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tac-the-unseen · 11 days

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Lost Boys x Injured Reader

CW: Gang violence, guns, blood, description of unlicensed surgery, minor gore

You and David were by a small brick wall with all of the boys parked bikes. While Marko, Paul, and Dwayne ran around and had fun with each other, you and David stayed behind. David stayed because he was scouting victims, and you stayed behind because you were incredibly tired. You had to work earlier than normal which threw off your whole sleep schedule, and the headache you were sporting wasn't helping either.

Dwayne had already told you how unnecessary it is for you to work. Not only do the guys have a huge amount of money and other values stashed away, you’ll only end up burning yourself out. You however were firm with working, it gave you something to do. While sitting back to never work again sounds like an absolute dream, the sinking pit in your stomach told you otherwise. You felt too lazy. Mix that with anxiety and you swiftly found yourself a job at the local mall.

You laid on top of Dwayne’s bike, the (arguably) most comfortable bike, while humming to keep your mind busy. You cross your arms over the handlebars and use it to cushion your head. Your legs are just short enough to miss the ground, so you swing them back and forth. Your eyes slowly start to close as your mind slips away into a light nap, but that's when your body jolts itself upright. Your body reacts before your brain fully understands what was happening.

Gunshots, several of them.

The fast pops whip through the air, then are quickly followed by more. It's not rare that Santa Carla has a few idiots with guns, but what is rare is a full on shoot out. You see several people running away from the middle of the boardwalk. You watch as they push past each other and you even catch sight of the poors souls that get knocked to the floor. You know those people will be trampled to death by the terrified crowd, but you can't help but briefly think about how horrible that cause of death is. Head trauma, crushed ribs, pierced lungs, snapped neck, all happening to you in a matter of seconds. It's truly a brutal way to go.

David grabs you by the arm and pulls you off Dwayne’s bike and into his chest. David turns himself around to cover you and put you onto his own bike. That's when a sharp, burning pain hits your shoulder. By the time you know what's wrong David has already started his motorcycle and is speeding off. You hissed in pain as the warm California air hits your red, hot, open wound. While David drives you slide off your jacket and press it into the hole in your shoulder. You lean into David's shoulder and bite down onto his leather coat. The stinging pain mixed with the bounce of the trail makes you nauseous, but before you know it, your home.

David wastes no time parking his bike and grabbing you, pulling you into the cave. He runs past the common room, kicking shit out of the way, and sets you into the nest. David is fast, his movements show panic, But oddly enough not his face. He's stone cold, you'd be almost offended if you didn't see the way his pupils are blown wide open. He is panicking, he's just not showing it.

In his haste he grabs some old clothes of his from what you can assume was the 1800’s. Lucky that old thing is clean, you know because you're the one that washed it. He presses the white cotton button up into your shoulders, your body reacts by trying to pull away, but David doesn't let you get far. “Hold still love.” He pleads gently.

You hiss at the touch, Your shoulder burns and stings with a dull throbbing pain. Your heartbeat throbs in your ears while David does his best to stop the bleeding. You're lurched back into reality as someone pulled you into their chest by the waist. You look back to find Paul pulling you in and hastily kissing the back of your head. You look around to see Marko and Dwayne finding more cloth to stuff the wound.

By the four shirt the bleeding slows and your vision is swirling. Dwayne holds your hand and presses kisses into your knuckles while Marko and David are setting up supplies to dig out the bullet and sew you shut. You see them using a lighter to disinfect a pair of tweezers and two needles. Your tears blur you vision so much there's no point in keeping them open.

“I know baby, I know.” Dwayne tries to reassure you, but they all know that's not going to work. You hear footsteps and open your eyes to look up. David is crouching down with the sterile tweezers and you catch the look in his eyes. He's clearly anticipating your reaction, they all know it's not going to be fun.

Paul grabs your other hand and interlaces his fingers with yours, Dwayne is quick to do the same. Another wave of panic shoots through you, while this is an act of love, they're also holding you down.

“Ready?” David says in the most delicate voice you've ever heard from him. You sob out and brace yourself, David knows you're never going to be ready, but has to do this either way.

When he begins digging you're met with what is now the worst pain you've ever been in. Being shit was one thing, this was 10 times more intense. You feel every jab and poke, the pain is nearly indescribable. You seriously would have rather been stabbed.

While you violently sob and scream, Paul and Dwayne hold you down tightly. You legs twist and almost kick David, but Marko was quick to swoop in and pin them down too. With all this chaos David is apologizing with every movement he makes. He shushes you while digging into your bleeding wound until he hits metal.

He slowly drags up the bullet. When the Damned thing is dislodged from your shoulder David quickly packs the wound again. “I'm sorry love, you did such a good job.” He praises while getting up.

They wait until your crying slows and you're no longer trying to kick the air...or Marko. Marko lets go of your legs slowly and stands you. He hurries over to the cabinet and grabs an already threaded needle. “It's not over yet, love.” Paul whispers in an apologetic way. Marko sprays the wound with a disinfectant before he begins his work. David is now the one hugging your legs as Marko gets in close to sew you together. “1…2…3!” Marko says before the needle pierces the lower part of the wound.

Your voice is hoarse from David's previous excursion, but you still manage to hiss and cry. Marko’s work is quick but not sloppy. He too is spewing apologies like a prayer. By the time he's done you've lost all your fight and lay limp and sobbing against Paul's chest.

Marko sprays some disinfectant on your wound and patches you up with cotton pads and a cloth wrapping. As soon as he's down you're pulled into a laying down position by Paul and all four boys start cooing at you.

You're surrounded by purrs and buzzing, praises and kisses, all around you. But that all combines into mindless ringing as you stare up at the ceiling. You still feel the stinging, pinching, and throbbing burn. The thumping of your heart hasn't stopped either, you're still in pain.

Finally your body gives in and your vision fades.

The first sight you're met with is the ceiling. As you blink away the sleep you catch a glimpse of fluffy blonde hair. You turn your head to see Marko asleep and more of Paul's hair. As you come too you realize you're still on Paul's chest. You look to your other side and see both Dwayne and David also asleep.

You gather that it's probably morning and that you probably missed your early work shift. While that thought flies through your head the second one to follow is ‘I’m fucking quitting.’

You slowly wiggle yourself out of your mates arms and the nest, and quietly leave the room. You're still in pain, and the wiggling around you just did wasn't helping, but it was manageable. What really bugs you right now is how thirsty you are. Your body is screaming for water like never before. You guess it made some sense, you did lose quite a lot of blood.

You shuffle over to the living area, in the corner are stacks of water bottles. You remember when you first began staying in the cave how you complained that the cave didn't have any running water. You half jokingly said you'd start bring jugs of water when you stayed over. The next day when you complained of thirst Marko busted open a large crate and pulled out a plastic water bottle with absolute glee. Bastards had waited for you to complain all day so they could show off the water they stole for you.

