all comes together to why you wear the dress you do tonight to go clubbing with him and some friends. it’s honestly the hottest thing suguru will have seen you in so far. yes, your previous halloween costumes were something alright, but this…was different. halloween was like a month ago and the outfits for those events were meant to be slutty, purely slutty. this look was meticulously planned by you the moment you ordered the dress online. the sheer dress and its sparkles had been running across your mind that entire week of shipping with the perfect sultry way you planned to do your hair and makeup.

you

hey can we carpool later tonight, my dress isnt motorcycle proof :/

suguru

sure princess. can i get a peek?

you

don’t feel like it hehe wait for it sugu <3

suguru

tease

any other time, he would’ve more than likely have gotten his peek at your outfit, you are weak to his demands naturally, but this was something he genuinely would have to wait for. pictures would not do you justice and you wanted to catch your boyfriends raw reaction when he saw the look for the first time .

and you were right.

when he went up to your apartment to pick you up and you opened the door, the reaction was worth the wait. the constant warmth your boyfriend’s gaze always held fell the moment his eyes landed on you and took a moment to breathe you in.

you saw his pupils dart to your cleavage first, staring for a hard second, then to the tightness against your waist and hips bringing attention to your figure. the small quirk of his eyebrow seconds within that let you know he spotted the thong hugging your body under the sheer dress. he did a once over of your legs, looking at what shoes you were wearing, before he brought his eyes up to look at your face again.

he doesn’t say anything, instantly moving forward and getting rid of the space between the both of you to take your head in his hands and plant his lips on yours. you press a hand against his chest when you feel him swipe his tongue across the top of your mouth so hungrily.

“you’re going to kiss off my lipgloss sugu.” you giggle, heaving a little as you press your forehead against his, blinking up happily at him.

his stare is firm as his blown up pupils stare back into you, “sorry pretty girl, couldn’t help myself.”

“and why’s that hm?” you bite your lip through your smile, eagerly waiting for his answer, still forehead to forehead with him, his hands still holding you in place.

his hair is in that half up half down duo you go so feral for, you realize this detail when he says, “you know why.”

“no I don’t,” you drag on, a teasing lilt in your voice

“because,” he drags one of his hands down to caress your neck softly with his thumb, you can see a slight crease in his eyelids at your playfulness, “my girlfriend is trying to get away with first degree murder right now.”

“you like the dress?” you give him a toothy smile and you can slightly catch his gaze turn hungry at the sight of it

suguru suddenly raises you up by clasping his arms behind you, below your butt and on your thigh, so you’re above him when he looks at you lovingly, “like is an understatement.”

“well i like your hair today,” you compliment him, still giggly

“yeah?” he smiles, “i’m glad.”

it’s your first time ever going to the club with suguru, so there’s some sort of powerful feeling lingering when you enter the loud building holding hands with him. you’re going in belonging to someone and so is he, as opposed to other people going in and hoping to catch a body tonight or at least a good grind on the dancefloor–satoru cough cough.

the white haired maniac’s influence gets all of you a vip table with liquor already waiting for you and when you get there, suguru sits and plants you on his lap, arms loosely wrapped around your waist.

It’s when you look forward, you see toji zenin give you a quick once over from where he’s seated near satoru. and you ignore it, you always do. he’s never made an advance on you ever since you and suguru became a thing, he’s respectful of the relationship, but his eyes can never lie, he’s into you. it’s why you’ve never uttered a word to him and why he doesn’t either. and you can’t really blame him if the purpose of tonight's look was to turn all heads, not just your boyfriend’s.

“you smell good baby,” suguru mutters into your ear as he brushes a hair away from your face, “are you using the perfume i got you?”

you wrap your arms around his shoulders when you respond with a nod of your head and, “yeah. I finally ran out of my old one.”

“good girl.” he smiles appreciatively before placing a tender kiss on your neck

the softness of it makes you giggle a little and crane your neck a little, suguru pinches your side to tease you for it.

it’s when a certain lullaby of a song comes on that your ears perk up and your boyfriend observes the reaction, looking up at you and rubbing circles into your waist, “what’s up baby?”

within an instant all the girls at your table begin to get up and rush to the dance floor and you turn to suguru, already starting to unwrap his arms from your waist.

“i have to go dance this babe,” you say hurriedly, like a little kid leaving their mom the moment they see the bouncy castle go up.

suguru can say nothing before he watches you run off to join the other girls on the dance floor, eyebrows raised in amusement at your antics then in reaction to your immediate inclination to start dancing.

you look pretty, he thinks as he reaches over to serve himself a glass of whiskey.

and he continues to think it as he ‘talks’ to his friends, nodding and giving small mhms when all he’s really doing is watching you live it up at the center of the club.

you’re ethereal, the only star in that murky puddle of bodies. maybe your dress is part of the reason for all that shine and glow you’re giving off, but nothing beats the pretty little smile on your face that says you’re having a good time. it’s turning him on to be honest. he always wants to shove himself inside of you when you bear that toothy smile at him.

and other people think the same, he notes.

he’s always seen the stares, he knows you’re a sight to behold. there hasn’t been a day where he isn’t aware that so many other people want you. he knew it when you were merely the smart, hot girl he had a crush on his lit class, with so many other guys obviously paying a little more attention when it was your turn to speak, and he knows it even more now with your male following on social media and the way he constantly gets sized up just for being next to you. for fuck's sake he's heard toji zenin talk about how bad you are before he knew about your thing with suguru at the halloween party, hell, he still catches the frat president unable to control the way his eyes eat you up when you're near.

“done already?” satoru asks haughtily when he sees all of the girls that went to dance come back heaving a little

it’s been an hour since they all left at the start of that first song.

“y/n’s still there though,” one of them breathes, taking satoru’s drink from him, “she does not stop.”

“yeah, she doesn’t,” suguru laughs a little, looking back at you, still as energetic as when you first got there.

fuck, you're beautiful.

speaking of before,

he’s painfully more aware of it when he notices the number of eyes gravitating towards you from the dancefloor, tables, and the bar.

it’s like a bunny in a room full of wolves. or those scenes where scooby and shaggy are in a dark room and a thousand red eyes pop up to blink at them. the eyes to you ratio is beginning to get a little mind boggling now that he sees it in a real life setting. this is not the handful of guys checking you out when you go to the library with him or the nth guy staring at you when you walk past with your boyfriend next to you. this is a huge club with you in the middle and catching the eye of almost every guy in here, most of whom come to this place with plans of taking a girl home or putting moves on her.

the thought manifests itself when a blonde frat bro walks up to you and tries to dance with you. suguru’s heart stops a little for some reason. he’s seen guys come up to you before, actually talking to you and trying to get your number, so he shouldn’t feel this irked when he knows the guy is going to be disappointed by your answer. he actually wants to go up to the guy and beat his face in.

the surge of pride that courses through his body is immense when he sees you put a hand between you and the guy and you make an annoyed face, all before strutting off and making your way back to the table.

he manspreads a little more for you to sit between his legs, draping one arm on your thigh, the other holding onto his whiskey.

“a guy tried to dance with me,” you huff when you sit down, reaching for suguru’s drink, which he hands over without a second thought, now using the other free hand to fully hug you.

“I saw,” he says, perching his chin your shoulder, watching as you take a sip of the whiskey and cradle the cup in your hands.

“dance with me,” you turn to look at him and pout, “i don’t want guys coming up to me.”

“but you look so good rejecting them.” suguru teases, smirking a little at you

when your face deapans, he laughs and hugs you tighter, “we’ll go in a bit. rest your pretty feet for a second, don’t want them to tire out.”

“okay,” you slump into his hold, pouting

and suguru did keep his promise, like always. he took you dancing after a few minutes of rest and letting you drink the rest of his whiskey.

he protected you from any other guys trying to come up to you, evident in the way no guys even dared get close from a ten feet radius.

he kept you close and let you dance with him, hands appreciatively holding onto you when you pressed your body against his. it was much different to the dancing from that first time at satoru’s party, he was really holding onto you this time. his hands always found your ass, your hips, even the underside of your boobs during every second of every song.

and suguru isn’t a jealous guy, so it was a little weird to you when you saw him notice a guy oogling you and he immediately pulled you in to makeout with him on the dancefloor. it was unlike any other makeout session you had ever had with him before. he was gripping your ass while his other hand held your neck, that wasn’t new, he always did that, but his energy about it was so…all consuming.

all you know, is that instantly had you horny and you couldn’t help the mewl you let out after he squeezed you in his hold.

“let’s go,” he spoke a bit tensely into your ear so you could hear him past the music.

and you were never one to go against him because everything suguru did always made sense and worked for you, so you nodded mindlessly and said, “okay.”

when you got to suguru’s apartment, he immediately pushed you against the door and resumed the makeout session he had started at the club. one of his hands was planted against the door while the other roughly gripped your waist to keep you close to him.

“If you ever see toji, i want you to run the other direction,” he spoke ominously against your lips

the command had you furrowing your eyebrows, you mean of course yes you'd do that, but you never would’ve thought he’d ask it from you. he never really cared to address your actions when it came towards other guys. suguru wasn’t ever jealous…nonetheless, you agree meekly, taken aback by his roughness, “okay.”

all your boyfriend did in response was let out a gruff sound of acknowledgement before pressing his body further against yours and beginning to tug your dress off. he started by pushing down the straps, then pushing the upper half down, including your strapless bra until your tits popped out.

he pushed both of them together the moment they peeked out and then let a glob of spit drop down onto one of your nipples rather obscenely before he went down to mouth at that same breast. it had you keening, you could feel your thong becoming nonexistent with the way you were starting to drench through it.

a bite from suguru had you squeaking before he continued his ministrations on your other breast while his hands worked on pushing the rest of your dress all the way down, even your thong since it caught onto the tight material of the dress.

you were left completely naked in front of him now and he manhandled you by suddenly picking you up and pinning you against the wall next to the door. he let one hand hold one of your legs to his waist, while the other went under and quickly swiped a finger across your folds with ease due to the wetness

“so easy baby,” he muttered against your lips before plunging a finger all the way in and curving it upwards

“you’re being mean,” you complain, feeling completely flustered at his brash actions

“what’s so mean about making you feel good hm?” he leans back to get a good look at you when he plunges another finger in and starts to push them in and out quickly, watching as your eyebrows knit and you start to mewl, “atta girl.”

“nothing,” you mumble, brainless as you wrap your arms around his neck and hook him in closer with your legs, “ow!”

he started adding a third finger when he felt like you were starting to open up more, however your small complaint started dying into a moan when he increased his pace with the third finger.

“that’s a lot sugu,” you heave through delirious breaths, flustered at the fact that he was staring so intensely at how you were sucking him in

your comment had him finally looking up at you and you dont know if you’d rather he go back to staring at your pussy, because he was giving that same intense stare to you now. the all heavy pressure of his gaze was entirely being directed at your own eyes now, and how could you meet that same gaze equally when he was three fingers into you and making you moan like a slut.

suguru might have granted you a quick mercy when he leaned against you, quickening the pace of his fingers so you could get louder, and breathed into your ear, muttering lowly, “my cock’s a lot more than three fingers but you always cream all over it.”

the dirty sentence has you pulling suguru closer to you, and trying to trap him where he was so you wouldn’t have to look at him in the flustered state he put you in. but your boyfriend didn’t have it, forcing himself out of your grip, and craning his neck back to go back to looking at you.

he pulled out all three of fingers just to land a sharp slap across your pussy before plunging all of them into you again, “let me watch you baby. be good for me, okay?”

he honestly expects you to be able to answer him when three of his very large fingers are stretching you wide open and curling on that one spot that always has you crumbling, you know he expects you to because he turns his head a little when you don’t answer and lands another slap before going back to fingering you.

“speak up princess,” he orders so easily and so sweetly, like he’s not torturing your body right now

and you do your best to force the words out of you, legs quivering and resisting the urge to writhe in his grasp when you gasp, “ok–okay.”

“good girl,” he almost groans with a snarl as he suddenly stops fingering you open and hoists you over his shoulder, a squeal leaves your mouth at the action.

he’s walking you both to his bedroom, you notice from the path of his hallway made out from your view, and the realization doesn’t last long before suguru brings you down again, then pushes you down and bends you over his bed. he lands a slap to your ass and you can makeout the rustle of him getting naked when he says softly, “grab the pillows and put them under your stomach angel.”

and you listen, reaching easily for both of his large and fluffy pillows, and putting them under your abdomen.

you feel suguru’s heavy length press against your ass and bare pussy when he presses up against you, gripping onto the crease between your thighs and ass, and starts mouthing hot and heavy kisses across your spine. you whine a complaint at the fact that you feel so good, but you know you could feel so much better if he just put it in already.

“what?” suguru notices the pitch that you always make when you’re complaining, continuing his line of affection down your spine

“put it in,” you pout, wiggling your ass for emphasis and hissing a little when you feel his cock graze your lips at the action

suguru gives a last kiss to the bottom of your spine before coming back up and grabbing a fistful of your hair and bringing your head up so he could look at you, “how bad do you want it?”

“really bad sugu.” you mewl, feeling gratification from the sting of his hold on you

“you want me to fill up your little hole? even when we both know you’re gonna start crying that it’s beating your pussy up, yeah?” he questions cruelly

“mhm,” you nod pathetically, “even if i do.”

his lips twitch a little at your admission and he yanks on your hair a little harder when he lands a sloppy kiss on your lips that has a string of saliva connecting both of your mouths when he pulls away.

he stands back up and lands another stinging slap across your ass, groaning, “my pretty fuckin ass.”

as if he couldn’t get any dirtier, suguru then grabs either of your cheeks and spreads them apart to get a good view of your sex, the sudden exposure of which makes you feel even wetter. that last fact seems of no use to suguru when you feel a large glob of spit land and run down your hole.

you suck in breath when you feel suguru start to rub his tip across your folds.

“sloppy little pussy,” he mutters before pressing into you. and you both groan when he starts to inch himself in even further.

the moan you let out when he completely pulled out and slammed back in was sinful and the noises that followed when he started doing that again and again at a faster pace without mercy had you outright screaming.

you felt like you were constantly breathless, constantly trying to breathe. he hadn’t ever been this hard on you before.

and you thought you knew what hard was from him before.

“i know, i know,” he whispered against your neck when he pressed himself down against you and started jackhammering even closer to your cervix, so on point with your gspot too that you felt your orgasm starting to build up

a particular gutteral squeal from you had him breathing a “so cute” while he never relented his brutish force against you

“sugu–sugu,” you reached around for one of his arms, heaving, grabbing onto it while he violently moved the both of you, “i’m gonna–mmm–i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum!”

the confession had suguru suddenly changing positions, hooking his arms up and under your armpits to pull you up to stand flush against his body while he slammed up against you ferociously. it unexpectedly had your high crashing against you after a graze of your gspot.

“that’s it baby, that’s it.” suguru consoled when he felt you twitch in his hold and your juices dripping all over his abdomen and cock, “such a good fucking girl.”

all you wanted to do was fall down and rest, but the most you could muster was letting your body go limp in your boyfriend’s unrelenting hold, letting him use you as he pleased.

“ ‘s too much sugu,” you whined as the overstimulation started kicking in

It didn’t get him to stop at all.

“remember what you said earlier hm?” he brought up, breathing heavy as he lifted a foot up to plant it against the edge of the bed. it was leverage for the scream worthy pace he started forcing on you now.

tears started to fall down your cheeks at the overstimulation. it was so good, too good. It was all so sinfully good.

you felt your walls start to flutter again at your second nearing orgasm when you sniffled from the tears. and although your boyfriend still evilly abused your pussy, he leaned down and moved your face to the side with one hand so he could be face to face with you.

you thought he was going to kiss you, but instead he started licking your tears off.

it was the catalyst for your orgasm and you thrashed rather hard against suguru, who you could feel suck in a breath at the sporadic clenches of your pussy.

“fuck,” he breathed harshly, pulling you even tighter against him to more easily meet his thrusts and you could feel his cock twitch as a symptom of his incoming orgasm.

that, and he started to speak up filthily.

“Mine–mine–mine–mine.” he reiterated quickly, punctuating each time with a thrust, “fuck ‘s all mine. god can’t get enough of you pretty baby. so fucking slutty and pretty. fuck–fuck–next time i see toji giving you heart eyes im gonna pump my cum inside you so he can see it running down your fucking legs. fuck–you like that baby? what–a–good–good–fucking–girl. tell me you want that baby.”

scrambling for any piece of sanity just to tell your boyfriend what he wants to hear, in hopes of spurring his lust, you moan out weakly, “i want it sugu i want it.”

“yeah? you want him to see me dripping out of your pretty fuckin pussy? god–i fucking–want–it. he’ll never get to fucking know what it’s like to cream this little hole.”

“so–so dirty sugu,” you moan sheepishly at the embarrassing realization that he might just make you cum a third time because of the added spur of his pussy drunk words.

“pussy’s fucking dirty,” snarls back at you, pulling you closer to him, “can feel you clenching around me. know you fucking like it.”

the shut down of his words had you shaking in attraction to his ability to shut you up like no other.

“never–forget–you’re–mine,” he thrusts through, “ ‘s fucking pussy, your ass, your tits, your body, your pretty fucking face, ‘s all mine. you don’t need anybody but me. i’m yours i’m yours i’m yours. ‘s dick ‘s all yours, everything, baby. take it–take it–take it.”

his breathing was starting to get heavier and you could feel his abs start twitching against you, a sign of his orgasm building up just as yours was all over again.

so it surprised you when suguru pulled out and threw you onto the bed, your legs hanging off the edge before he picked them up and slanted them up against his body by hugging them close. “come here, come here,” he quickly let one arm go for a second to guide himself into you again before wrapping it around your legs again. he repositioned the one leg of his back on top of the bed for his leverage and leaned forward a bit to go back to his brutal thrusts.

“wanna see your face when you cum again.” he muttered as he stared at you squealing and moaning lewdly at his ministrations

suguru started kissing and mouthing at your calves while keeping you in a deadlock of eye contact. his cheeks and ears were tinged pink and his hair had fallen out of the half up half down do he had it in earlier.

the worshipping of your legs and eye contact had to have been the last straw for you, because after a certain lick of your skin, you started crashing, feeling yourself let go across the entire lower half of your boyfriend, resisting the urge to cover your face in embarrassment because he recently made it a point that he really really liked seeing your face when you came.

the point was proven when he followed soon after you, thrusting half haphazardly into you as he blew his load inside of you in time with every squeeze of your cunt. it was accompanied by a litter of painful bites across your calves and heavy breathing from your boyfriend. he looked like he came hard, it felt like he did, considering how every spurt of his cum was sharply thrusted into you, making you wince in pain every time his tip kissed your cervix.

both of you were breathing heavily after, especially suguru, his skin covered in a thicker veil of sweat than you, who was simply taking all of that force he was exerting. he was still holding onto your legs, resting his forehead on the bare skin of your foot that wasn’t covered by your heel.

his eyes were closed and he licked his lips, a bit tired, as he spoke, “i think i do get jealous after all, i’m sorry.”

his confession made you slightly clench around him, making him suck a breath in at the sensitivity while you breathlessly giggled, “that’s okay, i never said you couldn’t.”

suguru lazily bit your calf again as a sign of retaliation, "you could sound less excited."

