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slytherinshua · 6 months

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YOUR WOUNDS WRAPPED WITH MY LOVE

genre. fluff. tiny bit of angst. mafia au. warnings. descriptions of a stab wound. blood. knives and guns. some profanity. kissing. they kinda argue but very mildly. i researched a little on how to treat wounds but pls don't expect it to be too accurate 😭. pairing. fiancé!jeno x reader. wc. 1.5k. request. no. a/n. so ever since the concept trailers this jeno has been the only thing on my mind I swear 😔 and nursing trope is one of my fav tropes ever so I joined the two together and was very delulu 👍

read part 2 here !

“Again?” You asked, less than happy at the sight of the tall man who stood against the doorframe, one hand clutching his side painfully. Lee Jeno always disappeared without warning on another mission only to return, usually injured, for you to patch him up. You had urged him to hire an actual medic for the job, but he refused, saying he didn’t trust anyone but you to get that close to him. That was a few years back when the occasions for it were still rare. You were alarmed at how often he seemed to be going out, and returning with increasingly worse injuries.

Your knowledge and skill with patching up wounds— dagger wounds, bruises and scrapes from physical altercations, hell, even gunshot wounds— was a lot better than years ago. You were confident in your ability to get your fiancé back to health, but you weren’t pleased with how often you had to. No matter how much you pleaded with him to let his body rest, he would more often than not, be out again just hours after you had tended to his bleeding body.

“I’m sorry.” He grumbled out. You would have been shocked by how hoarse his voice had become if this was the first time, but you were all too used to it. Your heart still clenched painfully seeing him in that state.

He could barely walk, blood dripping a little from where his hand pressed tightly to his left side, his face scrunched in pain as laboured irregular breaths left his mouth.

“Come here. Sit down. Tell me what happened.” You said quietly, already having gotten out the box of medical supplies. You were ready with the bottle of saline already, but it wasn’t anywhere near the top of Jeno’s worries. From the tone of your voice, he could tell you were mad at him. Or maybe it was mostly disappointment? A touch of worry, perhaps.

He made his way towards you, carefully limping towards the bed until he could gently lower himself onto it with his weight supported by the bedframe. He sat still as you gently took off his shirt, eyes assessing the dark red spot that stained the side of his stomach and up his ribcage. You glanced up to his face, and he met your eyes for half a second with a slow breath out.

“Knife. It’s not that deep, I stopped their hand before they could push it in very far.” He whispered, and then shut his eyes tightly when you dabbed a little at the wound with a soft wet cloth soaked in saline.

“Are you staying for long?” You asked, guarding your heart for what his answer would be. You loved Jeno— you loved him more than anything, and you tried to be as selfless as you could regarding him and his job. You never put up a fuss about having to patch him up, and you only ever gently tried to persuade him to be more careful. But it was hard, really hard. You couldn’t help but be hopeful that he might be able to stay for a bit longer with you. You hated how you only seemed to be seeing him to treat his wounds for the past month.

But it only reminded you of how he was by far the most selfless person you knew.

Countless threats had always been looking for Jeno’s weakness. And you happened to be the most vital one. You were unspeakably precious to him, and unfortunately, his rivals knew that. Of course, he did everything he could to protect you. You trusted him with your life. There was no one else who you would ever trust as much as him. And he had never lost your trust. You had never even had a scratch delivered to you. But the tradeoff of the protection that Jeno made sure you had was his own life being put at risk almost every day.

Every cut, stab, or bruise that littered his fair skin were marks of how determined he was to keep you safe. The least you could do was treat his body in return with your gentle hands, wiping away the blood, wrapping the wounds carefully, and stitching them up when needed.

Jeno answered your question with only a silent nod yes. Although relief filled your body that he wouldn’t be out again immediately, you still focused on the more important task at hand. You could enjoy his company once he wasn’t bleeding.

“Are they still after you?” You rummaged around in the box for the antibiotic ointment, dabbing a bit on your finger before leaning closer to apply it. “This’ll sting.” You muttered as a warning before dabbing the wound as carefully as you could. Jeno tensed up, his fingers bunching up the sheet of the bed as he did his best to stay still.

“Talk to me. It’ll help distract you.” You told him, pausing your application of the antibiotics to rest a hand on his shoulder, providing a small bit of comfort.

“They’re… They’re after you, not me. You know that.” He whispered out as you continued to treat the wound. “They can’t take me by themselves— they’d be fucking stupid to try. I made sure that they won’t bother us for at least a month. I’ll have to talk to Renjun and Donghyuck about our next course of action.” You hummed in understanding, grabbing the roll of gauze next.

“You need to rest your body, Jeno.” You said quietly. You could tell he was about to protest, so you interrupted quickly, “Doctor’s orders. Don’t pull anymore dumb shit.”

“It’s not dumb shit. It’s to protect you.” He argued back, clenching his jaw.

You sighed, starting to wrap the white cloth around his waist, “I know. But you said yourself that you have a month. At least for a week of that month, you need to rest and recover.”

Your fiancé seemed unsettled at the thought of a whole week of rest; a week of letting his guard down. It was almost unheard of for him. He knew from experience that as soon as he let himself relax, something unexpected would happen. But maybe you were right. Maybe a week of rest is what he needed.

You secured the wrap tightly, and mumbled out how you were all done. Jeno just stared at you while you cleaned up, soaking up the face he hadn’t gotten a chance to study for the past month. He felt incredibly guilty for how often he had been gone, and even more so for how often he had let you see him like this. He knew you hated it, but you never complained. He didn’t deserve you.

“I love you.” He spoke suddenly, interrupting the cold silence of the room. You shut the metal drawer slowly, back still turned to him as you let a small smile grow on your face. You hadn’t heard those words from him in a while. You turned back to sit down next to him again, your eyes staring into his.

“Won’t you say it back?” He whispered, reaching for your hand; your left hand, the one that adorned that diamond ring he had given you months prior. You let him pull you closer as his right hand enclosed over your left. His fingers felt a bit rough, but they were warm and comfortable. With his left hand on the back of your neck, he gently guided you forward until his lips closed over yours.

You could just barely taste the metallicness of blood from the slight cut to his bottom lip. But you didn’t focus on it, too absorbed in the gentleness of his kiss and how perfectly his lips felt against yours even after years had passed. He pulled away, resting his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed as he caught his breath.

You pecked his lips again, “I love you too. Always.”

He visibly relaxed at your words and dropped his head to your shoulder. You sighed, threading your fingers through the hair at the bottom of his neck, holding him closely. He shuddered quietly, and you frowned.

“Cold?” Your hand ran up and down his back slowly, feeling goosebumps rise from the chill. You traced one of the many scars that marked him, stopping at the dip of his scapula and muscle. You reached behind your back, feeling around along the mattress for a blanket. You caught hold of it and gently draped it around Jeno.

You smiled fondly at the way he nestled his head a little closer to the crook of your neck. From his breath, you figured he was already almost asleep. You didn’t want to disturb his sleep, but you knew the position would quickly get uncomfortable, so you shifted his head down to your chest and laid back until you hit the mattress. He didn’t protest at all, but shifted into a comfortable spot in his half-asleep state. With his head on your chest, his arm around your waist, and his legs tangled with yours, you found the new position to be much more promising for getting good sleep.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead and made sure the blanket covered his body before you closed your eyes as well.

↳ nct dream taglist: @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,,

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frudoo · 2 months

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How would slasher! 141 react to a reader who isn’t a fan of violence but goes absolutely HAM when one of the victims escapes and injured her boyfriends? (I know the guys are good at what they do but let’s just pretend lol)

maybe she’s dirty from doing chores outside and the victim assumes that she’s an escapee as well, says something about ‘stabbing that fucker with his own knife’ and she just sees red because this piece of shit hurt her boys and she CANNOT let that stand.

Without even thinking, she starts absolutely wailing on this person, punching, kicking, etc. She's got blood on her clothes and shes breathing heavily when the boys finally make their way outside.

how would they react? 😳

This AU has me tweakin I swear

Warnings: Dark!Fic/DDDNE. Explicit gore. Emetophobia.

You gently pick up the little rabbit and giggle, pressing a kiss to its fur before sending it off somewhere else that isn’t your vegetable garden. The pesky things have been terrorizing your poor crops, and while it’s a nuisance, you just can’t stay mad at the little fellas, let alone ask your boys to get rid of the problem. There’s a rustling in the bush next to you and you suspect it’s another bunny looking for a tasty meal, but before you can go investigate, a loud scream coming from the barn startles you.

Typically, you’re able to drown out the sounds of your husbands’ victims—it freaks you out to hear a person in so much pain, no matter how badly they deserve it. But this is not a victim’s scream. You know that scream. It’s the same one you hear any time he stubs his toe or gets a cramp in bed. That’s Simon’s scream. Immediately you’re on alert, standing from your knees and starting towards the barn.

Instead of seeing your husband rush out, seeking medical aid or some kind of comfort, a random man covered in dirt and blood comes stumbling outside, looking terrified. You recognize him as the guy Simon, the big, unbreakable brick wall of a man, had even said wasn’t an easy one to catch. When the man sees you also covered in muck, he laughs like he’s just won the lottery, relieved. He rushes up to you, grabbing your hand and trying to pull you towards the fields, no doubt to look for some kind of escape.

“C’mon, we- we gotta get outta here. Now! We have time- fuck, lady, come on! I stabbed that fucker with his own knife, so we have time,” he rambles, digging his filthy nails into your skin to get a better grip.

His words seem to make your heart stop beating in your chest. So that’s why Simon was screaming in pain. Your Simon, your sweet baby, one of your protectors, hurt by an inferior piece of meat. A special brand of scum. You’re scratching at his face before you even realize it.

“Wha- bitch! Stop! I’m trying to save you, lady!” Any other time, you’re sure a man like him could have easily overpowered you, but you feel fucking invincible right now, kicking the backs of his knees until he falls.

You pounce on his back and trap him on the ground, grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling his head back just to smash it into the dirt. He’s screaming in agony and you’re sure his nose is broken, but you can’t stop. He hurt one of your boys, and if you know anything about the pieces of shit your husbands get rid of, you’re positive nobody is going to miss the one struggling beneath your weight. You bash his head into the ground over and over—his nose is completely crushed and his teeth are busted, but you just keep going and going and going until your arms are finally tired and you’re heaving with effort.

When you climb off of him, you see just how much blood has tainted the grass, and you feel nauseous. The man is no longer screaming, not even grunting or moaning, and you know you’ve killed him. You roll him over just to make sure, and the sight of his mangled face makes you lean forward to vomit. You end up tripping over one of his untied shoelaces and falling right on top of his body. Sobbing, you scramble away, screaming when your back hits something solid.

“Hey, hey, it’s just me, darlin’. Just me,” John coos, helping you up and pulling you into a tight hug.

“I-I di- I didn’t mean to,” you weep, blood and bile still sour on your tongue. “H-he… he stabbed Simon, and- and I-”

“Okay, sweetheart, it’s fine. I’ve got you now, yeah? Deep breaths, baby, breathe with me,” John instructs, cupping your sticky cheeks in his palms and forcing you to look at him.

Distantly, you see Johnny rushing towards the barn and Kyle dragging the man’s body out of sight, but John makes you focus on him. Only once you’re calm, sniffling instead of hyperventilating, does he explain what’s going on.

“Kyle’s cleanin’, and Johnny’s gettin’ Simon all patched up. He’s gonna be okay, baby. You were so brave for us, sweet girl. Do you hear me? I'm so proud of you. We all are.”

You nod, but you need to see Simon, make sure that he’s really okay. Make sure your efforts weren’t in vain, that the blood on your hands wasn’t shed pointlessly.

“I wanna see him,” you hiccup, and John nods, turning you around so you can watch as Johnny helps him walk out of the barn.

You let out a sob of relief, rushing towards the pair and wrapping your arms around Simon, who grunts in pain. You gasp and move to pull away, but Simon just holds you tighter, letting you take as much comfort as you need from him.

“I love you,” you murmur, and he smiles.

“I love you more, perfect girl.”

#this was a rollercoaster #ask me!#call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #simon riley x reader #slasher!141 #slasher!141 x reader #141 x fem!reader #141 x reader #tw: blood #tw: death #tw: violence

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prettyflyforawhitelie · 7 months

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Of Course It's You. It's Always You. - Alastor x Reader

Pairing: Alastor x Y/N

Word Count: 1103

Warnings: Slight Injuries, but nothing major :)

It happened again. Alastor had gone a bit too far when fighting off the many fiends that tried to ransack the hotel. This time it was some loan sharks that had come to hunt down who you had thought was the hotel’s newest resident, Mimzy. Sometimes you wondered why Alastor, a man known for only ever paying mind to his own flights of fancies and rarely ever entertaining anybody else lest it was to gain something for himself, was so passionate about this redemption project of Charlie’s. There wasn’t much time to ponder this, though, as Alastor had burst into your room bruised, exasperated, and covered in blood (was it his? you’d never know). You had never seen him this… defeated. He still wore his trademark smile, but something seemed off. It was his eyes.

Ever since you became a resident at this hotel, you had grown close to Alastor. He was just so… enthralling. Interesting. You hadn’t asked why he smiles so much, but instead learned how to read his eyes. And right now, his eyes needed help. You urged him to come to your floor and he sat down, gasping as you immediately pulled out your medical kit and applied alcohol to his bite wounds. Man, they weren’t joking when they said those loan sharks had the sharpest teeth out there. For the first time ever, you were thankful that Charlie kept a stocked cabinet of essentials in every room, but more than that, you were surprised that anything could even get close enough to Alastor to hurt him like this. As you bandaged his wounds and filled them with gauze to prevent further bleeding, you slowly unbuttoned his ripped shirt only to be met with equally ripped skin beneath it.

“Oh, Satan”

you say while quickly using the few remaining gauzes you had. He hadn’t said a word this entire time, only wincing when you pressed the bandages against his wounds. Without even saying a word, this was the most vulnerable you had ever seen the Radio Demon.

As both of your adrenalines died down, you faced him on the floor and asked him what happened.

“I’ve simply never seen anything like it before.” he said.

“They- They had silver teeth- made of Carmine angelic metal.”

While this seems rather insignificant, angelic weapons are the only thing that can kill Earth-born sinners. These scratches were not just inconvenient for the all-powerful Radio Demon, but lethal.

“Alastor… you need to be more careful. We could have lost you. Charlie IS the princess of Hell, you don't have to fight all of her battles for her.” you say.

Alastor’s voice rises.

“Y/N. You don't understand. I- I have to protect this hotel. This is larger than you could ever understand.”

For a second, you swear you could hear his radio voice falter slightly. You sigh in defeat. He could be so stubborn sometimes. As you lean your head against the leg of your bed, you repeat under your breath,

“I could have lost you.”

You put your face into your hands.

You had been attracted to Alastor ever since you started to get to know him. It was impossible not to. He was such a gentleman… such a thing could not be found just anywhere in Hell. And this man, this diamond among the rough, was almost torn away from you and your chosen family by some lousy loan sharks.

“What was that, Darling?” He broke the silence.

You lift your head off of your hands, slightly embarrassed that he heard you.

“Uh, nothing.”

You felt his hand on your arm, and slightly flinched. Alastor didn't seem like one who was very keen on physical touch, especially initiating it. You glanced into his eyes.

“Darling, don't dismiss yourself. When I ask you a question, answer it.”

You blushed slightly, looking at the distant wall to avoid eye contact.

“I said that I almost lost you. I just dont think I would be able to bear your absence. You- you have helped me see that there can be things worth fighting for, even in eternal damnation.”

Did you just - did you just say that shit out loud?!? Oh, that was corny as fuck, theres no way he’s staying in this room with you after that. Instead of appealing to your inner monologue and leaving, his hand met your face, possibly the gentlest touch you've ever felt.

“Darling, I’ve never once thought that a belle like you could ever think those things about a demon like me. I am truly honored to be a thought in your mind, and even so, a positive one. Why haven't you told me this sooner?”

Did you hear that right? Alastor, THE Radio Demon, just heard you confess your feelings for him… and he didn’t end your life right then and there? You stammered,

“I, um… uh,”

Alastor took your hand into his own, rubbing it with his thumb reassuring me.

“I can sense your anxiety, love. I assure you, you of all people do not have to fear me.” he calmly says.

“Only in my worst nightmares would I ever do anything to cause you harm. Despite my constant efforts to distance myself from you all in efforts to best serve this hotel, you have never faltered in your adamant spirit to just… know me. I know that it is not an effort to manipulate me, as you have not once asked me for anything in return for your constant care.”

As he finishes, you say, “How could I? You have done so much for us, for me, the least I can do is offer you somebody to confide in. Somebody that you can love without ever wondering if this love is reciprocated.”

The two of you sat in silence, staring at the red, wallpaper-plastered wall in front of you, his hand remaining on yours. You didn’t know if what you had said about love was a bit too far, but glancing over at Alastor gave you your answer. His regularly toothy grin was replaced by a small smile, a genuine smile. He moves himself closer to you to remove the distance between your two bodies and slowly guides your head to rest on his shoulder. This gentleness was refreshing. Just two souls that know the same struggle relinquishing in each other’s presence.

“Alastor?” you ask.

“Yes, my Darling?”

“That thing I said, about love… was that too much?”

He chuckled in reply as he leaned his head on yours. “Of course not, my love. Why do you think I came to you of all people?”

#alastor x you #alastor x reader imagines #alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #radio demon #alastor angst #alastor fluff #hazbin hotel angst #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel mimzy #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #alastor oneshot #hazbin hotel oneshots #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfiction

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roachspeaks · 2 years

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Slashers and Jealousy

Just drabbles for how the slashers deal with Jealousy :)

REQUESTS OPEN BTW

Warnings: some sexual themes/descriptions, maybe swearing, descriptions of killing people, people with bad intentions, Slight smut in Bo’s and Brahms’s, swearing, sexuality coded(mentions of female friends), side character OC’s (That may be included in One shots in the future),

Michael Myers(I wasn’t sure which version this suited best so you can decide)

It’s a commonly known fact that Michael doesn’t feel things. At least not like other people. He has his own set of emotions and expressions that are completely unique to him. He can be hard to understand sometimes but the closest thing to jealousy is when he sees you giving others the attentiveness you give him. It’s not like he cares. He doesn’t, not like how you care for him. He certainly doesn’t care that your showing a complete stranger the types of care you show him.(patching up their scratches and bruises, giving them a cold drink for the Haddonfield heat). The stranger had apparently claimed that he was passing through town and had gotten into an accident on one of the hiking trails. Michael knew that was a lie. The timing didn’t match up. Michael went on the trails every morning and he didn’t see the stranger or even a wreckage of any kind. Another thing the man left out. Michael didn’t miss how the man held on to your wrist whilst you cleaned his scratches with an alcohol pad. You brushed it off, focusing on the task at hand. You had had enough practice fixing up injuries from Michael. Of course he wasn’t in the room with you two, he was watching from the window outside. Michael could read people easily. He was amazing at it actually. And watching the stranger inside your home he could only read bad intentions. Michael didn’t know how the conversation went but he assumed you offered the stranger the night in your guest room. Michael entered the house silently through the back door. Then silently up the stairs of your home, he wasn’t surprised to see the stranger standing in your doorway while you slept. Michael didn’t hesitate for a moment to come up behind him and slit his throat. Blood spurting all over your floor as he gasped for breath that he didn’t deserve. You had gotten used to waking up when Michael would get home. So you immediately woke to the sounds of dying a just few feet from you. Let’s just say the both of you slept in the guest room that night. He didn’t ‘cuddle’ you per say. He would never, he’s a stone cold serial killer. But he did let you cuddle into him. Because you needed it of course. Not because he was worried about you. But he held you just a little closer than night. Let your hands wander just a little more than he would usually tolerate.