While making your way to the water supply you hear a similar shuffling behind you. “What are you doing up this early?” you hear Paul's groggy voice behind you. You lean over a grab a bottle, you don't even attempt to talk, you know your voice is gone by the way your throat is still raw. You just hum at him and chug your first bottle.

By the time you reach for your next his arms are around you and gently rocking side to side. You untwist the cap and chug your second bottle. “You're gonna need vitamins and shit.” he grumbles into your good shoulder.

“They’re gonna need more than that.” Another voice murmurs from the dark. You don't have to turn your head to identify David’s voice. “We'll get you plenty tonight, but for now we all need sleep.” He promises in a sleepy tone. You finish your second bottle but your thirst is still unmatched

With Paul holding onto your middle you make grabbie hands at the water stash. David grunts in response but get you your third water. “Finish that and we'll go to bed.” Paul says and kisses the side of your neck.

When you're done you're hauled off to the nest and tucked into place. Dwayne and Marko are just slightly awake and mumbles out incomprehensible words. You're put in-between them with Paul and David quickly to snuggle into your lower half.

Its uncharacteristically gentle of the, but you definitely don't hate it. Even more kisses are pressed into your hips and forehead, as they all settle back into sleep. You too fall under sleeps spell while you plan out what food you're gonna eat when night falls.

The last thing you hear are soft purrs.

Thanks for reading <3

I know it's not the greatest but I have like 5 finals to do. I'm in my last couple of days before I graduate.

#slashers #reader #x reader #the lost boys #fanfic #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #paul the lost boys #marko the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys x reader #angst #hurt/comfort #tlb 1987 #david tlb #dwayne tlb #paul tlb #marko tlb

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absurduty · 3 months

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HOTLINE | GHOSTFACE X FEM!READER

a b r i d g e m e n t : ghostface has been stalking you for some time… but do you even care?

TW: masturbation, stalking, degradation in a sickeningly sweet tone (pet names), reader being absolutely whipped for ghost, oral (both receiving)

A/N: credits for the second picture belong to jadegpp on pinterest 💋

“Yeah, I’m telling ya, Stacy, the trip was bitchin’.” you rambled adorably through the brick cell, your vacant hand focused on painting your toe nails.

your hands were beautifully manicured, he noted, and before you could say another word to your friend over the phone, his aching member was already being freed from his trousers. it wasn’t often that a potential victim could get him this hard on the first day of stalking, but you were just too pretty.

your perfectly plump lips were rambling on, and he just wished he could slip his cock inside of those, holding your head in place. your pretty nails were shining due to the lamp at your nightstand.

“Yeah, no, I wouldn’t even do that for 10 dollars… what was Brody thinking?” you giggled, throwing your head back.

how he wished he could mark that beautiful neck, kiss it, suck it, squeeze it. his fingers gave the first tug at his throbbing cock, his eyes focused on your legs. your left foot was placed on your right knee, giving him a glimpse of your soaked panties.

“Come on, Stacy, Brady and Louis were definitely trying to cop a feel at me. It was pretty bodacious.” you grin, biting your lip.

oh? you’re getting off on two boys? his hands were pumping his cock even faster, watching you squeeze your thighs together.

“Yeah, I gotta go, call ya later,” you say in a high-pitched phone, quickly putting it back into place and finally sneaking your hand on your panties, rubbing over the fabric.

goosebumps started to grow on your skin, and your trembling hand rubbed the fabric into your throbbing pussy, soaking the cloth.

and as he watched from a window, he furiously stroked his aching cock, leaking every thrust as he got so far into it, he pushed his hips up into his hand.

fuck. his little doll was just too pretty. she deserved to be fucked hard and deep, like only a prince could fuck his princess. for that pretty face alone, she deserved his cock. his cock only belonged to her.

and as he watched you slip the panties to your knees, your perfect clit perfectly positioned on display, his claims were proven true.

your slender fingers made their way onto your clit, rubbing and daring. how adorable that your cheeks were already red, it made him wonder how you would react bouncing on his thick cock.

you bit your lip, your eyes focused on the locked door. your moans were muffled and your eyebrows furrowed. and just when his load shot onto his stomach, you decided to insert your fingers.

your beautiful fingers appeared and then disappeared into your pretty hole, repeating the notion. your thighs were quivering, and you tried to take it slow.

you pushed your hips to your fingers, and he could swear you were putting on a little show, by the way you were putting on an adorable face. his panting heaved and he was sitting there in the aftermath of his climax.

you stood up on shaky legs, and managed to position yourself at the round bed post that looked like a doorknob.

and fuck, if you hadn’t looked like an absolute beauty, you do now.

now he’s seeing you grinding against the bedpost, carefully rubbing your desperate pussy all over it, smearing your juices and rolling your hips. you let out quiet whines and kept riding the bedpost as if it were someone’s face.

you looked like a fucking doll. he couldn’t believe you were all dolled up in nail polish, make up and that goddamn skirt just to be fucked by a bedpost.

if it were up to him, you’d be tied up to that very same bedpost as he fucked deeply into you, feeling his cock protruding all the way into your belly. he’d roll his hips and let you feel every second of it, all while licking your tears away.

he couldn’t believe why you hadn’t gone to have a dorm at your campus. seeing how desperate you were, he was sure you'd let every college boy take you given the chance.

but no, instead you were fucking a goddamn bedpost, like a goddamn slut as your parents are busy doing whatever the fuck.

but before he had time to ponder, he spotted you nearing your orgasm and reached for his phone.

and lo and behold, just as you were about to burst, a ringing sound invaded your ears.

pretty tears of frustration graced your face as you so adorably punched your pillow. nonetheless, you pick up.

“hello?” you asked in a teary yet soft tone. god, he wanted to hear his name in that tone. to hear you praise his girth.

“hello, y/n…” a raspy voice came from the other line, and you couldn’t have looked more clueless.

your bottom lip was pouting, and your expression softened from frustration to confusion in a matter of mere seconds. he’d kill millions to bring you that same expression as you bounced on his cock, too confused for anything to make sense.

“who is this? and how do you know my name?” you asked, your pretty little heart beating out of your chest. you nervously resisted the urge to scream at him to answer quicker.

“So y/n is indeed your name…” he answered huskily, looking at you through narrowed eyes. he couldn’t help but let out a deep chuckle as you responded by chewing on your nails.

“now, don’t ruin that pretty red color,” he tsked playfully, basking in your expression of realisation. “such a pretty little thing, it would be a shame if something happened to you now, wouldn't it?"

“please, this isn’t funny,” you whine, quickly pulling down your skirt. “please tell me who you are!”

“you should see how scared you look right now, all by yourself in your cozy little room. It's quite the sight.” he interrupts, not bothering to answer your plea.