#geto x reader #geto suguru #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk suguru #suguru geto smut #geto smut

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yandere-daydreams · 1 month

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tw - non/con, unbalanced power dynamics, obsessive/possessive behavior, and manipulation.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who's the best security you could possibly ask for. You've been told that hybrids aren't very good for protection, that you'd be better off just getting a regular dog or, better yet, not living alone in one of the sketchier neighborhoods of a notoriously unsafe city, but those people haven't meant your Kento. Stern, stoic, and loyal - he keeps you safe, helps around the house, and doesn't need (or want, for that matter) half of the attention a normal dog would need. Really, it's more like having a personal bodyguard than a pet. You're sure he'd prefer if it if you treated him more like the former than the latter, too.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who'd practically be human if it wasn't for the adorably pointed ears on top of his head, the wiry tail at the base of his spine, and the dull canines you sometimes catch a glimpse of during one of his rare smiles. It's clear that he doesn't consider himself to be like most hybrids, so you do your best to treat him like a roommate - giving him his space, making sure he has his privacy, constantly resisting the urge to run your hands through his hair and apologizing profusely when you inevitably fail. He claims he doesn't mind, not if it's you, but you've seen the way his lips curl when strangers so much as approach him, how he rolls his eyes when he sees other hybrids sitting on their owners' laps or begging for treats. You're not eager to get on his bad side, even if you do occasionally catch him slipping into your bed in the middle of the night.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who's mistaken for your boyfriend at least once a week. It's your own fault, really. He likes to walk you to work, run errands while you're away, all the things a stay-at-home boyfriend would usually do if he were as loving and as attentive as Nanami. It's always embarrassing, even if all you have to do is nod to one of his less-than-human features to clear up the misunderstanding. Still, it happens so often, and you're not proud to admit that from time to time, you don't have the energy to do anything but smile and nod when your elderly neighbor compliments the 'hunk of a man' living with you.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who's less naturally protective than you think he is. He's concerned with your safety, of course, but that's not a privilege that extends to the male coworkers he catches with a hand on the small of your back, to the friends who drag you out of your shared apartment and don't bring you back until the early hours of the morning. He spends more nights than he's proud of standing outside of your bedroom door, listening for any signs of life, waiting for an intruder, or a nightmare - any excuse to cross that unspoken boundary. It'd be more practical to spend his nights on the foot of your bed like every other drooling, filthy mutt hybrid, but that's not the kind of relationship he wants to have with you. Not if you have to think of him as a dog to get there.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who has to fuck his fist three times a day to offset his humiliating instincts. He tried for complete abstinence at first, not to think about you in that context at all, but there's only so many hours of his day he can spend with his knot pressed into his stomach, his cock twitching every time you bend over or brush against him. Still, it's far from a long-term solution. How could it be, when he still cums untouched every time you scratch the base of his ears?

Guard Dog!Nanami, who volunteers to take care of your household chores so he'll have an excuse to root through your laundry while you're away. He's surprised you haven't noticed just how much of your underwear mysteriously vanishes with every load, but even if you were less oblivious, he'd rather you be suspicious of him than ever find the hoard of tattered, stained, ruined fabric he keeps underneath his mattress.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who knows this can't go on for much longer. He loves you, and he respects you, and he knows that you'll never really see him as anything more than a pet, but he's can't seem to bring himself to see you as a master. And, when he's walking you home late at night after yet another unplanned bar crawl, when he's listening to you whine half-coherently about how hard it is to live with a hybrid that's so close to human, he may pass a darkened alleyway and listen to the long-buried, animalistic mind urging Nanami to claim what belongs to him.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who knows that you'll never make a very good master and he'll never make a very good pet. But, that doesn't mean he can't hope that you'll both be better off after your roles are reversed.

#hybrid au #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere nanami kento #nanami kento x reader

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dxxdhood · 2 months

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drains me slowly

pairing: wade wilson x gn!reader

summary: deadpool finally invites you, the coworker he has a massive crush on, over, which means the two of you end up doing more than just watching a movie.

tags: smut (18+), sub!wade wilson, dom!reader, pain kink, use of superpowers to fuel a pain kink, light masochism, teasing, gentle dom, hand job, scratching, body worship

wc: 3.3k

a/n: fic inspired by the new deadpool movie coming out!!! also, title is from love me dead by ludo.

No surprise that Wade wasn’t exactly anyone’s favorite– that goes for among the heroes he’s worked with and throughout his life in general. He’s – to put it in the kindest way anyone’s ever told him – fucking annoying. Oh, he’s more than aware that he’s a little too out-of-pocket, abrasive, impulsive– a nightmare to interact with, really. And those were just the recent comments made by the closest thing he has to coworkers! The shit he heard from people growing up was leagues worse.

Look, having a rough start in life isn’t uncommon and he’s sure as hell not gonna get the tiny violin out for himself and throw his own little pity party, but he’s grown enough since his healing factor got beat out of him to acknowledge that he’s had it tough over the years.

He’s still going, though! Yeah, he may not always be the best at doing his laundry quick enough to get any clean clothes to wear, or at stopping his room from becoming cluttered with too many half-empty water bottles, but he’s still making it by, day by day.

But, well, it’s still really hard to constantly put himself out there, get assigned – or infinitely more likely, just shove himself into – whatever jobs or missions he feels like taking on when everyone treats him like Jar Jar Binks.

That was until you came along. So, obviously you’re crazy hot – he’s gotta get that out of the way first – but more than that, you were confident. Competent, too, and those rarely coincide in Wade’s experience. You mostly worked on call, joining the occasional mission, battle, or investigation because your mutant powers came in handy often, but you also still kept up with your day job. Honestly, Wade thinks the reason why you weren’t always present in fights was to stop the other mutants from being out of a job. Your ability to slowly deteriorate surrounding biological tissue, while horrifying and a pain in the ass to control – your words – was basically winning on easy mode.

But no, you were adamant about keeping your involvement with the X-Men infrequent– only joining when your presence was absolutely necessary. Apparently nonstop high stress situations aren't good for your mental health– who knew?

And he wants to pretend he became obsessed with you because of all those things, and of course they helped, but really, you had him at hello. Or well, you bothering to say hello and actually talk to him in the first place, to ask him questions about his life in moments of downtime where usually he’d be left with an unenthusiastic audience instead of a warm-hearted listener who actually laughed at his jokes.

So, of course, he has to go and fuck it up.

…

“So, glad that’s over, huh?” Wade says through a smile, the whites of his mask squeezing as his cheeks rise. “Speaking of over, you wanna come?”

“Over?” you shake your head a little, flashing your teeth as you try and comprehend him. “Right after we took on a whole crime ring?”

“Well, what a better time to unwind, am I right?”

“Oh?” you raise your eyebrows. “We’re unwinding?”

It’s small, but you swear Wade ups his talking speed, “Well, yeah, you know. Watch a movie, order in, show you my Pokemon cards, the works.”

You hum, pretending to consider it, “Depends, you got a holo Charizard?”

And now, for sure, he exhales his relief. “You insult me.”

The two of you enter his apartment not long after you’re dismissed from the mission, and Wade briefly excuses himself to change out of his suit. Making yourself at home, you take a seat on the couch and glance across his living room. His apartment is surprisingly nice. The kitchen and living room are one large, open space with a sleek, modern design. Also, you’d assume someone as chaotic as Wade would keep their house in a messier state, or hell, at least a little dusty, but the living room is spotless. Maybe he cleaned recently? What, was he planning on inviting someone over?

Snorting as you shake your head, a small click from across the hall catches your attention.

You’ve only seen Wade on the job, so naturally he’s always been wearing his red suit, but for some reason, you never stopped to picture him wearing civilian clothes. Actually, now that you’re seeing him in a sweatshirt and sweatpants – awfully warm for this weather – you’re struggling to reconcile the image of him you had in your head with the person right in front of you.

Well, at least until Wade brings up a fist to cover his mouth, illustrating his nervousness, and the tension fizzles out. Only Wade has body language that cartoonishly exaggerated.

“Nice sweats, green looks good on you.”

Wade pauses for a moment, registering your words before he giggles softly, arm falling to his side, “I’ve been thinking about changing the color of my suit. You know, hiding all the blood is great and all, but sometimes I gotta wonder – could this thing be more flattering?”

He walks over with a spring in his step before sitting by your side. Cutely, he wraps you up in the larger blanket first before settling the smaller, throw blanket over himself. You try your hardest not to show your confusion outwardly, but seeing Wade up close now has you questioning his outfit all the more.

He’s a bit tall, so the sweatpants don’t go all the way down to his ankles, but Wade’s wearing calf socks, as if he specifically were trying to avoid them being uncovered. Also, his hoodie’s easily a size or two larger, which makes it the perfect thing to wear to lounge around and watch a movie in, but also, the sleeves cover his entire hand sans his fingers. From the little you can see of them, they look puckered in scars.

But obviously Wade’s hands are scarred– he’s a mercenary. He’s handled all sorts of weapons and been in hundreds of fights over the years. You weren’t expecting his skin to be baby-smooth.

What’s interesting to you is why he’d go through all the trouble to hide it.

Also, yeah, the most obvious pointers were that the hood of his sweatshirt is up even though you two are indoors in his own home and – how could you forget this one – his Deadpool mask is still on.

Was he just uncomfortable with sharing his identity in general or was he specifically trying to shove distance between the two of you? Whatever, if he doesn’t want to take his mask off with you, he doesn’t have to. You feel a distinct pang in your chest, but you try not to let it color how you respond to him. He’s more than in the right to only share what he feels most comfortable with.

Wade’s been fiddling with the remote while you’ve been – hopefully – subtly looking him over, and the screen finally changes from a streaming service page to the opening of the movie.

“We’re watching The Princess Bride? I didn’t take you for a romantic.”

He bats his eyes – at least, you think he does, given the mask– and speaks in a sweet voice “Why, me? Oh please, I know romance. I’m not going to invite a lovely, gorgeous, incredible person over and force them to watch Die Hard on the first–”

His back straightens out like he’s been electrocuted before he forcibly relaxes his posture to finish his thought.

“Hang-out.”

Okay, you want to go easy on him, especially because he seems so tense, but you can’t just let that one slide. You close the small distance remaining between the two of you, causing your entire side to press against his. Even through his sweatshirt, you can feel how warm he is.

“Mmm, just a hang out?” you mumble, sliding your head onto his shoulder. You’ve done this before, either for comedic effect or just in an attempt to push his buttons the same way he always tries to push yours – which, despite his best efforts, always ends up endearing him to you instead of bothering you – but never in a context like this.

He inhales sharply, and you count the seconds until he finally lets himself release it. Sometimes, you think he takes his healing factor for granted.

Turning his head to peer down at you, Wade considers you for a moment, keeping his face and body language deceptively neutral. You try your hardest to keep your eyes focused on the movie and your body loose and comfortable.

“You want this to be a date?” he says, flat.

“Why, thank you for asking, dear sir,” you copy his sweet voice from earlier before returning to your normal. “Yes, Wade, I like you.”

“I–” he starts, but the words get caught on their way out. His fingers bury themselves in the material of his sweatpants, and the movement draws your attention to them again. Shades of blotchy red and pink curve all across his skin.

Wade doesn’t say anything, which is concerning enough on its own, but following your confession, you feel like he’s more than out of his element.

“That’s why you invited me over, right?” you try and help him out. “You feel the same, too.”

And then, feeling bold, you turn your head to face his still mask-covered head and kiss him lightly on the cheek. Instantly, you see fireworks go off inside him, because Wade hurriedly shuts the TV off and runs off to close the blinds. There’s barely enough light in the room now to make out shapes, but apparently Wade doesn’t take any issue because he peels his mask back and kisses you on the lips.

His lips are textured, and your intuition flashes quietly in the back of your mind, but for right now, you focus on how energetic he is. If his body is warm, his mouth feels like it’s on fire. He’s constantly moving, trying to experience all of you as fast as possible.

It’s making your face heat up, how quickly he demands your complete attention and how relentless he is in grabbing it. Wade bites your bottom lip, causing you to gasp into him, and he uses the opportunity to explore across your own teeth and tongue. After a few more seconds, you break away, needing the space to breathe.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, voice rough.

“You’re telling me,” Wade coughs out. “We could’ve been doing that this whole time?”

“Well, all you had to do was ask.”

And although you can’t see him, which you know is the point, you understand something in him has shifted. He gets up from the couch, takes you by the hand, and leads you towards his room. His pace is so quick, you barely comprehend his actions until you’re both standing right in front of his bed.

“Is this okay?” he asks, quiet. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him stifle the amount of words he let loose before.

“Yes, of course it is. But Wade, we have to turn on at least a lamp or something in here.”

“We do?”

“Yeah,” you pause to give him a second to think. “I can’t see you at all like this.”

“What if – and you're just going to have to trust me on this one – you’d prefer it this way,” Wade’s voice is light, but it feels like it’s cracking at the edges.

“And why’s that?”

Not like you’d be able to see, but the anxiety radiating off of him makes him sound wide-eyed, “Huh? Oh, I– uh…”

“Look, if you’re worried about how I’m going to react to you having a bunch of scars– don’t. I don’t mind,” the sound of fabric rustling in front of you makes you think he just flinched. “I figured it out. You’re not sneaky.”

“You say that, but…”

“Wade, I don’t care. And I mean that kindly! Really, it doesn’t bother me.”

Wade starts pacing in front of you, nearly tripping on the leg of the bedpost, “Look, I appreciate the whole hero act you got going on here – really fits you good, you should totally quit your day job – but you don’t have to force yourself, I–”

“Wade, you either confront your insecurities head on or I’m not doing this with you. I told you what I think, the only person who’s going to worry about how you look here is you. We either have sex with a light on or not at all, okay?”

No one speaks for a few seconds once you finish saying your piece, and you cringe, realizing how forceful you must have come off. You’re about to speak up again to apologize when you hear a shudder-filled exhale from a few feet away.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he groans. “You’re so hot when you're putting people in their place.”

Your lips curl into a shaky smile, “Yeah, what else do you think is hot?”

And you can practically hear the gears turning in his head from here.

…

It’s actually happening. No fucking way he didn’t dream this up. But you were pretty adamant about him getting his head in the game in order for you guys to actually get down and dirty, so for you, he tries to keep his train of thought as focused as possible– a big ask.

“Bossing anyone – everyone, especially me – around. You using your abilities–” you reach over and find Wade’s hand before running your fingers up his arm. “Shit, umm, using your abilities in general, but, umm, I really like when I’m there.”

“Oh?” you giggle. “When you get to watch, or?”

“When I get to feel.”

Your hand moves over to the nape of his neck, reaching under his hood and mask, to rub at his rough skin. Wade’s nerves light on fire as he waits for you to respond– for some reason, it never feels like your words come out fast enough.

“You got a thing for pain, Wilson?”

He chuckles, “You’d be surprised.”

“Okay, but are you sure? I can try, but it might not be all that good for you.”

“Don’t worry,” he thinks back to all those times he had a hard on while the two of you were fighting together. “It’ll be great for me.”

You hum, “Alright, then, but you tell me to stop the second you don’t like something, okay?”

“Aye, aye, captain,” he salutes, though you probably can’t see it. “And, same goes for you.”

“What a gentleman, letting me destroy him and giving me an out.”

He’s blushing something furious and he’s never been more grateful for the dark, “Anything for you.”

Those are the last words he whispers before he begins undressing. He knows you probably meant for him to strip with the light on, but he’s really not so sure he could stomach being looked at like a bug under a microscope. The attention, while electrifying, was already starting to get to him, so he lets himself stay in his comfort zone a little longer. As a treat.

Once his sweats are off, he hesitantly peels off his mask before slipping into bed, keeping most of his body under the covers. After shutting his eyes, he clicks the lamplight on.

You’re not saying anything. That’s– a sign? A good one, a bad one, Wade doesn’t know. He’s trying so hard to keep his breathing steady, but he can feel his body start shaking all on its own.

You join him on the bed, kneeling next to him, before your warm breath falls across his cheeks as you kiss his forehead. Only then does he open his eyes, and you reward him by cupping his cheek in your hand.

“There,” you say. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Wade gets the strong urge to snort, and so he does, but your eyes narrow. There’s a soft scratching at the back of his skull as you snake your hand over, and quickly you dig your nails in slightly. Wade has to bite his tongue to keep the noise in.

“I’m sorry, is that funny to you?”

“No!” he whispers sharply as you bring your hand down to scratch along the line of his neck.

“Good, seems like you’re learning.”

You kiss him, teeth clacking together at first before Wade melts into it. Your hand is still slowly exploring his body, running along the line of his shoulder and towards his upper arm. When you reach his bicep, you very obviously squeeze the muscle there, and you let out a pleased sigh as you begin groping in earnest.

He wants to turn to hide his face in the pillow, not sure how to react to all the positive attention and appreciation, but you catch him trying to turn away, and you kiss him deeper.

While one hand begins to explore his pecs and abs, your other hand scratches down his v-line, softly caressing the skin of his inner thighs before moving around to squeeze his ass.

Wade rewards you with a small whine, and you carefully trail a finger down his dick. You move in to whisper in his ear, “You’re so hot, I’m not forgiving you for hiding for so long.”

Trying to stifle the embarrassing moan that he knows will come out, he bites down on his lip hard, but you take the hand not teasing his cock to gently pry his lip away.

“From now on, I get to hear you, okay?” you say and Wade nods rapidly.

You take the moment you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, and after giving him a second to ready himself, you ask, “I’m going to use it now. Tell me if you want to stop.”

“Okay–” he responds before he feels the sweet sensation of you jerking him off coupled with your power. It’s a humming, dull feeling of pain resting in the background– almost like the sensation of being choked except it’s affecting his entire body. Wade feels like there’s a weight pinning down each of his limbs and it’s so freeing– so relaxing.

He sighs and turns his head to the side, letting out a deep moan when you up the pace of your hand and bring the other to fondle his balls.

“How is it?” you ask, sweat dripping down your brow at trying to control your ability. Sure, it’s powerful and at times pretty horrifying, but Wade always loved how he was essentially immune. At the same rate you could destroy the flesh around you, he could heal his own right back. Just knowing that made him feel good, somehow, like he was made perfectly for you.

“It’s good– so good, I–” he nearly shouts, forgetting about the neighbors.

“Yeah, baby? What do you need?”

At hearing the pet name, he straight up whines as he tries to bury his hands in the sheets instead of his own thighs.

“Not sure, umm, a little more–”

And he doesn’t know which god he has to thank for putting you on this planet, but he’s willing to pay them all a visit. You read him like he’s not some mess, some walking disaster nobody bothers paying attention to, and you give him what you know he needs.

From the base of his chin, you drag your hand in a deep scratch across his neck, chest, and stomach, your eyes watching the pink lines blend in with his scarred skin. It’s a flashing pain, sharp like being scalded and it feels so good mixed with the blunt feel of being under your power.

“I’m gonna–” he says, and of course, you seem to already know. He cums with a deep grunt, rutting his hips into your fist before he thrusts his head forward to kiss you again.

As soon as he comes down, he pulls away only slightly, just so he can say what he’s been wanting to say since he met you.

“Thank–”

You cut him off with another kiss, because sometimes, he really does need to shut up.

#deadpool #wade wilson #deadpool smut #wade wilson smut #deadpool x reader #deadpool x gn! reader #wade wilson x reader #wade wilson x gn! reader #marvel #marvel smut #dom reader #sub character #gn reader #smut #deadpool x you #wade wilson x you

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not-neverland06 · 24 days

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Hey! Love your writing and love Flux!! I was hoping to request a kind of angsty/fluffy fic with the worst!wolverine where the meet her in the void and maybe Logan knew her just not very well and he’s finally letting himself open up and be close with her (likewise with reader/flux towards logan) and they get into an argument or maybe logan has a nightmare and he ends up stabbing her with his claws and maybe the aftermath of him beating himself up and sabotaging the new relationship until reader finally snaps him out of it and says it was an accident and she still loves him?? Thanks!!

mistake

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

a/n: I want to thank you for this request because I've been having the worst writer's block in the world. I was worried about having to go into another unofficial hiatus, but this made something in my brain click together and I knocked it out in two hours. my life is yours 🙏🙏 Summary: You know him. Or, you knew him. And you never blamed him for what happened in your world. It wasn't his fault that everyone you loved died and you barely escaped with your life. But you never actually thought you'd have to see him again. You don't know what to do when all these feelings resurface with his appearance.