Vincent Sinclair

Let’s be honest. He’s an extremely insecure person, that fuels his jealous thoughts. Often he will be jealous of his brother. You and Bo spend almost as much time together as you and Vincent. You lived with them and Lester. Vincent didn’t get jealous of Lester though, or even strangers. He just knew that Bo was seen as a very attractive individual. That’s how most of the female tourists ended up sculptures in the museum. He handles his Jealousy with sadness and self resent rather than anger or aggression. He feels incompetent with himself and unworthy of the attention you give him. This particular time you and Bo had been working on a truck in the garage. You were both sweaty and covered in oil, in tank tops and sweatpants. The truck was on the lift and had been raised too a level that even Bo couldn’t reach the top. He had accidentally left a wrench on the hood. It wasn’t a big deal. But when Vincent saw Bo holding you up by your waist, his hands happening to be underneath your white tank top. He was heartbroken. Somewhere in his mind he knew that logically you were his partner and you wouldn’t ever leave him for Bo, but in the moment it was easy to forget. Vincent left abruptly, and you noticed. As soon as you were on the ground Bo’s hands returned to his sides. He knew what Vincent was thinking, and you did too. He nodded toward the door Vincent had left though and you swiftly went to follow the long haired man. When you found him he was in his workshop. Scribbling on a piece of paper. You slowly leaned over his shoulder and what you saw shocked you. A drawing of you and him, scribbled out and ripping. Vincent’s breath was jagged and frustrated. “Oh Vince” you whispered into his neck, as your arms came to wrap around him. He froze as if being caught. “I love you. Not Bo. You, Vincent Sinclair” that sentence, plus a lot more physical contact the next day reassured him immensely. He still struggles with insecurity, but you always know how to make it better.

Bo Sinclair

Unlike his twin, Bo’s jealousy is angry and possessive. He’s used to being left behind, he doesn’t want that scenario to happen with you. Let’s be honest Bo is the type to jealous fuck. Aggressively slamming into you over and over. Making you cum over and over again. Reminding you that only he can make you feel that good. Bo uses sex as a coping mechanism. Something he knows he’s the best at so he can hide behind it. It gives him a sense of security. Now though you wouldn’t let that slide. Your legs were already wrapped around his waist as he lathered your jaw in sloppy kisses. Pushing your back up against the wall of the storage closet in the auto shop. A customer was getting just a little too bold with their eyes and Bo hated it. He said he needed to talk to you ‘in the back’. There wasn’t a ‘back’ in the shop. There was a tiny storage closet around the corner, and that’s where he took you. The customer could definitely hear the two of you. You weren’t loud often but Bo just got a rise out of you. His kisses moved down to your neck and collar bone. He growled and moaned against your skin, sending harsh vibrations up your spine. You nearly got lost in the moment, he felt so good against you. But then you remembered that you had been thinking about this for a while. The fact that whenever a customer would interact with you in a way that could seem flirtatious in the shop, it would almost always lead to spontaneous sex with Bo. At first you thought it was a kinky thing but over the course of a while, after taking the time to examine him in these moments. You discovered it wasn’t a kink or turn on, it was a coping mechanism. He always got so fixated and rough in the moment. You didn’t mind the roughness, if anything it was a preference for you, but when he did this it was like he was tranced. Like he had something to prove to you. You swore that the next time he did this that you would confront him on it. Knowing Bo if you asked any other time he would deny that it ever happened. You moved your hands from his neck to his shoulders, pushing him off of you and unwrapping your legs from his torso. He was too caught up, taking this is a change of positions. He continued smashing his lips into yours, practically shoving his tongue with down your throat. “Bo! Mmm… stop it!” He kissed you hard and sloppy between your words. But at the word stop he slowly stepped back, still holding your waist with both hands. “What?” His face was neutral with a pinch of concern. Jealousy still ever present behind his eyes. “What’s up with you? Every time a customer gets a little flirty you freak and drag me back to the storage closet” my fingertips trace the bone of his jawline and move to cup his face in your hands. “I don’t know what what you mean sugar” he smirks and rolls his eyes. You don’t play along though. Instead staring into his eyes with an eyebrow raised. He tries to say that it’s seriously nothing but eventually he cracks. “I don’t-…I don’t like watching people eye you up right in front of me…” he avoids your eyes as if he has anything to be ashamed about. “Bo…it’s ok to get jealous. I get jealous all the time. But we can’t just fuck it out whenever, we still have customers.” I run my thumb along his bottom lip in an attempt to make it more intimate. Being as that is when Bo learns the best. He pays the most attention to you when your being physical. He nods and rests his head on your shoulder. The fabric of his blue coveralls brushing across your arms(that were exposed as you were in a tank top, because you were supposed to be doing car mechanics). You thought that was that but suddenly you heard him chuckling. “You get jealous all the time eh?”.

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas’s jealousy(much like Vincent’s) stems a lot from insecurity, being told all his life by people like Hoyt that he was ugly and that no one could ever really love him. But alternatively when he gets jealous he hates the fact he’s feeling that way at all. He treats it like he’s disrespecting your trust in him by resenting someone else for getting your attention. Most of the time you stay at the house with Luda Mae and there isn’t many occasions where Tommy would get Jealous, however this time you, him, Luda and strangely enough Hoyt, were going grocery shopping in town. He was already getting strange looks from everyone in the store from his appearance. Normally he wouldn’t even have come along, but Luda was getting older and needed more help carrying things. No one knew why Hoyt had come along. He wasn’t going to help, if anything he made it more of a chore than it had to be. Luda had sent you to go grab a bag of sugar, causing you to need to separate from the group. Thomas watched you walk away, worrying. To which he had every right to worry. You couldn’t find the sugar. You had been to this grocery store what felt like hundreds of times and yet you couldn’t find it. You saw a person who worked there though and proceeded to innocently ask him where to find the sugar. He lead you to the shelf. The bags that Luda wanted were big, and heavy. The man took the liberty of offering you help(he clearly wasn’t aware that you could carry it yourself. You lived on a farm for gods sake). You just let him carry the bag. He followed you back to your group, cracking a few jokes that warranted laughs out of you. You clearly didn’t pick up that he was flirting. Hoyt smirked at this, noticing an opportunity to torment Tommy. He elbowed him lightly and laughed smugly. When you got within 10 feet of Tommy you picked up your pace and ran up to him. The worker seemed shocked that these were your people. An old fashioned looking woman, a sheriff carrying a gun obviously on his belt, and Thomas. To strangers Thomas was hard to describe. He was obviously a big man, and the mask situation wasn’t helpful for new interactions either. “Oh right. Thank you!” You smiled brightly at the worker, who’s expression was wary and still surprised. You went to grab the large bag from him and hauled it into the cart. As the four of you went to walk away he called out after you again. “Um here! My phone number.” He slid a small piece of folded paper into your hand before running off. You looked at your hand oddly, that was weird. You didn’t miss how as you walked alongside him, Thomas’s eyes lingered on your hand that slid into your pocket. He was distracted as he walked, bumping into Luda once or twice. Luda being Luda, done with getting her heels stepped on by a man that towered over her, decided to solve the problem. “Tommy, why don’t you and them go get me some butter.” She pointed down the aisle where the butter was. As you followed Thomas you turned your head to see Luda looking at you with a look that said ‘talk to him about it’. So that’s what you did. He had his hands placed on the plastic boarder between the walkway and the shelf. Sometimes you forgot just how big his hands were. You slid one hand overtop of his and intertwined your fingers. “Im not keeping his phone number Tommy.” To prove your point you used your free hand to pull the paper out of your pocket and with help from your teeth you shredded it in half. Both dropping one piece and spitting the other one on the floor of the grocery store. You looked at him from the side of your eye and saw him smiling through the hole in his mask. You grabbed a stick of butter and ran back to Luda and Hoyt, Tommy’s hand still in yours. Hoyt almost said something but before he could he got the back of Luda’s hand to the back of his head.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms is a tough one. Again not many situations when he would get ‘jealous’ per say. Possessive and protective as fuck? Definitely. The idea of you leaving the house scares him, and yet when grocery boy comes around he gets moody. It’s a lose lose situation. You know better than to let Malcom in the mansion, Brahms would lose his shit. But he is the only other companionship you have other than Brahms and your family over a phone. Some days in the mornings you’ll sit on the porch and have a conversation with him over coffee. This has led to many temper tantrums from Brahms. But you always make it up to him. He’s not mature, like at all. We all collectively know that. He’s an eight year old in a 40 year olds body with the horniness of a virgin teenager. You swear he likes to fight you on everything after Malcom’s been around the house. This time he wanted to fight you on bedtime. He had already avoided you all day, only interacting with you to eat. He was touch deprived(more than usual). So, when you went in for his bedtime kiss, even the slight touch made his resolve crumble. His hands grasped your hips roughly, pulling you to straddle him. “Oh, now you wanna talk to me?” Your hands were resting on his chest as to keep yourself upright. “Im not complaining, but your a jealous guy yknow that.” It wasn’t really a question, more of a statement. An incredible accurate one at that. You could see he wanted something, the look in his eyes told you everything. Beautiful forest green eyes clouded with want. “All you gotta do is ask Brahmsy” you lean in to his face, not quite touching him. Just to tease him a little. “Please…” he rasped. His actual voice evident and gruff. “Kiss me…” he leans in just a little leaving barely an inch between you. You could feel his breath on your face, thankful that he had been brushing his teeth. You couldn’t help smashing your lips into his. It was aggressive and needy. He clearly missed you even though it had only been a day, and quite frankly he had probably been watching you through the walls all day. His hands groped at your sides and your chest. All whilst you continued to kiss him. Needy and clingy, two key words when describing Brahms. That night he cuddled into you extra tight. With no intention of letting you up the next morning.

Billy Loomis

Billy doesn’t get jealous unless he’s already having a shitty day. He’s pretty calm and collected. When he does get jealous he starts fights, with everybody. You, Stu, random strangers, teachers, everybody. He’s pretty unstable as is in the terms of emotions. Especially in relationships. His mom made it real hard to trust that someone won’t leave him. In this instance he was jealous of your friend Connor. Connor was generally nerdy, spent all his time in the science labs at school. That’s how you met him actually, a science project. He was the exact opposite of Billy. Frankly you were more of a ‘smart nerdy’ type yourself. It was ridiculous how it all started anyways, you had a study session already planned with Connor. You made sure to tell Billy that a week in advance, knowing he doesn’t like surprises. But apparently he forgot all about it and made plans with Stu and his new temporary girlfriend. Obviously you told him you couldn’t go because you already had plans that you told him about. He got frustrated and jealous as expected. Connor showed up at your house at the worst moment then possible. If we’re gonna be honest Connor never liked Billy much either. Billy was extremely popular and kind of an asshole to the smarter kids at school. Not to say he wasn’t smart, he’s just quiet and friends with Stu so people assume his grades aren’t great. You and Billy had been yelling at each other when Connor opened your door. What happened next was all a blur, memorable events include Connor and Billy getting into each other faces, Connor pushing Billy, and Billy knocking Connor on his ass with a punch to his jaw, Billy had a reputation of overdoing it. Evident in this situation because Billy proceeded to get on top of Connor and continue to punch him. By the time he stopped Connors whole face was bleeding and bruised and Stu and his girlfriend had come into the house. The only reason he stopped was because Stu pulled him off. Sure they killed people but not as Billy and Stu, so he wrapped his arms around him and dragged him off of Connor. You had to call him an ambulance but you knew about Ghost face. “Both of you go. I’ll call an ambulance.” Stu understood why you wanted them gone, so he left. Dragging Billy out behind him. The next few days were lonely. Billy didn’t come back to your house, you assumed he was staying at Stu’s. But around a week after the incident you received an anonymous call. When you picked up you heard the voice of Ghost face over the line. “What’s your favourite scary movie?” If Billy planned on killing you it was a little too late, so you played along. You told him your favourite. The voice over the phone laughed and said something along the lines of ‘So I do know a thing or two, huh?’ The voice then told you to go outside into your backyard. You did as it instructed and stepped out of your back door to see a large sheet draped on the wall of your house, with a projection on it of the title screen of your favourite horror movie. In the centre of it all stood ghost face. Your ghost face. You walked up to him and once in touching vicinity you flipped the chin of his mask up over his mouth and kissed him. No matter how irrational and irresponsible he was sometimes, you missed him. When you pulled away he fully took the mask off, tossing it on the grass somewhere. “Forgive me?”

Alright have whatever this is. I would’ve done more characters but im having some writers block. If you want a part two with someone I missed just comment or ask me. Requests are open sooo yea.

#slashers #headcannons #michael myers #halloween michael myers #vincent sinclair #x reader #x gender neutral reader #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #jealousy headcanons #slashers x reader

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revasserium · 1 year

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to the lighthouse - Zoro and what guides him home

10. to the lighthouse

zoro; 2,320 words, opla!zoro, the fluffiest of fluff, straw hat!reader, established relationship

summary: you just wanted to buy some apples; now complete with a prequel right here

a/n: aggressively adorable, truly -- i have no excuse for this okay. i'm just so freakishly whipped for opla!zoro pls dont look at at me

zoro has never been great shakes at directions (navigation has always been more nami’s thing, and he knows his place in the world), but he’s never needed a compass to find his way home. once, he might have. once, he would’ve wandered and wondered forever and ever, believing the great unknowns of the world to be his compass rose, the horizon his true north, but not anymore. because you see, he’s grown since then — he’s gotten bigger, stronger, more ruthless, more deadly. but he’s gotten smarter too… if only just by a little bit.

he’s learned since then that home doesn’t have to be a place, that it can just as easily be a person.

or, in his case, that it could be both.

“warn me, the next time you plan on getting kidnapped for ransom, would’ya?”

there’s blood on his headband and blood on his shoes, but he can’t quite keep his voice as gruff as he’d like, even as he hauls you bodily onto the deck of the going merry, scowling as you kick your feet in a feeble attempt to get him to let you go.

“it’s not like i was trying to get kidnapped! i was getting apples from the market!”

“yeah, in broad daylight, in a giant port town where all our faces are plastered across wanted posters! even i could’ve told you that’s a bad idea.”

you yelp as he dumps you unceremoniously onto the kitchen’s large wooden table, mumbling to himself as he beings to rummage through the drawers for a first aide kit, slamming cupboards as he goes.

you fold your arms, unable to stop the grin from tugging at your lips.

“did you… just call yourself dumb?”

zoro whirls around, color blotching into his cheeks as he glares, “i — f — you know what i mean!”

he whips back around and slams a drawer so hard the handle breaks; he swears even as you start to laugh, wincing and clutching at your stomach, the skin of your side tender and growing more so by the minute.

“o-ow! don’t make me laugh! it hurts!”

“serves you right… stupid… parading around… not paying attention…”

he slams the first aid kit onto the table next to you, roughly swatting your hand out of the way as he gingerly lifts your shirt to inspect the damage.

“i’m fine —”

“you’re not fine, and quit squirming. i’m not chopper so if i fuck up, it’s your fault.”

you press your lips and hold still, hissing as he carefully dabs at a rather large gash between two of your ribs.

“and i wasn’t parading… i mean, my face isn’t on a wanted poster yet so…”

zoro spares you a single look before going back to his work, “yeah. yet.”

you deflate, inching forward slightly to make his job a bit easier as he continues to clean your wound, his touch now so much gentler than anyone might give him credit for. you watch him with soft eyes, trail the tracks of his fingers as he fumbles with the alcohol soaked cotton pad, daubing at the raw red of your skin. you wondered if anyone who hunted him from his picture on a wanted poster would recognize him now, his cheeks flushed, his brows lightly furrowed, his eyes sharp and steady as tried his best not to hurt you.

“there,” he says, his voice short and rough as he presses his palm over a strip of clean gauze, sealing it in place. he pulls back to admire his handiwork, looking as pleased as he might’ve been if he’d just decapitated an entire infantry’s worth of men without drawing a single sword.

you gingerly tug your shirt back down, your skin feeling much warmer at the places where he’d touched, his palm-print burning like a brand along the expanse of your ribs. you gulp and clear your throat.

“sorry… i — i didn’t mean to.”

“save it,” and then, when you wince at his tone, zoro sighs, scratching at the back of his neck as he leans up against the table next to you, “i know you didn’t. i was just…”

and it’s his turn to pause, to clear his throat and look away.

“sanji… sanji wanted apples for the curry he’s making tonight,” you say, kicking your feet, your eyes trained on the tips of your shoes as they swing up and down in succession — right, left, right, left, right —

“apples in curry? ew.”

“he said they’re the secret ingredient! and — apparently, the better the apples, the better the curry, and it’s — well, it’s fall so they’re in season right now, and nami said this island is known for their apple orchards so i thought — maybe if i went to the market on the first day i’d be able to snag the best ones —”

he cuts you off with a kiss, swallowing passed your surprised squeak before your eyes flutter shut, your lashes tickling his cheeks like moth wings. you can almost taste his satisfied smirk when your fingers curl into the front of his shirt to tug him closer.

“you’re rambling… you only do that when you’re nervous.”

you bite your lip but zoro presses his thumb to your chin, tilting your head up till he meets your eyes.

“why’re you nervous?”

“i — i’m not —”

“hm. you’ve always been a shit liar.”

you try to tug your head away from him but his grip is strong, his other hand casually resting below your waist, his fingers pressing into the soft of your hips, holding you in place.

“it’s… nothing…” but he’s right. you have always been a terrible liar, even worse to the people who know you. and god does zoro know you.

zoro’s grin goes wolfish as he cocks his head, eyeing you as a hunter might his prey, “pretty little liar though… i gotta say,” he drags his thumb along the bottom of your lip, pushing against the plush of your mouth, his eyes going dark as he watches the way your breath hitches.

“but even pretty little liars deserve to be punished, don’t they?” he leans in, breath hot by your ear, his words chasing shivers up and down your spine. you fight back a whimper, knowing that if he were truly to pin you there, there’d be nothing you could do to escape him.

“unless… you wanna tell me the truth?”

you let out a shuddering breath before sighing.

“w-we — we wanted to — to throw you a birthday party.”

zoro pauses, his darkened gaze going wide for a second before he pulls back, visibly confused.

“b…birthday? uh — that’s not till november —”

“i know but… who knows if we’ll be docked by then, and… your favorite season is autumn so…” you shrug, voice small even as you try to duck and hide the blush rushing up into your cheeks.

“so… you went to get apples… for my not-birthday birthday dinner?”

“i mean — your favorite food is rice and… curry goes the best with rice, right?”

zoro lets out a breathy laugh, his hand falling to press against your other hip. but before he can say anything else, sanji’s voice echoes in from just beyond the door before it swings open to reveal sanji, with his arms full of groceries and usopp close behind him, nearly running into sanji’s back as he comes to an abrupt stop at the sight before him.

“darling, did you manage to get those apples? y’know if we’re really gonna make this curry, it’ll have to stew for a good three or so hours — oh — my apologies… was i interrupting something? decide to give the lucky man an amuse bouche before his main course tonight, yeah?”

you groan and try to tug away but zoro merely quirks an eyebrow, seemingly unphased.

“why’re you putting apples into perfectly good curry?”

at this, sanji rolls his eyes and hoists the groceries on to the kitchen table next to you, casting zoro a scathing look.

“look man, i don’t question your sword-swinging and you don’t question my cooking, alright? now, if you’re really thirsting to know — the sweetness in the apples gives texture to the curry as it stews, and that’s what makes it so damn delicious when you pair it with the rice, got it?”

zoro scoffs, his hands still planted firmly on either side of your hips even as sanji starts to pull out all the varied ingredients for the meal. behind him, usopp is juggling an impressive number of liquor bottles as he tries to slot them into the drinks rack.

“yeah. we’ll see,” and with a single arm, zoro hoists you from the table and sets you down on the ground next to him, guiding you from the kitchens even as sanji shoots you a salacious wink.

“you’ll be singin’ to a different tune when you’ve had your first taste, moss-head!”

zoro doesn’t grace that with a response, steering you out of the kitchens before yelling for usopp to toss him a bottle of something good over his shoulder.

later that night, when the party is in full swing, he finds you by the carved white railings at the darkened head of the ship, eyes trained on the far horizon. behind you both, luffy is standing on a barrel, belting some old drinking song while nami laughs and sanji swings chopper in a strange, uncoordinated two-step.