“please, why are you calling me?” you ask, tears in your eyes.

although you couldn’t see him, that didn’t stop him from mocking tapping on his chin a few times, smirking at your stupidity.

"why, because I wanted to talk to my favorite princess, of course!” he mockingly taunted. “it’s not everyday that I get to see you in such beautiful clothes. all dolled up and ready.”

“ready for what?” you asked softly, to which he let out only an incredulous laugh.

“baby, are you this stupid?” he laughs, his deep modulated voice booming. “how am I supposed to come over and fuck you senseless if you already don’t have any in your pretty little head?”

your breathing hitched, but you felt your pussy purring greedily.

“there she goes, already getting all wet and needy for a fucking voice on the phone,” he tsked, shaking his head. “does my pretty girl need something in her pussy?”

and there you go, abandoning all morals as you nod your dizzy head and calm yourself down. you haven’t spoken to your hook-up in three months and you absolutely need it. he knew you needed it. but do you know what’s happened to that little hook-up of yours?

“so, this is what you’re gonna do,” he starts bringing his lips closer to the voice modulator. “you’re going to open that window, and lie on your bed with your pretty legs spread. I need that pussy glistening for me, doll.”

you nod, desperately scrambling to open your window, and you eagerly spread it. you shiver slightly due to the cold air on your bare cunt.

and after 2 minutes, you ultimately see that infamous mask, staring right at you. his hands are gloved, something that turns you on.

his hands rubbed up and down your thighs, as if marinating a chicken. you looked up at him, and he tilted his head to the side.

“you’re making it hard for me not to fuck you into oblivion when you keep gazing up so sweetly at me.” he spoke, his voice higher than on the phone, but nonetheless deep.

“then do it.” you smiled, to which his gloved hand rubbed your cheek and he laughed.

“too fucking adorable,” he chuckled, and let you nuzzle your head against his hand like a little kitten. “but you wouldn’t be able to handle it. as if I’m like the little boys you hang with.”

“they’re my age!” you protest, to which he quickly placed his thumb past your lips.

“keep sucking, sweet slut,�� he cooed, his unoccupied hand freeing his cock.

you kept sucking on the thumb, swirling your tongue around the fingertip and before you know it, it was being pulled out of your mouth with saliva connecting. and to your surprised, he guided the tip of his cock to your plump lips, rubbing against it.

“open up, sweetheart. m’gonna keep you real quiet. don’t want your parents to hear you getting fucked, do you?” he asked in fake sympathy, holding you by the throat.

you shook your head, and quickly opened up your lips, allowing your wetness enveloping his thick meat. it disappeared past your soft lips, and you found your mouth drooling from the edges, your spit tracing a vein on the underside.

“there we go…” he murmured sickeningly, moving your head and pushing his hips. “that’s my sweet girl.”

you whine at his praise, the pulsations felt by his cock. he let out a grunt and you bobbed your face, almost choking on it.

he smiled, brushing away the hair sticking to your sweaty forehead. your tongue was swirling around the base, and you feel your hair being pulled into a ponytail.

he tugged at the ponytail whenever he wanted another whine out of you, and you claw at his thighs, wanting so desperately to deep throat him.

“fuck, are you getting all worked up for me, baby?” he asks, thrusting into your mouth. “my pretty baby, my prettiest girl.”

you couldn’t do anything but nod as beautiful tears streamed down your cheeks. your eyes were red, and your lips swollen to perfection. his hands tangled through your hair, intentionally messing it up. his chest heaved as you kept sucking and your hands rubbed up and down his thighs.

and before you could make him cum, he pulled you off him by the hair and threw you to the bed.

you sat up by your elbows as he crawled over you, taking off his mask and having his nose brush against his.

his lips planted traces on your jaw, and you wrapped your legs around him pulling him closer to you.

“does my girl have no patience?” he asks, kissing down her face, to her neck. “I guess I can’t wait either. not while you taste so sweet.”

he flips over, and has you straddling him. he slightly pushes his hips up as if you were sitting on a horse from a merry-go-round. you smiled, gripping onto his shoulders.

“come on, my sweet, you know what you need to do,” he said, a smug smile on his lips. you took the hint and quickly lowered your pussy onto his face.

you wanted to lift yourself a bit, afraid to suffocate him, but he wouldn’t even use his tongue unless you fully sat on his face. you obliged, of course, your throbbing clit soothed by the feeling of his tongue connecting to your juices, eventually slurping it up.

“a-ah, n-need you…” you moaned, grinding against his face. his nose, combined with the sensation of his tongue made your thighs shake.

“need me to do what, baby? I’m already eating this sweet pussy up.” he cooed, before pushing you back down on him. “use your pretty little mouth.”

“f-fast…” you continued, grinding against his nose and face.

“oh, that’s it, baby?” he mockingly murmured, lifting you again from him, and you already missed the sensation. “is that all your pretty little lips could muster?”

you nodded, and before you could open your mouth again, he pushed you back down, his tongue penetrating your pussy. you moaned and moaned as he grunted, the vibrations of his voice felt by your pussy.

you gripped the headboard, rolling your hips as if you were riding a horse. if his eyes were open, he might have been able to see your perky breasts bouncing and occasionally rubbing against the headboard. his face was covered by your skirt and you looked like a college girl with her boyfriend.

“f-fuck, I’m going to…” you blabber, to which he speeds up his ministrations.

and just when you were about to burst your cum onto his beautiful face, he stopped. and the tears of frustration kept streaming down.

“oh, calm the fuck down, dollface,” he said, chuckling and rolling his eyes. “I’m giving you my dick, and then we’ll both cum, does that register in your dumb little head?”

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izanazqueen · 10 months

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- HIS VIOLET GAZE.

izana kurokawa x reader -

for my dearest izana -

an: fem! × reader- cursing, smut, intercorse, rough sex, making out, creampie, pet names, suggestive themes

izana/reader are both aged up 20+

- he stared down at you, his lilac eyes and tanned skin practically glowing from the sweat glistening from his body as he was fucking into you deeply. ' mmph! '.. you whined under his strong figure as he pumped his bulging cock inside your throbbing core. you felt physically entranced watching him in the slim black tank top he was wearing, clinging perfectly to his form making you mad with desire for him. you hummed in sync to his thrusting and heard a loud moan come from you as his tongue ran over the top of your breast, where he firmly sucked his plump lips, leaving a darkened hue on your torso.

- izana placed his battle toned biceps around his girl, lifting your ass up and pressing your torso against the brick wall, shoving his dick even further inside your soft walls than he already been. 'ah- zanaa! -' your voice sounded unfamiliar to even your own ears, given the way he was fucking you with such intent after the silly argument you both had earlier. you knew he would be rough with you but damn you were not even remotely prepared for what this man had in store for you. 'bab-, pleassse ' before you could try and finish, izana bit down on your neck sucking onto it with full force making your pussy tense like crazy around his length.' thats it love - just like that.' he said in turn in between his pants and moans.