No one truly knew who you were back in your universe. After the horrific incident at the mansion, you had run. You’d run as fast and as far as you could from the slaughter of your friends. You’d barely escaped with your life, and from the amount of blood and gore they’d left behind, most people just assumed you were dead.

It’s not like anyone cared about you. Scott, Ororo, and Jean had been the real heroes. But it didn’t matter because they were still mutants at the end of the day. It didn’t matter how many people they saved. How many lives they positively changed, no one would ever see past the fact that they were mutants.

Being one of the newer members of the recently disbanded X-Men gave you enough anonymity to get through daily life without being recognized. It did not, however, protect you from being sucked into the shit fest that is the multiverse.

You’re not sure what it is about you that just attracts bad luck. You don’t know if it’s some hidden power that’s a part of your evolution. You’re just apparently perpetually fucked. The TVA had determined that you were interfering with the proper flow of your timeline or some bullshit.

Now you’re here. Stuck in the void with nothing but decay and drunk former superheroes. If you have to watch one more Captain America ‘rally the troops’ you’re gonna kill him yourself. You’ve considered switching teams and joining Cassandra Nova at times. If only so you don’t have to deal with Johnny Storm and the rest of the dipshits.

You get along with Laura, at least. She likes to tell you about her Logan and you like to dodge her questions about yours. She doesn’t need to know that not every version of Wolverine has a golden heart and story worthy of tears. Yours was a fuck up, plain and simple, but you never thought the incident was his fault.

As much as others tried to push the blame on him. The people who raided the mansion were determined. There was no other way that day was going to end up. You’d just have one less X-Man. But people always love a martyr more than a victim.

After a couple of years, you get used to the monotony. Your days are only occasionally broken up by dodging Cassandra’s henchmen and trying not to get sucked up into the soul destroyer. Other than that, you spend your nights getting drunk with Gambit and pretending you know whatever the fuck he’s talking about.

“Laura! I managed to find some chocolate!” You run into the hideout looking for the girl. It’s rare to find good food that isn’t already a month past its expiration date. You weren’t planning on sharing the candy with her but you figured she’d smell it on you and it’s not worth the fight.

Instead, you stop short as the familiar blue and yellow uniform you’d always try to force on him comes into view. He’s stealing Gambit’s liquor and you know that’s not going to go over well. What you don’t know is why you are so sure that this is your Wolverine.

You’ve never had a Wolverine in the void. Not once. This could be any one of the hundreds of thousands of variants. But you see that look in his eye. That familiar watery gaze shows just how much he hurts, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

“Logan?” You breathe his name out in disbelief. Bypassing the Deadpool standing nearby. You’ve dealt with enough of those in your time down here. He takes a step back, fixing you with a distrusting look.

He keeps the bottle of alcohol clutched close to his chest like he thinks you’re going to take it. You track the movement and you scoff. “Right,” you shake your head and stop short. “Of course, the only thing you care about is still getting fucking drunk.”

He glares at you, taking a step forward like he thinks it might actually intimidate you. “Do I know you, bub?” He reaches forward, probably to jab his finger in your chest. You drop your gaze to his outstretched hand and narrow your eyes.

The material of his suit fluctuates, pulling back and rippling over his arms like liquid and not spandex. He doesn’t notice the manipulation of matter until it's his skin you target. It melts off his adamantium bones and he stares down in horror.

You know he's scared because he’s watching his body dissolve but he’s not feeling any pain. You could make it hurt, but that’s not what you want. You just want to see if he’ll remember you now. If there’s anything half-decent left in that alcohol-rotted brain of his.

“Flux,” he grits your X-Man name out through his teeth like it hurts him to say it.

You nod and his skin and suit go back to normal, like you’d never tampered with it in the first place. “You do remember me, then?”

“Thought you fucking died with the rest of them.” Your face drops before you feel an astonished smile on your face.

“You know, it’s a comfort to know nothing about my world has changed. You’re still the same spineless dick that left us all to die.” You shake your head and storm out of the hideout. You don’t know how long they’re planning on staying but you pray they leave soon. If you have to deal with him longer than a week, you’ll just kill him.

You step outside just as Laura’s coming back from the bonfire. She greets you with a stiff smile and you wonder what’s got in her in a mood. It only takes a glance over her shoulder to find the reason.

Logan is sulking by the fire, nursing yet another bottle of whiskey. He’s drinking it like water and even with his healing, his liver should have turned to mush by now. “I can see why you didn’t tell me about him,” she mutters as she passes by you.

You know she tried to be quiet but you can see the way Logan’s head tilts slightly towards you. He’s heard her and you know it has to sting just a little.

You glance down at the leaves under your feet, eyes glazing over as you feel the guilt sink into your stomach. You shouldn’t feel bad, you didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t hurt him, technically, just reminded him who you were. But you still feel bad for what you said.

You’ve never blamed Logan for what happened. And if you did, you would be a hypocrite. Because you survived too, and you left them all behind. You ran like a coward. You could never blame him when you failed to save them just the same.

You take in a deep breath and steel yourself. You’ll just apologize, walk over there, and explain to him you didn’t mean what you said. You know he’ll be a dick about it. Claiming he doesn’t want your apology. You’ll just leave him alone after.

You’re about to step forward when he barks out a gruff command, “Don’t fucking stare at me like that. I don’t want your company.” He turns back to the fire and takes another swig from his bottle.

You roll your eyes and walk towards him. “You can be as miserable and self-pitying as you want, just let me say one thing.”

His head whips towards you so quickly you’re surprised you don’t hear it snap. “I’m not fucking pitying myself,” he grits out. You quirk your brows in amusement, glancing towards the bottle in his hand and the clear way he’s sulking. He turns his attention back towards the fire, intent on ignoring you again.

“I don’t blame you for what happened,” you tell him. You ignore the warning look he shoots you, taking a seat beside him even if he doesn’t want you to. “I-” you choke on the words, struggling to admit to yourself what you’ve never wanted to.

“Don’t.” You know it’s meant to be a warning. But when you look at him and see how completely broken he is, it sounds more like a pathetic plead.

But you need to say this. As selfish as it is, you need to say this to someone., Need to unload this guilt you’ve carried for so long. “I was there, Logan. I could have saved them and I didn’t. I fucking ran.”

“Kid, don’t do this-”

“Jean was still moving,” you blurt out. You feel the way your heart speeds up at the admission. Your fingers shake and the air around you stills.

His face drops and he slowly turns towards you. You’re afraid to look at him. You feel like a bunny staring down the snout of a wolf, there’s no escaping this. You’ve created this trap for yourself.

“What?” He demands. His voice has lost that tremor of vulnerability. Instead, he sounds like he did when he first found out what had happened to you all. That same deadly level of calm that makes you want to bolt again.

“She,” you stare into the fire until your eyes burn. You don’t know if it’s from the light or the smoke but the pain focuses you. “She was shaking on the floor. There was blood everywhere and she could barely breathe. They had gassed us with something. None of us could use our powers, it’s the only reason they got a one-up on us.”

You can feel yourself slipping back into that moment. You feel the warmth of the blood on your skin. It seeps into your suit and makes the material cling to you. Your gut is split open and the only thing holding your intestines in is your hands.

Jean is in front of you. Her hands are twitching by her sides. There’s blood pouring out of her lips, dribbling down her tongue and cheeks. Every breath is a rattle so deep you feel it in your bones.

Each inhale sounds like someone dragging glass through the membrane of her lungs. Her chest rises and sinks shallowly as she gasps for air. She’s practically convulsing, eyes twitching every which way.

The gas has faded from the halls. The people have left, satisfied with the carnage. You’re alone, surrounded only by the blood and bodies of your friends. None of the others are moving. Some of them are so mangled you can’t even tell who they are anymore.

Jean’s eyes lock onto yours. The only anchor she has. And you can see it, the frantic, wounded animal gaze on her face. She knows she’s dying. She knows there’s nothing she can do about it.

You can only stand by and watch as your friend dies. You could be her comfort. You could be the last face she sees before she dies, distracting her from the sight of her dead fiancee behind her.

But what do you do?

You hold your guts in your stomach and you run. You can’t look at her. You can’t look at any of them. You can hear her croaking behind you. And even when you’re out of the mansion, when you’re in a hospital somewhere getting repaired and Logan’s on a rampage, you still hear her.

You feel something heavy on your arm and it’s like you're being forcibly dragged out of a trance. Logan’s looking at you with something you’ve never seen before. But it’s something you’ve always desperately craved.

It’s like he’s seeing you, really seeing you. For the first time in a long time, you feel that ache of guilt ease away ever so slightly. It doesn’t disappear, but you’re sharing the burden with someone else and it’s a relief you’ve desperately craved.

“You’re not a bad person for leaving, kid.” He swallows roughly and you place your hand over his. He doesn’t look completely comfortable with the touch, slightly flinching away from it, but he doesn’t move. “If you hadn’t, you would be dead.”

You squeeze his hand, forcing him to meet your gaze. “I never blamed you for what happened.” emotion is so thick on your tongue and in your throat that the words come out a whisper. “Their deaths weren’t your fault, and what happened after wasn’t.”

He clenches his eyes shut and jerks his hand out of your grip. You sigh, knowing you’ve lost him. “I slaughtered them.”

You scoff, “They slaughtered us!” You nearly shout, anger bubbling hot in your gut. When you heard about him killing those who had hunted down your friends, you’d celebrated. And when you heard the way the public was crucifying him, you realized that no matter what you did they would never love you.

You would always be nothing more than a mutant to them.

“And the people who didn’t hurt them? The innocents I killed?”

You don’t have anything to say to that. You just stand up, placing a hand on his shoulder as you pass by him. “I never blamed you, Logan.”

You don’t see Logan again after that. At least, not while you’re in the void. What was left of your little resistance was sucked up into the purple cloud of death. Only you and Laura are left with the carnage.

Logan and Wade have disappeared to who knows where. It stings, to be on your own again. Sure, you have Laura, but she’ll never understand the pain of what happened to your universe.

As much as it hurt, at least with Logan, you had someone to share the pain with. You could share your burden with him. You feel lonely and cold. Like there’s a part of you missing. You finally figure out what that ache is when the TVA comes to collect you and you see him again.

He’s standing behind Wade as he enthusiastically tells you and Larua all about his world. But you can’t take your eyes off Logan, or the tentative smile on his face. Whatever had happened during that fight with Cassandra Nova had changed him, for the better.

You smile back at him and it feels like taking a breath of fresh air after years.

Apparently, whoever this world’s Flux had been, she was fucking insanely rich. And dead, which sucked for her but was great for you and Logan.

It’s not hard for you to fake some government identities and explain that you’d been mistakenly marked as dead. It’s apparently pretty common in this universe. Superheroes are blipped out of existence all the time. You couldn’t get all of her assets as some had been liquidated, but you did get her giant ass house.

You let Logan and Laura stay with you until they decide where they want to go. It’s better than living with Wade and his coke-fiend roommate. Laura finds her groove pretty quickly, it is her world after all. But you and Logan struggle to figure out what to do with yourselves.

Neither of you has an interest in being X-Men again, and it seems like they’re not incredibly present in this world either. You also hadn’t been the best of friends, even before everything went wrong, back home.

You’re not strangers, you’re not friends, you’re that awkward place in between. Each day is another opportunity to get to know each other. The progress might be slow, but you know that you’re getting closer to something real.

It’s why you don’t feel any qualms about running into his room when you hear him shouting. You burst into his room and the door slamming against the wall isn’t even enough to wake him up.

He’s writhing around in the bed, sheets twisted around his waist while sweat beads down his forehead. The noises he’s making remind you of a wounded animal. There’s something heartbreaking about this.

He doesn’t get peace even when he’s sleeping. It makes you hurt for him. You want to smooth over the aches and pains he carries and burden yourself with them.

The thought snaps you out of your reverie and you’re shocked by the revelation. You’d been growing closer to him, but you hadn’t thought you were growing this close. You feel so strongly for him, but you’re not ready to put a name on what it is that you feel for him. You just know that right now you want to make him feel better.

You approach the bed cautiously, taking a seat beside him. The bed ripples and jolts underneath you as he tosses and turns. You place a gentle hand on his arm and shake, “Logan,” you whisper. You don’t want to startle him too bad.

But he’s not responding to anything. It doesn’t matter how much you shake him or call out his name. Finally, you can’t handle it anymore. You get on your knees, sitting over him and bringing your palm down across his face as hard as you can.

In a second he’s shooting up. You don’t even notice his hand until you see the way his vision clears. The visceral panic fades and something is aching in your gut. “Oh god, no no no,” he says the word so many times it stops sounding real.

You look down and see the blood dribbling down his palm, the claws buried in your stomach. It’s almost funny, how perfectly aligned they are with the scar that already lived there. The reminder of your friend’s death being erased and reformed by Logan’s hand.

He pulls his wrist back and you quickly snatch it up. “Don’t!” You shout, jaw clenching against the pain. “Don’t pull them out, I’ll just bleed out.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” You know he’s worried, that’s why he snaps at you. But it doesn’t help the way you feel yourself fighting back tears.

He sees them drip down your cheeks and his face drops. His other hand, the one not in you, comes up and cradles your cheek. “What do I do?” He whispers, and he sounds more desperate than you do.

You know he doesn’t want another death on his hands. But there’s something beyond that. He doesn’t want to be the reason you stop breathing. There’s a startling clarity when you’re slowly dying.

He cares about you. Just as deeply as you do for him. You can’t make him go through this pain again. Can’t let him suffer alone, not when he’s made so much progress. “Slowly,” you tell him, guiding his claws out inch by inch.

It’s hard not to black out. You’d barely felt it when he’d gotten you the first time. You think it’s because of how fast and sudden it was. But this, having them oh so slowly slicing through your insides is the worst form of torture.

But you don’t heal like him. You have to close your eyes, focus on the pain, and forcibly reknit your skin back together. It’s a clever manipulation of your powers, but it’s a slow one. You could never take serious damage on the field because you wouldn’t be fast enough to repair yourself.

This is easy to repair. But that doesn’t make it hurt less. It feels like an hour before he can safely draw them the rest of the way out. The second he does, you’re sinking into his arms with a pained sob.

He clutches you so tightly to his chest you worry your back might snap. He keeps muttering apologies into your hair, hands desperately grasping at every inch of you he can hold. You’re too tired to say anything.

You realized you should have. You should have told him you don’t blame him. You were the one who snuck into his room. You should have been smarter. But it doesn’t matter how many times you tell Logan not to blame himself, he always will. And you were too tired to try anyway.

You only realize what’s happening two days after the incident. You figured he might need some space to process what happened. And honestly, you did too. It was awful and incredibly draining. You’ve felt fatigued ever since.

But when you try and approach him and he just brushes past you like you weren’t even there, you know something is wrong. You watch his retreating back with a disturbed glare. You connect the dots quickly, already knowing what he’s doing.

He doesn’t want to be responsible for hurting another person he loves. He can’t handle a loss like that again, even if it’s not by his hands. He wants to make sure you don’t want him, that you don’t care for him. Like that might ease the pain and guilt.

But it wouldn’t. It would just make him feel worse. It would make you feel worse.

You don’t waste a second, following him up the stairs and barging into his room before he can slam the door shut. It bounces off the wall and he lets out a deeply irritated sigh. He doesn’t turn to look at you, just walks over to his nightstand and rummages around through the doors.

You know he’s not looking for anything. He’s just trying to ignore you long enough for you to give up. It’s not going to happen, he should know better.

You take a step further into the room and the smell of chemicals slams into you. Your nose wrinkles in disgust. It smells like he pumped Lysol into the vents. Your eyes dart to the bed and you sigh.

Your blood, you’d completely forgotten. He must have been cleaning it up the morning after. You can’t blame him for wanting to get rid of the remainder. But this seems excessive.

“Strong nose,” he mutters. You hadn’t realized you’d spoken aloud and you glanced over at him. “I can still smell it, even after cleaning.” He takes a seat on the bed and you hate the way his shoulders are slumped.

He’d seemed so much more comfortable with himself lately. It’s like one accident has undone all his progress. “Logan,” you start, taking a step towards him. He holds his hand up, still not looking at you.

It’s driving you insane. You wish he would just meet your eyes. You feel like you could change his mind if he would just see you. Maybe that’s why he won’t. He won’t let himself be happy.

“Look, that night just made me realize what a huge fucking mistake this was.” He gets up and slides something out from under the bed. It takes a moment for you to register what it is. A duffel bag, packed with all his essentials and what little clothes he owns.

He’s going to leave.

You act without thinking. Pure panic making your powers surge out. Logan grunts and the bag falls out of his hand. “Quit it,” he snipes, bending over to pick it up. But he can’t because it’s so heavy it’s making the wooden floor splinter and crack under its weight.

“You don’t get to just leave when things get hard, Logan.”

He stands up, hands propped on his sides. There’s a challenge in his eyes that makes you nervous. “Fuck this,” he scoffs and brushes past you.

It’s beyond manipulative to use your powers against him. But sometimes, someone is such a fucking idiot, they need a little outside help. You slam the door closed and the handle disappears, locking you both in his room.

He turns towards you with a fierce glare on his face. “Open the goddamn door before I break it down.”

“You can try,” you taunt, a nasty tone to your voice. You’re sick of this. You’re sick of running from what you want. You’ve been miserable and alone for years. You want to be happy. For the first time in forever, you want something.

And you want Logan to be happy with you. You can’t force him to feel the way you do. But you can stop him from actively preventing this. “Stop acting like a goddamn child and just talk to me!” You shout at him.

There’s a disbelieving look on your face. You don’t understand why he won’t let this happen. Why does he have to fight so hard against any semblance of happiness in his life?

“I’m going to hurt you. That is all I do. I hurt the people I love and I cannot hurt you too.” Your eyes widen in shock at his outburst. Beyond anger, there was so much fear in his voice it was almost enough to make you miss what he’d said.

“You love me?” You can see the realization dawn on him. The fact that he let slip why he’s so hesitant to be around you. You know he wants to leave, his eyes are darting around the room for an escape route, but you’ve blocked them all. You can’t let this go, not now.

“Logan,” you snap, demanding an answer from him.

“Fuck you,” he mutters, something vicious on his face.

He’s going to hurt you. He’s going to lash out and say something cruel so that this doesn’t happen. You know him because you’ve been him. He will take every possible route to get out of this if it means he doesn’t have to face his feelings.

You roll your eyes and take a step forward. You jerk him towards you and throw yourself on him before he can say something stupid. The kiss is brief, just enough to snap him out of this ridiculous headspace he’s in.

When you pull back he looks dazed, but he’s relaxed in your hold, sinking towards you. You grin up at him, “I love you too, dumbass.” You lean up to kiss him again but you dart back at the last second, a mean glare on your face. “Pull some shit like this again and I’m going to melt your dick off.”

You kiss him before he can respond, but you feel the smile against your lips. You can taste the defeat on his tongue as he wraps his arms around you and tugs you into his chest. He’s not going to push you away and you’re not going to let him.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist: @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte

@mrs-ephemeral @wolviesgirl @allllium ♡

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett #the worst logan x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine imagine #wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader

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thef1diary · 7 months

Text

Little Big Fan | Eight

— Little Big Allergy

Series Masterlist

wc: 3.6k

Note: I am not a medical professional, so please let me know if something is incorrect

"Don't you dare think about cancelling, you are going on that date," your best friend's voice rang out of your phone on speaker while you were choosing a dress for tonight.

You turned to look at the phone, as if your best friend was standing there, "I'm not going to cancel, I just don't know what to wear," you responded, placing another dress against your body but frowning.

"Wear that one sexy red dress you have, who knows, you might just get laid tonight."

You shuffled through your closet, finding the red dress in the back, which was expected since you didn't wear it in a long time. You held it out in front of you, "don't you think it's too revealing for the first date? Maybe I could wear this next time."