“hey,” he says, bumping your shoulder with his.

“oh! hey…” you cast him a smile as he takes another swig from his nearly empty glass.

“why aren’t you —” he jerks his head back towards the swinging, dancing, laughing crew.

you bite back a smile, shrugging, “i was just… thinking.”

“oh. well, that’s not good.”

you slam your shoulder into his but he barely moves, chuckling.

“today… when you saved me from those kidnappers… how’dyou know where to find me?”

you turn to look at him, and for a second, the question almost catches him off guard. he stares at you, as if unsure himself how to answer before he grins, his eyes slipping from you out towards the darkness beyond as behind you both, sanji starts in on a showtune in a warbled language neither of you can understand.

“actually, ‘m not sure… i just… had a feeling.”

you blink, “you… had a feeling?”

“yeah like… y’know when uh — turtles and stuff always know how to get back to the beach where they were born?”

your eyebrows slowly migrate up your forehead this words as you stare at him, dumbstruck.

“zoro… you’ve gotten lost on a straight road before —”

“shut up! it’s not — it’s different though… i dunno how to explain it, but i just… i just knew. something — something wasn’t right and i knew i had to find you.”

and even in the relative darkness, you can see the color seeping into his cheeks. you let yourself laugh, glancing down at the half-finished drink in your own hands.

“i’ll… i’ll always find you.”

you look up at his words, his voice so much softer than you’re used to, the words so much more tender. you look up to find him watching you, his gaze soft and warm, sweet and molten.

“even if it takes me forever… i’ll… i’ll always find my way to you.”

and you wonder if it’s the alcohol, you wonder if it’s the darkness gifted by the moonless night, the prickling light of a hundred thousand stars winking above in the velvet sky.

you nod, raising your glass in quiet acceptance of his words, of this solemn vow that you know he’d never make without the intention of honoring it until time itself has breathed its last.

you clink your glass against his.

“happy birthday.”

zoro laughs, shaking his head, “can’t believe you’re making me celebrate two months early.”

“we can throw another party when its your actual birthday.”

“yeah — just promise me you won’t get kidnapped again.”

you laugh, shaking your head, “as long as you promise that if i do… you’ll be there to find me.”

zoro raises his glass to his lips, “i’ll drink to that.”

you toss your own drink back, feel the burn of it work it’s way down your throat, the fire settling in the pit of your stomach as zoro tugs you by the hand back to the heart of the party, where nami screams and throws her arms round you, pulling you into a suffocating hug and sanji nearly trips over trying to refill your glass.

zoro grins, laughing as luffy wobbles and nearly smashes into the main mast. he lets sanji refill his drink; he lets luffy pull him into a unwilling sea shanty, everyone swaying left and right with the uneven rhythm of the drowsy sea.

and he realizes, not for the first time, though it still sometimes comes as a surprise — that there’s no place he’d rather be. because you see, for zoro home is both a place and a person — the place is here with his crew around him, the ocean beneath them, the world sprawled out like a map at their feet.

and the person… he looks up across the raucous merry-making to catch your eye, to catch a breath of your bright, bell-like laughter — he’s never been more sure of anything else in his entire life that the person… is you.

opla!zoro requests r open LOL (literally idk if i will write anyone else but him at this point but EY if u got a req....)

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orange-peony · 11 months

Text

Written for @flufftober with the prompt "fireplace".

A little wolfstar raising Harry, rated T.

“He’s so irritating.”

“Tell me about it,” Sirius says. “He’s my cousin Cissa’s son.”

“And he’s so bloody posh!”

“Language,” Remus chides gently from the kitchen, busy with Christmas preparations.

“The b word is not swearing,” Harry declares with a frown, then softly, to Sirius, “is it, Pads?”

“Nah,” Sirius says, waving his hand in dismissal. “Tell me more about that obnoxious Malfoy kid.”

* ~ *

“And he’s so fucking annoying with his pointy face and his white-blond hair,” Harry says, scratching his arm where another mosquito bite is swelling up.

“Language!” Remus says, even though Sirius can’t even see him. His husband seems to have a special radar for swear words.

“Sorry,” Harry says, looking much less concerned than he probably should. Sirius feels a little guilty because he’s always swearing in front of Harry, but brushes it off as teenagers being teenagers. “And he’s just—so tall and so smart and so…”

“So?” Sirius asks with a frown.

“So irritatingly fit!”

“Wait, what?”

* ~ *

“Do you think they’re going to spend much longer snogging on the train platform?” Sirius asks with a resigned sigh.

Remus chuckles and wraps his arms around Sirius’s waist, pulling him closer.

“Summer is long when you’re seventeen,” Remus says calmly.

“But they’re going to see each other in a couple of days!” Sirius protests. “We’re dragging the brat to France with us on holiday.”

“If I recall correctly,” Remus starts, his voice like a caress on Sirius’s cheek. “The first time we parted for a couple of days, you cried and begged me to come and visit you at James’s house.”

“Oh, shut up,” Sirius replies grumpily.

He thinks a kiss is in order, at least to distract him from his godson being snogged within an inch of his life by a Malfoy.

* ~ *

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Sirius groans, covering his face with his hands and making Draco squeal in embarrassment.

He supposes it’s kind of his fault. He should have probably sent his Patronus to Harry before Flooing straight to his kitchen. But Harry is his son. And he’s been living on his own for only a week, so Sirius was worried and wanted to check on him.

He wasn’t expecting to find Draco Malfoy making himself tea in Harry’s kitchen, wearing only Harry’s oversized hoodie and a pair of boxers.

Sirius covers his eyes and makes a disgruntled sound.

“I’m going to go grab my pyjama bottoms,” Draco says. “I’ve made enough tea for an army. Help yourself, Sirius.”

“It’s Mr Black-Lupin for you,” Sirius grumbles.

“Oh, stop being impossible, Pads,” Harry croaks, appearing by the kitchen door wearing just a pair of pants and a collection of love bites. “Morning, love. Thanks for making tea.”

* ~ *

The fireplace roars to life as a green flame appears and Draco’s blond head pokes through.

“May I come in?” he asks, looking extremely nervous.

“Of course,” Remus says, uncrossing his legs and sitting up.

And Sirius should have known. He should have fucking known, because Draco sendt an official request to speak to him and Remus, written on the fanciest parchment Sirius has ever seen (and he grew up with a bunch of pure bloods). Draco is wearing the most dazzling formal robes, and he has a small, blue box clutched in his shaking hands. He looks like he’s about to be sick. He looks even paler than usual.

“I—I know you have your reservations about me, and rightfully so,” Draco starts, and Sirius is about to say well, of course, you little Harry-thief, but Remus places a hand on his thigh, and Sirius just exhales and listens. “But I love Harry with all my heart. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love him, and I promise I will spend the rest of my life trying to make him the happiest man on earth. So, please, I know I’m asking you an awful lot, but…”

“Can we say no?” Sirius asks, but Remus pokes him in the ribs.

“Of course, you can marry Harry,” Remus says with a warm smile, and Draco starts crying straight away, looking at Sirius, waiting for his approval.

Sirius sighs.

He should have seen this coming.

He really should have.

“Fine,” he grumbles. “But I reserve the right to tease you both mercilessly and to swear in front of your kids.”

“Deal,” Draco says with the brightest grin.

#my writing #my fics update #flufftober #drarry fic #drarry drabble #wolfstar #drarry #wolfstar raising harry

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turtletaubwrites · 4 months

Text

Numbers Game ~ Part 20

Pairings: Cross Guild x Fem!Reader x Shanks

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 7349

Ao3 Link

Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Summary: You fight to find some joy while your little world falls apart. Is there anyone you can trust?

Author's Note: Hi friends! I realize that most of you came for the smut, and stayed for the drama, lol. Going forward, there will be some heavier topics including trauma, scenes depicting panic attacks, etc. I'll try to bracket the most intense sections off with ~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~ and I will do my best to make sure you still understand what's going on in case you'd like to skip past those parts. Thank you so much for staying with me, and letting me take this story where I always wanted it to go!

Alternate POV Symbols:

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! Fic contains spoilers for the end of the Wano arc

Rating/Warnings: Author May Choose to Exclude some Warnings to Avoid Spoilers for Certain Chapters, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Use of Y/N, Dark Content, Blood & Violence, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, SH (scratching while panicking), Swearing, Alcohol, Cigars, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Drama, Jealousy, Manipulation, Humiliation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Size Difference, Daddy Kink, Double Penetration, PIV Sex, Anal, Multiple Orgasms, Hair-Pulling, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

She’s perfect. She’s everything. She’s—

Stupid, red hair.

Buggy held Y/N close, hearts still racing, still breathing with each other.

This morning he’d woken up tense, sweating with guilt that she wasn’t in his arms after all the shit they’d been through to get back.

But the arms that had wrapped around him… The lips that had kissed his neck…

“Mornin’ Bugs.”

“Morning, shithead.”

Then there were her tears. More fucking tears today. That was all he could think about. The near panic of needing to make her feel better, make her smile, make those tears stop touching her beautiful face.

Now that those tears had stopped, his mind cracked open, letting that red hair shine through like the first light of the morning sun when you’re not ready to see it.

Gods, I’m such a piece of shit.

“Buggy?”

“Hey, star! How ya doing? Can I get ya anything?”

“No,” she laughed, the sweetest fucking sound in the world. “Just you, Bugs. Just stay with me for a while, please.”

He held her close, his head falling back against the headboard.

“I’ve got you.”

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🗡️🐊🗡️~~~

Buggy’s name echoed through the halls, so loud that Mihawk wasn’t the only one that heard.

Crocodile sighed, shaking his head slowly at the sound.

“Should we punish our pets,” Mihawk drawled, the words spilling out like acid.

“Sorry,” Shanks called as he sauntered back into the lounge, a pleased smile on his face. “My other hosts are a bit busy. Mind if I—“

“Fuck off.”

Shanks smirked up at Crocodile, sand fading from reality after the larger man had shifted across the floor.

“You two seem awfully grumpy,” he taunted, his voice too even, too calm. “It almost seems like you care about your captives. But that can’t be right...”

Mihawk was there, stepping slightly between the two men. Two men he’d betrayed.

“Is it really necessary to gloat, Red Hair?”

“Who’s gloating,” Shanks countered, his sunny smile falling fast. “I just wanna know that my friend and his girl are safe. Can’t blame me for that, can you? Not after everything you did to him.”

“We won’t stop him if he wants to go,” Crocodile rasped, the veins in his hand pulsing as he clenched his fist. That thought soaked his blood in a rage he didn’t know what to do with.

He knew there was nothing to be done.

“How kind of you,” Shanks mocked, walking away from Crocodile’s glare to stand in front of his old friend. He didn’t look back at the frustrated sound that left Crocodile’s throat at the dismissal.

Mihawk hated the itchiness in his fingers, the instinct to reach for his sword.

“You’ve been trying, haven’t you, old friend,” Shanks breathed, his eyes scanning over every slight movement on Mihawk’s face. “Looks like it’s too late to play nice, though. Why would such a sweet girl wanna stay with monsters like you?”

A clash of hook against sword.

Shanks’ serene face, inches from the striking metal as Mihawk blocked that golden hook.

“I think I’ll have lunch on the Red Force. Give my friends some time to cool off. All that screaming sounds exhausting.” Shanks winked at Mihawk, nodded at Crocodile with a smirk, and strutted toward the door with a laugh. “If you hurt them while I’m gone, I’ll level this place to the fucking ground.”

With that threat, the red haired emperor left the two ex-warlords frozen, their weapons still caught together in a useless battle between defeated men.

It was hard to say who lowered first, but as soon as their weapons were down, Crocodile brought his to the other’s throat.

Mihawk let him.

“You knew,” Crocodile raged, eyes flaring as he failed to spot any fucking reaction on his new lover’s face. “You knew, didn’t you? He’s gonna take them both!”

“Don’t you think he should,” Mihawk choked, wishing it was just the sting of the hook making his throat tight. “We’ll get through tomorrow, then we'll say goodbye to our little pets. Our little prisoners. They’ve served their purpose—“

He hissed, knowing there was blood beneath that press of metal, wet heat dripping down his skin. It was almost enough pain to relax him. Almost.

“You don’t get to decide that,” Crocodile growled, bringing his face in close to breathe scotch scented fury over Mihawk’s skin. “You spoiled, selfish, little prince. Finally grown a conscience, and now you’re making it everyone else’s fucking problem.”

Mihawk was away, leaving the hook empty, except for his own pretty blood. He didn’t bother to stop the flow of it down his chest before he snarled back.

“We can’t force them to stay, sandman,” he declared, his breath heavier than he’d expected. “I won’t do that to them again, not—“

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Crocodile sighed as he cleaned his hook with a handkerchief, white fabric staining red.

“And why is that,” Mihawk purred, eating up the anger, preferring it over everything else.

“If they wanna go, we’ll let them go,” the larger man conceded. His deep voice was almost weak with those words, though his next were spoken with power, with the need to make them true.

“So, we’ll convince them to stay.”

~~~🐊🗡️🐊🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

Fuck.

You wished that Buggy’s arms could make you feel safe from the parade of memories, of demands that dragged you back down.

It was stupid. Of course you couldn’t be free.

A choked laugh tore from your throat. Buggy tried to soothe it away, but the insanity of it all was too much.

You had felt safe. You’d felt fucking happy with these men that threatened to kill you, to sell you into slavery. Even though you were never without fear, you’d somehow felt good with the men that owned you. Felt good with the men that threatened to kill your lover, that had beaten him bloody, humiliated him, then made you crave them so fucking badly that you almost begged them… that you had begged them to fuck you like a whore in front of him.

Just to escape your boring, privileged life.

All of that guilt you’d tried to shove down deep was back, and Buggy’s sweet smile that had made it all okay felt like a mirage. His loving arms around you made you feel sick.

I am sick.

He was right. He wouldn’t even have to fake it. I’m everything he said. Damaged. Wrong. Worthless.

Buggy deserves better.

“What’s wrong?”

More brittle laughter escaped your raw throat, and Buggy chuckled at himself.

“Sorry, baby. That list is fucking massive, isn’t it,” he soothed, hands tracing over your skin. “Wanna take a shower with me?”

He carried you, helped you, kissed you, dried you, and made you wear some of his lipstick, chasing your lips with it until you laughed and gave in.

“Why don’t you care?”

“What,” he coughed, eyes wide as he reached for you.

“About my… About who I am?”

He looked confused, almost as if he’d forgotten. Almost as if he really didn’t see you differently. You couldn’t fucking handle that thought either way.

“Why would I care about your shitty family,” he scoffed, grabbing and squishing your cheeks. “All I care about is how long I have to wait before I can start making fun of you for your fancy trust fund.”

Your mouth would have fallen open in shock if he hadn’t been squeezing your face so hard. He smirked at you, looking way too fucking proud of himself.

“You. Dick,” you hissed reaching out to punch his arms, his stomach, anything you could reach. Buggy cackled as he floated each body part away just before you could hit it. You squirmed out of his grip, and he floated around you, sticking his tongue out while you huffed. “I’m gonna kill you!"

“Ooh, how much do hitmen cost? I bet rich girls can hire all the best assassins!”

“Buggy– mnf.”

“I still love you,” he whispered against your lips after shoving you against the wall. “That’s never gonna change, no matter what happens, star.”

Somehow there were still tears left in you, but he caught them with his gloved thumbs, giving your red lips a gentle kiss.

“I love you too, Bugs.”

"Of course you do,” he winked, leading you out of the suite. “Ya hungry, pretty star?”

~~~

“Good afternoon, Y/N,” Mihawk drawled as he pulled a chair out for you. “How are you feeling?”

Uncomfortable wasn’t even close to covering it.

They let you sit by Buggy, let him hold your hand, and they stared at you with eyes that might have held concern. Or they might have had dancing berries behind them, imagining what sort of price tag you had branded under your skin.

“Not great,” you said blandly, hating not knowing what they were going to do with you.

The lunch went on, and they didn’t push. Didn’t try to speak with you more than some awkward small talk, and a polite request for the salt shaker. All they did was observe you.

“I want to call my sister.”

“Of course, swee– of course,” Crocodile rasped after a pause, pulling his hand back before it could reach across the table.

“Do you already have a buyer in mind?”

That vicious growl left your throat like lightning, too fast for you to catch. Buggy’s hand went still on your shoulder while you shook with rage.

“Y/N, we’re–”

“Y/N,” you mocked, almost proud of the way Mihawk’s lips parted when you cut him off. “No rabbits? No sweet girls? Already distancing yourselves from your old pet, huh? I guess you can’t get too attached when you have to put ‘em down, can you?”

Your chair toppled over when you stood, but you resisted the urge to shove those pretty, round tables because you had to stop being there right that fucking second. Had to stop looking at them. You backed away from their shocked faces, the pain and anger in your blood making you dizzy.

“I hope your next pet survives a little longer,” you spat as you turned to run inside, fleeing down that long corridor. Your eyes were burning with tears, staring at the floor just ahead of your frantic steps.

It felt like only a few seconds had passed before you were caught.

“Hey, bunny,” Shanks cooed, pressing you against him. You clung to his waist, tears spilling against his chest, bare between his loose shirt. “You’re okay, sugar. I won’t let them hurt–”

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Mihawk breathed over your shoulder, so close. Shanks tensed, tilting you ever so slightly, as if preparing to pull you away. Mihawk’s wicked fingers trailed down your back, sending chills through you while he made his promises. “We’re not going to sell you, or ransom you, or hurt you, Y/N. I swear it.”

Detangling yourself from both of them with a shudder, you caught Buggy and Crocodile waiting, watching.

“Why are you talking to me like that,” you asked, hating how hard it was to swallow the lump in your throat.

“We didn’t think that you’d want us to talk to you so… intimately, after everything,” Mihawk explained. His fingers flexed, and you closed your eyes against another wave of exhaustion.

“Can we just pretend today?”

Pathetic.

“What do you mean?” Crocodile came closer, that frightening face going soft, breaking you down.

“Can we pretend everything’s alright? I just wanna pretend you care until it’s over. Do whatever you want with me, just let me feel… Just let me pretend you care,” you begged softly. Buggy’s arms wrapped around you from behind before his lower body could catch up, squeezing more tears from you. “Please?”

“Rabbit…”

“Come here, sweet girl.”

Buggy let them take you. You let them take you.

Golden eyes were so close, the scent of him making you sigh while he stroked your hair, kissing down your temple, your cheek, your jaw, before helping to lift you into Crocodile’s arms.

Silver eyes poured over you, his deep voice so calming while you cried against another silk vest, cried as he brought you back to that magical place filled with pleasure and pain. That place where you’d felt both shackled and free.

That stupid, green, velvet couch.

“My sweet girl. I’d never send you away. Never hurt you, babydoll. Daddy’s here. Whatever you need.”

“My little rabbit, my love. I want you by my side. I want to watch you, my fierce, little bloodhound. Tell me what I need to do, darling. Anything.”

“My shining star. You’re my everything. You’re everything I need.”

Pretty, pretty lies.

~~~

“President Buggy, sir?”

Buggy huffed while he floated his head across the room, sticking his tongue out when he flew over Shanks’ grinning face. His hands didn’t stop petting your legs while you laid across the three laps on the couch.

“What is it,” he snapped at the intruder through the cracked door.

“So sorry to interrupt, sir,” the man sputtered, clearing his throat. You couldn’t see him, but his anxiety radiated through the door. “The final dress rehearsal is meant to start soon. Should we… would you like us to run through it without you, sir?”

“No, I…”

Buggy’s hands went stiff, and you turned your head to look over at his concerned face, almost pained when he glanced at you.

“It’s okay, Buggy,” you croaked, your voice a wreck after all your tears.

“We can watch your show over dinner again,” Mihawk suggested as he laid his hand over Buggy’s.

“We’ll freshen up,” Crocodile agreed, brushing a bit of hair from your face. “How does that sound, sweet girl?”

The tiniest, most exhausted of smiles touched the corner of your lips before he lifted you, and followed Buggy’s headless body toward the door.

“Mind if I take a peek backstage, Bugs,” Shanks flirted, wrapping his arm around the clown’s shoulders. “I always love your shows.”

“Don’t get in the way,” Buggy grumbled. You heard Shanks’ pleased laughter while Buggy floated up to press a soft kiss to your lips, and Crocodile’s wide chest kept you warm, and sleepy. “Wanna watch my show, star?”

“Always,” you breathed, wishing you were worth that perfect smile.