- the way his skilled tongue worked it's way up across your neck and made its way through your lips with what started as a soft, sweet kiss leading into an instant fiery oral tug of war. 'izan- ahhh -' breathlessly his name left your lips, 'fuck baby deeper -' it felt so good what he was doing to your body, leaving him shook- completely unrealizing what you just said, making him go insane. the silver hair man started to fuck your body with relentless force, in ways you never thought he was able or imaginable throwing you into a state of chaotic craze from how hard he was pounding your pussy.

- you knew your boyfriend was a into a kind of different sex- usually you didn't mind when would he get rough with you but there were times where izana could cross the line. and this was one of those evenings. it was like he had absolutely no limiter when it came to fucking his property. 'ah- babyy-'

- you stared up into those beautiful amethyst gems of his as your boyfriend made his hard dick push faster up and more aggressive further past your possible threshold. 'mmph! zan- ahh!- ' your body screaming in pleasure and and a equal tone from your lips to match, you felt your heart quiver. that was the place he belonged. you loved him, your dearest love izana kurokawa.

- feeling terrible for how you said everything to him earlier- it was the truth but you didn't necessarily say it in the kindest of ways you decided maybe you should push yourself a little further this evening for his sake. watching him hold you in his strong arms rutting into your hips with force and uneven in his movements even stronger than before sending into pure pleasure, you couldn't deny him no longer. your heart swelled at the sight of his beautiful form, feeling his legs slightly shaking and you figured your boyfriend must be running out of initial steam. reaching down grazing his cheeks with your fingertips you cooed at him 'cmere, baby-' placing your arms around his neck feeling his weakened body as you saw him glance up at you with desperate eyes. you pushed yourself down off of his cock and with two feet on the ground you practically launched at him. catching in his embrace he looked down at the top of your head, startled. your eyes flashed up at him with a mischievous glint, one that izana never really ever seen in you before. still panting franticly he felt his heart ache looking his beauty of a woman. he gleaned at you 'hmm, what is it darling?'

-furrowing his brow looking confused you proped yourself in his ear and quietly gave him the words you had saved for in this moment. ' tonight. ' his violet eyes grew gigantic at that single thought. 'do you mean, its actually alright w you ? ' he said dumbfounded. with the cutest smile you turned and gave him a peck on the lips ' yes love- i want you to give you all of me.'

- ' fuck.' he sighed. he wanted that more than anything. without another word, izana grabbed your arms and pulled you into a passionate blaze of kisses, providing you with so much affection you could burst. 'babee, heh eee- .. ah- babe!' you could barely breathe. not only from his mouth now trailing into yours with his experienced tongue from years of being with you and learning your desires but also from how much izana made your senses overload. he gave one final wet kiss to your lips before making his way with you in his arms to where the small bed he had made for the two of you in just these times in the layout of tenjiku.

- his lilac eyes watching you writhe in ecstasy beneath him as he mercilessly thrashed into your vagina without a shred of remorse. after all- you said this it was what you wanted. izana had dreamed of this moment having someone some one all his own, all to himself. someone he could do whatever he wanted to and couldn't have imagined it any better. you were perfect. his sweet girl. his muse. he wouldn't let anyone else have you- ever. he was gonna make sure of that. - 'promise its ok, darling?' he breathed ragged as he neared his incoming climax. you could barely talk let alone form a proper sentence from the rolling orgasms he was sending your body into. leaving you in tears, weakly crying in between short- broken moans, 'mm.. p please- give mee nngh-' unable to even try to finish.

- he felt you cream on his length and izana started to lose his composure. this was it. he drove his cock furiously inside your walls faster than his bike at top speed and he felt his insides come undone. he squirted his seed further deep into your pussy and you became enamored by his entranced state. the way the spark flashed in his eyes when he came inside of you and the way he had you feeling made so full of love and his cum you could cry.

- 'hmm- ah.. mmh' he whined and whimpered like a small plea for help to bring him back down from the heaven he escaped to. ' you-' he trailed off. not because he wasn't able to speak- moreover he was unable to find the words. he couldn't believe you let him finish inside. completely flustered he finally found his chance to make it make sense. you wanted this- you wanted him. never did anyone want him before. not even his own family. izana knew the truth. you were his family. his own life to begin anew and it made his heart feel sore. it was painful having someone to love because he knew there were people who were out there that would hurt you just to get to him. there wasn't a chance in hell he would let that happen. you were his. no one would ever touch the kings property. he would make sure of it.

please do not copy / repost my work

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harunovella · 1 month

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*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ something about him was made for somebody like me; l.s.k.

synopsis: you never knew love at first sight could strike you so hard, and neither did he... content: canon divergence, age difference (older male/younger female), love at first sight, you and leon are both on the delulu train, minor mention of injuries (nothing crazy I promise), kissing, just a lot of swooning and blushing, not beta read (sorry for any errors!) note: my first ever leon fic!!! (pls be kind to me) I love this man so much and have read so many good fics on ao3 that I wanted to finally give it a go... I hope you all enjoy! (p.s. I imagined it as infinite darkness/death island leon since I made it older leon but you can always picture him as re!6 or any of the other older leon looks since he has so many!)

In a million years, you never thought you'd fall in love with someone at first sight. Yet, here you were, seated at your parent's dining table across the man who saved your life, with the biggest heart eyes you could ever form. Leon Scott Kennedy, the absolute man of your dreams. He was the love of your life, and you knew it instantly went you meant him only hours prior.

It wasn't wise to walk around in public distracted, you knew this, you were raised to know this... Yet, here you were, earphones popped in as you hummed along to one of your favorite songs that recently became an instant repeat. There was a pep to your step, your heels clacking against the concrete beneath your feet as one hand clutched your phone while the other twirled some of your loose hair. Of course, in all your infinite wisdom, you were completely oblivious to the chaos occurring right behind you.

In a matter of seconds, you were tackled onto the ground. Your earphones flying out and your phone slipping from your grip as you made the instant collision. Your ears were ringing and your head began to throb, you weren't sure what the hell just happened but the last thing you expected was a handsome man pressed against you. Actually, the most handsome man you had ever laid eyes on. Quite possibly the most handsome man in the entire universe.

Dirty blond hair, piercing blue eyes, stubble spread across his jaw... Your racing heart wasn't fluttering around in your chest from the sudden collision, rather, the man practically yelling in your face. It wasn't out of anger, but worry. You couldn't quite pick up on what he was saying, but he seemed like he was in hurry. Panicking as he instantly grabbed your waist and pulled you up to your feet.

Your cheeks were burning as your heart continued to thud against your chest. The unknown man tugged you along with him, running off into the distance as he lead you somewhere safe. Still unaware and unsure of what was happening, the dirty blond had you turning corners and slipping in between buildings before he stopped within an alleyway. Pressed against the brick walls as his back was faced towards you, he peeked over the corner and sighed in relief.