It was a backless, short garment with two straps. While the back was revealing, so was the front, which featured two cutouts around the hips and exposed a bit of cleavage due to the lack of material.

Your friend hummed, "so we're planning a second date as well huh?" You could basically hear her smirk on the other end. "Well I hope this date goes well," you reasoned, but the jittery feeling didn't go away.

"You and Max are already good friends who happen to flirt occasionally, what could go wrong?" Then after a short pause, she added, "actually no, don't answer that. Try your blue dress, I bet he'd like to see you in blue."

After almost every interaction you've had with Max, starting from the grocery store, you've told your friend everything. Which is why when she suggested wearing blue, you weren't opposed to it.

Putting your red dress back in the closet for another time, which was hopefully soon, you held a navy blue dress in your hand, examining it before holding it up against your body.

While this one, like the red dress, had two straps holding it together, it was longer, reaching a few inches past your knees and including a little slit down the side for convenience.

"Alright, this is the one," you stated and continued conversing with your friend while you changed and began doing your makeup.

"So Bella is at Tyler's?" She asked, making you nod before realizing that she couldn't see you. "Yeah, she'll be there for the weekend."

"Oh how fun!" You could hear the sarcasm in her voice and chuckled, "it's fine, she should be spending time with her dad."

"The same one who called her overdramatic? Did you seriously have to have a kid with a guy like him?" This was a conversation you've had with her many times, and you would always reply with the same answer, "we were young and immature, but Isabella is the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"She truly is, which makes me glad that she turned out like you more than him." You chuckled, "oh trust me, I am glad about that too. It would've been a nightmare if I had to see a little version of him all the time."

"So, speaking of Isabella, how are you going to tell her that you are dating someone who happens to be her favourite person in her favourite sport?"

You groaned, "I don't know, I really don't know. I can't stop thinking about it, because of what Tyler told me," you explained. "Are you still believing his words? Actually scratch that, why are you letting your ex determine your future relationship?"

"God, why do you have to ask such questions," you muttered, taking a moment to think about your response.

"I don't want to believe him, I have a feeling something else happened that day which he didn't tell me about. Plus he's not only my ex, he's the father of my child. I don't think of him as anything more than that."

"Honestly that asshole shouldn't even be considered the father of such a beautiful little girl," your friend stated, and you couldn't help but agree with her.

"Anyways, let's not talk about him, I don't want to ruin my mood before the night even starts," you comment, with your friend humming in agreement.

"You're right, let's talk about Max!" She exclaimed, making you chuckle. That's whom you ended up talking about for the remainder of the time you were getting ready.

Even though she knew all the details right from day one, she wanted another whole story time of how you and Max met, leading up to when he asked you out. Instead of opposing to repeat the story, which you don't even know how many times you've told her by now, you happily told her all the details as if it was the first time.

A few minutes after you ended the phone call with your best friend, your phone rang again which you initially thought was a call from Max. However, it was a call from an unknown number.

You answered the call, and you were met with a woman's panicking voice on the other end, "is this Isabella's mother?"

"Yes, who is this?" You asked first, calming down the inner voices that instantly thought about the worse possible scenario involving your daughter.

"I'm Emma, I don't know if you know me but I am actually at the hospital, with Isabella." You tightened your grasp on the phone, as it was close to slipping away from your hands at Emma's words.

"What happened and which hospital are you at?" You instantly began moving around your house, finding your car keys as you waited for a response.

Emma told you the address as you were leaving through the front door. "She had a severe allergic reaction, and I thought it would be best to bring her to the hospital. I am sorry for disturbing you, I wasn't able to get in touch with Tyler."

You took a deep breath in, knowing that it was bound to happen someday, even though you would rather not have it happen at all. "I'm on my way, should be there in ten minutes. Thank you for letting me know."

It would've been pointless to argue with her, especially since she was the one who informed you of the situation at hand and had the decency to take your daughter to the hospital.

You rushed into the hospital within eight minutes, a record time for you, and you might've broken a few speeding laws but it was for a good reason. It didn't take too long finding Isabella, considering she was in the ER, with a frantic woman standing nearby, whom you assumed was Emma.

As soon as she spotted you, her first words to you was another apology, "I am so, so sorry, I had no idea she had a peanut allergy." That led you towards one question, well more than one but you started off with just one, "what happened?"

She sighed, before telling you how she spent the entire day with Isabella. "One of my friends came by and dropped off some baked goods, I swear I had no idea that it had peanuts in it."

You reasoned that if you calmed her down, it would calm you down as well, because the increasing dread in your thoughts would not benefit you in any situation. You put your hands on her shoulders, "I'm not blaming you for it, you didn't know."

You looked at the doors leading to the ER, "how bad was it?" Emma hesitated before muttering words that made your heart ache, "really bad, she started swelling up everywhere and then passed out."

You tried to sit down, but the need to know her well-being caused you to walk back and forth in the hallway. Your phone buzzed in your hand, and you were about to ignore it until you recalled something really important.

"Shit!" Max was calling. Of course he was, after all he was expecting you to be home and ready for a date tonight.

"Hey, I'm standing at your front door, are you home or?" He started and awkwardly chuckled, causing you to shut your eyes, imagining how the night was expected to go. He was probably holding a bouquet of flowers, looking like an idiot standing by the door because you weren't home.

"Max, I'm so sorry, I'm actually at the hospital." There was no reason to lie, but even after telling the truth, you didn't feel any less guilty.

"What happened? Are you okay? Is Isabella okay?" His response was quick, and slightly surprising but you've known Max long enough that his kindness wasn't as shocking anymore.

"It's Isabella, allergic reaction," you briefly described, and heard some shuffling around on the other end before he asked for the address. "You don't have to come," you told him as you normally did, but he didn't agree again, saying "I want to."

You didn't argue with him, as your heart warmed at the fact that Max wanted to see Isabella himself, and stay right by your side until she was completely fine.

Quickly telling him the address as you noticed a doctor walking towards you and Emma, you hung up the call. "Which one of you is the patient's guardian?"

You stepped forward, "I'm her mother, how is she?"

"It was an anaphylactic allergic reaction, however everything is under control. We've administered epinephrine but we will be moving her to the ICU for a few hours just for observation purposes in case the symptoms are back."

You let out a sigh in relief, as did Emma. "Thank you," you nodded towards the doctor. Once they left, you sat down, the anxiousness leaving your body.

Looking at Emma, who was standing against the wall in front of you, you had another question brewing in your mind. "Where was Tyler when all this happened?" You asked, remembering that she called you only because she couldn't reach him.

"He said he had an emergency meeting come up," Emma spoke her words carefully, earning raised eyebrows from you. "He left you alone with my daughter?" You had to confirm the words you were hearing and scoffed once she nodded.

"It's not your responsibility to take of my child, it's his. You're not her guardian nor babysitter, you shouldn't have to do that." Emma shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal, "it's not the first time."

"How dare he?" You muttered under your breath before standing up and stepping closer to her. "We both have epipens for situations like this, and I am assuming that since you didn't know about her allergy, Tyler didn't tell you about the epipen either?”

Emma shook her head, "no, he didn't."

His lack of attention, led Isabella right to this moment. If he had told Emma about your daughter's allergy, or even what to do when she has allergic reaction, neither of you would be this worried about her health.

Emma, having realizing the depth of the situation, sighed, "I haven't been able to get a hold of him and if it weren't for Isabella constantly talking about you and telling me your phone number to the point where I had it memorized, I wouldn't have known what to do in this situation."

You pitied the woman standing in front of you, especially as you also knew that it was not her fault. You cracked a smile, "she talks about me huh?"

"Oh yeah, she considers you the best mother in the world, and based on her stories, I agree with her."

Then, you heard Max calling your name, walking towards you in a rush. He instantly wrapped an arm around your waist as if it was an instinct, "is she okay?"

Emma stepped away, picking up her phone for another useless attempt of calling her boyfriend.

You wrapped both arms around Max, bringing him in a hug, "yeah, she's okay."

Once he pulled back, he cradled your face with his palms, "are you okay?" You smiled, and your eyes filled with unshed tears because of his question. "Much better now."

Then, Max noticed your outfit which happened to be the dress you were supposed to wear on your date. "Wow," he breathed, his gaze unwavering, taking you in.

He was also dressed up, wearing a suit with a bow tie, and you couldn't help but reach up to touch it, "cute," you commented, making him raise his brows.

"Cute?" He repeated with a questioning tone. You nodded, biting your bottom lip to prevent a smile. "Cute and handsome."

"You are beautiful," he replied, watching as you avert your eyes because his gaze was intense.

"Oh, Max, this is Emma," you decided to introduce them, and added, "she's the one who brought Isabella here."

Max raised an eyebrow in question, "I thought Isabella was with Tyler?" He asked, directed at you more than Emma.

"Well, he wasn't home when this happened, only Emma and Isabella," you stated, and Max gauged your emotions for a moment, quickly recognizing the underlying rage you had directed at your ex. Max knew you'd be discussing this later, in the safety of your own house, so he didn't ask you to elaborate.

A nurse came by, "Isabella is now conscious, and asking for her parents," they stated, along with the room number.

Emma looked at you and Max with a fond smile, before turning towards you, "I think I should get going now that you're here."

A genuine smile graced your lips, "thank you, Emma, for bringing her here and for staying with her even without him."

"Of course, she's the cutest little girl and I'm glad to get to know her." Both of you stood still for a moment, debating on whether or not you should hug her. Then, without thinking twice you initiated a hug that was easily welcomed by her.

You waited till she left your sights before looking at Max, "let's go?" You held out your hand but he shrugged, "she's asking for her parents, you should go."

You stepped forward and grabbed his hand, "you're coming with me," you decided for him. Although Max didn't pull away, he asked, "what if she doesn't want to see me?"

"Trust me, she'll be happy to see you," you convinced him and walked towards the room she was admitted in while holding each other's hand.

When you entered, Isabella's smile widened once she spotted you and Max. "Mama, Maxy!" She cheered, though quieter than usual.

A nurse stood by her side, monitoring her health and checking the IV drip inserted into your daughter's arm.

"Oh my angel, how are you?" You dropped Max's hand and walked closer to her, lightly kissing her forehead. Instead of a verbal response, she formed a thumbs up with her hand.

Then she looked at the door again, "is daddy coming too?" Isabella asked, sounding hopeful. You shook your head, "no sweetheart, daddy is not coming."

Instead of the usual deflated mood, she shrugged, "it's okay, Maxy's here." She held her arms around asking for a hug, only flinching for a moment since she forgot about the drip connected to her arm.

Max quickly stepped forward, bending over to hug her. "All good, Bella?" He asked, once he felt her arms wrap around him tighter. She nodded for a moment then shook her head against him, "it hurts," she whispered.

He brought his hand up to ruffle her hair before pulling away, "you are a very brave girl."

"Really?" She asked, and scooted over a little so Max could sit beside her. He nodded, "of course! Very brave."

She beamed, snuggling closer to him before looking at you. "Mama, come here," she patted the other side, and surprisingly the three of you were able to fit on the very small hospital bed.

A nurse was constantly in the room, checking in on Isabella's health from time to time and since there weren't any repeated symptoms of an allergic reaction, the three of you were out of the hospital in a few hours.

Max followed you in his car, and carried your sleeping daughter inside the house. Instead of taking her straight to her bedroom, he laid her down on the couch in case she wakes up and needs her mother.

It was safe to say that you were not going too far away from her any time soon.

You were in the kitchen, filling up a glass of water when he returned. He stood behind you, with his hands trailing down your sides before resting on your waist, and his chin on your shoulder. "Did I tell you how stunning you look?"

You hummed, "maybe a few times but I don't mind hearing it again."

He turned you around in his grasp, "well, you look breathtakingly beautiful."

You blushed, "you and your compliments," you chuckled. "What's wrong with it?" He asked, but you shook your head, "nothing, it's just I'll never get bored of hearing it."

He smiled, "good, because you'll be hearing at least one every day."

You tilted your head to the side, "every day? Are you sure you won't run out?" He shook his head, "not unless you keep finding ways to make me speechless."

Both of you remained in that position for a moment but then you frowned, "I'm sorry,"

"For what?" He tilted your chin up as soon as you averted your gaze away from him. "We weren't able to go on the date."

Max let out a sound in protest, "I'm pretty sure your daughter's health matters so much more than our date night. Plus the night isn't over," he added with a smile, confusing you even further.

"What does that mean?" He parted away from you and it quickly made you miss the warmth that his body provided you. "Why don't you go change into something comfortable," he suggested, almost pushing you out of the kitchen.

You weren't opposed to the idea, so you went upstairs to change after checking on your daughter. You found the most comfortable pair of sweatpants and a shirt, and removed your makeup as well.

Walking back downstairs, you saw Max waiting at the bottom of the stairs for you. He had removed his blazer and bow tie, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt as well.

He held out his hand, waiting for your hand to hold his, and although you were confused, you wouldn't pass up an opportunity to hold his hand.

"It's not much, definitely not up to first date standards but we'll manage," he commented as he led you to the kitchen table where he had prepared two packets of instant noodles.

"I haven't been on a date in forever so anything you do will set my standards." You smiled when you noticed the lit candle.

"Well, then I will raise your standards next time by taking you out on a proper date." He held the chair out for you, waiting for you to sit before rounding the table and sitting down himself.

It took two minutes before Max moved his own chair right next to yours because he didn't want to sit on the opposite side. You chuckled at his antics but it was much appreciated.

"What's on your mind?" he asked once he saw you visibly thinking. You shrugged, "I don't think we should be discussing these thoughts on a first date."

"This is far from what a first date should be like, so there are no rules. I know you want to talk about what happened at the hospital," he prompted and he was spot on, so you agreed.

"I can't believe he actually left Isabella under Emma's supervision. Not that there is anything wrong with her, but it's not her responsibility!" Max nodded in agreement, "where was he?"

"In a fucking meeting," you exasperated, eating another forkful of the noodles. "It must've been very stressful for Emma," you sighed, finishing your short rant because you truly had no words for your ex's irresponsible behaviour.

Still, Max listened to every word. Once you were finished eating, he turned your chair towards him. "We can agree on the fact that he is an incompetent father."

"Yeah, I don't even know what would've happened if Emma wasn't there either. He surely wouldn't have left Bella alone right?"

Max shrugged, "hey, stop worrying about what could've happened. Bella's safe, she's okay." He placed a palm on your cheek, rubbing his thumb back and forth in a soothing motion.

You nodded, "you're right." Making eye contact with him, you were quickly lost in his gaze. While it almost made you want to look away, you couldn't.

"You know," you started, wanting to divert away from the current topic. He hummed, urging you to go on.

"I don't really care for an extravagant date, all I really need is you. I'm happy with this, with us." He smiled, to the point where you could notice the creases forming at the corners.

"I'm happy with us too, but I will be taking you out on an extravagant date because you deserve it, as well as much more."

You rolled your eyes playfully, knowing that it would be hard to convince Max otherwise, but you could think of a few ways to try when the time comes.

"Thank you for being here with me," you added, needing him to know about your appreciation. Your words also hinted at all the moments he shared with you, and Isabella.

He seemed to understand your hint, "I'm glad to be here with you, both of you."

Taglist: (continuing the taglist in comments) @xjval @mrsmaybank13 @cherry-piee @urfavnoirette @solphin @burningcupcakefire @nessacarty1 @dreamsarebig @omgsuperstarg @fanficweasley @redbullgirly @llando4norris @wonnou @randomgirlnumber13 @dark-night-sky-99 @chanshintien @leilanixx @gisellesprettylies @peachiicherries @monsieurbacteria6 @67-angelofthelordme-67 @arian-directioner @distancedss @morenofilm @sachaa-ff @lighttsoutlewis @teamnovalak @casperlikej @sadg3 @d3kstar @lewisvinga @lpab @queenofmanydreams @glitterf1 @honethatty12 @drunk-teens-doing-drugs @its-avalon-08 @yourbane @oconswrld @noneofyourfbusinessworld @ssrcsm @softtina @hockeyboysarehot @formulaal @namgification @tallrock35 @bloodyymaryyy @formulanni @ellouisa17 @phantomxoxo

#little big fan fic #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #thef1diary fic #f1 fluff #fluff

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adelliet · 3 months

Text

Marcus Acacius x f!reader

FORBIDDEN DESIRE

Summary: Your father's friend has returned to his hometown after a few years, and you finally met him, but despite your father's clear warning, you are dominated by desire rather than reason.

Warning: MDNI 18+, age gap (17 years and 40 years), unprotected sex (p i v), fingering, oral sex (f! receiving), handjob,

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You came to the kitchen door and waited for the guards to open it. When they did, you gently knelt down as a gratitude and then sidled up to the room. There was a table, full of sweet buns, grape wine and various types of fruit or pastries. On the end of the table sat your mother and father, laughing and drinking liquid from an iron cup. You'd bet all your gold that the liquid is a red wine, that your parents love so much.

As soon as they saw you, all their attention landed on you. You wished them good morning with a smile on your face and put one sweet bun on your plate. "How did you sleep darling?" your father asked with a sweet tone in his voice.

"Good" you answered firmly, but keep trying to stay nice and keep a warm smile on your face. This answer of yours may have been sufficient for your father, but certainly not for your mother. Mother senses are way more powerful than father's, as is known.

"Is everything okay sunshine?" this time your mother asked, bothering you from eating in quiet and peace. You chewed the bun and nod, not even looking at them. You were so focused on your plate that you didn't even have time to look anywhere else.

After your movement, which indicated that everything was supposedly fine, there was a moment of silence. The only thing that could be heard was the sound of cutlery occasionally touching the plate. An awkward silence began to spread through the air very quickly, and even the guards at the door began to chat among themselves.

The silence was suddenly broken by your father's inconspicuous cough, which was followed by a question you prayed you wouldn't hear for at least a day. ,,And what about men?" Did you find anyone that could be your future husband and follow my lead?"

Your lips left a long loud sigh. "Not yet father" this time, your voice was bitterly cold, you were obviously showing how you don't like this topic and how it makes you uncomfortable.

"Darling, you'll be a woman soon, your mother was getting married at your age and look where she is now!" Your father kept trying to cajole you and force you into marriage, but this was the last thing on your mind. "Trapped with a man?" you answered, making your father lost words and your mother's face cringe in anger. "I am not trapped sweetheart-" "Oh really? So you can go whenever you want wherever you want?"

You raised your voice a bit, but just enough to make the atmosphere thick. Your mother started boiling with anger, and you really make it difficult for her to stay calm and in her character. "Young lady, be careful with your words-" and just when your mother wanted to calm things down, you bursted out.

"You think this is what I want?" Live for marriage and forget what freedom feels like? You think I live just for men?!" You got up from your seat and slapped your hands aggressively on the table. "You're a woman!" You will never know what freedom feels like! The only thing you will have is your husband's safety!"

The words came out of your mother's mouth as easily as if she had been preparing for this moment years ago. They were sharp without any sweetness, making you froze in a place, not moving a single muscle. When you looked at your dad, he was just as shocked as you. Your mother still had that angry look on her face as she yelled at you the words that would wake you up from your sleep and haunt you in your worst nightmares.

After a few more seconds, your mom finally realizes what she has done, as she looked over to her husband. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, but before she could say something, one of the guards rushed into the kitchen with a simple words ,,He's here".

Your parents immediately stood up from their seats and looked over to the open door. Your dad looked excited and so did your mom. You were so confused. Who is he and why was his presence so quick to please your mother and father?

There were so many questions running through your head, and like everyone else, you were eagerly looking at the door, waiting to see who would appear. It didn't take long before you finally saw him.