~~~~~~

~~~🤡🔴🤡🔴~~~

“Don’t be so stressed, Bugs,” Shanks beamed, following his grumbly clown through the halls. “You’ll blow ‘em away at the party tomorrow. Then we can take Y/N, and get out of here. Help her smile again. She needs to–”

“You don’t know her,” Buggy hissed, rounding on his old friend. His old friend whose eyes widened a bit at his words, but still kept that fucking smile.

That perfect fucking smile that made his eyes go a little unfocused every time he saw it.

So he turned, continuing his scolding while he walked toward the banquet hall, avoiding that face.

“You don’t know what she needs.”

“You’re right,” Shanks apologized, walking backwards so he could look at his clown. Look at those perfect eyes. “You know her. You’re fucking beautiful together, Buggy. It makes me so happy to see you like that. Loved. She loves you, doesn’t she?”

Shanks watched all those expressions move under that greasepaint, studying each and every one. Trying to figure out the right words to say.

“She does,” Buggy hesitated. He shouldered past the red haired pirate, forcing the other man to keep up with his quickened pace. Forcing that smile out of his line of sight.

“Let’s get her out of here,” Shanks urged. Even with their speed through the halls, his voice was calm, quiet, soothing. “You can protect her, Buggy. I’ll help you. You know she’ll never be safe with them. I just want you both to be safe and happy, Bugs.”

Tears.

Too many fucking tears in her eyes.

“When did you ask her?”

“What do you mean,” Shanks chirped, skirting around a servant with a stack of nameplates for the tables.

“I mean, when did you ask her to come with us,” Buggy breathed, pulling Shanks backstage after looking around the banquet hall. The stage was tiny compared to the three rings he was used to, but he could get used to that swanky, private dressing room.

Especially now that he had Shanks pinned to the mirrored wall inside, those brown eyes flashing with a challenge, and a promise that almost made him forget the world.

Forget her.

“When,” he growled, more forcefully than he’d meant to as he shook himself out of Shanks’ spell. Shanks didn’t answer right away, his eyes roaming over Buggy’s face, concern and charm oozing off of him.

“The first night,” he whispered, cradling Buggy’s cheek, tilting his hips closer. Wanting to get this stress out of Buggy’s eyes, help him feel good, help him get out of here. “You still snore like a sea lion, Bugs. Mihawk didn’t hear me.”

Buggy’s red lips fell open, but he pulled away before Shanks’ thumb could rub across them.

“And the dance. What did you say to her?”

“Just this,” Shanks reassured with a smile. “I can protect you both.”

Shanks’ smile had always brought irritation or need. No, not need. Awe. Buggy had tried to compete with his friend, had fought and struggled for years.

“I want you with me, Bugs.”

He’d never felt good enough compared to his perfect friend. His perfect friend that was always in charge. Even though his perfect friend said such lovely things about him.

“I don’t wanna find the One Piece without you, baby.”

Those lovely things. They couldn’t be true.

“And I don’t wanna leave your pretty star with these monsters.”

Until finally, Buggy had believed those words. Believed that perfect smile.

“Let me make it all up to you. Anything you need.”

But in the end, that smile had brought him nothing but pain.

Nothing until…

“Come with me,” Shanks purred, not caring about all that greasepaint when he flipped Buggy around, shoving his clown against the mirror to kiss the surprised, little moans from his lips. “I want you so bad, Buggy. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Buggy’s eyes fluttered closed when Shanks’ fingers reached for him, finding his cock already hard beneath that bright, red fabric. Shanks let out a satisfied hum as Buggy lost himself, melting under that smile that said so many lovely things.

Melting under that hand that knew his body so well.

“President Buggy, sir?”

~~~🤡🔴🤡🔴~~~

~~~~~~

The snail went on and on.

You’d let Mihawk take care of you, wiping your face, kissing you, rubbing cool lotion onto your flushed skin, kissing you, fixing your face up before kissing across it again.

“Lovely, little rabbit,” he’d purred before setting you up with the transponder snail. You were shocked when they left you in the lounge all alone, until you remembered that he could hear you from a mile away.

Pretending. We’re just pretending.

“Hello?”

“Kat? Oh gods, hi! Kat, it’s me,” you panicked, realizing you hadn’t planned anything to say.

“Y/N? Are you okay? Fuck, tell me it’s you, sis.”

“Kat,” you laughed, relief and joy flooding your drained body, waking you out of your daze. “It’s me. I helped you cheat your way through stats so you would—“

“So I would help you get out of those creepy match making parties mom kept—“

“Kat, I’m so sorry.”

…

“Kat?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I mean,” you grimaced, hating it all. “You were right. They found out who I am.”

“How much is the ransom?”

Sighing, you leaned back, tapping your head against the chair.

“I don’t know yet, but I’m okay. They let me call you.”

“… The Cross Guild?”

Fogginess filled your mind again, trying to mesh all of your worlds together.

“That clown,” she explained, her voice getting hushed. “Your clown, and his cronies, right? I saw the flyers.”

“Oh,” you relaxed, picturing that colorful flyer that had caused so much trouble. “Yeah, but don’t worry. They haven’t hurt me. I think they’ll just ransom me back. Uncle’s gonna love—“

“You should really listen to him.”

Kat’s voice was lined with stress, something you never missed.

“Kat, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she clearly lied, your sister’s shrill voice too easy to read. “It’s just been long enough, you know? Things are good here, and you could… we could all be happy.”

“Happy,” you breathed, not wanting to give in to anger.

“Yeah,” she brushed off, clearing her throat. “Mom’s coming, so I… I love you, sis.”

“Love you—“

“See you soon.”

…

The snail stared back at you for too long, its slow moving eyes making you dizzy.

Unease bubbled under your skin, Kat’s strained voice replaying in your mind.

“Something’s wrong,” you declared to empty air, your voice hollow.

“What is it, love,” Mihawk asked, appearing on the desk before you.

“Kat’s stressed.”

“What about, sweetheart,” Crocodile prompted as he came to lean over the desk beside the other man.

“He’s done something,” you trailed off, mind going hazy around the edges.

“We’ll help you, darling,” Mihawk whispered before kissing your wrist, your eyes fluttering from his simple touch amidst all your chaos.

“Please, don’t send me back.”

~~~⚫️⚫️⚫️~~~

The plea was dry, futile, almost silent while your eyes got lost around the desk. The moment the words left your lips, you went limp. Your mouth slack, drool forming, ready to spill if you got stuck for too long.

Nothing.

Just how he wants me.

What looked like panic in their eyes at the horrifying laugh you let out made you laugh even more, your fingernails scraping deep into your thighs while that grating sound tore through you.

“You can try to own me. I tried to let you. But he won’t let you. You’ll have to buy me first,” you warned in a harsh whisper, insanity creeping and creeping.

“Sweetheart?”

“Nope,” you giggled, shaking your head too fast. “No sweethearts for me! No love for me. Just work. Nothing else.”

“Y/N…”

“Y/N,” you parroted Mihawk again, your voice breaking. “Please pretend. Please pretend you—“

~~~⚫️⚫️⚫️~~~

“Please, tell me what’s wrong,” he urged, kneeling at your feet, your head in his hands. “Let us help you, rabbit. I…”

“Help me by pretending,” you sat up, voice clear when you brushed the fresh tears away. “I want to pretend. I want you to pretend to care for one more day.”

His strong hands gave in as you stood to walk away.

“Please, pretend.”

You were in his arms, resting your head in the crook of his neck, feeling Crocodile’s strong presence beside him.

“Thank you.”

“All you gotta do is tell us what you want, sweet girl.”

“Thank you, daddy.”

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🗡️🐊🗡️~~~

Murder.

Murder roiled just beneath the surface of their skin, bodies made up of raw nerves.

A panicked glance shared between them helped nothing, except to confirm that something was fucking wrong.

Something far worse than what they’d thought.

Mihawk held Y/N against him, pretending to be light, pretending to be the person he’d been for her before.

The person he’d been when he wasn’t scaring her, using her, showing her what a monster he was.

But all he wanted to do was shake her. Drag out whatever horrible truth there was inside her precious, little soul so he could stab it to death.

She’s going to leave us like this. She’s going to leave here broken.

He glanced at the other man again, wondering if he was just as terrified as he was.

Crocodile was terrified. All he wanted was to protect her. To never hear that jarring, scraping laugh leave her throat again. It was demonic. Wrong.

His sweet girl should never be in that much pain.

He had to fight not to tear his hook across every wall they passed, through every door frame he ducked under.

Had to give her what she wanted. To pretend everything was alright.

To pretend that he wasn’t one of the monsters that made her cry.

He sat and watched the show, watching her tired face pretending to be happy while her sick laughter clawed through the back of his mind.

I can’t let her leave like this. I can’t let my sweet girl hold that pain. I’m gonna fucking gut him.

~~~🐊🗡️🐊🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

Woozy.

But okay.

So nice to sway back and forth between them. To watch your clown perform. To forget the world.

Forget everything.

You were pretty good at it.

Practiced.

It helped when they’d call you pretty names, trace their warm, strong hands along your back, your thighs. Massaging your hand while you smiled at the shining star on the stage.

Even the red haired pirate made you smile with his laughter and jokes, with his charm and soothing voice. Even with that missed smudge of red paint on his chin, you smiled at the thought of Buggy being happy.

“Look at my star,” he hummed, his upper body racing to you faster than his legs could when the show was done. They left the band going for you, letting you sway. “You okay, baby?”

“Mhm,” you lied, not caring what Crocodile did to you now. “I think I need to stand.”

Pushing away from the table, every eye on you felt like pressure, felt like the real world was crushing you.

“Pretend,” you ordered, huffing a laugh at what a spoiled, little rich girl you were. “Everything is fine and we’re having a wonderful night, all of us together. Okay?”

Your three men promised, their voices soothing, but the forth voice cut through when the red haired man stood.

“Everything is wonderful,” he beamed, offering you his hand. “Would you like to show me what a wonderful dancer you are, bunny?”

He looked so pleased when you snorted, and even more so when you took his hand. You didn’t think about why you shouldn’t or why anyone would stop you.

I just want to pretend.

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

This poor thing. I’ve gotta get her out of here.

Shanks led Y/N to that gleaming floor, sparing just a glance at Buggy. His clown didn’t match his smile, and he couldn’t blame him.

How could he smile when his poor girl was coming undone?

“Your technique is amazing,” he teased as he kept her from rolling her ankle. “Where did you train?”

“I trained at— shut up,” she narrowed her eyes, so fucking cute.

“You actually trained,” he laughed, pulling her squirming body against his until her eyes went wide, her breathing slowed. His next words came out soft, but there was no need to hide from his old friend anymore. Mihawk couldn’t stop this.

“I’ll protect you,” he vowed, watching her eyes clench shut. “Come with me after the party. I don't care about your family’s wealth. I don’t care where you came from. I just care about Buggy, and the One Piece. And now you.”

Those pretty eyes were teary again when they opened, and he felt a twinge of guilt before he charged on.

“You can be free, Y/N.”

“Tomorrow,” she sighed, body slumping a bit against his. “Tonight we’re pretending that everyone cares, that everyone gets along, that no one would ever use me. Can you pretend?”

The emptiness in her voice made his stomach twist, something foul hiding behind her tired request.

“Of course. Anything for you, bunny,” he promised, kissing the top of her head. When he turned to look for Buggy, he clenched his jaw, fighting to keep tension out of his body while he danced with Y/N.

Mihawk’s hands were on Buggy, stroking his hair, smoothing over his thigh while the clown laid on the table in front of those scumbags. Even Crocodile leaned closer, rubbing his large hand along Buggy’s back before heading to the dance floor.

“May I have the next dance, sweetheart?”

“Yes, daddy,” she hummed, pulling away from Shanks, not even meeting his eyes before skipping toward her kneeling captor. She wrapped her arms around his neck, giggling when he stood. Her feet dangled while he held her thighs against that massive chest.

“Mm, see? My sweet girl doesn’t need to be a good dancer when daddy’s around.”

She squealed as the tyrant carried her across the gleaming floor, satisfied laughter floating along behind them.

Shanks tried not to gape at that sweet girl giggling in the arms of a man that destroyed an entire country for his own fucking greed.

Poor thing.

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🤡🗡️~~~

“Aren’t you gonna stop them,” Buggy asked, watching his two favorite people head toward the empty dance floor. Wondering why he didn’t feel happier seeing them together.

“We’re never gonna do that again,” Crocodile rasped, the strange tension in his words making Buggy whip his head around to frown at that intense face. “We’re not going to force either of you to do anything you don’t want to.”

Buggy was rarely out of words, but he simply stared at the man, his red lips parted in almost comical confusion.

“I’m sorry, Buggy.”

Those words from the swordsman’s lips had Buggy fearing that he’d died, that his mind was imagining ridiculous scenarios while his body left this world.

But those golden eyes didn’t fade to nothingness. They kept staring at him, those dangerous fingers reaching for his own.

“The fuck…”

“We’re bad people,” Crocodile announced, and the firmness of it made Buggy crack up, his pretty throat exposed while that blue hair fell back.

Crocodile felt the urge to be angry. To demand fear.

That shit was getting old.

And his little clown was cute when he laughed. His little clown was cute when he made everyone laugh.

Still annoying. But cute.

“We’re bad people,” Crocodile apologized, smoothing his hand along Buggy’s back. “That’s not gonna change. But I wish we hadn’t been bad to you. We hope… I hope you’ll let us make it up to you.”

Buggy blinked up at Crocodile in shock, and Mihawk almost laughed. It was surprising to hear so many nice words out of such frightening lips all at once, especially without their darling in front of him.

Mihawk cut through layers and layers of guilt to touch Buggy’s lovely hair, to smooth a hand over his thigh.

No matter which direction he went, he would be hurting someone. There would be no true redemption for a wicked soul like his.

But he could start here with crystal blue eyes, and a silly nose. A nose he used to ridicule, but lately had caught himself almost smiling at when he saw it. Fighting not to reach for his little clown. And why shouldn’t he reach? Who the fuck was he trying to impress? This clown was more interesting than anyone he could think of.

“I am a terrible person. A selfish, cruel bastard. An asshole,” he whispered, staring into his clown’s wide eyes.

“Uh, yeah,” Buggy agreed cautiously, a nervous laugh leaving his throat as his eyes flicked back and forth between his tormentors.

“I’m sorry too, little clown,” Crocodile rasped, fingers pressing in gently against Buggy’s sore muscles. “I know it’s not worth much after everything, but I’d like to take care of you now. Make sure no monster like me hurts you, or our girl again.”

Crocodile watched his little clown try to understand him. He knew it wasn’t worth shit. How could a few words make up for the terror and pain he’d caused? He fought the instinct to slam his hook into the table at his own discomfort, his body not used to accepting guilt.

But this brave little clown had stood up to him. Over and over. Protected his sweet girl from him before he knew how precious she was. Made her laugh.

Made him laugh.

“We won’t hurt you if you leave, even if you take her with you. I hope you stay though,” Crocodile confessed, leaning over Buggy as he stood to walk toward the dance floor. “I’d love to spoil you, little clown.”

Buggy almost fell off the table when Crocodile kissed his temple, and the playful smirk on Mihawk’s face didn’t help.

These men were fucking horrible.

Dickbags. Monsters. Pieces of shits.

But they were also interesting. Relaxing. Intoxicating. Overwhelming.

They made her smile. Made her scream.

Mihawk chuckled softly, and Buggy realized that his eyes had fluttered when he thought about these big, scary, bad guys fucking his pretty star.

Fucking him.

“So, where’s the after party, Mr. President?”

Buggy let out an embarrassingly high yelp at Shanks’ question, breathed along the back of his neck.

“Our little rabbit wants us to pretend we all get along,” Mihawk purred, danger and challenge in those golden eyes. “Think we can all get along on that giant bed, or should I tell–”

“Can we,” Buggy asked, looking up at Shanks’ grin.

What if this is it? What if this is the end?

Buggy wasn’t sure which “end” he was more concerned with, and that made him want to beat his head against the table.