"Coast is clear," he said before turning towards you. It was the first time you were actually processing his words, understanding what he said and... shivering at the low timbre of his voice. "Are you okay?"

It was then that he realized you weren't in shock, rather, you had practical hearts forming in your eyes. If it wasn't for his years of experience with women constantly ogling him, he would've been fooled, would've believed you were just processing what happened... not... practically drooling over him.

That, however, didn't stop him from worrying. "Are you alright?" He asked again, earning a nod from you before you blinked a few times.

"Thank you..." you nearly whispered, heart thudding in your ears.

"You're lucky I was there to save you in time," he said, looking down at you, eyes locking with your own. "You could've taken several fatal bullets."

"You're my hero," you gawked, a smile forming on your lips as he felt his heart race.

Swallowing the small lump in his throat, a bit shaken by how enthralled you were by him—as if mesmerized—he cleared his throat. "Leon S. Kennedy, by the way," he introduced as you nodded and said your name in return. It was then he noticed you were sporting a small gash on your cheek. Eyeing the rest of you, he frowned at the sight of your scraped knees. You were clearly off to work, the blouse and skirt being the biggest giveaways. "Shit," he mumbled. "You're gonna be missing work."

Blinking a few times, then looking down at your hands, you pouted, "my phone was left behind... Can't call my boss..." you muttered as Leon eyed you, feeling sorry.

"My apologies... I'll get you a new one," he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, knowing he was rather rough with you... but, it had to be done. You could've been dead if he hadn't.

"Oh, no, it's alright," you shook your head, looking up at him and not realizing just how tall he was. You felt your once steadying heart begin to pick up its pace. God, he's so hot.

"I insist, I knocked it out of your hands when I... tackled you," he said and you couldn't help but wear a small grin. He was so charming without even trying.

"Thank you," you quietly spoke, softly smiling up at him as he looked down at you.

Remembering your minor injuries, Leon gently held your chin, "you've got a few scratches. Mind if I clean them up?" Seeing you shake your head, Leon lowered his hand. Without another word, he lead you away from your temporary hiding spot, knowing very well it was safe to move once again. Returning to where he had left his bike behind, thankful it was still there and in one piece, he turned to face you, "I don't have a helmet..."

Eyeing him, then the bike, you sucked in a small breath. "You saved my life, I trust you."

Feeling his heart skip a beat, he gave you a small nod. Turning once again to mount his bike, he gestured for you to do the same. He watched as you carefully climbed on, your skirt riding up due to the position. Keeping his mouth shut, he looked back ahead as he felt your arms circle his waist, stomach tightening at the feeling of your smaller hands pressing against him. It was when he started his bike and sped off that you clutched onto his shirt, balls of fists gripping as you pressed your forehead against his back in fear. He couldn't help but smirk, for some odd reason, it felt... nice.

It wasn't too common for Leon to bring a bystander into the DSO headquarters, but it wasn't as surprising when he brought a pretty lady like you with him. He lead you down the halls and into a room where you assumed was the infirmary. He handled your little wounds, cleaning and patching them up before giving you a kind smile when it was all done. You thanked him with the sweetest voice as he was knelt before you, now being the one to look up at you. For some reason, it made his blood rush. He shook the thoughts away as he stood to his feet. You were just an innocent bystander, a civilian who got caught up in something accidentally. He was just your savior, you were almost a victim.

"I'll be right back, I gotta speak to my team," he said, and before he could leave, you spoke up.

"Your team?"

Right, you only knew his name... nothing else. Not why he was being chased, not his occupation. Nothing. "I work for the government. As you saw from outside of the building with all the security, the scanning and identity confirmation... You basically got caught up in something that was—"

"Top secret?" You tilted your head with curious eyes. Leon nodded. Your intuition was good for someone who was quite oblivious. To be fair, governmental affairs were usually hush hush. "Figures. You must be an agent of some sort with the way you're dressed," you pointed out. "And your instincts..."

"Right..." he grinned. "I'll be back." Seeing you nod, he turned and walked out, leaving you on the cot, swinging your legs patiently. It wasn't like you could do anything else when your phone was left behind.

"So?" Hunnigan eyed him as Leon approached.

"A bystander, saved her life from being a causality in the chase," he explained as he cracked his neck.

"Normally, you don't bring... bystanders with you. This is a first, Kennedy," she smirked as she crossed her arms.

"Don't start," he shook his head as she looked at him with a questionable expression. "I'm sure you knew anyway, someone is always watching."

"Yes, her father," Hunnigan gestured as Leon's eyebrows narrowed before an older man made his appearance. "Agent Kennedy, please meet one of the most elite agents of the FBI," she introduced as the old man stood before him, extending his hand.

"I'd like to personally thank you for saving my daughter's life out there," the man spoke. Clean cut, tailored suit and all. He could tell he was the real deal. It made Leon a bit antsy, now knowing your father wasn't a simple civilian but rather an expert agent with years on him. "We saw it all happen, and the moment I recognized my daughter I was about to appear on the scene myself. You, however, went ahead and risked your life for her own. I truly appreciate what you did for her and our family."

"I just did what I had to do, sir. I wasn't going to let anyone get hurt or killed if I could do something to stop it," Leon nodded.

"And I am very grateful. I wanted to personally come and thank you before seeing her. I know she's safe and unharmed thanks to you. Please, my wife and I would love to have you over for dinner. It's the least we could do to show our gratitude." At that, Leon's eyes widen. He believed the thanks was enough... but to invite him into your own family's home? If only your father had known how blatantly obvious your feelings were (after only knowing Leon for such a short period of time).

However, he couldn't say no. Leon S. Kennedy was a lot of things, but not disrespectful, and he definitely didn't want a man of your father's caliber disliking him for declining a simple offer.

Which is how he found himself seated across from you in your parents dining room. A lovely home fit for a family of 5 comfortably. However, he had learned it was just your parents living there now that you and your siblings all had moved out. It was your childhood home and your parents had it paid off, they didn't see the need to move away unless purely necessary. Your father also hadn't retired, still invested in his work to make the country a safer place.

As Leon was deep in a conversation with your father, discussing matters that weren't too confidential, you found yourself absolutely swooning. Your chin in the palm of your hand, silent sighs leaving your lips as you admired the agent before you. From his haircut to the way he dressed in a suit for dinner, you couldn't help but bit your bottom lip. You weren't hiding it, that was for sure, but your mother couldn't help but stifle a giggle at the sight of her daughter swooning over a man who was easily a decade older than her. Not that she'd complain, at least it was a successful man with a career before him who had some maturity on him.

"Honey, help me get the dessert," your mother broke your trance, causing you to huff before standing up and following her into the kitchen. "You want him to know, huh?" She asked as you stood by the island table, grabbing the dish as your mother gathered the cutlery.