A tall, large man stopped as soon as he got inside. His iron armor clung beautifully to his massive body, and the parts of his skin that could be seen were covered in blood. His hair was black and wavy, looking as fine as sheep's wool. His beard beautifully accentuated his masculine cheekbones and the gray particles only added charm. His look was frowning and stiff until he saw your parents.

At that moment, he raised his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth lifted. He called your father's name, deep husky voice that sends shivers down your spine. He opened his arms and your father ran towards him. They locked arms together and slapped each other on the back.

You just stared at them breathlessly, still unanswered questions drowning in your head. Before long you felt a gentle hand landing on your shoulder. "Marcus..." your mother said quietly as she kept her eyes on them. You looked over to see her calm face. "Best friend of your father..." now this was the answer you wanted to hear.

After the two finally pulled away from each other, the man's eyes landed on you. The smile on his face slowly faded away and he barely blinked. You held eye contact and even though you were standing quite far away from him, you could feel goosebumps rising all over your skin. His brown eyes looked so kind yet hungry at the same time.

"Marcus…" your mother finally stopped you and you looked down, coughing discreetly. Marcus also woke up back on planet earth and greeted your mother with the sweet smile he had before.

"We missed you" your mother said after she pulled away and held his massive strong arms. "You too, my favorite people" he said, looking into your moms face, unlike you, you couldn't take your eyes off Marcus.

It was as if the whole area became silent and everything was blurry, except for him. Your head automatically filled with million scenarios and you had to take a deep breath to breathe in the presence of this warrior. You scan his body and scars, pity began to flow through your body and you wanted to heal his every wound.

After a while your mother finally looked in your direction with Marcus and you froze in place. His gaze made you feel a vibrating feeling between your legs and you couldn't tell if you liked it or not.

"That's our daughter" your father noticed the awkward silence and decided to introduce the two of you. As Marcus made his way over to you, the vibration became more intense and you trembled like a bird. Marcus noticed your nervous attitude so he decided to, to calm you down a bit by grabbing your hand and gently kissing it, looking at you the whole time and honestly turning you on even more.

"My pleasure to finally meet you" he said as he let go of your hand and popped his chest like a proud lion. Finally? What does he mean? You've never heard of this man and you've never seen him, you would definitely remember that.

Marcus noticed your confused expression and immediately looked over to your father for an explanation, but he didn't do anything to explain it to you, he just decided to move on to another topic. As always.

"After all these years," he approached Marcus again, grabbing his strong arms and looking at him proudly. You kind of wish he would look at you like that one day, ,,…we need to throw a welcome soiree!" He screams so loudly, that the echo reverberated throughout the hall to the second tower.

Marcus was just smiling and you could tell it wasn't a sincere smile. Your mother immediately joined in and nodded in agreement. As soon as they finished talking, everyone started decorating the kitchen and making arrangements for meals.

You didn't want to oblige anyone, since you wouldn't be much help anyway, so you just snuck away to your room. When you walked past Marcus, who was having fun with your dad, his smell was indescribable. You've never felt anything like this from a man before. It evoked dominance, lust and respect, a respect that not just anyone deserves, but Marcus does.

As soon as you closed the door behind you and entered your room, the first and only thing you could think of was Marcus. How divine his body must be under all that armor, how strong his hands must be from all that warfare, how his fingers must be trained from his handling of the sword.

Just the image of him makes your legs shake and your stomach felt weird suddenly…weirdly good. You sat on the bed and just stared out the window, thoughts of Marcus still lingering and your imagination was much wilder than before.

You lay down on the bed with a loud groan and closing your eyes, as you bounce a few times on the mattress. You had no idea what was going on, with your head and your body. You couldn't even tell if you like it or not, the only thing you knew one hundred percent was, that these feelings are just because of Marcus.

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There were only a few hours left before the party started. All this time you tried to sleep and run away from all those new and scary feelings, but it still didn't work. You couldn't fall asleep and when you were really close to it, Marcus would always appear in front of you, even with your eyes closed. That's why you just lay there, staring at the ceiling and letting it all eat you up. When the hour finally approached, you were so relieved.

You heard muffled talking from behind the kitchen and decided it was time to leave. You opened your wardrobe and immediately knew what to wear. You've never worn these before, not because you didn't like them, but your father didn't like them and you know very well why.

They are way too revealing, but you think that he wouldn't say anything about them today, he wouldn't want to sink you in front of his best friend, right? With a devilish smile, you placed them on the bed and suddenly heard a knock on the door. You said open in a soft tone, looking at the door. Very slowly they cracked open and there was none other than your dad inside. He carefully closed it behind him and leaned against it.

You could tell by his face that he looked quite worried. You didn't want to anger him even more so you discreetly stood in front of the bed to cover that provocative dress. “Is everything okay father?” you asked, trying to figure out what was going on. He took a deep breath and looked at you. “I need to talk to you…about Marcus”

Your eyes widened a bit but not too much. It's quite understandable that he'll chat with you about him and maybe even explain why Marcus said he was finally happy to meet you, even though you've never heard of him. "I saw the way you look at each other and this must never happen" he didn't wait another second and spewed this at you.

You frowned at his naivety and the fact that you could have something more with Marcus. After all, you are still young bud, while he is a man of experience and has been through so much...yet this is not reason enough to erase him from your mind.

"Are you serious?" you asked your father arrogantly, folding your shoulders to your chest. "Yes, I'm serious honey. You know, Marcus is not the man for you" his voice sounded so convincing but you still didn't believe him. "You are the one who asks me about men every morning and when one comes along, you ban him?!" you raised your voice a little and threw your hands around. It just doesn't make any sense.

Your father looks down and took another deep breath. "Marcus Acacius is a warrior, a gladiator. He wouldn't have time for you and at the same time you would worry if he would survive. Also, his reputation with women is not flattering, even though he's the same age as me, he doesn't want to settle down. He loves freedom and fun, but you need someone who knows his priorities, do you understand?"

You were surprised by all of this information. Marcus definitely looks like a gladiator, but that's not the thing that scared you the most. His reputation with women? After all, he doesn't look like a man who would pay just for the experience and relief with a woman...or does he?

You tried to find the words to answer, but you couldn't think of anything. You had nothing in your head, just one man who seems like a poor old whore. Your father noticed your shock and even felt a little sorry for you. "Look, I only want the best for you, but Marcus just isn't the best" his words drove more and more wounds into your heart. It painted evil qualities into your imagination and even though everything seemed rosy after Marcus arrived, now is black and white and much worse.

"Do me a favor" your father slowly finished his monologue. "Stay away from Marcus" and with that he left your room leaving you completely devastated and destroyed. You felt tears running down your face but immediately wiped them away with your hand. A young lady like you can't cry, and certainly not because of a man. You didn't care about men until now, so how come you care so much about Marcus? You're not in love after all, are you?

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You walked into the main room where the party was being held. Everyone was already here, having fun and laughing, the music in the background pleasantly vibrated your eardrums and you tried to focus only on fun and freedom, nothing and no one else.

Even though your dad gave you a strict ban on any interaction with Marcus, you wore your sexy dress. After all, you have to use this opportunity one way or another. Of course, in that dress you immediately had the attention of almost all men and women.

It was eerily quiet for a moment when you walked in, even the music stopped playing. You don't like being the center of attention, so you tried to think of something to stop it. You slowly knelt down to greet and it really worked, the music started playing again and everyone was talking with each other. Sometimes, however, some would whisper in their ear while looking at you, but you tried your best to ignore them.

You came to the table with food and picked one grape berry. “Really interesting taste-” you heard a gruff wolf's voice from your right and quickly turned in that direction. Marcus looked even better than he did in the morning, he was well groomed, wearing a gorgeous white robe with gold accessories and his arms still looked so eatable. However, Marcus' words were stopped by another manly voice from the left, which was already familiar to you. "What do you think you're doing?!" your father was downright furious, looking you up and down. When you turned to look at him and revealed that Marcus was standing behind you, your father miraculously calmed down.

Marcus and you waited for your dad's next words. He was trapped, and that was exactly what you hoped would happen. You could feel how much he wanted to yell at you and scold you, but he can't show such an aggressive side of himself in front of his best friend, even at a party in front of hundreds of guests.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Marcus, come with me for a moment" he said and turned around thinking that Marcus was already following him. He looked a little surprised but the mischievous smile still remained on his face. As he passed by you, he gave you a subtle wink and you had a close enough to pass out on the spot. Who would have thought that a mere wink would almost give out your knees?

You watched as your dad pulled Marcus into a corner and said something to him. You could just see Marcus' face expression and couldn't hear what they are talking about. Sometimes he looked at you, but you couldn't describe what was going through his mind or what your dad was saying to him, you could only guess.

"That dress looks good on you" you heard a familiar female voice next to you. Your mother was looking in the same direction as you, but she was smiling. Her compliment only comforted you for a moment as you were still paying attention to the two men.

You let out an exhausted sigh and popped another berry into your mouth. "Marcus is a good man, honest and strong. You would be really safe with him" your mother's words caught you by surprise as she was of a different opinion than your father's. "But dad-" you wanted to say that just the thought of you and Marcus being together was destroying him but your mother interrupted you.

,,I know. He is worried about you, after all you are still young and Marcus is too old for you. You have to understand him, he's doing it for you" she patted your shoulders and walked away to her friends. She left you alone again and you were even more confused than before. You didn't know what to think about all this. Everything started to be suddenly too loud, the music and people's conversation gave you a headache and you had to get away quickly before you passed out.

You quickly stepped outside into the fresh air, trying to catch your breath. You leaned against the wall and all your emotions suddenly came out. Tears fell from your eyes one by one and you couldn't stop it. You wanted to run away, scream, you just wanted to be relaxed and free, but these are apparently too big demands. You sat down on the ground and curled up into a ball, hoping no one will find you in that state. What would they think of you?

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You have no idea how much time has passed since you ran out. But you don't care as long as no one is looking for you. You felt good, the cool wind blew through your hair and pleasantly refreshed your skin. Still sitting on the ground, you had your eyes closed and tried to focus only on the nature and the sound of the birds, even though it was quite difficult since you couldn't hear through the music and the sound from the party.

Suddenly you heard footsteps and in no time you were back on your feet. Chest popping, back straight and chin up. You were waiting for someone to show up around the corner. You expected your father, who is sure to be furious, or your mother, who is calmer but still worried. To your surprise, it wasn't neither of them.

"Where did you evaporate?" Marcus asked standing in front of you so he could finally get a better look at you in that unique dress. You opened your eyes in horror and your words got stuck in your throat. "I-I…" you tried to create a meaningful sentence, but how could you, when you were standing in front of the most handsome man you have ever seen in your entire life.

He noticed your struggling and couldn't help but giggle a bit. "Why are you nervous little dove?" he asked so softly, that the tone of his voice went through your every vein. The weird vibrating feeling between your legs started again, and you couldn't help but put your thighs closer. ,,I needed some fresh air" you finally whined in a shaky and low voice, but still trying to keep your attitude and show that you are not so nervous at all, but the truth was different.

"Understandable" he nodded his head and the corner of his mouth lifted. He stared at you for a moment until he joined you. He stands next to you, leaning against the wall watching the scenery with you. Even though it was quiet, you loved his presence next to you. You felt the feeling of security that every woman longs for.

"You don't want to enjoy the celebration?" you finally broke the ice and asked with all your courage, but you were still too nervous to look at him. "No, although it's surprising, I don't really like attention" he breathed out and you were quite surprised by his answers. ,,Really? Father was saying something else...” you said the second part of the sentence more quietly but Marcus heard you, despite the soft chatter.

,,Indeed?" you could feel his eyes on you, but you still tried really hard to keep your cool and not look at him, even tho you really wanted. His scent was so irresistible and you lost yourself for a moment, before the long silence slapped you on the head. ,, "Oh yes, he said you like to enjoy freedom and fun, even...with women" you weren't sure if you were supposed to mention the women, but somehow it just came out of your mouth without you being able to control it.

He scoffed and let out a small laugh. Now it was the perfect time to look at him. You saw his head shaking, like he doesn't believe what he just heard. "It's a surprise that I don't know about it myself" you frowned incomprehendingly and waited for an explanation.

When your eyes met, your heart skipped a beat and you stopped breathing. You saw his eyes up close and they were so lovely, just like his hair, face, beard, body...you were so obsessed with him. Is it even allowed to be so obsessed with a man you barely know and your father forbade him? Definitely not.

"Your father said things to protect you, to make you think bad things about me" This was exactly the answer you were hoping for, that it was all just a fabrication and that Marcus was a good innocent man. "Oh" you said and looked down at your feet. "And apparently he told you to stay away from me, am I right?" Marcus touched your arm softly, just by two fingers to make you look at him again, and it worked. He looked like a sad puppy who deserved to be scratched.

You just nodded in agreement, eliciting a soft sigh from Marcus. "He told me that too..." he slightly pushed himself away from the wall and stood in front of you again, this time much closer. Your back hit the wall and you were pinned to it, as Marcus stood only a few millimeters away from you, your chests almost touching. Your heart rate increased and your breathing quickened, your cheeks began to heat up and the vibration was much stronger than ever before.

"He specifically forbade me to have anything to do with you..." Marcus continued and his finger ran over your skin, from wrist, to upper arms, to your shoulders, stopping at your collarbones where he just make small circles. This was your first physical interaction with a man, and despite how scared you were of it, you melted at Marcus' touch.

His other hand gently squeezed your waist, making you gasp a bit by the surprise. He pulled you closer to his body, now you were definitely touching each other and you could feel something poking you into your thigh. You wanted to look what it was, but Marcus hypnotized you with his gaze and you just couldn't take your eyes off him.

"But I can't help it" and with these words he leaned closer to your face, your noses were touching and both of you were waiting to see who would kiss the other first. The situation was tense, you didn't notice anything or anyone around but Marcus and his warm breath against your wet lips.

You took a deep breath and the movement almost forced your lips to touch his, but it didn't. You were still waiting, Marcus' hands were now firmly on your hips and he had full control of you, he could do whatever he wanted with you, and you would let him without any word.

You were frozen but you fought so hard not to kiss him. Why? Because you really liked this game. You like all of this and want as much of it as possible. But Marcus is patient enough and as much as he wanted to break the barriers too, he didn't, instead he did something much hotter.

He released one hand from your waist and slowly slid it under your dress. You whined at the sigh of his touch, his massive hands surrounded almost your entire thigh. You were still face to face, noses touching but still no kiss, just touches. Really dangerous touches. He didn't stop in his journey under your dress and continued higher and higher, just where your throbbing cunt was.

You groan and moan, but quietly to not let someone caught you. Marcus loves how his touch drives you crazy, but you still had no idea what came next. When he finally found your sweet spot where you needed him touch you so badly, he didn't hesitate any second and insert one of his fingers into you. You throw your head back, breaking your kiss game but you didn't care.

The pleasure was indescribable. You saw sounds and felt colors, you bit your bottom lip to silence your heckling and crying, but it still didn't quite work. The way he curled his finger inside you made you wild, your legs shaking and your mind went dizzy. You immediately dug your fingers into his strong muscles for the better posture.

,,Marcus~”

You moan as he sped up his pace. He didn't take his eyes off you. You looked so beautiful like that, so weak, so hopeless. Just when you thought it couldn't get any better, Marcus added his thumb, making tiny circles around your clit. You've never experienced that pleasure like this before. You fight for your life not to scream his name and to stay on your feet.

He was stretching your walls while provoking your wet tiny friend, which if you just lightly touch, it will wreak havoc in your body. You felt the urge to go to pee, to burst everything that is inside you out, you were just so close to your orgasm. You had no idea what was going on, what it was, or why Marcus was so good at it, but all you could focus on was him and his fingers inside you, that were driving you crazy.

You looked at him as a guardian angel who would free you from the tense feeling that had accumulated in you over the years. Marcus knew you were on edge, your hole wrapped tightly around his finger and your legs automatically joined together. He smiled and continued in his motion, till you finally came onto his finger. A load moan came out of your mouth and your heart was beating at an incredible speed.

You opened your eyes and looked at Marcus, all sweaty and tired but relaxed. You both laughed for a moment and you wanted to rest until you heard quick footsteps coming your way. You didn't even have time to thank Marcus when you saw your dad and the guards emerging from the edge of the wall.

Marcus quickly let go of you and stepped aside, but you weren't sure if your father saw you so close to him or not. What you saw, however, was an enraged father who was boiling with anger.

He watched the two of you for a moment before he ordered the guards to take you back and grabbed Marcus by the shoulder. "Dad it's not what-" you wanted to save it, but it was too late for any words now. "I'll meet you at the party" he said and walked away with Marcus. You kept watched them, until the guards grabbed your arms and dragged you back to the celebration. You tried to break free from their grip, but it was impossible.

"Next time, you should obey your father's orders," said one of the guards, and you looked at him concerned. You wanted to say something to him, but you were already at the place. They let you go and closed the door, at which they then stood.

Shocked by the whole situation, you just stood there watching all the people having fun. Before long, your mother came to you, hugging you tightly and stroking your head. "Sweetheart, do you know how worried we were about you?" with tears in her eyes, she still didn't let go of her embrace. "You barely noticed I was gone" you replied arrogantly and gently pushed your mother away. You felt sorry for her, but right now, fury was controlling over pity.

You angrily walked over to the food table and stuffed one berry after another into your mouth as if you hadn't eaten in a month. After a while, the door you came through opened and your father and Marcus walked in. They were both smiling, even though you knew they weren't just talking outside. When Marcus noticed you, he gave you an apologetic look before walking to the other side of the hall. The only thing on your mind right now was a question, why is life so unfair?

"Hey easy there sweetheart" a manly voice pulled you away from staring at Marcus and you immediately turned to the direction the voice was coming from. A tall man with brown hair and a beard, he looked slimy and even smelled like that. Just his presence so close to you bothered you. You ignored him and ate a few more berries before he talked to you again, "Are you in a hurry or just really hungry?" he laughed like it was the best joke of the year. You just rolled your eyes in annoyance and wiped your hands into your dress. "Actually yes, I'm in hurry. Pleasure to meet you" you politely avoided him and quickly rushed to the other door, the one that lead to your room. You quickly opened them and breathed a sigh of relief as you were in the hallway, only to find the man was following you.

"Come on angel, we barely know each other" he said and still followed you. "I'm sorry but I'm not interested" you still politely rejected the man again and quickly walked towards your room. But that didn't stop him. You don't even know how, but suddenly he was right behind you, grabbing your wrist and pressed you against the wall. You started to panic.

"Please let me go!" you begged and hoped he would stop. You had a million scenarios in your head of what would happen, what he wants from you or what he will do to you. But his look says it all, he doesn't want to just talk to you. "You'll love it, don't worry" he said with a sickening smile on his face and started to undo the waistband of his pants. You started to cry and you knew that screaming for help was futile. He could strangle you with his hand or just cover your mouth and no one would be able to hear your cry for help. This is not how you imagined the loss of virginity, this is not how you wanted it.

Just when it seemed like this was going to be the most traumatic day of your life, Marcus burst into the hallway. You both turned your head to look at him and you finally had hope. You smiled but you were the only one. Marcus worried face transformed into furious in a second, as he saw that man standing too close to you, and your eyes full of tears.

"Get lost!" We have our moment here!" The moldy sweaty man yelled at Marcus, thinking he was really going to let us go. Of course he didn't. "If you don't let her go now, you'll face the consequences" he warned the man as he slowly approached to you. As if every step of his made you feel more and more happy and relieved.

"Jesus Christ just leave us alone idiot!" Marcus ran out of patience and ran after the man. He grabbed him by the shirt and forced him to back up to the other side of the hall, directly across from you, where he pinned him to the wall.

"Now listen to me carefully, you touch her one more time and you won't have such a clean face after that, is that clear to you?" you watched Marcus warn the man and you really respected him. When Marcus gets angry, he can be really scary. The bastard didn't say anything, he just looked at Marcus in horror and didn't know what to do.