What the fuck do I want?

~~~🐊🤡🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

I want to forget everything. I want everything to freeze right here, tonight. Never start again. Just this.

“All you gotta do is tell us what you want, sweetheart,” Crocodile promised, his hand tracing down your bare skin after Mihawk freed you from those fancy clothes they’d picked out for you. You giggled when Buggy started from the bottom, kissing up your ankle and shin, shivering when Shanks mirrored him on the other side.

“You said we all need to get along, right, love,” Mihawk teased, his voice alone making your body tighten with need. “My little vixen… You want everyone to get along inside you, don’t you? Want us to spoil our little darling? Want us to drown you in come?”

“Fuck, please,” you begged, interupting Crocodile’s weak argument against it. Interrupting whatever flimsy excuse he could muster up for why they shouldn’t fuck your brains out tonight. “Please, fucking take me.”

“Anything for you, little rabbit.”

Oh gods.

So many things. So many sensations.

Buggy on his knees in front of you, his tongue finding your clit like a fucking magnet. Shanks behind you, his hand holding one of your cheeks aside while his hypnotic tongue made you cry out, teasing, and then fucking your ass while you twitched.

Mihawk gripped your hair, forcing his tongue into your mouth while you whined before he shoved your head down, shoving your mouth over Crocodile’s thick cock. You cried, struggling against his size, until Mihawk took your place, showing you how it’s done.

Crocodile threw his head back, and the needy moan from Mihawk’s stuffed throat was enough, Buggy and Shanks’ tongues sending you screaming for the first time that night.

“Don’t stop,” you begged, falling back against Shanks’ chest while you devoured the sight of Crocodile fucking Mihawk’s throat, fisting that soft, black hair, and calling him his “sweet, little prince.”

“Want us to fuck you, little bunny? Want us inside you?”

“Please, gods…”

“You heard her, Bugs, let’s–”

“Shut the fuck up, and fuck my girl’s ass already.”

Buggy was already kissing along your cheek as they kneeled on either side of you, whispering to check if it was alright. Lubed fingers were shoved up your ass while your eyes rolled back, not ready for the pressure that was about to fill you.

“Oh, ffuck…”

“Little bunny likes getting fucked like this, huh? Like my cock in your tight, little ass? How did I know you’d feel so fucking good? Fuck her, Buggy. Let me feel your cock inside her.”

“Buggy!”

“Fuck, star… Gods,” Buggy moaned as he forced himself inside your needy cunt. He kissed you while you fell apart, whimpering and screaming with every greedy thrust. “Shanks…”

“I feel you, Bugs,” Shanks purred, his strong fingers finding your clit. He made you come, screaming your voice away while he talked to your clown. “She’s perfect, Buggy. Let me feel you come inside her. Let’s fill her up. You wanna please him so bad, don’t you? You want his come, bunny?”

“Need it,” you managed to moan while you twitched.

They may have said more words, but all you knew was their achingly hot pleasure pouring so fucking deep inside you. They filled and filled you while they kissed each other over your shoulder, letting out sweet, little moans while you took everything that their cocks could give you.

Before they were done fucking each other through your body, you felt Mihawk’s fingers in your hair, tugging just hard enough to pull you out of the feelings you were about to dip into.

“Want more, darling?”

“Please.”

“So voracious. I wonder if these little boys can keep up.”

“We're just getting warmed up,” Shanks taunted, fucking his come into your ass with a few wicked thrusts while you spasmed against him. “Can’t wait to see what other tricks our pretty bunny can do.”

“Come here, sweetheart," Crocodile purred from the bed, sitting against the headboard. “Daddy’s cock’ll make you forget everything.”

Whining, you begged to get off of the two cocks that had just made you scream, and onto the one that would rip you apart.

“Come on, boys,” Mihawk ordered as he helped you line yourself up, their come dripping down to mix with the lube Crocodile had rubbed over himself for you. “Let’s watch our lovely girl’s sweet pussy get destroyed.”

“Fuck, daddy,” you cried out, the stretch of him inside you still a shock after all your time together. “Daddy, it’s too much.”

“Nah, babygirl,” he soothed, kissing your neck while his hand guided your body over his. “You can take it. Take it for daddy. Take everything...”

“My little rabbit,” Mihawk hummed, kissing up the back of your neck. “You love it when we take you like this, don’t you?”

You started to say yes, but when he shoved himself into your come-soaked ass, all you could do was scream. All you could do was pant, and twitch, and come, and then fucking come again when they told you what a good, little girl you were.

“You fuck our girl so well, little prince,” Crocodile praised, bringing a soft moan from Mihawk’s throat. “Gonna stuff her sweet ass for daddy? Show me what a pretty mess you can make?”

You both cried out, their cocks twitching inside you. So fucking good.

“Mm, be a good boy, and kiss me first. Make our sweet girl come with your fingers again.”

“Daddy,” you fell apart, feeling his lips on yours before you watched him kiss Mihawk over your shoulder. Your head fell to the side, and your eyes rolled back at the sight of Buggy and Shanks with hands and lips all over each other.

But Buggy’s eyes were on you.

“Buggy,” you whispered at the sight of him, and suddenly he was there. He was kissing you.

“My little clown,” Crocodile purred, fisting his hand through that gorgeous blue hair. “Wanna make it up to him, little prince?”

“Yes, daddy,” Mihawk breathed, his fingers still making you twitch.

Buggy had already stopped kissing you, staring back and forth between the two men while they fucked into you, while he trailed his hands down your skin.

“I wanna take care of you,” Crocodile promised, his voice getting rougher as he fucked you open. “You know I’ll take care of you, don’t you, little clown?”

Your mind was almost lost to it all, almost fucked out, but his words felt heavy, vital. Your breath caught, waiting for your clown to answer.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Mm, such a good boy for me,” Crocodile praised, tugging that blue hair a little harder while you came on their cocks again. “Show him how sorry you are, little prince. Suck his dick. Let Buggy fuck that mean little mouth of yours.”

If you weren’t already coming, you knew you would have at those words, at the shocked look on Buggy’s face when Mihawk opened wide, at the sounds they both made when Buggy shoved his floating cock so deep, so fucking fast into the swordsman’s throat.

“Fuck yeah, daddy’s so fucking proud of you,” Crocodile groaned, thick come spilling down the sides of his cock as he filled you. Mihawk made delicious whimpering noises while he came in your ass, Buggy’s cock strangling him, then spilling across that perfect face when it pulled away.

You caught Buggy’s eyes when he stared at his mess, his satisfaction making you twitch again. Mihawk reached for Buggy, kissing him hard over your shoulder.

The door closed. It wasn’t a slam. That probably would have helped you remember why there was a door at all, let alone another human being on the fucking planet.

But the door shut, and Buggy was gone, leaving your body screaming until your other lovers let you loose, praising, and kissing, and touching, until you shivered with pleasure. Carrying you into the shower like they had that first night.

Buggy returned, helping to scrub Crocodile’s shoulders, making you all laugh under that lovely, warm water.

So many pretty lies.

Smiling against Buggy’s chest, with Crocodile curled up behind you, and Mihawk’s hand touching you from around Buggy’s body, you felt perfect.

This was exactly what you’d wanted.

Exactly the kind of pretend you had asked for.

Tonight you only dreamed of the transponder snail, and you decided not to answer.

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

It was already too much. Too much that Buggy couldn’t keep his eyes off of them.

It’s okay. He loves her. We’ll take her away.

Those words rang through Shanks’ mind while his clown couldn’t look away from the monsters in that bed. It was okay, even when Buggy left him without a second glance to kiss her. It was just for her.

Until it wasn't.

He called him daddy.

He let Mihawk…

Mihawk had…

Now they're kissing like that…

Shanks had to leave.

“Shanks, hey! Where ya going?”

The red haired emperor rarely had to lie. Rarely had to fake a thing. Never had to fake a smile.

But he did now.

Shanks plastered a smile on his face, tilting his head at his lovely, old friend.

“I’m good, Bugs,” he lied, moving close. He was about to touch his chin, but the thought of Mihawk there made him pause. “You should sleep in there with her. If you come with me tomorrow, then this is your last night to play pretend with them.”

“But–”

“It’s okay,” Shanks lied again, getting over himself to kiss those faded red lips. “I’ll be here in the morning, Bugs. I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Soft, sweet eyes scanned his face, so Shanks held onto that fake smile as tight as he could. Wanting his clown to be happy.

“Okay,” Buggy whispered, reaching for his hips to pull him closer. "You can join us if you want. I’m sure–”

“I’ll be alright,” Shanks laughed, fighting not to shove Buggy back into that room, and slam the door on his new life that made no fucking sense. “Goodnight, baby. Dream about me.”

A bit of satisfaction ran through him at the shudder Buggy gave when he teased those words, kissing below his ear. The emperor turned around before his clown could say another word.

Shanks needed to get the fuck out of there.

Before he hurt someone.

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

Mihawk couldn’t recall feeling the amount of pleasure, safety, and comfort that he had tonight. The warmth and slow breathing of his three lovers would have had him drifting off.

Yet, he couldn't recall feeling the level of terror and helplessness he had felt when he watched Y/N fracture, the chaos in her distant eyes sending ice through his veins.

His darling's secrets kept him awake, especially at the searing thought that she might leave with Shanks. She might leave before he could hunt and kill whatever had poured that poisonous laughter down her throat.

That laughter.

“Hey, Hawk Eyes.”

Shanks’ quiet voice taunted through the halls, dangerous laughter floating with it.

“I know you’re awake, old friend. Let’s have a chat.”

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!

a/n: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the DRAMA! How's everybody doing?

Part 21

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

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its-rach-writes · 3 days

Text

Like Father Like Son - Chapter One

Pairing: Harry Potter x Reader

Summary: In the midst of a brewing war, a Golden Retriever Gryffindor falls for a Black Cat Slytherin. Hadn't this all happened before?

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, mentions of character death,

A/N: Soooo, I'm back in work after having 10 days of annual leave :'( I will be posting every other day instead of every day! Hope you guys enjoy this and please let me know what you think! xxx

Chapter One

It wasn’t like you hated Harry Potter, because you really didn’t but you just didn’t get what all the fuss was about. Your dad had always taught you to be kind to people despite their blood status or Hogwarts house. When you arrived at Hogwarts, you tried to keep an open mind but Potter was simply infuriating.

He didn’t deserve to just be put on the Gryffindor Quidditch team in first year, after spending 5 minutes on a broom. And, you definitely wouldn’t admit that he was a pretty good player. Your infuriation only increased in second year when he emerged bloody and dirty from the Chamber of Secrets. If that had been anyone else, they would have been expelled, Potter didn’t even get points taken from him, in fact he was awarded a special service to the school!

In third year, you had to watch your Uncle love Potter more than he loved you, as they bonded over Potter’s mum and dad. The boy had stumbled his way through the Triwizard Tournament, getting favouritism at every turn, somehow beating students who were intellectually better than him. The tournament had come to a sticky end when he reappeared from the maze, clutching Cedric’s dead body and babbling about Voldemort being back.

In fifth year, oh in fifth year, for the first time in your life, you were grateful for Potter. Grateful that your Uncle wasn’t alone as he quietly slipped through the veil.

The woods were silent as you and your dad foraged in the clearing for potion ingredients. You were a perfectionist so you would be damned if you lost marks because your ingredients were old and shit. Besides, the silence seemed to work wonders for your dad.

“I’m worried for you, dad.”

He scoffed as he put some ingredients into your basket, “why in the world would you be worried for me?”

You bit your lip as the worry swirled in your stomach, “the Defence Against the Dark Arts position is cursed,” you tried not to think about what had befallen the previous Professors. Snape had left the school the year before and your dad had explained to you that the old potions master was coming back so he’d been asked to fill the role of Defence Against the Dark Arts.

“I don’t want what happened to Uncle Sirius happen to you.”

“Oh, my little star,” he pulled you into a hug, completely encasing you in his arms, “nothing is going to happen to me.”

“Love you, dad.”

“I love you too,” he kissed your forehead, “try to be nice to Harry Potter, this year yeah?”

You grumbled into his chest, “I’m not horrible to him or anything but he just infuriates me so much!”

Regulus snorted with a laugh, “yeah, I know the feeling.”

You cursed beneath your breath as the wheel of your suitcase got stuck. Again. It brought you to a grinding halt.

“Hey, Y/N!” you heard Potter before you saw him as he bent down to unstick the wheel. He was always so kind to you, despite your infuriation with him.

“Thanks Potter,” you went to turn away, but you saw how sad his eyes were, despite his smile, “I appreciate that Sirius wasn’t alone.”

Potter nodded as he pushed his glasses up his nose, “how are you doing with that by the way?”

You shrugged, “didn’t really know him.”

Potter scratched the back of his neck and it wasn’t hard to miss the guilt that spread across his face. You could see Granger and Weasley lingering behind him, “see you later, Potter,” you weren’t in the mood to bond over dead loved ones.

Draco waved at you as you pulled open the compartment door and sat between Blaise and Theo, “saw you talking to Potty,” he commented making you laugh.

“Don’t call him that. And, is this the part where you order me not to talk to him?”

Draco scowled at you, “I don’t care who you talk to, Y/N. Just leave me out of it.”

“Deal,” you grinned.

You spent the first hour sharing food with your friends, listening to Enzo’s stories about his summer in Italy. No one asked about your summer, to outsiders it might have looked like they were being rude but you knew they didn’t want to cause you unnecessary pain. You loved them for that.

Pansy looked up from where she was painting her nails, “isn’t your dad teaching Defence this year?” when you nodded, she smirked, “your dad’s hot.”

“What?!” you squawked.

“Come on! We’ve all seen the photograph of you and him that you put on your bedside. He’s sexy.”

“I agree,” Blaise spoke up, grinning at you, “Regulus Black is a dilf.”

You gagged dramatically, “both of you can keep your filthy mitts off my dad!”

The teasing continued until an eagle owl flew in through the open window looking bedraggled from the earlier rain. It landed on your lap and you took the note from its beak. Sparing a glance at the others, you broke the seal and read the letter, getting worried with every word.

“Mattheo’s not coming back this year,” you said as you passed the letter to Theo.

“Did you see him at yours over the summer?” Blaise asked. Voldemort had been taking up residence in the Malfoy Manor.

Draco shrugged, “when he wasn’t shut up in the guest room,” he glanced at you, “I’m surprised I didn’t see you over the summer.”

“My dad fell out of favour just before I was born,” ever since you were little you’d lived in a cute little house in a valley, by a lake.

But when Voldemort had returned a couple of years prior Regulus had moved you back to his mother’s house. It was unplottable on a map and had various enchantments to deter intruders though your dad still had to use Polyjuice Potion each time he left the house. Maybe Dumbledore has figured that he’d be safer at Hogwarts.

The rest of the journey was sobering as you all constructed a reply back to your friend, hoping he was alright. As the train reached the platform, Pansy outstretched her hand to Draco who stayed seated while the rest of you got up. He told the rest of you to go in ahead and he’d catch up.

You turned to Pansy as you got onto the platform, “you know, you can do a lot better than him right?” she’d had a crush on Draco for years.

“Trust me, I know that now. But, he really is the safest option right now.”

Draco quickly caught up to you while you were waiting to go into The Great Hall, he shoved his hands into his pockets as he followed you in. As you got to the Slytherin table, Pansy pouted as she looked up at the teacher’s table.

“I can’t see your gorgeous dad because Theodore is in the way!”

“I’m not encouraging your sick crush,” Theo laughed as he turned to wink at you.

“Thanks, Theo,” you giggled.

Soon enough, Dumbledore introduced the new Professors, Horace Slughorn and your dad, “there he is,” Pansy hissed in your ear over all the applause, you could hear the smirk in her voice.

Halfway through dinner, Potter walked in holding a bloody rag to his face as he sat down with his friends.

You turned to Draco, “what the fuck did you do?”

“What makes you think I did something?”

“You’re the only person who would,” you scoffed as you watched the boy mop at his face with an already bloodied rag. You grabbed a wad of tissues from your bag and walked over, “Potter, here,” you all but pushed the tissues into his hands.

“Y/N, thanks!” he grinned, even though it split his lip open, blood immediately running down his chin.

“Don’t get it twisted, didn’t want to watch you make a scene,” you spun on your heel and walked back across the hall, missing the way that Potter watched you with a dazed expression.

------------

Taglist: @hiireadstuff

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knight-of-flowerss · 1 month

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BLOOD SACRIFICE

Vampire!Benjicot 'Davos' Blackwood x Septa!Reader

There will be smut so Minors DNI 18+

SNIPPET OF ONE OF THE THREE STORIES!

Synopsis: Many say the church can protect you against evil, that’s a lie. You pray to the Seven for forgiveness and protection, but they do not grant it. The stranger himself gets invited into the church, what will you do when he bears his fangs and gives you the choice between death or lust?

The stained glass shines from the illumination of the moon, the light refracting and casting shadows. My veil covers my hair, billowing down my back and coating the floor in the laced fabric.

My hand clutches my rosary, my mouth moving fast as I mutter prayers to the Seven. There had been talks of a monster amongst us. Murders of young, vulnerable women had become the new town myth, they say a Vampire.

Yes, a Vampire apparently walks amongst us. Ridiculous but precautions must be maintained.

We do not know if the Vampire is tall or short. Young or old. Pretty or ugly. All we know is that there is someone with a bloodlust amongst us.

My prayers are dedicated to the Seven, specifically the Warrior. I prayed to him for protection, to help rid us of this foul disease plaguing the Riverlands.

"I pray to the Warrior for protection and bravery, give me strength and safety and I will forever be in your debt." I mutter, my eyes closed and mind blank, only focusing on the words I’m speaking and which of the Seven I am praying to.

After praying to the Warrior, the Father, Mother, Maiden, the Crone and even the Smith, I go to pray to the Stranger, but something stops me.

I hear a scratch on wood. I stop my prayer for a few seconds, listening to hear. Nothing. So I go back to praying. "I pray to the Stranger-" scratch, scratch, scratch.

I pause, my eyebrows furrowing as I finally open my eyes, moving my eyes around the very empty church, my eyes land on nothing. There is nothing here with me. There must be rats in the wall.

I open my mouth to continue before a loud banging makes me jump and drop my rosary. I look behind me and see the door shake with the sheer force of the knocks.

Once the knocks cease I get the courage to call out in the darkness, "Who comes here at the hour of the wolf?"

Silence. "Answer me!" Silence as well.

I stand up from my sitting position, discarding my rosary as it lays neglected on the floor. I slowly walk towards the large double doors, my bare feet planting on the cold stone.

My body reaches the door, fingers instinctively reaching out and grabbing onto the handle. I go to pull it but I hesitate. What was on the other side? A cat? A person? The killer?…

You only live once, if I am to die then I am to die, it is what the Seven want.

I use a lot of my strength to pull open one of the doors to reveal the cold to the warm.

As my eyes scour as much as the darkness allows me to see. I turn my head right, nothing. I turn my head left, a shadow.

I shriek out of shock, jumping as I look at the body before me. A man. He has scruffy black hair, a cocky grin and a scar above his lip.

"Greetings, Septa." He smirks, enjoying my reaction. Who was this man? "Greetings… how may I help you?…" My tone is sceptical, unsure.

"I need a place to rest until the morrow. Well, it already is, what I mean is when the sun rises." He flashes a charming but cocky smile, stepping slowing infront of me. He was tall and lean, towering over me.

"Of course, you could have just came inside you know? Come, step inside, you are always welcome at the Church." His smile widens and turns into a smirk. His eyes flashing an emotion I cannot put my finger on. But it wasn’t just an emotion. I swear I had saw his deep, dark eyes flash a bright red, but it was dark, the hour of the wolf, I am just tired.

I welcomed the young man inside, smiling politely as I let him in. Shutting the door, I do not realise the danger I face. I have just locked myself in an isolated Church with a Vampire. Gods help me…

Tags: @thethreeeyed-raven @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom

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mochatsin · 1 year

Text

THE BROTHERS ACCIDENTALLY INJURING MC (mildly)

Despite all their efforts to technically baby-proof the house, the school, or even the entirety of Devildom if they could for their human… accidents do happen after all. They’re just glad that you’re not more hurt than they initially thought!

MC is not gravely injured! Just some scratches and bruises at most. Not sure if I’ll write something for more serious injuries scenarios but we’ll see, that will be definitely super angsty for sure.

------------

Lucifer

He was not having it that day. Stacked reports full of complaints in regards to Mammons behavior, property damages caused by Beel’s hunger, and his pen cursed by his brothers to wail and cry whenever it’s used, Lucifer can feel himself about to explode at the next sign of inconvenience in the house while he replaces the pen to go back to work.

It’s when he hears a loud crash in the living room does he feel like he’s going to snap the pen with just his fingers. “I swear when I get my hands on those idiots…” he basically stomps his way to the door before slamming it open.

He heard a loud THUMP! From the door, but not against the wall as he expected. He paused and closed the door only to find you on the floor, rubbing your forehead. You were on your way to see how the eldest was doing and just as you were about to open the knob, the door slammed against you with enough force to make you fall back.

All that anger immediately dissipates when he finds you and immediately kneels down on the floor to check on you. “MC! Are you alright?!” Thankfully the impact wasn’t too much to draw any blood, though you’re certain you’ll get a bruise and it still hurts like hell that it’s making you dizzy.

Lucifer doesn’t want to be the cause of your tears. He helps you up gently with a worried look on his face “Come, rest in my office chair. I’ll get that treated before it starts to bruise.” it hurts him more if you struggle with standing straight.