"What do you mean?" You asked in confusion.

"The way you're gawking at Mr. Kennedy. You are very much attracted to him, aren't you?" She grinned as you blushed. "You were even squirming in your seat, as if eager to touch him..."

"It's love at first sight," you mumbled, tracing your finger along the marble counter, earning a laugh from your mother as you immediately looked up at her. "What?"

"Nothing. You're an adult, you can make your own decisions even if you can be so oblivious. Your father raised you better when it comes to your safety," she lightly scolded as you rolled your eyes. "Though, I'm sure you're happy since you met the love of your life," she teased with a smile before walking back to the dining room, leaving you there pouting. You were glad she still had a funny bone even if her daughter was in a near death experience... without the actual wounds.

Your mother's words echoed throughout your head for the rest of dinner as your parents and Leon ate the dessert. You'd find yourself gazing at Leon, only to look away bashfully whenever his eyes met your own. It wasn't like Leon was unaware, he had phenomenal instincts and your stares were very powerful even if they were filled with awe and admiration. Still, he had hoped you'd take it easy in front of your parents... or, at least your father.

Helping your mother clean up as your father walked Leon to the front door, exchanging a few more words, he placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder, "I know this is a lot, you're a busy man and all... but, could you please look out for my daughter? I know for a fact she's considered involved now after everything and I don't want anyone coming after her. I'm afraid they'd remember her and would consider her a target and try to use her against the DSO. I have eyes everywhere, but even then..."

"I understand," Leon spoke. It was true, he, himself was a busy man as it was. With the missions he took, constantly overseas or in other states, it was hard for him to even call you... but as hesitant as he was to agree, he couldn't help but feel a bit guilty. Sure, if he hadn't snagged you away, you could've died... but he also could've just dragged you into the nearest building and fled on his own. Normally, he wouldn't be so caring, knowing he couldn't save everyone... but maybe he fell victim to your doe eyes. Maybe your infatuation in him was growing into a similar feeling towards you.

Or maybe he was just lonely and should indulge in a girl so interested in him—

Leon swatted the thoughts away, knowing this was in no way something he should be considering. "I'll do my best when I'm in town and not away for work."

"I appreciate it."

Eavesdropping on the conversations you decided to finally show yourself, playing oblivious as you approached the two figures. With an innocent smile on your face, you listened to your father's words, informing you about the minor changes to come into your life now that you were basically a witness and involved in the incident. You simply nodded, understanding his worries and knowing very well it was for the best. You just had to hide your excitement. Whatever it took to see Leon again.

"If you can, can you please escort her home..." Your father asked as Leon nodded. You said your goodbyes, thanking your father for dinner and telling him you'd let him know when you got home, before following Leon out.

You were rather silent at the beginning of the drive, slightly amazed that Leon had a ride outside of his bike. You assumed it was solely for work purposes but he seemed the kind to have his own (or several) at home. Gazing out the window and watching the city become colorful streaks, you spoke up, "you don't have to watch over me. I know you're a very busy man..."

"It's the least I can do, I brought you into this—"

"If I wasn't distracted, this wouldn't have happened..." you mumbled with a subtle pout as you looked at him.

Leon could hear it in your voice, even peeking over to confirm that you were a bit embarrassed, but he couldn't help but shake his head. "It could've happened to anyone. It would've been a shame if the world lost a pretty face like yours."

Growing stiff in your seat, you couldn't help but grip your thighs, eyes widening at his words as you quickly looked away. Your silence had Leon looking back at you, grinning at your reaction. It almost felt like a game the way one would flirt and the other would grow flustered. It felt nice, it felt out of the norm for Leon... and sometimes he needed that.

Maybe he needed you...

He brushed the thought away, knowing that wasn't logical. Instead, he kept the rest of the drive silent, music softly playing from his radio.

Arriving at your place, taking you up the elevator and to your door, the two of you stopped and faced one another. Silence continued to weave between the two of you as you gazed at one another. Leon cleared his throat and reached into his pocket, handing you something. "I was able to retrieve it from the scene."

Looking down at your palm, you nearly gasped. "My phone?"

"Luckily, the area was sectioned off, your phone was left untouched. Not even damaged. It really is your lucky day, huh?" He teased as you smiled with pure gratitude.

"Thank you," you beamed as you peeked up at him, pure stars in your eyes. God, did you make him feel indescribable things.

Looking down for a moment as he reached for his own phone, Leon took in a deep breath, "we should exchange numbers. You can call me if you need anything. I'll be there."

"Even if you're out of the country?" You tilted your head with a playful smile. Leon couldn't help but reflect the same expression.

"Even if I'm out of the country."

Exchanging numbers, you thanked him for everything before settling your phone into your purse. "I appreciate it. You're so thoughtful."

Only for you, he thought. As strange as it was. You truly were doing a number on him and it was only getting worse as time progressed. "It's the least I could do for you."

Tiptoeing and kissing his cheek, you thanked him once more. "Thank you, again..."

Your soft voice made Leon shiver as red dusted his cheeks. His skin tingled as his cheek felt your kiss linger. "Like I said... it's the least I could do..." At that, he turned and made his way back to the elevator.

It almost felt as if you didn't want to end things, as if you didn't want him to leave, practically running in circles with your gratitude. You just wanted to enjoy his presence a little longer. Just a bit more, as much as you could keep him there... Maybe you were delusional, but you knew this man was made for you. "Leon!" you called out, causing him to turn in his spot. "Would you like to go to dinner tomorrow? Just the two of us..."

Eyeing you for a moment, wanting to decline solely because he knew where this was going, his mouth opened before he could stop himself. "Yeah, sure."

It's out of kindness, Leon thought. I'm doing this to be nice, and because I kind of owe it to her. His mind was running as he sat at the dinner table, patiently awaiting your arrival. You had texted him to let him know the time and place of where to meet up, a nice restaurant with great food and a calming atmosphere. The people around were talking in low voices, enjoying their meals and each other's company. Of course, when his eyes first landed on you, he should've guessed you'd put your very best outfit together. As delusional as he wanted to be, he knew you did it to impress him. For yourself, that was a given, but there was no denying you got all cute for him.

Standing from his seat to greet you, trying to mask the awe written across his face from your beauty, Leon greeted you as you did the same. Settling across from one another before looking through the menu, you couldn't help but partially hide your face from him. He's so damn handsome. Dressed in his suit, hair freshly brushed, and his cologne... you felt as if he was playing with your heart strings.

It was a silent at first between the two of you, nothing too uncomfortable, but almost as if one of you had something to say. Of course, when you decided to speak up, so did he. Excusing himself to let you talk first, you couldn't help but smile at his courtesy. In reality, he was trying to break the thoughts circling his mind. The way he couldn't help but gawk at your beauty, trying everything in his power to focus on something else and not the sweet scent of your perfume. This is so wrong. He shouldn't feel even an inkling of this, scolding himself for even considering what could happen. You were much younger and this was on a superficial level. He wasn't the right man for you, you had a whole future ahead of you...