"Is it clear?!" Marcus shook him aggressively and the man immediately nodded his head. He must shit his pants right now. "Now get lost!" he ordered and finally let him go. The guy didn't wait for anything and ran back to the door as he fastened his belt. When Marcus and you looked in his direction, you saw your dad watching you. Neither of you noticed him until now, you had no idea how long he had been standing there staring at you, but apparently long enough for him to change his mind about Marcus.

Your father came over to Marcus who thought he was in trouble again but instead of yelling he got a warm hug. Marcus was confused just as you were, but it was a nice picture to see them hugging again. After a while, your father finally released Marcus from his arms, admiring him with a smile. "I was wrong. I acted immaturely and rashly” came out of your fathers words and you were just shocked. "You are perfect for my daughter.”

With those words, you and Marcus smiled and you quickly ran towards them. ,,Are you serious father?” You asked incredulously, but your father nodded. "Yes, even though your age is intimidating, you can protect her and that's all that matters” You looked excitedly at Marcus and he looked back at you. "Thank you," Marcus added, giving your father one last smile before looking at you and kissing you without any warning. It was a long, passionate kiss that said a lot more than I love you. It said I want you.

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Celebration of Marcus return was over, and the two of you just couldn't wait anymore. You were in your room, lips glued together and small moans leaving your mouth. The kisses were so wet, hungry and full of lust, that you had. "From the moment I saw you" Marcus said quickly between the kisses, trying to catch his breath. During this he slowly forced you backing up until your feet hit the bed frame. "I wanted you".

He said before gently pushing you onto the bed, making you bounce a bit. You smiled at his flirtatious words before his lips touched yours again, both of your saliva mixing together, making an amazing tasteful fluid. His tongue pushing into your mouth so roughly, almost choking you.

His hands traveled all over your body until he finally found the buttons of your dress, which he immediately used and very aggressively removed them, almost destroying them. You gasped as the cool fresh air touched your naked skin and Marcus needed a minute to admire your body.

“Where have you been all this time?” he asked desperately and immediately lunged after you again, his male instincts running wild as he grab your breast and squeezed, making you whine his name really loudly. You were in holy heaven, every touch of his on your body turned you on more and more and just the thought of how he had made you feel before, drives you crazy.

"You've never touched yourself, did you?" he whispered in your ear while slowly driving his finger down to your hole. You couldn't answer him, just a quiet whine came out of you. "Don't worry, that's why I am here for" he said before he put a finger inside you, your back arching and you firmly grab the pillows on the bed.

,,Oh my god~”

You groan and look at Marcus, totally crazy about your moves. Your hips were automatically moving against Marcus' hand, trying to bring more friction. He did as your body wanted, and added another finger, stretching your walls and making your fluid leak a bit.

Your moans were a lullaby for Marcus ears, making sure that he is doing his job well. His fingers teasing the inside of you, the juicy sound echoed throughout the room. But suddenly, he stopped and pulled out his fingers from you. You sighed at the loss, confused and overwhelmed. You looked at Marcus, watching him what he is doing. He knelt in front of the bed with a devilish grin on his face and moved you closer to him. More specifically, your vagina closer to your face.

“W-what are you doing?” you asked, leaning your elbows on the bed so you could see Marcus over your body. "Relax, trust me" he said and you did. You really trust Marcus, and definitely after he stood up for you. No one, no man, no human ever did something like that for you. You respect him a lot, but even more now that he's sticking his tongue inside you. You suddenly winced and grunted. His wet tongue entered into you so lightly, it was like a natural lubricant.

Instinctively, you grabbed Marcus's wavy hair and tugged on it as he slid his tongue in and out of you, making you whine his name. He kept his eyes on you, watching you as his victim, which you were in this situation. He held your hips so you wouldn't move too much and have the full experience as it should be.

His nose bumping into your clitoris from time to time, making your vision blurry. You heard the ringing for a moment and all your senses stopped. The only thing you could feel was Marcus's tongue inside you, touching you that spongy spot, which is making you getting close to realise.

After a few more movements of Marcus' tongue inside you, you couldn't take it anymore and you came right into Marcus' mouth. You gasped, trying to catch a breath as your legs shook. Marcus drinks all of your juices and you ride the orgasms off by his big nose.

You close your eyes, trying to calm yourself and your body down, while Marcus stands up from his position and gets on top of you. He knew how tired and exhausted you are, so he wanted you to catch a little break. He was giving you sweet little kisses all over your body and most often on your tummy, making you laugh a little. "Relaxed?" he asked and you jerked your head up to look at him. "There is more?" you asked in shock and Marcus just smiled at your innocence.

He nodded and crawled more up, so that he was face to face with you. His muscular body covered you all over, his scent tickling your olfactory cells. You just caressed his face. You felt his beard gently scratching you against your palm. It didn't hurt, on the contrary, it was pleasant.

“Are you ready for true passion?” He hummed and you looked at him in shock. You probably knew what he was pointing out, but you still weren't sure. You nodded your head a little apprehensively, but Marcus immediately calmed you down with a passionate kiss.

It wasn't long before Marcus' clothes were on the ground. You didn't care where, the main thing was that it was gone and you could finally feel his hot body on you. You couldn't help it and your hand traveled all over his body, your brain trying to remember every part of him, muscle, abs or just mole. He was perfect.

As the two of you kept touching yourself with hands, you felt something really big poking your inner thigh, dangerously close to your core. You slightly and gently moved Marcus away from you to take a look, what is it that provokes you so much. Your eyes nearly fell out of their sockets at the sight of Marcus' cock. He was big, massive and literally begging to fuck you already.

His precum already leaving from his pink tip, his veins were really filled and all you wanted to do was touch him, which you did without permission. You gently touched him with your fingers and Marcus immediately responded with a soft exhale. "Careful" he warned you, watching your hand on his penis. You took Marcus's warning to heart and followed his veins really gently with your index finger.

"You know what to do?" another heavy exhale from his lips, and you stopped to look at Marcus's face. You shook your head, a little afraid that he would laugh at you, but that didn't happen. Instead he took your hand and helped show you how. He carefully covered your hand and forced you to wrap yours around his cock. Your touch really turned him on but he had to hold back. "That's it, now you're gonna do this" he started moving your hand slowly, up and down with a slow pace. You quickly check Marcus face, that was squeezed and his teeth were dug into his lower lip.

"Perfect, clever girl..." he whine softly and throw his head back. You continued in the motion that he shows you, really focused while checking his face from time to time. You could tell that he likes it, but you wanted him to love it. You decided to speed up a bit and wrap your hand more tightly around him. He moaned your name, gods name and just sweet things you couldn't even register. One of his hand was on your waist, squeezing it, making you jump a bit.

"Oh my..." he moaned, digging his fingers into your skin while his lap was rocking against your hand. "Fuck!" He screamed and reached his climax, spraying a white gooey liquid all over your stomach. You were horrified but in a good way, you liked these new things you were exploring more and more.

After Marcus finally came to his senses, he smiled at you and stroked your cheek. "You learn fast little dove" you giggle by that cute nickname and your cheeks were so hot suddenly. "But we are still not done yet" and with these words he slowly began to insert his cock into you. You knew it was big but no one prepared you for this pain. But Marcus was a respectful man and always waited for the pain to pass and then he continued. This was repeated a few times until he was finally fully inside you.

He kept saying nice things to you to calm you down mentally and physically and it really helped. When he was 100% sure that you were fine and ready, he slowly began to move his hips back and forth. The pain immediately turned into pleasure, his cock slightly brushing your folds and it make you wanted more. You started moving your hips along his, giving him a clear sign that you are ready for more. Therefore, he quickened his pace and his emphasis as well.

His balls were clapping against your ass, the juice sound started being loud again but not as loud as your moans and gasps. You clawed at Marcus's back with your fingernails, they must left a bloody mess. Marcus was squeezing your hips so hard that he was sure to leave some bruise there, but neither of you cared.

He was stretching you so hard, finding and hitting that sponge spot again, and you immediately knew you won't last long. You felt so tight, like someone was strangling you down there and in your lower abdomen until Marcus exploded and rammed deep into you all the way to his balls. This was your last straw and just seconds after his orgasm you reached it too.

A few dirty words were exchanged until Marcus collapsed next to you. Both of you were tired, exhausted, sweaty and struggling to catch your breath. You felt amazing, this was the best thing you could ever experience and you can thank Marcus for that.

You turn your head towards him, his eyes were closed and his nostrils big. He was sleepy already but you weren't surprised, you were also ready to fall asleep. You crawled closer to Marcus, waking him up a bit. He immediately assumed his position as a caring partner and covered you both with a blanket. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer to him and you purred appreciatively. "You're amazing darling" he whispered and placed a soft kiss into your hair. If this is the security that your father was talking about, then you have more than enough.

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#pedro pascal #smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro x reader #pedrohub #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal gladiator #marcus acacius #marcus acacius x reader

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cringe--is--dead · 2 months

Text

𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝔻𝕠 𝕎𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕐𝕠𝕦’𝕣𝕖 𝕊𝕚𝕔𝕜

Incl. Umemiya, Hiragi, Tsubakino, Choji, Togame

Umemiya

Having grown up in a group home, Umemiya knows how to be the best care giver ever

That being said: he’s also insanely clingy and affectionate on his worst days

He’s attentive to a T

With Kotoha’s help he’s bringing you homemade soup, full of fresh veggies from his garden

He’s making you tea and keeping water bottles near by whenever you even mention wanting a drink

Sends his four kings out to watch over while he’s with you because he refuses to leave your side until your healthy— doesn’t matter if it’s a cold or the flu

Still cuddles with you, despite you telling him he’ll get sick— he tells you his love and affection will make you feel better

Whenever your fever spikes he’s quickly getting a wet cloth, laying it on your forehead and humming a wordless tune or telling you stories softly

He’s there to wake you up whenever you have fever induced nightmares, and holds your hair back if you rush to the bathroom to be sick

If you even feel the tiniest bit insecure because you feel gross and greasy he shuts that down: by telling you:

“In sickness and in health!” “That’s— those are wedding vows?” “Ha, yeah! But think of them as…pre-engagement, pre-wedding vows now! Hey— your face is all red, did your fever spike again?”

If you’re far enough into your relationship he’ll help you bathe: his hands are gentle as he washes your hair, no wandering touches as he helps you clean your body

He’s so soft you nearly fall asleep in the water, lulled into a serene peace by his soft voice and gentle touches

He combs your hair once it’s dry enough, braiding it to keep it out of your face and wrapping you your freshly washed sheets you have no idea when he had time to clean

Overall; 11/10 to take care of you when you’re sick

Even if he does end up getting sick himself after

Hiragi

You probably got sick after he warned you to bring your coat with you or not to stay up too late let’s be real

Dad sighs and twitching eyes

But he’s buying all the best meds and electrolyte drinks

I personally believe this man knows how to cook so he’s making you homemade soup, congee and other things his mom used to make him when he was sick

Brings a type of lemon “candy” that helps with your throat, knows they work because he keeps them on him in case Kaji needs them

He stays with you, but he gives you space

1. Because he needs to make sure he doesn’t get sick— he has to take care of you firstly, and secondly he cannot let Umemeiya free of him for too long

2. Because he knows you’ll want space occasionally; to sleep, to rest, to regenerate your social battery

While you nap he’s cleaning around; washing and folding clothes, doing dishes, organizing your mail— he’s completely husband material

When you want him near he’ll have you lay your head on his lap, and he’ll run his fingers through your hair and read to you— literally any book you choose he’ll read without hesitation

He’ll be so attentive and supportive when you’re sick, and he makes sure to continue to give you vitamins even after to help you avoid being sick again

But even when you are he’ll be there again

15/10 he’s just so HUSBAND MATERIAL

Tsubakino

LOOK

if there’s one thing anyone knows about me it’s I am a Tsubaki stan first and a human second

that being said

I imagine him taking care of you being sick is, while sweet, also a bit panicky

I imagine he has this weirdly insane immune system so he’s hardly ever gotten sick, and he’s also an only child so this isn’t super familiar territory

but he tries

does so much research he might go a bit overboard

“My darling! I got cough medicine, fever reducers, cooling masks, some cough drops Hiragi suggested! I got some water bottles and Suo-chan suggested different teas— I wasn’t sure which one would be best so I got all six! Nirei-chan said to get electrolytes so I got different flavors of those! And Kotoha-chan made soup! And congee! And I can order more, in fact I have a few different soups on the way!”

he just hates seeing you feel so bad

he’s a ball of nerves around you, always checking in on you and asking what you want, what you need, what you’d like

you can’t even be annoyed he’s so sweet

he helps you bathe, much like Umemiya, he’s sweet and attentive

he brings over his own stuff too; bathbombs, shower steamers, hair masks, face masks

he can’t make the illness disappear but you’ll at least feel clean and good on the outside

he takes his time with your hair and face, and he’s basically your personal masseuse in the bath

you’re never felt so relaxed despite being as sick as a dog

even though you’re sick he’s still quick to press kisses to your cheeks and forehead, face red from fever, embarrassment, and lipstick stains now

paints your nails while you rest with a cold press on your head, tells you about the latest debacle between Umemeiya and Hiragi and Sugishita and Sakura

by a miracle he doesn’t get sick

and he stores all the leftover meds and electrolytes (there’s a lot) between your place and his so he’s prepared next time

overall: 1000000/10

realistically: 10/10 (but always 100000/10 in my eyes)

Choji

oh boy

o h b o y

let it be known you try to hide the fact you’re sick from him for as long as possible

read: you fail

he’s showing up at like 7am, waking you up and charging in

did he bring anything?

of course

he’s brought snacks

not healthy ones

you’re not hungry because you’re nauseous, so he just stores them in your fridge and comes to cuddle you

he’ll wait on your every command don’t get me wrong

want water? he’s grabbing you a glass

need to go to the bathroom? he’s helping you up and walking you there, waiting outside the door and helping you back

bored? he’ll tell you all the thoughts in his head! and there’s a lot!

hungry? he’s grabbing those snacks for you!

he’s attentive and sweet, but he definitely is spoiled by Togame so much he’s not entirely sure how to take care of a sick person

but he’s strong so he’ll just beat your illness for you!

he’ll hold you while you rest, turn your fan on when you say you’re hot, turn it off when you’re cold

he tries to braid your hair while you rest, it’s messy but he tried

he ends up getting sick before you’re even better yourself

now Togame is tasked with coming to your place and taking care of both of you

overall: 7/10

he tries he really does

but he charges in with no instructions and just love

which is great but doesn’t treat the flu

Togame

he probably has taken care of an ill choji (^) so he knows what he’s doing

the patience of a saint holy—

he comes to see you when you’re asleep, and he’s silent as he unpacks stuff from the nearby convention store

you wake up startled at him just chilling, probably drinking a ramune and reading something

he keeps his voice soft as he asks if you’re hungry or thirsty

helps you sit up as he hands you a water bottle, and if your hands are too shaky he’d holding it for you to drink out of

he won’t even let you open your mouth to apologize before he’s giving you that stupidly soft smile and telling you he’s happy to take care of you

he keeps the curtains shut so the light in your room is dim, and he brings in candles with your favorite scent so the lights don’t hurt your eyes and the scent helps you feel calmer

not much of a cook himself when it comes to specific food to help you, but he grabbed take out on the way and heats up the perfect portions whenever you’re hungry

not too much so you leave food on the plate but not too little so you’re still hungry after

the man that he is

can definitely see him massaging your hands, your arms and your shoulders cause you’re tense from feeling ill

keeps a bucket or a bag nearby in case you get sick and can’t make it to the toilet

does a little braid to keep your hair out of your face, jokes about how he learned how to braid his hair so he’d he perfect at it for you

tries to brew you tea, and either burns it or under-steeps it

you both opt for just water for the time being

doesn’t get sick, but definitely sleeps for an entire day after you’re healthy

you both do actually— a long sleep cuddled up together

overall; 13/15 i think i made myself fall more in love with him

#hajime umemiya x reader #toma hiragi x reader #tsubakino tasuku x reader #choji tomiyama x reader #togame jo x reader #windbreaker x reader #wind breaker x reader #umemiya hajime x reader #hiragi toma x reader #tasuku tsubakino x reader #tomiyama choji x reader #jo togame x reader

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ace-inthehole · 1 month

Text

Tf 141 with a medic reader in which they begin making up all sorts of excuses and ailments all over the place just to be near you.

Soap is arguably the worst offender. He barges into your office just about everyday complaining about an ache here or a strain there. And every time without fail, you check him out thoroughly just to make sure. When he actually does get hurt, he milks the hell out of it. If it's something serious, he knows better than to fake it, but he will let himself be a little extra whiney.

Maybe he'll ask you to hold his hand because his wound hurts, or to sit by his bedside a little longer because he had a nightmare. Every excuse has questionable validity. Yet sure enough, you comply to just about each one. You put all your attention to care for his needs and whims, and make damn sure he'll be fine afterwards. He repays you by bothering you again the next day.

Gaz is more smooth and subtle about it, but he's just as shameless. He drops by occasionally, sometimes after a sparring session or after a mission. Tells you he's sprained a wrist or twisted an ankle. Has he? Most of the time, no. But sometimes when you check him over you find an injury he hadn't even noticed. Works out for him, another excuse to see you more often.

He comes around sometimes claiming an old injury has flared up, or maybe he's just feeling sick and under the weather. And he'll stick around even if you find nothing wrong with him, just hanging out on one of the vacant beds, enjoying your company. If he was in fact sick, he takes full advantage of it to have you take care of him. Revels in you checking up on him, giving him pain meds and ensuring he's drinking enough fluids. It makes him feel so loved and cared for, he can't help but come back for more.

Price has his pride, so he won't actively seek you out so obviously. But he does however, complain about a headache or a backache or a something or other ache just about everytime you speak. You fuss over him everytime, telling him to get more sleep and stop overworking himself. He loves hearing it, loves knowing that you care. He really does try to take your advice, he doesn't want to worry you, but this kind of lifestyle has been so deeply ingrained in him he can't shake it off.

So sometimes when he realizes he's pulled another all nighter doing paperwork, he'll drop by your office the next morning. For a little pampering, perhaps. Not because he misses you, no. He smiles to himself when you scold him and hand him some ibuprofen for his headache, quickly pushing him over to lay down on a bed. Maybe it isn't so bad to visit once in a while.

Ghost doesn't even bother to prepare any excuses. He refuses to be treated by anyone other than you if he's injured on missions. In the past he's had made a bad habit of keeping injuries to himself, he doesn't want to show that he's in pain, that he's weak. Because he couldn't afford to when he was younger. But after meeting you he's slowly falling out of that habit. For a wound he may have ignored in the past he sulks over to your office and just sits down silently on one of the beds. You ask him what's wrong, and he'll tell you exactly what happened. You don't make a big deal out of it, don't scold him for letting the wound fester, all you do is simply take care of him with the same gentle hands as always.

Of course, you'll still tell him to be more careful, and that he can come to you whenever, even if he's just got something on his mind or wants some company. It takes a long time for him to take you up on that offer, maybe months, maybe years. But he'll eventually come over every once in a while and sit with you in silence. You always ask him if he's alright, if he's injured, if he's sleeping and eating properly. The answer most of the time is yes, he's alright, no, he's not injured, and a grumble of agreement to the last question that you both know isn't true. But you don't push him, never. So he keeps coming back to you, over and over again.

#Whenever I write I'm worried I'm characterizing them all horribly and ppl will come after me #occasional ace musings #cod x male reader #male reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader #cod x reader #tf 141 x reader #tf 141 x male reader #soap x male reader #ghost x male reader #price x male reader #gaz x male reader #call of duty modern warfare

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thegnomelord · 3 months

Note

just read about demon hunter reader and demon ghost cuddling, and the first thing i thought was how ghost would react if, one of these times, reader ends up having a wet dream and dry humping his ass 😋

about time that our demon thinks of getting laid, he's disgusted and turned on at the same time

Sorry this took a while lads :Dd, I'm getting back into writing after all that shit with my school but I got a summer job as an assistant medical worker with 12h shifts every other day so It might take a bit for me to write stuff.