He’ll come back with an ice pack in hand, locking the door behind him as he goes next to you to inspect your forehead and how much damage he indirectly caused. Of course he didn’t mean it but he still feels bad regardless.

He makes up for that by treating it, and he’s very gentle with you when he slightly dabs the ice pack on your forehead. His words are soft as he asks if you were okay before placing a kiss on your head.

“How come you locked the door though?” you would ask and before Lucifer can even speak, you hear the brothers banging on the other side when they heard you hit your head. “... Ah”

Mammon

There’s not a quiet day in Devildom when Mammon is always stirring up things. Demons and witches are always on his tails until he pays any of his debts that he never seems to have the money for.

There was one particular incident where you were trying to look for him in school since you have so much schoolwork to do, and Mammon was the one who insisted you both be partners for this project. Yet he’s nowhere to be found.

Of course he was running away from a few students who owed a few Grimm from. He’s grateful for being really speedy since he can use this to his advantage, but when he’s got his eyes on the coins on his hands it’s hard to pay attention to where he’s going.

He takes a sharp turn by the halls and he accidentally bumps into you, who was carrying all the project materials. Given his strength, you stumble back harder than you thought and drop everything on the floor.

“ACK! Shit– MC?! Come on, they’re on our tails!” He held your hand so you both could start running but you winced. Mammon paused and gasped when he saw the scratches on your delicate soft human skin from when you hit the concrete floor.

Mammon had no choice but to carry you all the way while avoiding the demons running after you both. When it was all safe, he checked you in case of more wounds head to toe. Would panic if there was any blood. Luckily you just got a few minor scratches on your hands and nothing too bad.

“Asmo’s gonna kill me if he saw what happened to your hands… ya okay though? Tell me if it still hurts and let's find em angels to patch ya up” he would beg Simeon not to tattle on the brothers, since they would not let him hear the end of it if they found out you got hurt. Lucifer would punish him for this happening under his watch (and his actions), even if it was an accident.

If your skin can get so damaged from just falling, Mammon can hardly imagine the worst case scenario. He keeps a close eye on you whenever there are large crowds, making sure you hold his hand the whole trip so he’s sure you won’t fall like that again.

There are times you can feel his thumb brush against the skin of your palms where it was previously damaged. You know he feels a bit guilty for that, so you intertwine your fingers as a way to reassure him.

Levi

Levi has been waiting for this package and now that it’s by his doorstep, he’s absolutely ecstatic. It was a VR set complete with this game from one of his favorite franchises. He hasn’t stopped talking about it for weeks at all and his brothers can finally get some peace and quiet in the house… they were wrong.

One would say that Levi looks a bit silly walking around the house with the headset on. The VR game was about slaying demons (ironically) but he gets to interact with the characters in 3D so whenever he sees his favorite, he would let out an excited squeal.

Lucifer instructed you to follow him while he plays to make sure he doesn’t wander off somewhere or break anything. You just have to make sure to gently turn him to the right directions or hide the glassware away from reach.

It was doing fine for a while until you took your eyes off him for a second and he’s already walking dangerously near the stairs. You know that demons can survive a stumble like that but that doesn’t mean you’ll let that happen to him! So you dive in, grabbing the sleeve of his hoodie and yanking him away from the steps.

Unfortunately, you both lost your footing and fell backwards on the floor with Levi landing on top of you. Levi was surprised and a little disoriented as he took off the headset, only to find himself above you. “W-WHA—!! MC?!?! What’s going on?!”

You hit the back of your head hard with that fall and he noticed with the pained expression on your face. That embarrassment was switched to worry. Levi helps you up and after you explain everything to him, he assists you to the kitchen to find some ice to numb the pain.

“I-i um… I'll make sure that I play this game somewhere safe, s-so you won’t have to worry about me!” Levi promises next time, already planning on searching any equipment or set up he needs to make his gaming experience much safer. He doesn’t want to burden you more than he already has.

He’s clumsy with the ice pack because he’s too nervous of hurting you more than he already did. What if he presses too hard? What if he’s doing it wrong? You’ll have to hold his hand to guide him on what to do or where to place it, and he’ll need all the self-control he needs to stop trembling from your touch.

Satan

Even from the outside of the house, you could hear all the commotion and rapid footsteps. You thought you could leave them for at least one hour while you went out to grab the groceries, and apparently they already started fighting in your absence.

It started when Satan bought a limited edition book signed by the author himself, with only 50 signed copies available. Mammon found the package first before Satan could and decided that maybe he could sell it, but he was caught before he could make any Grimm. In an attempt to get it back, Mammon accidentally tore a few pages. Now they’re both in demon forms running around the house.

“I WILL TEAR YOUR LEGS OFF YOUR BODY WHEN I CATCH YOU” Satan snarled as he tried to capture the one that ruined his precious book. Unfortunately their speeds leagues apart and only Lucifer ever has the power of catching up to his no-good older brother.

In a desperate attempt, Satan throws the book towards Mammon and hopes that maybe if he’s lucky enough it would hit him in the head and slow him down. But that wasn’t the case here.

Mammon saw the incoming projectile and took a sharp turn to avoid it. The moment you opened the door to see what was going on, you weren’t really prepared for the flying book and next thing you knew, it hit you straight to the face.

The force was enough to make you fall back, dropping all the groceries at hand. You expected to hit the floor, but you felt two hands hold you to stop you from falling.

Satan saw the moment you got hit square on the face with the book he threw and ran to catch you before you could fall and hurt yourself further. You open your eyes only to see his eyes completely filled with worry. All his wrath was completely over washed with concern for you.

“I-i’m so sorry MC! Come on, I'll get that treated quickly” He would carry you to the living room, groceries be damned, and cast a small healing spell to ease the pain and discomfort.

Satan makes sure to be more aware of your presence. Just because his outbursts can get intense doesn't mean he'd want you to get involved in the crossfire. Never does he wish to be the cause of your pain, accident or not. It took you quite some time to reassure him since he didn’t mean that in the first place.

Asmo

Asmo was excited to find that the shoes he wanted for so long had finally been released and he’s been dying to try them on. The shoes made him a few inches taller and he loves that since he was the smallest brother in the house. The heels were crafted perfectly when decorated with gems and glitter, it’s practically made for him!

One would find him strutting down the halls with his heels or putting on all kinds of glamor and clothes to match. Asmo could’ve knocked your door down with all that giddiness when he entered your room to show off his new shoes.

He makes running in heels look so easy and you listen to him go on for a while on how the color matches his eyes. By the end of his speech, he grabs your hands and practically wants you to twirl him around like a princess in the spotlight of the ballroom.

With the excitement in each step, Asmo was not careful enough and accidentally stepped on your foot. Normally it doesn’t hurt you but the sheer cheerful energy Asmo had brought about enough force to make it painful. And what’s worse… It was heels.

You wince and take a step back, letting go of Asmo’s hand in the process. He looked at you with a pout until he saw you were in pain, clenching your foot “Love? Oh gosh– Did i?”

He immediately sits you down and checks how hurt you were. Since humans are so fragile and squishy, he worried if he broke a bone or even worse! But you assure him that you’re alright.

“The reddening skin says otherwise! This is not good. We should go get that taken care of in a spa! We can get you those luxurious foot scrubs while I get a pedicure to match my new heels! Come on, I'll get your clothes ready!”

Whether or not you planned to go out today, Asmo is already rummaging through your closet to find the perfect outfit for you in the salon. You can’t exactly say no to a day off to relax, plus he won’t let you stay cooped up in your room like one of his older brothers.

The spa really was rejuvenating and the scrub made your skin so smooth. You’re not sure if this was his way of apologizing or just an excuse to bring you here but it's a win either way right?

When he brought up how you should also wear heels like his to match, you immediately decline with no room for negotiation.

Beel

Beel has brought home some rolled cigar cookies for you and Belphie to eat. They were a new flavor being sold in madam screams, Beel had already eaten several boxes and he’s made sure that he doesn't end up consuming all of the cookies he bought for you guys in one go.

He knew that these sweets would go perfect with some devil’s hot chocolate so he wanted to brew some before he brought them up to the attic.

He had two mugs at hand with the box of cookies in his arms. It’s taking all his concentration to not eat and drink all this food in his reach, especially when his stomach is already empty by the time he left the kitchen. He was so focused on trying to take his mind off his hunger that he failed to see you around the corner.

By accident, he bumped into you and one of the drinks spilled on your arms. Thank god that Beel made sure that the temperature was safe enough for human consumption (since they could probably drink at hotter temperatures), though it still hurt you regardless.

The cookies and drink was left forgotten at the nearest table he can place them as he tends to you. No blisters at least, but your skin started turning red from all that heat that Beel kept panicking as he took you to the sink to get it treated.

“I-I just wanted to bring you some hot chocolate… sorry MC” he has that sad puppy look on his face that makes it hard for you to be angry, not that you were ever mad at him in the first place. Beel spent his time running your arm by cool water to treat it, and even asked Satan to take a look at your skin.

As sweet as he was, if the burns on your skin were actually that bad then expect that he will never let you near any sort of hot drinks. He treats it as if they were poison to you. Your morning coffee? Now it has ice. Your hot chocolate? It’s iced chocolate. It took your brother’s intervention so he doesn’t ruin the soup for dinner for your sake.

Belphie

Belphie was by your side as you watched a local Devildom film in the living room. At first it was both of you watching together since the movie date was his idea, but he fell asleep for the first 20 minutes. To be fair, it was his longest record of keeping himself awake.

There are times that he sleeps so well that he unknowingly shifts into his demon form. It’s just his powers responding to his own dreams, and he’s having a really nice one at this point since it has you and Beel in it, two of his favorite people of all the realms.

You paused the movie to use the restroom for a while when that happened. While he was sleeping, his tail popped up and you didn’t know it until you tripped on it when you came back to the living room.

It wasn’t the feeling of someone stepping over his tail that woke him up, but it was the sound of your pained groans that got the youngest born open both his eyes quickly as he shot up from the couch.

If it were any of his brothers he would’ve been laughing, but he cares about you a lot. So seeing you in pain on the ground brought back some… ‘unpleasant memories’ from before. He goes to your side so check if you’re injured or hit your head too hard when you fell to the floor.

After the incident at the attic, Belphie tried his best to make sure he won't hurt you. He promised you that when you both forged a pact, and it took so much time to gain your trust again after all! Much like Beel, he is all over you in making sure you’re okay. Belphie wants to keep you safe, even from himself.

“I don’t want to watch the movie anymore… Can we just cuddle instead?” He says with a cute pout on his lips. The twins really got the same puppy eyes, making it really hard for you to say no to his naps. This time, Belphie lets your head rest on his beloved soft cow pillow to compensate for what happened.

Takes notes from Satan on how to keep his tail still, since the older demon has more control over it by keeping it wrapped around his leg. Belphie never usually worries about shifting into his demon form, but he just wants to make sure this time!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

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futuremrsreid · 1 year

Text

Watching (S.R)

Summary: Spencer sleeps over at y/n's place and hears something he isn't supposed to.

Content Warnings: 18+, SMUT, downright filthy smut, voyeurism, dubious consent, humiliation, basically reader is wanking and spencer watches without her knowing

Authors Note: I am obsessed with writing morally wrong fics, but I guess this isn't for everyone so please read the CW before you read!!!

“Perverted”, “Scandalous”, “Creepy”- Those were the words that I would have used to describe myself at this moment.

The night had started innocently enough. Y/n and I were having one of our monthly movie nights. We ordered pizza, watched a new release that we had been waiting for for months, and had some wine. Though, as it usually does with y/n, some wine turned into 2 bottles of the dark liquid. I wouldn’t have called myself drunk, but she insisted that I should not drive in that state. It wasn’t the first time I had slept over at her apartment, but this time, I wished that I had just gotten into my fucking car.

While I got ready for bed in the bathroom, y/n was preparing the couch for me since I always refused to take the bed. She still put up a fight every time, as if she didn’t do the same when she slept over at my place, and then pettishly prepared the couch. It was cute, just like every single thing about her was.

I sighed as I spit the toothpaste in the sink, thinking about how much it sucks to be in love with your best friend. Friends to Lovers…yeah, I wish. They make it look so easy on screen, but in reality, it just sucks. I contemplated telling her countless times, but the risk of losing her is too much. Even if she felt the same, relationships can end, people can fall out of love, and then you are left with nothing. I’d rather stick to yearning for the rest of my life.

When I left the bathroom, she was already waiting for me and we exchanged goodnights as we passed each other. Sleeping on the couch really didn’t sound so bad when the alternative was potentially losing her.

That didn’t mean that I didn’t lie awake thinking about what it would be like to sleep in the same bed as her and wake up next to her though. Most times I barely got any sleep, like tonight.

I tried falling asleep for 30 minutes before I gave up and turned the TV back on. I was barely able to hear the show that was running, but I hoped that concentrating on it would make me tired. It would have worked, but just as I was about to drift off to sleep, there was the faintest sound coming from y/n’s bedroom. It was so quiet that I wondered if I had just imagined it, but as I looked at the door, I saw that she didn’t close it properly, presumably by accident.

I closed my eyes again because people make noises in their sleep all the time, especially her, but a few seconds later, there was another noise. It sounded like a whimper, and this time I was sure that I had actually heard it. I contemplated what to do. Y/n had nightmares all the time, as should be expected in our line of work, but sometimes it was worse waking her up than just letting her sleep through it. Though thinking about the time when she scratched herself so hard that she woke up with blood under her fingernails, I got up anyway.

That was the first mistake I made that night.

I swear my thoughts were innocent when I went to push open the door, I just wanted to prevent her from hurting herself, so I was absolutely not prepared for the sight in front of me when the door fell open enough for me to look inside.

Y/n was lying on top of the bed, one hand in her panties and the other clutching the sheets. I froze. I know I should have just quietly closed the door and gone back to bed, but I didn’t.

That was the second mistake I made that night.

I kept my eyes on her, carefully memorizing everything I saw before me, storing it away in my endless memory. The way she arched her back while drawing slow circles over her clit, the way her shirt rose up because of that, and how the exposed skin of her legs and stomach looked in the faint moonlight that was streaming through her window.

The thing that got to me most though, was the look on her face. Her mouth was slightly agape, brows furrowed and her eyes clenched shut. It was absolutely mesmerizing, she was absolutely mesmerizing, and every detail of it was burned into my brain.

I knew how wrong it was, watching her like this in such a vulnerable moment, but I couldn’t look away. I was convinced the gods themselves were punishing me by putting such a sight in front of me and expecting me to walk away from it. It was utterly fucked up.

Another whimper left her, louder this time and she bit her lip, trying to keep herself quiet. God, she was trying not to wake me up but here I was, standing at her door and watching her.

Her underwear was pink, and even though it was almost dark in her room, I could still see the wet spot on it. I felt like I didn’t have any control over my body as my hand made its way to the bulge that was growing in my pajama pants, the pants she got me for my birthday. I remembered the look on her face as I unwrapped the fish print fabric, eyes full of excitement and the innocence that was always on her face. Well, most of the time anyway, because right now, there was no innocence in sight.

I was a sick man.

Her hand picked up the pace and I could hear the wet sounds it made. She sighed and threw her head back the same moment that my own hand found its way into my pants, thumb brushing over the precum-covered tip of my cock. I swallowed the groan that threatened to leave my throat when her other hand wandered to her breast, squeezing it, while I was stroking myself as fast as I could without making any sound.

It was then that I noticed the thing that would forever exile me from heaven and condemn me to a life in hell because while she lay there pleasuring herself, she was wearing my shirt, the shirt I had worn yesterday night in the cheap hotel room we were sharing. I had searched the whole room for it this morning, she helped me look.

I had to bite my lip to prevent a moan from escaping. Not only did she steal my shirt, but she also lied to me and was now wearing it while she fucked herself. The thought of my sweet and innocent best friend doing such a filthy thing almost pushed me over the edge, but like the sick masochistic pervert that I was, I gripped the base of my cock to keep me from cumming so soon. I wanted to watch her fall apart first, knowing if my orgasm finished washing over me first I would feel so guilty and sick I’d probably run to the bathroom to throw up and miss the best part.

The faster her hand moved and the closer she got, the more her sounds increased in volume. It’s fascinating how being aroused shifts your perception of the world around you because I would bet that she didn’t realize how loud she was getting. It didn’t matter anyways because the person she tried to keep quiet for was standing in the dark watching her.

When a whine escaped her, and her thighs started trembling, I knew she was close, so I started to increase my pace. I wanted to come with her, watch her fall apart and use it to reach my own climax.

My hand moved frantically around my cock and when her face scrunched up in pleasure and her thighs closed around her hand, I imagined how they would feel clenching around me. It was that thought that finally pushed me over the edge and made me spill my cum into my underwear. I bit down on my tongue hard and continued stroking myself while coming down, the same way she did.

When her hand stilled and she huffed out a breath, I knew I had to move fast. As quietly as I could I closed the door the same way it was before I had entered earlier and rushed to the bathroom. I cleaned myself up as best as I could and decided that I preferred to sleep in cum covered underwear instead of no underwear at all.

I caught my breath and tried not to think about what I had just done, but when I opened the door to go back to bed, y/n stood in front of me.

“Hi”, she almost squeaked when she saw me. Looking at her face, warm and splotchy from her orgasm, I felt myself getting hard again. I cleared my throat.

“Hi yourself”, I replied, acting like the last 10 minutes didn’t actually happen.

“You’re still awake”, she said and I saw realization wash over her face. To go to the bathroom, you had to walk by her room, and she must have noticed that her door wasn’t closed when she got up. She stood in front of me frozen and I hate to admit how much the sight turned me on. She thought I heard her. God if she knew.

I tried to be a good person, to be a gentleman, and let it go. Let her go to the bathroom to clean herself up and never talk about it again, but I just couldn’t.

“Yeah, I, uh, I couldn’t sleep”, I started and tilted my head to fake a concerned look,” By the way, are you okay? I heard some noise coming from your room. Did you have a nightmare again?” I was a sick perverted man, but the horror that washed over her face at my words almost made me take her right there against the wall.

“Uh yes. Yes, I did, but I’m fine! I’m awake, the nightmare is over. I really need to pee though so… goodnight Spence. Sleep well.” And with that, she started to move around me. I could have just let her go but it was too easy, the opportunity too great not to take it.

“Hey, is that my shirt? I was looking for it all morning.” She almost tripped when the words left my mouth.

“Oh, this was the shirt you lost? I thought it was mine, my bad. You’ll uh, get it back washed and folded just the way you like it. Goodnight!”, y/n rushed out and quickly closed the bathroom door and locked herself inside it.

It was quiet for a moment and then I could hear the faintest “fuck” from behind the door.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid reader #reider #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff

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jamimix · 10 months

Text

Ain't this just a Dream? (Part 8)

SAGAU x Creator! Reader Apologies for the lateness. I was busy procrastinating on this that I managed to graduate college ehe And also, I’m removing the taglist for now. Sorry. I just find myself obsessing over fixing it too much ;v;

Last Chapter

“Your actions are quite admirable.”

The imposter didn’t flinch despite the wind managing to cut a scratch on to their face, yet they frowned, showing their annoyance. Bright red blood dripped from it, making the corners of Kazuha’s lips twitch into a smirk.

“How foolish. Let me share you a secret before we part.” Their eyes lit up green and Kazuha could only watch as the red blood spilling from their face turned to gold starting from the wound. They suddenly twist the blade inside of him, bringing him closer, making him cough out blood, unable to keep it in, and then whispering into his ear. “I may not be the real one, but you will never have your proof.”

He couldn’t see it, but his vision’s glow faded, even as he’s still barely alive. And with it, the control he has over the element, left with the wind. He feels the sword burning in him, but it’s wasn't a painful one, much to his hazy confusion.

He hears your call of his name, making him feel a slight guilt that he couldn’t stop you from seeing him like this. Once the blade finally slides out from him, he finds himself falling backwards into yours and his friend’s waiting arms.