Yet, when you told him to talk first, he couldn't help but take the opportunity. Speaking before he could even process it. "You look beautiful."

It was all you needed to hear to know what direction this dinner was going in. Practically in your favor (and maybe his, too).

The dinner went smoother than expected. You got to know one another a little better through wine and laughter. Leon felt at ease to speak about his career for once, seeing as he always had to lie with previous partners. But, with you, you met him in the middle of what his whole job entailed. It also helped that your own father worked with the government, which meant you knew and understood what line of work he was in... for the most part. In all honesty, he hated that there were so many good signs coming from you... after two days.

Two whole days.

It was like you were getting what you wanted, wining him so easily without realizing it. He hadn't expressed anything, but his thoughts about you were swarming in his mind. Leon was an easy guy to get when it came to the bare necessities of pleasure... but, to win his heart? He couldn't recall a single person who struck a chord like that. Like you seem to be doing so easily. I'm getting too ahead of myself, I'm just lonely.

Leon couldn't recall a night this... easy. This nice. Most of his nights were left to him drinking his thoughts away in the quietness of his lonesome home... if he wasn't sleeping with a woman he met at the bar. He hated his ways, but how could a man like him find love or a partner trusting enough to understand what his life was like? What, with the past he's had, and everything that happened since Raccoon City. Maybe he was just that desperate, he was only getting older... and you popped into his life. A person who fell head over heels for him the second you met eyes, a person who could possibly understand him most—

Leon's thoughts wouldn't leave his mind on the way back to your place as he escorted you home... and they only grew louder as he found himself standing before you.

Both of you had made it to your front door, ready to call it a night and say your goodbyes. You, on the other hand, had something else in mind as you gazed up at him. "I had a great night with you."

Feeling his heart race, he looked down at you with a gentle smile, "me too."

"Never knew a man like you could open up so easily..." you teased, biting your inner lip as you batted your lashes up at him.

"I never knew that, either. I keep things to myself... but, you met me in the middle of a chase and I did take you to where I work... and your father is an agent. I figured you'd understand how chaotic the life of an agent can be," he said as you nodded.

"I can, I've known it my whole life," you continued to smile up at him, speaking so smoothly. "I know you've got more in you, I feel I've only got the tip of the iceberg. I hope someday you trust me enough to tell me more. You look like the kinda man who internalizes things. Or, at least, wishes there was someone he could talk to about these things that aren't your coworkers."

Leon couldn't help but feel his heart flutter at your words. Did you know what you were doing to win him over? Are you like this with other men? Why should he care? God, but I kind of do...

He couldn't really remember when it happened, but before he could even process it, both of your lips met. The softest kiss he had ever experienced... softer and more meaningful than his kiss back in Raccoon City when he was younger and inexperienced. Blind to the world's horror. This one, however... There was something about it.

"Sorry," Leon gently pushed away. "I should—"

Before he knew it, his heart dropped when you clutched onto his collar and pulled him back into the kiss. It was obviously mutual if you instantly kissed back, so why would he apologize? You wanted this more than ever. Hell, if you could've, you would've kissed him the moment he had saved your life! "Don't apologize, I wanted to do this yesterday the moment I saw you."

Hunched over as you still held onto his shirt, Leon's eyes searched your face. He studied every little detail, from the length of your lashes to the plumpness of your lips. Was he really head over heels, too? You were magical, you must've been an angel... something to have him feel the same way you did. "I'm... not surprised... The way you look at me, it's kinda like a cartoon with heart eyes."

Letting out a small giggle, you nodded, "I've been told I can be very obvious, but, it's how I feel every time I look at you."

Although he was flustered, Leon couldn't help but grin, "I find it cute."

Letting him go and looking away as you bit your bottom lip, blushing at his compliment, you felt his hand gently hold onto your chin. Turning your head to face him with doe eyes as your lips parted, Leon leaned in and kissed your cheek. You could practically hear your heart pounding in your ears. He was going to be the end of you, wasn't he?

"Get some rest, I'll see you again soon."

Watching him back away as his hand fell from your face, he turned and made his way back to the elevator. Gazing at his backside, you then turned to unlock your door and slip inside. Closing and locking it behind you, slipping off your heels, hanging your keys and settling your purse down, you rubbed your hands against your face before squealing into them and jumping in your spot. "I am so in love with him!"

#harunovella writes;#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #resident evil au #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fic

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joonggphilia · 6 months

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🩶🩷Guy Next Door🩷🩶

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Pairing: Dom/Top Hyunjin x Sub/Bttm M!reader. Genre: Smut Cw: Oral fixation, filming sex, reader gets turned on by man-spreading A/n: Ugh I love Hyunjin 🥰 request by @mooncarvers-world

——————————————————————— It was your first week in your new apartment, and you absolutely loved it. The city life was soooo your thing. Something else that was “your thing” was the guy next door. You’d always pass him in the hallways or you’d see him in his room (he tends to leave his door open to air the place out) When he left his door open you would walk past a little slower to catch a glimpse. God was he fine. His wavy black hair and piercing eyes were enough to send you over the edge. The way he sat. He had such a polite face, yet he sat with his legs open, like he didn’t have a care in the world. You would love to get between those legs. You would also love to see what’s under those gray sweatpants. You had a plan. The next morning you baked cookies for all your neighbors, a thank you to them for welcoming you. Also an excuse to be closer to your neighbor. You knocked light on the door, shaking all the dirty fantasies from your head. “Hello? Oh! Your the new neighbor boy, need help with something?” He asked, running his fingers through his hair. You need something and that something was his dick in your mouth, but you wouldn’t say that out loud. “I was wondering if I could give you these! I made cookies for my neighbors as a thank you for the warm welcome. I’m M/n!” You introduced yourself, holding a hand out to the gorgeous man before you. “Thanks M/n. My names Hyunjin.” He stated, returning your hand shake. His hands were calloused, like the hands of an artists. He made eye contact with you and slowly released your hand. “You should come in and eat these cookies with me. You baked a lot and I wouldn’t want your hard work to get stale.” He encouraged you to come in, stepping inside and motioning toward the living. Who were you to deny him, it’s like a dream come true. “The couch is all yours, M/n. Take a seat, let’s get to know each other.” He said, turning on some slow music and opening the cookies. “So, is all this art yours. It’s gorgeous.” You praised, fluttering your eyes at your new neighbor who walked towards you with a plate of cookies in his hand. “Yeah, I really enjoy painting and sketching people, but I haven’t been able to find a muse.” He stated, looking at you through hooded eyes. “I can help with that.” You offered, reaching for a cookie. Your hand was grabbed. “Cut the small talk M/n. You know I see the way you look at me when you pass my room? You’ve practically got hearts in your eyes.” Hyunjin bluntly called you out. Woah. “Tell me what you want?” He barked, leaning back and crossing his arms and spreading his legs. You took in a shaky breath. “You. I want you Hyunjin.” You breathed, admitting your feelings. He chuckled to himself and pushed back his hair once more. “Come here then.” You kneeled down in front of Hyunjin, pleading eyes looking up at him. “Have it your way.” Hyunjin hummed, shocking you at his compliance. You quickly moved your hands to the band of his sweats, slowly pulling them down along with his underwear. He was already bricked. “What? I think your pretty cute.” Hyunjin explained, amused by your expression. You simply shrugged and moved your mouth to his throbbing cock. It felt so much better than you imagined. He was veiny and long, not super thick around, just perfect. You grazed your tongue along each vein on his beautiful cock. Hyunjin gasped, grabbing your hair. “Wait. Lemme film this. I need your beautiful form for art inspiration, M/n, your the perfect muse.” He panted, sitting up to grab his camera. “Fine by me. As long as I get a tape.” You groaned, salty because of the loss of his cock. You watched him set up the camera and walk slowly back to his recliner. You made a sultry look at the camera, then up to Hyunjin. Best put on a show for the camera. You moved your mouth back to him, but he was getting impatient. He grabbed your hair, moving your head all the way to his base and then back up to the tip. “Ready to be painted?” Hyunjin groaned, cumming into your mouth. You quickly swallowed his load. “Hyunjin, let’s go farther.” —————-