Hush, Hunter

CW:NSFW, MDNI, demon Simon Ghost Riley x male hunter reader, grinding, wet dreams, handjob, blowjob, size difference (demon ghost is like 11 feet tall.)

Your ‘husband’ is strange, even by demon standards.

He grumbles about the inconvenience brought on by your mortal failings and fragility, growling whenever you have to stop at a gas station to buy food or at some dingy motel to sleep. He grumbles even more about being confined in the stolen human skin suit he's forced to wear to blend in.

You can ignore the stranger with the stolen face and hellfire eyes throwing dark glares at you for the most part, except for when the demon decides to make the binding ring around your finger heat up when you spend too long talking to the pretty cashier. And it only takes a few more seconds of not paying heed to the incessant burn before Ghost Simon looms behind you, glaring at the flustered cashier like she’s a fey trying to trick you into the Fey Lord’s court.

And the big bastard never gives you any explanation on why he’s acting like that, just drags you back to your car, slamming the doors closed with enough strength to shake the entire vehicle. He’s like a cat honestly; hisses at you, but doesn’t want to let you out of his sight or claws.

But when your nightmares get so bad your only chance of sleeping is on the floor, well hidden behind the bed with your back flush with the dingy motel wall, Ghost surprises you by laying down with you. Sure he grumbles about the demeaning position - laying like some mongrel dog - but he still does it.

Ghost is on his side, his broad muscular back to you, rough inky scales swallowing all the moonlight that filters through the blinds and turning him into a pitch black wall of muscle. He’s so still you might even think he’s sleeping – you know he’s not; demons aren’t tied to mortal laws, nor are they subject to time’s iron grip, that’s what makes hunting demons so dangerous. The only indication you have that he’s awake is the occasional twitch of his tail and the slight shuffle of his wings when you accidentally get closer to him in your attempt to get a comfortable position.

You flinch when his one wing spreads out and back, but the blanket of black and blood dyed feathers soon eases the tension in your body. Probably too quickly, definitely too quickly, but Ghost doesn’t draw attention to it and neither do you and the night is cold and he is blissfully warm and he stays stock still when you shuffle a bit closer. You're glad he pays no attention to you when you get comfortable against him, barely an inch of space between you two.

His feathers tickle your face, they’re softer than you’d expect a wrath demon to have, fluffy like the down of chicks. His scent invades your nose, rough leather and steel oil and something distinctly demonic you can’t name. . . but it’s strangely comforting.

Laying only an inch or two away from a demon goes against everything you’ve ever been taught. Your nerves should be on a razor’s edge, but instead you’re calm. You don’t know why your fucked up mind finds comfort in the fact a possible threat would need to go through half a ton of murderous wrath demon to get to you. And you don’t want to think about it either, you’ve had far too many sleepless nights for your brain to care how you manage to sleep so long as you do. And the moment you close your eyes, you’re out like a light.

Ghost has gotten used to your nightmares.

Just like his father’s absent love, your nightmares are consistent. He’s almost impressed how such a frail thing like you could hunt the likes of hydras and Hell Dukes when you barely sleep a wink most nights. The longest you’ve gone is a couple of hours of restful sleep before you woke up trying to claw your eyes out. You never talk about it, nor does he, Ghost may be a demon but he knows far too well how the mind can haunt someone.

And Ghost has gotten good at telling apart the individual nightmares by how you squirm in your sleep.

It takes a little longer for the nightmare to start than usual, but he knows you’re neck deep in it when you heart starts it’s frantic drumming in your chest. He ruffles his feathers as your hands grip his sides, your breath fanning over his skin. He thinks it might be the basilisk haunting you this time by the way you press yourself flush with his back, burying your face into the space between his shoulder blades until your nose is flush with his spine, back hunching to further shield your eyes.

Ghost doesn’t, nor will he ever, mention the low happy rumble that escapes him when you snuggle up to him. His feathers fluff up, the scratchy hair of his tail flattening down - about as silk soft as he can make them. It’s little better than throwing pearls before swine, you won’t remember any of this after all, but doing this strangely doesn’t feel as much of a burden as it should.

Usually the low deep purring growling will chase away your nightmares and lull you into a dreamless sleep for a little while, but not this time. You squirm against his back like an eel, muscles tensing to grip his sides until dregs of pain dance along his spine. Your breath fans across his scales, your heart pounding in his ears like that of a rabbit’s caught in a snare. He’s just about ready to turn around and wake you before he feels it—

Your arousal pokes his back, hard like iron.

Only now does he pick up the slight sweetness of arousal in your adrenaline rich scent. “Hm- fuck.” You mumble as you roll your hips to grind your cock against him. “Slow- fuck fuck- slow down.” You breathe out, and Ghost swears this must be another part of his father’s eternal punishment. The sudden thought that your dream is of a sexual nature smites him with all the intensity of his father’s rage.

Who do you think you are, taking his little mercies for granted? Who do you think you are, grinding against him like some mongrel mutt? Who do you think you are holding him as if you are more than the eventual reward for the maggots fervent prayers? Who do you think you are—

“Ghost- Simon. . .” His name, his original name, leaves your lips; it’s the softest he’s ever heard you speak.

“Human.” He seethes and rolls around, pushing the warm feeling –warm like a campfire compared to the blistering pits down below that usually dwell in his chest– out of his mind. “Disgusting.” You’re so small compared to him, your head could easily fit in his rough hand, a momentary lapse in the binding’s protection all that it would take for his flesh rending claws to cleave through your skull. He’s thought about it often, of the look in your eyes as your life fades, of how good your blood would taste, of how nice your shoulder would look with his teeth marks on it. . .

His hand is gentle as he reaches to brush your cheek, like he’s handling glass, rumbling when you lean into the touch. “Wretched thing.” He growls, hand sliding from your cheek to your back and pulling you close. He feels you nuzzle into his wide chest, carefully bullying his thigh between yours, steel hard muscle tensing to give you a good surface to grind on. “Nothing more but a mongrel waste of flesh.” He doesn’t notice how quickly his voice has lost heat, barely above a murmur as he listens to your breathless gasp and watches your back arch.

For someone usually so guarded, you are painfully naked in flesh and soul, responding so wantonly to his touches; from low moans to soft little murmurs of ‘Simon’ and ‘more’ that has him mindlessly rubbing his thigh against your crotch in hopes of getting more of those so painfully human sounds. You moan and nuzzle into his chest, your body like soft clay in his hands now that you’re no longer shackled by the chains of pride and prejudice that your mind conjures around him

You’re like a strange bug to him; a part of him wants to pin you down, to tear you apart with vicious claws and see if there’s anything different in the way your heart beats, in the way your lungs move, in the way you exist — something substantial to show why holding you in his arms doesn’t feel as degrading as it should.

He wonders, briefly, if this is what God saw that made him love Adam so much. Why God did not have the heart to kill Adam for his disobedience.

Greed moves his hands like they’re puppets on strings, flesh rending claws carefully tracing the bumps of old and fresh scars that dot your abdomen — perhaps you aren’t so pathetic, it takes strength to survive this long. Your skin prickles from his touch, your breath fanning over the rough belly scales protecting his front as his hand slowly moves down. He hooks a claw under the band of your underwear and pulls down until your cock springs out right into Ghost’s hand.

Ghost hasn’t seen many cocks before, why would he?, but a low sound comes from his chest at how neatly your cock fits in his hand, how neatly all of you fit against him. And only now does it dawn on him that he doesn’t know how to do this— he’s a wrath demon for fuck’s sake, he understands war and bloodshed like it’s the back of his hand, but this? This is new territory.

Well, he’s never been one to back down when he’s gotten this far.

His hand slowly closes into a fist, just a little loose around you. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t be anything but gentle in the way he strokes you. Your hips move on their own, gentle little rocks to fuck your cock into his fist and he follows along with the motion. It’s a little rough at first, he feels how the dry slide of his hand makes you shiver, but he soon finds a nice pace as your precum eases the glide of flesh on flesh.

He wants to see your face when you moan, but he can’t bring himself to pull you away from his chest when you cling to him so sweetly, your lips mindlessly ghosting over his scales. So he contends himself with coiling his tail around your leg, draping a wing over you so there’s a barrier between you and the rest of the world, so no creature from heaven high or deep below may entertain the thought of taking what’s his.

No good thing lasts for long.

He feels you wake like the first thaw in spring, slow and gradual, eyes fluttering open, mind still clouded with pleasure to really understand the position you’re in. He takes advantage of that, gripping your hip to keep you close, swirling his tumb in the precum beading at your head and squeezing his hand just right to coerce a breathless moan from your chest.

Then your eyes snap open, realisation hitting you with the same intensity as the punch you throw at his skull. But the ‘marriage’ turns that show of force into a gentle caress of the skull cheek of his ‘face’. “Ghost what the fuck are you-” You begin, cut off as another clench of his hand has you gripping his forearm and biting your lip to silence yourself.

“Oh hush hunter.” Ghost rumbles low in his throat, his wing tensing behind your back to bring you in closer, soft blood dyed feathers encasing you in a cocoon of warmth against his cool belly scales. “No need to wake the other worms.” Disdain and mockery drip from his voice like molasses, yet strangely it doesn’t feel aimed at you. . . it must just be the pleasure making you believe that.

“You- bastard!” You snarl, trying to summon the hunter savagery that had been meticulously beaten into you, but it slumbers like a fat cat. “Fuck off- get away from me.” You aim to slam your fist against his scaled abdomen, just a little lower and to the side where the floating ribs should be, but all you manage is a slow caress of his side and back up his chest where you can feel his eternal soul burning beneath the flesh.

He laughs and slides his hand down, rolling your balls in his wide hand and squeezing just enough to be at the edge of pain– shit, that should not feel so good. You hiss and throw your head back despite the inherent danger of exposing your throat. He tilts his head down, ghostly breath washing over your ear, “We both know if you wanted this to stop you would have done so.” Oh, now you can just feel the mockery in his voice, sweet like honey that it is.

Some petulant part of you thinks of arguing, anything to retain what remains of your damn pride, but then he slides his hand back up, pressing your cock against your stomach and grinding the palm of his hand against your shaft and all the thoughts of arguing are pushed to the side by the tide of pleasure. Fuck, it’s been far too long since you ‘took care’ of things, it’s not like you have much time to wank off, let alone with Ghost hanging over your shoulder like some grim reaper. And hell, if any other hunter heard you let a damn demon jack you off, yours would be the next head put on the stake but. . . but Ghost is surprisingly gentle with you, not a single hint of pain coming from his touches, not even from his claws gently running down your side.

“Fine-” You suck in a sharp breath, head fixed to stare directly at his chest. “Make it quick.”

You feel him smirk against your ear, “As you wish, hunter.” He laughs lowly, like you’re nothing but a cute puppy chewing on his shoelaces, “Though, you should thank me for debasing myself like this.” He growls, and with a sharp move of his wing he rolls you on your back.

You gasp as your back hits the sleeping mat, and before you can even struggle Ghost looms over you, a wall of muscle and dark scaled flesh. “Fuck no.” You growl, some scraps of pride still clinging to your mind, though even those are threatened when his broad hand returns to stroking your cock, faster this time, the drag of his palm making pleasure sizzle up your spine. Your head rolls back to rest on the mat and you don’t even notice when you close your eyes. You’re not sure how Ghost is so good at this, something sharp like jealousy curling in your stomach at the thought of him doing this to someone else. But it’s hard to think when you can feel and hear him purring, his claws gently tracing your stomach and leaving lingering heat everywhere they touch.

You jump as something slick brushes over your balls, “Look, good hunter.” He growls and you listen without thought, eyes wide when you see his tongue— it extends from the darkness of his head just beneath the rotten upper teeth of his skull, long, black, thick strings of oil coloured spit dripping off his tongue. “That’s better,” He purrs; you’re not sure how he can talk, and you’re unable to ask because he leans in closer until your cock rests against his skull, his hellfire eyes burning in the darkness and giving just enough light for you to see his long black tongue curl around your base like a snake.

Shit– he wants to kill you.

“Holy fuck Ghost-” You breathe out, lungs burning before you remember how to breathe. His tongue moves, squeezing your base and sliding lower to lap at your balls. You’re forced to bite your finger to stop the painfully pathetic sound burning on your tongue.

He stops moving and you’re thankful he doesn’t mention the whine that slips past your lips. “Simon.” He demands, oily spit clinging to your skin and making it tingle with heat.

“Simon.” You nod along dumbly, “Fuck- Simon.”

“Good.” You imagine he’s smiling when he says that, his hand returning to stroke your cock in reward. “Call me that again.” He says, a purr rumbling in his chest and you can’t help but moan at how the vibrations travel through his tongue, making it act like a vibrating toy.

Your hands fly to grip his horns, the pleasure making you throw your head back yet you try to keep your eyes on him, hiccuping his name between harsh breaths. He doesn’t mind the touch on his horns, leaning into the touch before flicking his tongue at your taint. He rewards you for each time you say his old name, tongue and hand working in tandem to slowly and steadily march you towards release.

You try to tug on his horns to warn him, or maybe to pull him away, but he pays no heed; he doubles his efforts, wetly slurping at your balls and base while his hand toys with your crown, his free hand holding your hips down so all you can do is weather the pleasure until you’re finally pulled under the waves. “Simon-” You gasp, cum spurting all over his hand and your stomach.

You watch through lidded eyes as he retracts his hand, keeping his gaze on you as he lazily licks up your cum from his hand. “Better than I expected.” He rumbles, more to himself than you, leaning up to drag his long slimy tongue across your stomach to gather up all your cum.

Shit, that sight got you hard again before you could even soften.

You’re not sure if the greed you see spark in his eyes makes you scared or even harder, but you’re not left any room to think further about it before his tongue wraps around your cock again.

Unfortunately for you, demons have no concept of time as mortals know it, so his ‘quick’ ends up being the entire rest of the night. At one point you get to the point you’re sure Ghost is trying to kill you with all the pleasure, spit polishing your cock until he’s satisfied and by that point the sun is rising and your voice is hoarse.

You can’t meet the gaze of the motel receptionist in the morning, but Ghost Simon, looks smug like the cat who ate the canary.

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llamagoddessofficial · 2 months

Note

May I have some Fae Killer dating headcanons?

Fae Killer is... weird

He's extremely hard to get a read on. At least the other Winter courtiers are easy to make sense of - Dust is quiet and serious, Horror is big and scary but shy, Nightmare is regal and refined with an undercurrent of rage. They make sense.

Killer? He's violent, but he's always got a friendly grin. He has the same "who, me?" expression whether he's eating a cookie or murdering someone. His backstory is unknown, changing every time someone asks. He appears to speak genuinely and openly, yet no one can trust a single word that comes out of his mouth. His knack for tricking and stealing is unparalleled, he tricks people out of things as small as their eye colour or as huge as their ability to breathe, all with the exact same 'silly' easygoing aura. He rescues stray cats from the cold and brings them into the castle, feeding them fish and chicken every day, but he also delights in torturing people he doesn't like.

Perhaps the only consistent thing about him is how obviously he's in love with you.

Even before dating him, his affection is blatant. He acts like he wants to be your best friend, your closest confidant, he's always looking for reassurance that he's your 'favourite'. The other skeletons will tell you that he doesn't shut up about you when you're not there. He's constantly outrageously flirting - he seems to show love through stealing from you, taking minor things like your ability to read the word 'strawberry', just so you'll get mad at him (it's obvious he thinks you're hot when you're mad). You're always covered in black marks and he laughs at almost everything you say.

When you do start dating him, he just... stops tricking you. Stops stealing from you, too. There's no warning, and no clear reason; you're just suddenly the only person in any world who's safe from his trickery. You could say something that leaves you wide open and the guy who could steal someone's nose from their face will act like he heard/saw nothing.

He's cuddly. So, so cuddly. It's actually kinda cute, when he's sleepy and aggressively snuggly with you. Kinda feels like he's been starved of affection, and he's making up for it by never letting you go.

No matter where you fall asleep, you'll wake up to Killer cuddled up. Probably a few of his cats piled in as well.

His number 1 goal is to get you laughing. There's always jokes, always remarks, it's so hard to be serious around him because he knows exactly what'll get you giggling. That's worth more to him than all the treasures in Summer and Winter.

He's generally an easygoing datemate, he has outlets for his jealousy. But he takes EXTREME offence to another fae stealing something from you. That means immediate violence.

This man will kill for you. In fact, he'll offer that option alarmingly quickly. Please ask him not to kill for you, for everyone else's safety.

His romantic side is dialled up to eleven. You're always coming home to mood lighting and surprise dinners, he's always taking you to beautiful scenic spots he's found in the Winter realm, he gives you things that remind him of you (typically flowers and gemstones, but sometimes magical artefacts, and occasionally something rather expensive that looks like it was stolen right from the Summer realm).

He's constantly wearing a 'happy' face. But sometimes, in private, the face falls. You can glimpse the part of himself he hides from everyone. If you can still hold him when he's not funny anymore, when the mask has fallen off... then he will burn down the whole world for you.

#llamagines #fae au #he and horror have a deal where whenever horror goes out on his outdoors adventures he brings some river salmon back for the cats #also i like to think that one of killers' cats doesnt like being touched #(killer respects that because hes a cat respecter)#but the cat absolutely loves you #im picturing a big fluffy old calico #killer is the 'want me to kill them for you?' meme for real

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bayjaruchel · 10 months

Text

Strawberry Blond

－－－

Pairing: Peeta Mellark/AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Late one night, you get a call. (4.7k | originally posted on ao3 | Masterlist )

－－－

You know that your relationship can never be normal.

Even now, when you technically should have peace of mind— and you're out of the arena, out of the Games— there's still the ugly truth that lies beneath it all. The Victor's Village is beautiful in comparison to the rest of District Twelve, but because of the reason why you earned a residence here, you're not sure if you'll ever truly enjoy it. Brick houses with plenty of room, and yet yours is still far too empty, even if you have your family to keep you company.

Peeta lives alone in his.

There's always smoke coming from the chimney, and he keeps most, if not all of the lights on. The only room that occasionally has its lights off is his, which is on the second floor. You've woken up in the middle of the night many times and glimpsed the shining evidence that he's still awake. It's not like you get perfect sleep yourself— but you worry, sometimes.

You do visit him, sometimes. But you've never knocked on his door when it's nighttime. You're not entirely sure why that is; maybe it's because you're afraid of what the cool silence will bring. Maybe it's too intimate. Neither of you are strangers to intimacy, and you've definitely maintained a little of that, but … There's still a certain distance. Away from the cameras, you still struggle to discern what's real and what's not.

The way he looks at you is certainly real.

You don't know if you'll ever feel exactly the same way towards him.

Sure, you do like him. A lot. He makes it easy. He's the type of guy that you could bring home to your parents. He's the type of guy that one would want to come home to every day. Of course, he's a little more reserved, and his eyes are duller, but— he's still Peeta. He's still the baker's boy. Deep down, he'll never lose what made you— and all of the Capitol— fall in love with him.

Is it really love, though? Or is it just admiration?

It's something that you think about a lot. You've never said those three words to him when not in front of an audience. And he knows that on those specific occasions, it wasn't real. It was just an act. Maybe when he kissed you, he wasn't acting. Maybe when he looked at you and said those lovely things to you, he wasn't acting.

You can dream. You can hope.

However, most of your actual dreams nowadays are just nightmares.

No golden boy is holding you, shielding you from the awful weather. There's no bright, happy future in which everything turned out right. And there's none of those strange, albeit interesting dreams where your house is upside down and your teacher at school is telling you that somehow, you've suddenly graduated and you're being sent off to the Capitol to become one of them.