Despite his darkening vision, he sees a genuine smile, so similar to yours, flash on the imposter’s face, while a silent voice rang in his head. For all that what was copied, it didn't sound like you. And though it happened for only a moment, he felt relieved.

‘Thank you for taking care of them, Kazuha.’

He felt so relieved knowing that you’d be safe.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You weren’t sure what you were expecting when the wind quelled, exposing you to the horrible scene. But nonetheless, it woke you up.

Kazuha’s blood gushed down the blade that went through him, the tip of it was an inch close to you, and to the ground below. You suck in a breath, but you regretted it almost immediately. The choking stench, the smell of iron in the air. It all feels too real.

You are not dreaming.

"Kazuha!"

You watched as the blade was ripped out of his body, an amused chuckle slipping out from its owner.

This was never a dream.

You ignored the disrespect, quickly catching him into your arms, not caring about the blood that coated the two of you as his eyes started losing its light. Ignoring everything other than him, ignoring the pair of glowing green eyes that watched your every move, and ignoring the fighting that was still happening behind the scene.

You knew from the start but just didn’t want to believe it.

There's so much blood. Please don't die, Kazuha. Kazuha. Kazuha, it should've been m-

"Ah, I must've failed if you're crying because of me." When did the tears start falling?

With little strength Kazuha have, he managed to bring his hand your cheeks, weakly wiping the tears away, though he only succeeded on smudging his blood on it. You reached up, cradling his hand close to your face.

You couldn’t help but curse yourself. You’re a God, aren’t you? So why can’t you heal? How do you fix this? Why are you so useless?

"Tears never suited you, (Y/n). Smile for me."

And so you did. Wobbly as it is, you swear you tried your best. It was all so you could see him giving it back. But when his hand fell limp, so did your smile. All that was left was a shell of a body of someone you knew and cared about.

At least you weren't alone in your mourning. A faint whisper of his name echoed from beside you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ah, Traveller! What brings you here?”

Seeing Lumine wasn’t much of a surprise for Venti, but seeing the other is. Venti couldn’t help but look at the two with confusion in his eyes.

'When did this happen?' He cannot help but think with slight amusement. Their 'grace' would have never allowed such thing to happen unless...

“Where’s your grace?” Lumine spoke up, looking at him quite seriously. Her gaze is almost colder than that of their grace when they’re mad. Aether just stood beside her, a hand on her arm, making sure she wouldn’t do anything too rash yet.

“Well, shouldn’t you know? Up in the sky, on a heavenly palace made by the beings of the land.” He let out a chuckle, acting clueless, strumming his lyre in in tandem with his words.

“I’m not playing, Barbatos. Where’s the real one?”

Venti’s hands still before he another sigh left his lips. Did they lose them again?

He look at Lumine for a moment before closing his eyes and listening closely to the wind. They're loud, too loud for him to actually hear anything from, seeming to argue amongst themselves, a bit too wary of him. Only once they deemed him not a threat, did they whisper.

"A sad tale has come for us." He says with softly as he finally understood the wind's words, letting his lyre fade away with a sad note. “Let's go to Liyue Harbor.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Are you done?"

They spoke, boredom lacing their voice, yet their eyes show differently. They walked closer to you, stopping just near your feet. You can briefly hear Childe calling out something before a loud thud and a groan was heard.

Looking up, you find yourself staring back at someone with a face so similar to yours. The twitch of your- their lips made it obvious that they’re trying not to grin.

"Really, the audacity of you to- heh- impersonate me is outstanding."

They crouched in front of you, a smile growing on their face as they then whispered, as if not wanting to wake up the dead, bright green eyes meeting yours. Unconsciously, you held Kazuha closer towards you.

"But (Y/n), that's not true at all, is it? Oh, how I missed you."

You flinched when their hand went towards your face. You tried to move backwards, with Kazuha still in your arms, but you were stopped by the bridge's railing. They ignored your movement, continuing to put their hand on your face, wiping away the disgusting blood that the samurai got you. Abruptly, they stopped, sighing before moving their hand away.

"It seems you're not complete yet. Apologies for… hurting him. I’ll make sure to wrap him up nicely."

Opening up their palm, green faint light suddenly enveloped you and Kazuha. You tried to stop it, trying and failing to wipe it away, wishing in your mind for it to do so, asking Teyvat to do something… But nothing happened.

Helplessly, you can only watch as it slowly wrap around the both of you.

“Sleep.”

With darkening vision, you barely saw them standing up, and with a snap of their hand, Zhongli stood by their side with an unconscious Childe dragged by his hand. The former’s eyes widened as they saw blood dripping from his God. A sick sense of pride after seeing it gleam so golden.

“Your grace, you’re bleeding!”

They ignored him, keeping their eyes at you as you finally lost yourself to slumber, watched as your arms held Kazuha tighter before losing the ability to do so. They silently wondered if you’ll ever remember doing that with them.

"I will deal with them personally. As for the body... I applaud dear Kazuha for his braveness, give him a nice coffin and send him off to our Captain Beidou. "

"Understood. But what of Tartaglia?"

It was only then that the imposter’s eyes left you, looking at the boy who has been so loyal to you enough to challenge the whole world.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They were too late. Greeted by a bloody scene and a half-broken bridge, worry grew more rampant in their hearts. There's a puddle of blood on the bridge entrance. They were thankful that it’s not gold, but still...

“I’ll go find Morax to get some answers. Try not to be too suspicious while I’m out.” Venti left, not waiting for any response, knowing he didn’t have to.

Seeing his sister’s shaking hands, Aether brought his to hold on to Lumine’s, trying to provide a bit of comfort.

“Traveller? We are glad to see you back.” A guard spoke up with a small smile after seeing her.

“What happened here?” The guard frowned, pity and disgust swirling within their eyes as they eye the mess.

“An imposter was caught wandering around the harbour. A fatui and a wanderer tried to help them escape. One got caught with the imposter while the other died.”

Lumine’s breath hitched. Died? Someone died? Surely, surely, it isn't-

“Who… who died?”

“The one hailed from Inazuma. Kazuha, I think his name is. I heard from the others that our grace is kind enough to send him away in a nice coffin. Something about being impressed by his braveness…” The guard trailed off after seeing the dark look that enveloped the other’s face. It was only when someone put a hand on the Traveller’s shoulder that he realized that they aren’t alone, shocked to see the similar face.

“Is this…?”

“Where did they take them?”

The two pairs of seemingly glowing golden eyes made him spill everything. Such lucky fellow, he woke up not remembering a single thing.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Teyvat is… sentient in a way. It could not talk nor directly interact with its inhabitants, it cares for them all deeply. It could only show its care by little ways. The changes in weather, the growth of life from its dirt, and the calmness of the seas for the travellers.

But it wasn’t always like this. It was only because of your absence that they gained such thing. All the power that you had, has to go somewhere, does it not?

When you came back abruptly, a tiny bit of your power leaked out, a forest was quick to sprout and monsters, as some of its inhabitants has called them, appeared out of nowhere. Teyvat was quick to react, stopping the overflow, tried so hard not to let all your power rush into you, not wanting you to get hurt. And though you are its creator, it could not help but care for you as a mother to a child.

So when you were travelling around its lands and sea, it was slowly giving you back every bit of power you used to have. Even if one day, Teyvat can never be there for you again.

Sadly, it was cut off when you asked to go to the Abyss.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact sagau #kazuha kaedehara #sagau x reader #genshin impact self aware #reader insert #sagau #genshin impact

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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 2 years

Text

Of Traitors and Oathbreakers

Summary: A Black in Greens territory is never a good thing, especially if that means falling into the hands of Prince Aemond

Notes: Aemond and reader are childhood friends turned enemies (with benefits). Had to write something for my favorite war criminal. The reader is the child of the blacksmith of the Red Keep (bc why make Targaryen!readers when they can be ~different~)

Hobroti jās – Fuck off

Nyke pendagon avy jorrāelan – I think I love you

Warnings: rough/hate sex, dub-con (power imbalance), biting, scratching choking etc, mentions of starvation, war, imprisonment

Taglist: @levithestripper (hmu to be added!)

Ending 1 / Ending 2 | Masterlist | requests are OPEN!

You didn’t remember how you got here. In fact, you didn’t even remember where you had been wanting to go, or who had been with you.

All you knew was that you were stuck in a cold cell, water dripping from the ceiling between short pauses of silence and driving you close to madness. When you looked out of the small crack in the wall of your cell, you’d seen molten towers you only recognized from childhood tales.

Harrenhal.

Currently territory of the Greens, and you were a Black. The name Targaryen could neither protect nor endanger you here, and for that you were grateful, but for everything else…

They didn’t let you out, whoever your jailers were. If your standing allowed it, you would have thrown the bread they gave you back into their faces and called them cowards.

But your mother had taught you to be resourceful, and your father had never let you leave scraps on your plate.

The only way for you to gauge how much time had passed was from the crack in the wall, watching the sun rise and set, but even like that you lost count after a while. You would’ve gone insane from the cold in your bones or the slow drips from the ceiling, or maybe even the loneliness, if it hadn’t been for the expression of wrath you had seen on the face of your Queen.

Your Queen. Rhaenyra. And yet, she would not risk her life, or that of any of her dragonriders to save you. You knew that when you kneeled for her in Dragonstone, and you had remembered it ever since. Yet you couldn’t help but wish that the situation was different.

Dying like this wasn’t what you wanted. It was everything you despised – the cold, the loneliness, the harsh walls around you. Worst of all was the darkness though.

You’d grown up in your father’s workshop, surrounded by fire as the Targaryens were with their dragons. Light and heat was your childhood, your comfort, and though learning the craft had gone to your brothers, you hadn’t let that keep you from picking up every weapon your father had crafted.

A gift that had cursed you later in life, bringing you into this cell.

The first time they opened the cell door completely could’ve been days or decades after your initial imprisonment. You didn’t demand answers, didn’t fight them yet, letting them drag you out and through empty hallways.

Once, you caught the smell of soot and ash, wondering whether it was from a smithy or a dragon. Were they taking you to your execution?

You doubted it. No one but the Targaryens were executed by the Targaryens themselves.

Instead, they brought you to the tubs that were in the cellars of Harrenhal. The water was hot, steam rising up from the water of the pools, and you could swear that there had never been a lovelier sight.

The guards did not bother turning their backs, so you turned yours. You had no weapon to defend yourself, and you weren’t ready to give all of your dignity just yet. Quickly, you sank into the steaming water, beginning to scrub the smell of dirt, blood and piss from your skin.

Death clung to your skin like a scared child to her mother. You hated it.

The cell had given you more than enough time to remember, but it seemed that you could not. All you knew was that you had been sent to find the host of the Northmen, making your way through the Riverlands.

Somewhere between Dragonstone and Harrenhal, someone had killed your crew and taken you prisoner, leaving you to wake up with their blood on your hands, literally.

Your bath was cut short by a young woman shooing the guards out, before helping you out of it. She was the first one to show you a semblance of respect, handing you clean clothes and a cloth to dry yourself, but she wasn’t willing to talk to you.

Perhaps they were all mute here, terrified into silence by their Lord, the Lord Confessor of the Greens. Perhaps it was yet another way to torture you.

She was somewhat gentle when she helped you lace your dress, before she left you to your own devices again. It was strange to be clean again after such a long time. The dance had left you permanently disheveled in some way.

Even before, Daemon had been drilling you in the yard, making impossible demands at you. You were the only one who made it through his snide remarks that brought grown men to tears and desperation. You would have never admitted the rewarding smirk he gave you after a long sparring session reminded you of a Green.

The woman had you follow her into a small chamber, only equipped with a small cot and a chamberpot. It was barbaric, but infinitely more than the cell you’d been forced to call home.

Here, where you were all alone, you could take in the changes of your body for the first time. Wearing a dress made the loss of weight noticeable. You’d exchanged a part of your femininity for the harshness of battle a long time ago, it was the price female fighters paid in Westeros.

The time in the cells had made the rest of that softness fall off your bones, and all that was left was sinew and muscles. You knew it wasn’t healthy, but you hadn’t had your moon’s blood since the beginning of the war, and a truly delicious meal since even longer.

Luxury was a faraway dream, a whisper of the days in the Red Keep, where the worst punishment had been your mother chasing you through the stables to give you an earful about sparring with princes and forgoing your chores in favor of riding. Where your friends had comforted you after your brother became collateral in a fire in just this castle. Where you’d witnessed Vaemond’s bluntness be his death, and where Daemon spotted your talent as you trained in the yard.

Daemon had taken you and your father from the Red Keep, under the pretense of needing a smith and the truth of wanting a warrior that would always be underestimated. A girl who could slip through the cracks in the expectations of men and then slit their throats.

That was what you were to him. And for a while, you hadn’t noticed that he’d taken your childhood, for he had raised you to glory and given you a taste of battle. But where battle was, war followed, and it quickly reared its ugly head.

A knock ripped you from the myriad of thoughts in your mind. Who would knock at your door? You were a prisoner. If anything, you should be the one knocking, begging for their freedom.

You didn’t answer, and they paused for so long you thought they actually wanted a reply from you. But then, the door swung open.

“She told me you would be here.” He said.

“Who?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Aemond replied. He stared at you silently, taking in the tightness of the gown, the slim shape your body had never had before. “Hmm.”

And then, he left, leaving alone again.

Aemond. What was Aemond doing here? He was Aegon’s brother, wasn’t this below him? Shouldn’t he be commanding great hosts, slaying his enemies from above?

He returned with food. A steaming bowl of stew, the smell of which made your stomach growl audibly, and a tankard of ale. It was making you forget that he was your enemy.

“It’s not poisoned.” He said.

“You’ve had enough opportunity to execute me.” You shrugged, hungrily digging into the meal. Aemond only hummed, a habit familiar to you.

He did it the few times you beat him in a spar, trying to assess what went wrong. When he heard you complain about the stench around the smith, only for the noble lord who pissed onto the walls of your home to disappear from court a day later. When Aegon taunted you for being a girl that would never amount to anything, lowborn and worth nothing, only to receive his brother’s punches seconds later.

“I’ve missed you.” He said quietly. You supposed that that was the way Aemond was: quiet in everything. Protecting, fighting, respecting. You wondered if that applied to-

No. Just because he was practically the first man you’d seen since your confinement did not mean you had to fall at his feet. He’d been your friend, and now he was your enemy. Both weren’t what people should pursue.

“You killed Prince Lucerys.” You replied.

“Just as much as his mother did.” Aemond snarled, but he didn’t sound so sure.

“She is the queen. You are responsible.”

“She has put Helaena into agony! Do you know what the war does to her? Days, spent in tears, fearing her own dreams and what may come! Helaena knows what will happen to her, and it is too atrocious for her to speak of, even to mother!”

It felt like a blow to the stomach. Helaena was strange to the ladies of the court, but she was always kind to you. There was an unspoken agreement between you and Aemond as children, that when you played hide and seek in the Godswood with Jace and found Helaena playing with the bugs in the bushes, you’d leave her alone.

“The mother that started all of this.”

“I didn’t know war made you into a frigid bitch.” Aemond spat.

“No, traitors do.” You said, throwing the insult back. His hand shot at your neck, and you wondered if he would kill you.

Days past flashed through your mind, afternoons spent swimming in Blackwater Bay and hiding from septas, mothers and knights. Sneaking Aemond into the city to buy him food from the street vendors in Flea Bottom. Teasing him for his royal stomach as he felt queasy afterwards, assuring him that you weren’t afraid when he returned from Dragonstone, a patch covering his eye. The awkward kiss you shared as teens, neither of you wanting to be unprepared for your great love you were so sure was to come.

His hand was still there, cold to the touch. Jaw set and fury blazing in his remaining eye.

“I lost control of Vhagar.” He confessed. A whisper so hushed it almost carried away into silence. “And it was me who killed your men and took you to Harrenhal.”

“They were good men. They had families, and you killed them.”

“This is war. You’re their bloody commander!” Aemond snorted.

“You could’ve killed them when they made it to battle, to let them die with honor.”

“They wouldn’t have lasted much longer.”

“You don’t know that.” You spat.

“No, but you do. Who made you into a commander? You could barely put a scratch on Aegon when you left for Dragonstone.”

“Daemon did. And I’ve been better than Aegon a long time. I just happened to be lowborn.”

“Think you can beat me?” Aemond laughed, cold and arrogant.

“Why don’t we take this to the yard and find out? It would be a pleasure to kill you.”

“Vhagar would devour you, if you managed.”

“As she did with Luke?”

Just for a moment, Aemond’s façade crumbled, and he grew pale, before he regained his composure, but you already regretted your words.

“Did you eat your heart when you grew hungry in your cell? Or was that Daemon too?”

“And when did you grow into the arrogant prick your brother and grandfather envisioned you to be?” you spat, trying to even your tone.

You felt the frustration and anger of the last few months becoming a knot in your stomach already and watching your childhood friend throw insults at you hurt more than any blade could have.

“Cunt.” He replied, his anger evident in his tone as well.

“Traitor.”

“Bitch.”

“Kinslayer.” You said, letting go of all reservations.

“You’re still a dumb little girl.” He spat. Somehow, this was worse than anything else. Aegon had always called you that, and after one particularly bad day, Aemond had come to apologize for his brother, promising to never say that to you.

The tears spilled quicker than you could stop them, but even through the blurry vision they created, you slapped Aemond as hard as you could.

You wiped your eyes just in time to see his expression, mouth hanging open as his hand touched his cheek gingerly. Before he could regain his composure, you ran into him, throwing him onto the ground. You didn’t care as you heard his body hit the ground, only trying to hurt him somehow, to show him what he had done to you.

But Aemond was at full health, and a man that was taller than you by a bit while you hadn’t eaten properly in weeks. It didn’t take him long until he had flipped you around, holding your wrists down to the stone floor.

You struggled against him, trying to kick him or knee him in the balls, but Aemond was quicker than you, pinning your legs as well.

“Fuck you! You promised me!” you shouted at him, still trying to get your wrists out of his grip.

“You want me to apologize?”

“Yes, I do.” You snapped. “You broke a promise.”

“Hobroti jās.” He replied.

“Your Valyrian bullshit doesn’t scare me.” You laughed, but you were lying. It did. He could be threatening to kill you for all you knew, and you would be none the wiser.

“Is that so, my love?” he taunted.

“Don’t call me that.” You replied.

“Why? Have a lover waiting for you at Dragonstone? Prince Daemon himself perhaps?”

“I don’t. And the King consort would not dishonor his queen like that.”

“I suppose you’re not much to look at anyway. Especially not after a stay in the cells.” Aemond cruelly spat.

Your snarl fell from your face, your mask cracking quicker than you wanted it to. Not being as desirable and pretty as the ladies at court had hurt for as long as you could remember, but it was worse coming from Aemond somehow.

“Never took you for the vain type.” Aemond continued relentlessly, driving the knife in deeper.

“As if you’re a looker.” You replied, trying to push the tears he had cried over his face for years into the background. You knew it was mean, your choice of words especially, but he was just as horrible. Yet, when you said those words, Aemond recoiled from you for a moment, giving you the opportunity to free yourself from his grasp.

You crawled backwards, trying to create space between the two of you, but Aemond grabbed your ankle, pulling you back towards him. You crashed against him, causing him to let go of you to catch himself.

Trying to take advantage of the moment, you pushed him down by the shoulders, trying to ignore the fact that he was staring at you.

“Nyke pendagon avy jorrāelan.” He said. His eye was wide, staring at you with anger and… was that awe?

“Stop with the Valyrian!” you said, punching against his chest in a futile attempt to regain control.

He smirked at you, satisfied that he was getting a rise out of you like this, and you hated him for it. You’d spent a lot of your time around Daemon, for fuck’s sake! This shouldn’t be having any kind of effect on you!

You should get up now. You could get up, your brain was screaming at you, but instead, you stayed where you were, your hands on his shoulders in a futile attempt to subdue a Targaryen.

You stayed where you were when Aemond leaned forward, until your faces were only centimeters apart.

“Go on.” he whispered. You weren’t sure what he wanted, only that, in that moment, closing the space between you felt right.

It took you about two seconds to break the kiss, biting Aemond’s lip. “I hate you.” You tried, but you heard your own voice, and it didn’t sound too convinced.

“Are you?” he asked, wiping the blood from his lower lip with a small smile.

“We’re enemies! At war. We should be killing each other, not doing… this.”

“I took too long. I tried to convince myself that letting you rot would be a good punishment.” He said.

“It is! Look at what I’m doing.” You replied.

“You drew first blood. Hate to admit it.”

“You are insufferable.” You said.

“Am I? You haunt my dreams, taunting me with what I’ve done, and now that I let you speak to me, you make my nightmares reality! I want you dead, and yet I can’t help but want you all to myself.”