Instead, there's just fire.

Tonight, you dream of fire.

Burning bodies that fall from the highest trees. You can vaguely make out who they are— there's a sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach, a primal guilt. Everything around you is blazing, and you know you should try and get out, but your feet are frozen, rooted to the spot. You can't move, even as the flames begin to lick around your ankles. Even if you did run, you wouldn't be able to escape. This has been a long time coming, hasn't it?

Despite the almost blinding brightness emanating from the fire, everything else is foggy and dark. The only thing you can focus on is the corpses, the trees, and everything coming down around you. Someone shouts your name, but it's muffled like you're underwater. You fail to register it fast enough.

A scream, crystal-clear.

You whip around, and there it is. The evidence of your failure. You're helpless to do anything— you can only watch— more screaming, more yelling, more pleads for help—

There is so, so much blood—

You're awake, and the blistering heat is gone.

Gasping, you sit up, struggling for breath. It keeps catching in your throat. Your heart's pounding at a pace that makes your head spin. Dizzy, disorienting. But it used to be worse than this.

At least you don't wake up sobbing anymore.

This is still awful, though. Trembling, you wrap your arms around yourself, attempting to regain control. In, out. In, out. Your lungs shudder with the effort, but you keep going. Despite the comfortable warmth of the house, there's still goosebumps prickling up and down your bare skin. Your arms. Your neck. The sheets are tangled around your waist and legs; you almost feel trapped.

There's no point in closing the curtains, since virtually nobody is in the streets, and the other inhabitants of the Village couldn't possibly look through your windows. When you glance out of the one nearest to your bed, it's almost pitch-black outside. There are no street lamps, after all. You try to focus on the cold, empty houses to distract yourself.

Finally, your breath slows. Your pulse calms.

You're still shaking, faintly, but your knees don't give out when you detangle yourself from your blankets and slip out of bed. You consider that a minor victory.

Taking care not to make too much noise, you head downstairs. The polished stone is cold underneath your feet, but it's grounding, in a way. It settles you back down to earth. For a short while, you frequently lost your way due to the sheer size of the house, but now you know the quickest route to the kitchen by heart. Even when half-asleep, you know exactly where to go.

The light flicks on with a quiet buzz when you gently press the switch.

Quietly, you wonder if the ultimate prize for winning the Games was running water. It's cold, as it splashes over your fingers and into the basin. There are plenty of pristine, artisan glasses and whatnot in the overhead cabinets— probably made in District One— but you always reach for the mugs you had before. The ones with a couple of cracks and dents littering their bodies— evidence of their long lifespans.

You lean against the counter as you take a long gulp of water. It's pleasant, the feeling pooling low in your chest.

The silence used to be unnerving, but now, you welcome it with open arms.

You take another, smaller sip from your mug. Maybe you'll be able to sleep for another few hours. Until the sun rises, at least. Then, you can take a walk. You can wander around all you like here, provided that you don't stray too far. Regardless, you're sure nobody will be too concerned about that. Haymitch is the sole man responsible for the lax rules concerning the victors.

You're still not sure if you like him or not.

Slowly, you finish your drink. But, just as you're ready to set it into the sink and head back upstairs—

—the phone's ringing.

You can hear it pretty clearly, even if it's muffled.

Who could be calling at this hour? Furrowing your brow, you put down the mug and start heading down the hallway, towards the study. You're well aware that Haymitch tore his phone out of the wall ages ago, so it couldn't be him. Nobody from your District calls you, either. And if you get any calls from outside the District, they're usually during the daytime. Not at two-ish in the morning. The Capitol may be invasive, but they're not that invasive. They need their beauty rest, you figure.

So, taking all of that into consideration, that only leaves—

"Peeta?" You mutter, upon picking up the phone.

There's a beat of silence.

"Hello," he replies.

It's a bit hard to tell over the line, but he sounds nearly as groggy as you. Delicately, you shut the door of the study behind you with a quiet click. Just in case.

"Is something wrong?" You allow yourself to be a little louder, now that there's a barrier between you and the rest of the house. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Something like that." There's a slight rustling. "I mean— nothing new, right?" Even though you know he meant it as a joke, the grim truth makes it fall flat.

Still, you breathe out a quiet laugh. "Nothing's changed." Affixing your gaze on one of the chairs sitting around the mahogany table, you fiddle with the telephone cord. "Did you, uh— did you need something, though?"

Peeta hesitates again.

"I just—" He cuts himself off. "I'm sorry for calling you so late." He's entirely earnest in a way that makes you ache. "Did I wake you up?"

He's also dodging the question, even if he is genuinely worried about your sleep schedule.

"No, you didn't," you assert, "don't worry about that. It's fine."

"Okay," he responds, relief palpable despite the crackly quality.

The telephone cord is somewhat cold where it rests on your knuckles. You continue to twist it around your idle hand.

"You still haven't answered my question, by the way."

Peeta audibly exhales.

"Oh." More rustling. "Yeah. I, um—" he clears his throat, "—yeah, I do need something, actually."

That could mean a lot of things. Does he just need to talk? You know he does, sometimes. Or maybe he just needs some more flour, and is too embarrassed to admit it. He does seem like the type of guy to stress-bake in the wee hours of the morning. However, you seriously doubt that he wants anything related to that.

"What is it?" You ask, finally.

His next words are rushed, as if he's afraid that if he says them slowly, he'll never get them out.

"Could you come over? I just—" it's only a momentary gap, "—don't wanna be alone right now."

Ah.

The thing is, you understand. You know what it's like. And there's only one possible response that you can give right now. Vividly, you can see him— the cave— his face, shining with a cold sweat, his eyes scrunched tightly in pain—

"Okay." You're already mentally mapping out where to go. "I'll be there in a few."

When he opens the door, Peeta looks exhausted.

But when he smiles at you, there's still that light in his eyes. That look he gets whenever you're around. It used to make you feel sick to your stomach, but now— now, you're not quite sure how to feel. You've been told that in comparison to him, you're rather good at keeping your feelings hidden underneath the surface. It's been necessary, after all.

"You're here," he says after a beat, as if he expected anything else.

"I'm here," you echo.

Wordlessly, he steps aside to let you pass by. Somehow, although the layout of his house is exactly the same as yours, his still feels different. Warmer. A little cozier. The remnants of something sweet are still floating through the air, and you glance back at him. Maybe you were right about the possibility of him making cookies— or apple turnovers. Or those little cakes.

"Been baking?" You ask.

"Earlier," he clarifies, shutting the door behind you.

"Smells nice."

Peeta lingers by your side. "Want some?"

"If that's okay."

"It's always been okay." He raises his eyebrows. "How many times have I told you that you don't even need to ask?"

You shoot him a look. "Doesn't hurt to ask."

Flawlessly, he copies your expression. "How do you know that?"

"It's called being polite, Peeta."

"Polite," he repeats. "Polite…"

You let out a short sigh.

"Just show me where they are."

He gives you a shit-eating grin. "And there it is."

You don't even bother trying to respond; he's already padding past you, anyway. It's a short trip to the kitchen. His is more cluttered than yours— recently-used, more lived-in. There are more dishes in the sink, more stuff on the counter. But your eyes are drawn to the two wire baking racks on the stovetop. On top of them sit around two dozen pastries. They're prettily decorated with pink, blue, and white icing, and you take some time to admire them as you join him in front of the stove.

"You've outdone yourself," you can't help but murmur. "Wow."

At your compliment, Peeta instantly turns bashful.

"Oh, thanks." Of course, he can't let those words sit. "It's— it's not my best work, but I—"

His volume drops, and he pauses.

"Well— my hands were shaking, so…"

Abruptly, you turn your attention away from the pastries.

He notices, interrupting you before you can even open your mouth to speak.

"I know what you're gonna ask," he says, softly. "And, yeah, I do want to talk about it. Just—" Peeta sucks in a breath. "Just not now, okay? Give it a little while." The corner of his mouth quirks up, and he gestures towards the racks.

"Eat."

You consider pressing the question. You consider urging him— did it happen again? Was it worse this time? It had to have been worse, considering that he wanted you over in the first place. Just thinking about it makes your stomach perform an uneasy flip. You can read Peeta. And right now, you can read the bags under his eyes. The tiredness he's trying to fight away.

However, you don't want to push him. You don't want to break him down. Not again.

So, you take a pastry.

It's really, very good.

Peeta takes one for himself, too, and you eat in silence. You know that despite your frequent approval of his various baked goods, he's still carefully watching your reaction; you make sure to look pleased, and it isn't hard at all. He seems satisfied. You're also satisfied. Once you've finished your pastry, you lick the remnants of the icing off your fingers.

You pretend not to notice the way he stares— briefly, before forcing his gaze away.

You pretend to ignore the way your heart skips.

Mercifully, he breaks the awkward tension.

"Do you— would you want to take some home?" He asks, after swallowing. "We both know that I'm not gonna eat 'em all."

"Oh, yeah, I'll take some," you answer. Thinking for a second, you add, "Were you going to risk bringing some to Haymitch, or—"

He snorts. "Not this time."

"More for me, then."

"And your family, you mean?"

You smile. There's no way that you're going to give up those pastries without a fight.

"Sure. And my family."

Peeta doesn't seem entirely convinced, but he returns your smile all the same.

He always keeps his bedroom windows open at night.

You're not exactly sure why, but you suppose it's because he runs warm. Always.

The duvet's soft on your bare skin, and his hands are gentle. With the way your head is positioned, if you move your ear just so, you can hear his heartbeat thumping through his chest. A steady rhythm. He's calm, and so are you. You're certain that you could fall asleep like this— if it weren't for the fact that you have other, more important priorities right now.

When you look up at him, shifting an increment closer, he talks.

"I thought things were getting better." His Adam's apple bobs as you watch. "I thought that— that things were gonna start improving. That I'd— " He trails off, for a second.

"That I'd start going back to normal, I guess. But I should've known that it's… It's impossible." His gaze is focused on the ceiling. "It was hopeless to try and believe that I could just keep on going like nothing happened at all."

You find your voice.

"But you still tried?"

The chuckle he lets out is completely humorless.

"Yeah, I tried."

He's always been optimistic— he's always trying to see the best in people. And seeing him like this makes you feel hopeless. You know what he's going through. It's essentially the same thing that you're going through. However, it's not like you can read minds. He knows the right words to say, but you don't. Even though you wish you could. Words— even though actions can speak louder than them— still mean a lot. You turn that word over in your head a couple of times. Actions.

"What happened?" You ask, quietly.

A beat.

"I let down my guard," he starts, volume barely a whisper. "I was confident in my stability. I thought that I wouldn't— break down, or anything. Because it had been a few weeks, and—"

His eyes shut. Tightly. "God, I'm stupid."

"You're not," you rush to interject, "don't say that."

Peeta lets out another huff. "But it was stupid. To assume that I'd be okay, I mean. I should've— I should've expected it, at least." He quickly carries on. "Even after everything, I still let myself fall into a routine."

I still let myself fall back into a routine, you know what he means. The bad dreams pale in comparison to the real monsters that loom over the both of you. Haymitch is a living example of what can happen; what will happen, if you don't hold on to tight control of the hypothetical reins. You ache.

"Don't blame yourself for any of this," you murmur, "please. It's not your fault. Not in the slightest." You have to speak slowly, pace yourself. Keep yourself from everything you want to say. "Even if you tried to— I don't know, stay hyper-aware of everything— it would still come crashing down eventually." A breath. "It's inevitable, Peeta. It's always going to be here."

"But I don't want it to be here," he chokes out, "I really, really don't!"

You push yourself up from your previous position. His eyes are open now, wide and looking up at you.

When you move backward and open your arms, he's on you in an instant.

You rock back and forth, gently. You're not sure which one of you is holding onto the other tighter. Clinging would be a better word. His face is pressed firmly into your shoulder. You can feel him shaking.

Despite everything, he won't let himself make any noise when he cries.

You don't know how long you stay like this. It could be minutes. Hours, even. All you can feel and register is him. Peeta. He's trembling. The barely-there sensation, combined with the undeniable tightness of his arms. His hands. It's almost like he thinks that if he loosens his hold, even by just the slightest fraction, you'll suddenly disappear.

That you'll cease to exist.

That you'll become not real.

When you finally draw back— slowly, tentatively, and only because he does it first—

He sniffs, eyes red. They're not brimming with unshed tears, but they're still wet. You can't help but thumb away what little remains on his lower lids, even though you know that you probably look about the same.

Peeta returns the gesture.

Unlike you, though, he lingers, hand dropping to cup your cheek.

There's a moment.

You've done this before, of course. You've held each other. Comforted each other, brought each other back down. But since the end of the Games— since you've gotten away from the clamoring audiences desperate for a romance despite the sick circumstances— you haven't done anything more than that.

You haven't kissed him since the end of the Games.

But right now, you realize that you want to. More than anything. Anyone could see that Peeta wants it, too. Maybe even more than you do.

So, when he leans in— just barely— closing the distance—

It's practiced, at first. Familiar. Almost nostalgic.

But then he melts, and it's suddenly something completely different.

Peeta lets you softly maneuver him down onto the mattress, up against the pillows that are still too soft for your liking. He kisses you in the way those terrible poets describe— it's all excessively large bouquets, a clear starry night, longing looks across a crowded room, and—

It's real.

He gives. You take, and exchange it for everything you have in return. His hand stays on your cheek, the other behind your head, pulling you down. He kisses you like he needs it to breathe. You lose yourself in the feeling. Whenever you part, it's only out of necessity, and you're soon leaning back in. You're making up for lost time— you're making up for every action you didn't mean, every word that was too sugary-sweet.

Soon, your kisses grow deeper. And neither of you wants to stop.

It's only when his hands are trailing down your body, down to the hem of your shirt, that you bother addressing it. Even if you want this— so, so desperately— you don't want to force anything in a situation that doesn't require it. Just kissing is nice. It's very nice. Nice enough that it takes a little while for you to regain control of your mouth.

"Is this—"

—and he's already speaking. Hushed, like you.

"Please."

It's almost embarrassing, what that single word does to you. But you barrel on.

"It's okay?" You ask, "Just say if it's not, and I'll stop—"

"—I just," Peeta visibly struggles with what to say for a moment, before settling on:

"Need you," he says. "Please."

It's more than enough, and you're in no place to deny him for much longer. You recapture his lips, welcoming his touch. His hands on your back, then your waist, then your hips again. His grip is firm, but not overly so. He would never hurt you, after all. Especially not here. Especially after what he's witnessed.

His hands are warm and calloused on your bare skin. Strong, with all the work he's done since he was old enough to knead dough. You have to sit up in order to take off your nightshirt, and he takes the opportunity to do the same with his. You've already seen him shirtless, and at close proximity, too— but it wasn't like this. You couldn't trail over every little detail with your lips, back then.

Peeta shivers, letting out a short giggle when you press a kiss to his stomach. He's sturdy, that's for sure. Impressive biceps, a toned chest. He's beautiful, and you tell him so. You think he blushes, but it's difficult to say for certain from your position. You're too focused on finding all the little freckles you can.

He likes it when you kiss his neck, breath audibly hitching when you do so.

But even though he lets you entertain yourself for a decent while, he makes sure to return the favor. He's never liked being in the spotlight for long, after all. And he wants.

He finds all of your scars, from the arena. From before the arena, too. He maps them out, painstakingly, mimicking the way you'd kissed him all over earlier. Sensitive, he notes, when you make a small noise when his thumbs find your nipples. Soft, he observes, as his fingers slip underneath your waistband, moving lower.

Soon, you're completely exposed, and he is too.

Peeta pays more attention to certain parts of you— your thighs, your chest— but he doesn't skip over anything in particular. He wants to know everything; he wants to learn everything. And he's eager to learn. By the time he reaches the spot between your legs, you're already wanting for him. You've grown needy from his kisses, his caresses. You can feel him against your thigh— he's just as needy as you.

His fingers are clumsy, at first. But they're strong, and you guide him. One, then two. Then another. His breath is loud, and he hums, biting his lower lip at your quiet moan after you tell him how to crook his fingers. You jolt when he finds your clit, paying careful attention to it while he works you open.

At your whispered insistence, he grips himself by the base— already having put on protection— you don't care enough to ask exactly how he obtained it— and he pushes in. The groan he lets out sounds like it's been punched from his gut.

He sets a slow, measured pace. Almost awkward at first, but he's a fast learner. He learns what angle makes you spread your legs wider for him. You wouldn't even use fucking to describe what you're doing— somehow, that word's too rough. He kisses you, nose bumping against yours. Most of your noises are muffled against his lips, but he takes them all the same. He absorbs them, and drinks them in. Drinks you in.

"Peeta," you sigh, and he breathes your name in return, before ducking to kiss your shoulder. Your collarbone. Your neck.

He comes first, twitching, pulsing deep within you. He stifles his whimper by tucking his face into the divot between your shoulder and your neck— but you can still feel it. You help him ride it out, until his thrusts falter, and his hips still.

It's a few moments of limbo, in which he catches his breath. He meets your eyes. His are hazy, half-lidded. He kisses you.

Then, he pulls out— disposes of the garbage, of course— and wastes no time in making his way down your body, to where you need him most.

You're certain that he's never eaten anybody out before, but he's a natural. He's enthusiastic— much more so than when he was inside you. This is just for your pleasure, now. When you thread a hand through his tousled hair, he moans into you, increasing his efforts tenfold. He doesn't care for the mess— or the noise, as he laps at you. He doesn't even care for his own need to breathe. Peeta just wants to give.

His brow is furrowed in concentration as he rapidly pulls you closer to orgasm. You can do little but take. And when you finally topple over your peak—

"—that's so good, ah— Peeta, I'm gonna— ohh—"

You cry out, heat rolling low in your abdomen— gathering, passing through your entire body.

You float on blissful waves, and he licks at you through it all. For a single, brief moment, your mind is perfectly calm.

When you relax, the warmth steadying to a hum, he notices and stops working at you. He wriggles a little, and leans forward to rest his chin on your stomach while you catch your breath. You can feel his, too, and it's hot on your skin. Peeta seems reluctant to take his eyes off you just yet.

It's quiet, you register. You're reluctant to ruin it, but he looks pretty messy.

"I should get you a towel or something," you say.

He cracks a smile, his eyes softening. "Should you?"

"Yeah." You're powerless not to return it. "But, you know, for me to get the towel, you have to get off me."

"So demanding."

You let out a short, offended sound. "Hey, that's just—"

"I'm getting up." And he does.

It doesn't take long to clean up, and the obnoxious white fluorescent lights of the bathroom don't blind you for long. Again, Peeta looks on while you wipe off his face— this close, you notice how brilliantly blue his eyes are. You notice the precise angles of his jaw. His cheek. He's probably doing the same to you— tracing the contours of your face.

To your relief, you're back in his bed a few minutes later. He completely shuts off the lights, flicking off his bedside lamp, and then crawls under the duvet with you. You're not sure if it's creepy or weird to enjoy it, but everything here smells like him. A sort of earthy, warm scent. Even though you're both well aware of the multiple floral shampoos that the Capitol has to offer— he still retains that one thing.

You're comfortable. You're safe.

Peeta wraps his arms around you from behind.

You're not sure if you should say something or not, but he does it first.

"You'll stay?" Whispered, into the stillness.

"Of course." Without hesitation.

His grip tightens, almost imperceptibly.

"Thank you," he breathes.

The words are stuck in your throat.

You can't bring yourself to say them, even though you know you'd mean them. Every single syllable.

But you have time. You can tell him tomorrow, even. Or the day after that. Tonight, you didn't say it aloud, but you still told him all the same.

You understand exactly how you feel, just before you drift off.

You love him.

#peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark x you #peeta mellark smut #peeta mellark imagine #josh hutcherson x reader

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