“Oathbreakers are the highest of traitors, and I swear, one day your head will be on a spike in the Red Keep, and I for one will be glad for it.” You replied, but it sounded weak against his words, refined with years of study you didn’t have.

“Then why did you kiss me?”

You hated that you didn’t have a witty response on your tongue as Aemond would have.

“Give in.” he said, and by the Gods, was there ever a sweeter temptation?

“So all the blood spilled under my command will be ridiculed?” you asked.

“I am a Targaryen, blood is in my nature. What better way to honor them?”

“Than kissing you? I can think of more than a few.” You laughed.

“I don’t give a shit about kisses.” Aemond replied. When he crossed the room, you didn’t dare back away. They called Aemond a One-Eyed devil, but you had taken off that eyepatch to care for what remained far too many times not to see him for what he was.

All the violence, the fire, the insecurities. His inability to look at his reflection, the pride and guilt of being Vhagar’s rider. The love for Helaena and hate for Aegon. His lust and distaste for the crown, the never-ending spiral of paradox that he was.

But you had been made violence and fire as well, to hide your weaknesses and make you lethal.

Before his lips could crash onto yours again, you felt the horrible realization of what had happened hit you. Your hands caught his chest, and Aemond froze.

“Daemon sent me.” You said. “He knew, didn’t he? He knew you’d spare me; he knew that you’d try to kill me, and that you’d fail because I am your friend.”

Slowly, you watched as Aemond walked to the door, grabbing something from behind a loose stone. You thought he’d hidden the dagger to kill you, until he flipped the handle towards you.

“Do it then.” He whispered. Your hand shaking, you tried to take the blade. You could end this war. You could kill the biggest asset the Greens had. He was practically offering himself to you.

Yet you couldn’t level the knife to his neck. Slowly, you let it sink again, hand trembling until the dagger fell. It clattered on the ground loudly, reminding you of your guilt. The traitor you had just become.

But Aemond was already on you, hands cupping your face as if you were fragile, thumbs stroking your cheeks like a lover to be cradled, soothing the unsurety that confused your thoughts.

“I still hate you.” You whispered between kisses, but Aemond barely bothered to smirk at you.

Instead, your hands betrayed your instincts, wandering to unlace his leather doublet, still shaking from the dagger.

“I hate you too.” He replied, ripping at your gown until it tore from shoulder to hip.

“That was the only one I had.” You complained.

“I’ll buy you another.”

“You’re such an ass.” You snapped. Aemond didn’t reply, his hands wandering to the curve of your hips instead.

The cot made an audibly creak as he lowered you down onto it, and you caught the blush on his cheeks.

“Don’t like being heard?” you asked.

“Not particularly. Didn’t know you did.”

“I don’t. I just happen to be poor.”

“Who?” Aemond demanded.

“What?”

“Who fucked you?”

“You thought I was a virgin?” you taunted.

“Their names.” Aemond managed through gritted teeth.

“Let’s see. There was Alyn, the city watch guard. He was my first. Then your mother’s maid, and a barkeep in Flea Bottom. A former septon at Dragonstone, he was go-“

“Shut up.” Aemond commanded, his hand on your neck again. His other hand was tearing at your dress, and the fact that he was desperate to have you made you feel powerful.

A prince of the Seven Kingdoms, subdued by the daughter of a blacksmith.

What a song that would make. In truth, you were desperate to kiss him again, to bite his shoulder while he fucked you languishly and have him pull your hair while he took you from behind. To dig your nails into his shoulders and watch his eye grow wide as he took his pleasure from you.

“Take it off.” You said.

“What?”

“The eye patch.”

“No.” Aemond refused.

“I’ve seen you without a thousand times. I want you.” You said.

He let you remove it, and your smile grew as you saw the dark, glittering sapphire filling his empty socket.

“Do you like it?” he asked carefully, sounding like the young boy that had reluctantly shown you his angry, red wound the first time he returned from Dragonstone.

“Would you wake if I stole it in the middle of the night?”

“Don’t try it.” He warned, finally unlacing his breeches. Without warning, he lowered himself to your cunt, before he thrust into you slowly. You screwed your eyes shut, trying to adjust to the stretch of it, but the pain felt just right.

“Alright?” he asked.

“Just been a while.”

He nodded, before he thrusted a few more times. And then, without warning, his hips snapped forward, burying himself in you to the hilt.

Your hands clawed at his shoulders, desperate for something to hold on to, and Aemond lowered his face to your breasts, taking his time with marring the already bruised skin on your chest further.

His thrusts were harsh, reflecting the anger that was still marring his features. If there was a truly gentle side to Aemond, it wasn’t here now.

Instead, he was all rough and messy, pressing his lips to yours in a desperate attempt to soften its gestures, but all it did was make you gasp into his mouth, only encouraging him to drive further into you.

It took your breath away, leaving you biting his shoulder and neck as you had imagined, fighting him tooth and nail for control.

There was an edge to him, one you’d seen before in Daemon and Rhaenyra, and even Helaena at times. Power and magic that made the Targaryens untouchable, and it clouded his senses just like yours.

His hands were everywhere, grabbing whatever he can take hold on. Bruising, marking your flesh and you know that it’s to claim you over and over again.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes again, but of pleasure laced with pain this time, the stretch of his cock so unbearably good it makes you wonder why. Why hadn’t you done this sooner?

Had this lust been there before? Would this have happened without a war?

Was that really what it took?

“I need…” Aemond began, trailing off into nothing as he nipped your lip, mirroring your gesture from earlier. He pushed your knees towards your shoulders, driving even deeper. It makes you a mess, fall apart in just the way he wants you too.

“Don’t stop.” You begged. “Don’t ever stop.”

“I won’t.” Aemond promised, and his words spoke of the things neither of you dared to say.

“Take me. Make me yours.” A part of you said, one that you did not know you possessed.

“My fierce girl.” He praised. “My fighter, my darling. My love. Mine, mine, mine.”

His words became a mantra, thrumming with the racing beat of your heart.

Yours.

Betrayal shouldn’t feel this good, and yet, Aemond made the guilt disappear into background noise with soft praises soothing earlier insults. He flipped you around after a while, hands grabbing your hips as you tried to steady yourself on the cot, hands tangling with bedsheets.

They bruised you again, lilac and purple blooming on your skin, bones stretching against it. You were hungry for something you didn’t know you wanted, and Aemond’s hands promised sweet release.

His chest flattened against your back, jaw finding your neck again and biting more marks into it, as if there weren’t already enough there. Hands tangling into your hair, he turned your head to kiss you harshly, more teeth and bite than soft kisses, but in that moment it felt right.

“Gods.” He gasped, thrusting into you with a frenzy. His hands found your sweet spot, rubbing until you found yourself painfully close to the edge. You could feel his breath on your back, the desperate savageness that accompanied his person now.

Heat bloomed in your stomach as you felt him continue, observant to your reactions. He studied you as he studied his swordplay, a skill he wanted to master. He already had, and yet, you couldn’t help but arch your back and meet his cock.

“So desperate?” he teased, and you ignored him, even as he taunted you for fucking yourself on his cock.

“You’re the one rutting into me.” You tried. Trading insults didn’t feel necessary, you were both desperate enough for each other to betray the cause you were so loyal to, and that was proof enough of your desperation.

“Give in.” he demanded. “Give yourself to me.”

“You’re mine,” you managed instead. “You’ll always be mine; I don’t care about the rest.”

He bit back his witty comeback, you knew it. It felt like a heartwarming gesture, if his hands and cock hadn’t made your spine go soft and your legs shake. He was desperate to make you cum, and that was how you knew he was close as well.

You wanted him to cum first, to lose if only in this, but with a few more sloppy thrusts, he had pushed you over the edge, your arms failing you as he followed after you seconds later.

As soon as it was done, he tried to move away from you. He let you pull him back in. You kissed him softly, slowly, as you had longed to do for a long time.

Now that his anger had dissipated, his lips melted against yours, his grip gentle and soft again, soothing over the love bites he had just made.

Carefully, he dressed you, a proud expression on his face as he noticed his seed between your legs.

“You’ll get me moontea for that.” You said.

“Or a septon.” He smirked, tying his breeches.

“What gave you the impression?”

Wordlessly, Aemond scooped you up into his arms, carrying you to the door.

“’You’ll always be mine’ was quite indicative.” He said, mimicking your gasps. Aemond carried you all the way to his chambers, setting you down on a bed that felt like a cloud.

“We can’t marry.” You reminded him quietly.

“Yes, we can. I’m the prince.”

“Precisely. I am a blacksmith’s daughter for the enemy of your faction.”

“Perhaps I shall make my own faction then.” Aemond replied.

“And make a peasant your queen? I do believe the nobles would rather have a woman then.”

“My mother would love you.”

“Since when? No doubt she knows I fucked her maid as a parting gift by now.” You said.

“That was your last act in the Red Keep?” Aemond asked. “I do admit, it might be a little difficult to make up for it.”

“I mean it, Aemond. ‘Tis no joking matter. You must either let me go, or kill me now, for I know I cannot do that to you.” You replied.

“You can leave tomorrow morning.” He agreed. “And I shall have no mercy if I see you on the battlefield. Or you can stay, and marry me at noon. The choice is yours to make.”

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chvoswxtch · 2 years

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hello love :)

i can't stop reading your fanfictions!! they are so perfectly done ! thank you so much for writing them :)

i don't know if you are still accepting requests but if you feel like it could you maybe write a reverse matt takes his frustration out on reader? maybe the reader comes home angry because of work or something and first wants to go boxing but matt convinces her to stay with him because he knows she will keep on boxing until her knuckles are soaked in blood. to his surprise (and excitement) reader becomes super dominant. bites him, scratches his back and maybe even rides his thigh.

the next morning when the bruises and scratches are visible she feels guilty but it ends in fluff<33

thank you so much :)

hi nonnie! :)

I actually really love this reversal idea!! thank you so much for requesting it, & for the incredibly kind words. I had a lot of fun with this one a bit too much probably. I hope this is what you were looking for! enjoy!!!

warning: contains explicit sexual content (minors please dni), swearing, a brief mention of blood word count: 2.4k

use me.

“Use me.”

Matt’s words momentarily halted your furious pacing, the first thing to cut through that fog of anger that he understood all too well since you’d walked through the front door moments ago. He could hear the thunder in your heartbeat from three blocks away, and instantly knew today had been a really bad day for you.

He didn’t want you to go to Fogwell’s. He’d actually grown to regret taking you there, teaching you how to hit, and showing you what he did when he needed to blow off steam in between his nightly patrols. You let your rage consume you just as easily as he did, punching the worn leather over and over until your own knuckles bled if he wasn’t there to hold you back or wrap your hands properly. Matt didn’t want you to hurt yourself. He just wanted to help.

Matt took cautious steps over towards you, nodding his head slightly in your direction as he kept his voice even and quiet.

“I know you need to get it out, so use me. Let it all out on me, sweetheart. I can take it.”

Your breaths came out in angry, staccato beats and Matt could hear the way your teeth slightly ground together by the way you tensed your jaw.

“I don’t…I don’t want to hurt you-“

The edges of Matt’s mouth turned upwards slightly in an amused smile as he let out a dry chuckle.

“You’re not gonna hurt me, honey. And even if you do, you won’t break me. I can take a lot-“

“Yeah, but I’m not supposed to add to that, Matt. I’m supposed to be your relief from it-“

“And you are. Now let me be yours.”

You had let Matt use your body plenty of times before to try and tame that thing inside his chest when nothing else seemed to work. Now, he was offering you his. He took another careful step forwards, completely blocking the door frame to cage you into the bedroom as he listened to the violence that thrashed around beneath your ribcage. His fingers twitched at his sides slightly in excitement. Matt had always been the one in control every time the two of you were intimate. It grounded him despite all the other chaos in his life, and you liked it just as much as he did. You didn’t even have to think about submitting to him; your body did it all on its own. Every time he touched you, even faintly, you melted into him, letting his body absorb yours completely as he molded you to his own liking.

But he couldn’t deny the exhilaration he felt about the thought of you commanding him for once.

Matt loved to please you. Even when he was in control, he was focused on your pleasure just as much as his own. He loved getting rewarded with your chants of his name, endless praises falling from your lips as you let him take what he wanted, leaving marks on your body like trophies for how well he’d treated you. Matt was a giver, even while he was taking, and he never let himself free fall into bliss until you had jumped first.

But right now he wanted you to be the one to take. He wanted you to take until he had nothing left to give, and then he’d find a way to give you even more.

“Use me, sweetheart.”

Matt moaned against your lips when you dragged him down by his tie to capture his mouth, hands immediately gripping onto your waist as you grabbed onto the back of his neck tightly to keep him in place. His lips parted abruptly when you nipped at his bottom lip, a soft whine sounding in the back of his throat at the way you tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck. He stumbled slightly when you turned him around, forcing him backwards until the back of his knees met the edge of the bed, pushing him back with all your strength before straddling his lap.

He bunched your dress up around your hips while digging his fingertips into the soft flesh of your thighs. Your kisses were hungry and fervent as you dominated his mouth with your tongue, and it made his head spin. Matt quickly pulled your dress over your head the second you broke apart for air, groaning softly when you attached your lips to his neck to suck on his pulse point. Your fingers savagely tugged the soft fabric of his tie from his neck, nearly tearing every single button off his dress shirt before ardently shoving it off his broad shoulders. Matt instinctively bucked his hips upwards when your nails scratched at the skin above his belt, nimble fingers working on the hook of your bra as yours made quick work of his belt and the zipper on his pants.

Wrapping his arm tightly around your waist, he lifted you up slightly to push his pants down his thighs to his ankles, moving his knee between your thighs so you could straddle one of his. Placing his hand firmly on your lower back, he encouraged you to move your hips as you licked and bit at the sensitive parts of his neck.

“Move your hips, baby. Feel good on me, c’mon.”

A loud moan left your lips when you started to ride Matt’s muscular thigh, and the sound went straight to his fully erect cock. He whimpered softly when you sank your teeth into the juncture where his neck met his collarbone, digging the pads of his fingers further into your soft thighs. He could taste your arousal in the air and feel it coating his thigh as it seeped through your panties, and he swore he could come just like this.

Matt had never seen this side of you before, but he wanted more of it. He loved how greedy and possessive you were with him, a surprised moan of your name leaving his kiss bitten lips when you yanked his head back by his hair.

“Fuck…”

Matt hissed softly when you dragged your nails down the smooth marble of his chest, subconsciously moving his hips upwards every time your clothed pussy rubbed against his thick thigh. Your fingertips paused at the waistband of his briefs, and he leaned his forehead against your shoulder as a needy whine slipped past your lips.

“Matty…please…”

“Go ahead, take it. It’s your cock, baby. Take it and use it. It’s your-oh…God…fuck…”

Matt whimpered as the fabric of his briefs rubbed against his aching tip when you tugged them down. His jaw went slack the second you pushed your panties aside and sank down fully onto his cock, both of your loud moans of relief bouncing off the walls. Matt’s face twisted up in pleasure, his dark brows knitting together in the center of his forehead as you grabbed his face in your hand to moan against his lips.

“Fuck…you feel so good, Matty.”

You clawed at Matt’s back hazardously as you rocked your hips with a vengeance, and he whined loudly from the rapture that followed the sting of your nails carving into his skin. Every one of Matt’s senses had been kicked into overdrive, and he was completely overwhelmed by you. The praise of his name falling off your lips, the tang of your desire mixed with sweat in the air, the smell of your apple scented shampoo right beneath his nose, and the warm silk of your skin beneath his hands…it was almost too much.

Placing your palms flat against his chest, you pushed him back against the mattress and hovered over him, grabbing both of his hands to hold hostage above his head as you rode him even harder. Matt’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head as he reached a new depth inside of you at this angle, panting heavily beneath you while squeezing your hands tightly.

“Take what you need baby…take it, that’s-fuck…yes baby yes…”

Matt’s moans were nearly breathless when you quickened your pace, and it was taking every ounce of self control not to combust before you got what you needed from him.

“Keep fucking me like that…fuck me how you want baby, c’mon. Make yourself feel good on my cock…just like that baby-fuck…yes…yes.”

“Look so pretty like this Matty…so fucking pretty. Such a good boy for me.”

Matt moaned your name loudly at that, thrusting his hips upwards to match your rhythm to try and get you as close to the edge as he was.

“Fuck baby…please…come on my cock, wanna feel it. Need to feel it.”

“You like when I fuck you like this, Matty?”

“God…yes. Please don’t stop. Keep fucking me like this…please baby, please.”

He could feel that you were close by the way your walls tightened around him. A strangled moan erupted from his throat when he felt your pussy clench tightly around his cock. He wasn’t going to last another second if you kept doing that.

“Fuck…babygirl…you’re gonna make me come…I-oh…”

“Want you to come for me, Matty. Come inside me, baby. Show me how good I make you feel.”

“Baby-”

Matt’s whine got cut off when your hand wrapped tightly around his throat, fingers squeezing just enough to make him completely lightheaded.

“Be a good boy and come for me.”

He couldn’t take it anymore. He wanted to wait for you. He wanted you to get what you needed first. But you were fucking him too goddamn good, and you gave him an order. He wanted to be good for you. He wanted to make you proud. Matt let out a loud yell of your name as he came the hardest he ever had in his entire fucking life. He was nearly in tears from overstimulation as you rode out your own high, whining when your pussy gripped his spent cock again as the mix of your releases leaked down onto his thighs.

It felt like his head was underwater as he tried to catch his breath, your voice sounding muffled and far as you whispered into his ear and brushed his sweaty hair away from his forehead. His arms felt heavy from exhaustion, and he couldn’t hardly move them from their place above his head. The last thing he remembered before passing out was hearing your sweet praises in his ear and feeling your soft kiss on his lips.

Matt had never felt more refreshed in his life than when he did the next morning. His body didn’t ache with exhaustion or pain. His mind and senses felt exceptionally clear. The weight of the world didn’t seem to be bearing on his shoulders for once. He felt…relaxed. Happy. He couldn’t remember the last time his body hadn’t felt so tightly wound up with stress, or his soul so heavy with guilt. His entire being seemed to tingle still with electric shocks from the gratification you had given him last night, and he couldn’t stop smiling.

His ears perked up when he heard the uptick of your heartbeat and the rustle of sheets when you began to stir. A giddiness filled him that you were finally waking up, and he made his way into the kitchen to make you some coffee the way he knew you liked. His excitement only grew hearing your feet padding softly and lazily along the floor, but his good mood was cut short when he heard the soft gasp of shock leave your lips.

“Oh my god, Matt.”

He quickly whipped his head around to face you, blank eyes darting around in your direction as he focused his senses completely on you. A furrow formed between his brows as he cocked his head to the side, unable to identify the source of your unease.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Your back…”

“What?”

Matt stood still as you quickly made your way over to him, gently pushing at his shoulders to get him to turn around. Another shocked gasp was muffled by your hand being placed over your mouth, fingertips hovering just above the skin of his back.

“Oh my god, I…I’m so sorry. I didn’t…I didn’t mean to do that. Matt, I’m-”

“Sweetheart, what are you talking about? What’s going on?”

Matt’s confusion spread over the rest of his features as he turned back around to face you, gently grabbing onto your waist as he felt the way your bottom lip began to tremble.

“Matt, your back is all scratched up. I made you bleed. And your neck and chest…God, Matt they’re covered-”

“Wait, that’s it? You’re upset because you left a few marks?”

“A few? That is a lot fucking more than a few. I can’t believe I-”

“Hey hey hey, easy. Honey, it’s okay-”

“No it isn’t, Matt. I can’t believe I did that to you.”

Matt sighed softly as he wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you into his chest, gently cupping your jaw in his hand as he gazed down in your direction with a light smile.

“It doesn’t hurt. I’m okay, I promise. I leave marks on you all the time, don’t I?”

“Never like that.”

Matt’s tongue darted out to quickly wet his lips as he shook his head slowly, leaning in to brush his nose against yours while brushing his thumb along your jawline.

“Baby, they don’t hurt. I promise. And you know what? I like that they’re there. Wanna know why?”

A smirk stretched across his mouth at the way your body tensed up hearing his voice drop a husky octave lower, lips instantly parting as he rubbed his thumb along your bottom lip slowly.

“Because you enjoyed yourself that much, that you had to bite down on me to try to not be so loud, even though I prefer when you are. Because you were riding my cock so fucking good, and were so fucking wet, that you had to dig your nails into my back to hang on to me. And now, wherever we go, everyone can see these, and they’ll know that I’m yours. So, why should you feel guilty about any of that, huh? Can’t you feel how much I like them?”

Matt suddenly pulled you flush against his hips, causing a whine to slip past your lips as you felt the evidence of his truth poking into your lower belly.

“Matty-”

“Shh…you were so good to me last night, babygirl. Treated me so well. Now, you’re gonna sit on that counter and spread those legs so I can say thank you.”

tags: @yarrystyleeza @little-miss-dilf-lover @neverlandcity @charmedkim @messymissy @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042

#matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock fic #matt murdock smut #matt murdock request #daredevil #daredevil fic #daredevil smut #daredevil request

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