#hyunjin x male reader #smut #hyunjin x reader #bttm male reader #stray kids x male reader #dom hyunjin #stray kids x male reader smut

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warmblanketwhump · 7 months

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hello hello! after an accidental hiatus, I'm back with an entry into the surrender an ask game that @save-the-villainous-cat and @epiclamer put together where we all swapped asks. thanks so much for doing this!!!

here's my ask: Hi! I’ve become obsessed with your Hero Gets Yanked By An Upstanding Citizen Into Their Window And Into Their Heart post and I was wondering if you could- maybe- on the off chance- if you have time- come back to it for another scene? I just love the duo’s dynamic so much, the lovable hero who is trying a little too hard at any given chance, and the citizen who is wholly unafraid to manhandle a superhero into their home and into their life. That’s the vibes I was getting from their short interaction anyway- I love them so much aaagugfyduhijigififiguftgb your writing makes me go insane” Submitted by @yourheartonfire

The hero checks once, twice behind their shoulders, then collapses on to the rickety fire escape. It's off the beaten path, away from anyone. Sure, there's a little prickle of guilt that it's a Saturday night, and there are probably dozens of crimes afoot that need their attention.

But the past few weeks have run them absolutely ragged. If they didn't know better, they'd think that someone was scheming against them deliberately. call after call, summons after summons, each one more dire than the last.

People count on them—people need them, and they like the feeling of being needed. But they're exhausting, aching, injured, absolutely spent. Their leg throbs with a recent injury that they haven't had time to treat, and they can't remember the last time they slept more than three hours at a time.

They lean their head back against the scarred brick of the apartment building, letting their eyes slip closed....

.....and when a wailing siren sounds in the distance, the hero tries not to whimper.

Get up. It's time to go.

And they do get up. Too quickly.

Their toe catches on the edge of the rickety fire escape, and before the hero can react, they're falling, tumbling, twisting, too exhausted and spent to do anything to stop the inevitable pull of gravity on their body.

The last thing they see is the extended metal overhanging of the fire escape before pain shot through their body, and darkness overtook them.

_________________

The hero hoped that when they awoke, they'd somehow find themselves in their own spase, yet comfortable bed, that the last two months had been just a nightmare.

Instead, they hear frustrated, disembodied grunts and feel someone pulling at them, tugging them over something hard and metal and painful for their aching body.

"Get...in...here..."

The hero wants to swat the hands away, but their limbs are dead weight at their sides, and their voice gets stuck in their throat when they try to cry out. So darkness falls again.

_________________

When the hero wakes a second time, they're aware of a throbbing in their bad leg and a pounding in their head, and an ache that's more painful than anything they've ever felt. They're in a dark room, save for a softly glowing salt lamp in the far corner, and they're aware of being tucked under a thick, soft blanket on some sort of couch or daybed.

It's comfortable, safe, warm—and wrong. They have no idea where they are or who they're with, nor how long they've been there, nor how many lives have been lost while they've been knocked unconscious.

They try to call out, but the "hey" comes out as more of a raspy whisper, and the blanket is far too heavy for them to toss from their broken body. In their efforts to move, something gets knocked over with a crash.

"Hey, hey, hey now, don't move. Shhhh." A figure darts into the room and the hero feels two hands against their shoulders, pressing them back into the bed.

"W--where..."

"You're....here. At my apartment. Figured I didn't want to leave you out on my fire escape all night." The shadowed figure flicks on another lamp and the hero winces, hand flying to touch their face—

Their bare face.

A strangled cry flees their throat. Not only have they failed their city, but someone's seen their face, seen how utterly, desperately ordinary they are beneath it all. This someone knows who they are and could ruin it all. Their eyes flicker up to see the stranger standing at the foot of their bed, holding their disguise tenderly in their hands.

"I'm so sorry....I didn't want to take it off, but you were bleeding from a pretty nasty forehead cut, and I didn't want to leave it too long." The stranger's hand lightly ghosts over their hairline, and the hero realizes there's some sort of thick bandage over where the throbbing is radiating from. "I won't tell a soul. Promise. If you have some sort of mind control....thing, you can even erase my memories, if you want, but you need like....a ton of medical attention first. I've done first aid and an outdoor wilderness survival class a couple times, but you probably need some kind of doctor, but I get if you don't want to do that with your identity and all that...."

"Won't....won't bother you" the hero slurs, trying to sit up again, before collapsing back down. Try as they might, they couldn't leave this cursed couch.

"Oh no, no, you're not bothering me at all. You just sorta...freaked me out, is all. And there was a TON of blood, and I couldn't just leave you there, so I just kinda—" the stranger motions with their hands "yanked you right in here, did some first aid, and here we are." The stranger adjust the blankets, tucking the hero in tighter. "You looked pretty banged up."

I supposed I did, the hero muses to themselves. "It's....been a rough few weeks. But I'm okay."

"You sure?" The stranger's brows furrow, and their hand gestures to their leg. "I'm no doctor, but that gash on your leg looks...pretty bad. Shouldn't someone be looking after that?"

Hero hears the subtext of the question. Shouldn't someone be looking after YOU?

The hero isn't quite sure what to say to that. How long has it been since someone tended their wounds, tucked them in, brought them in from the elements, and asked how they were?

"I'm....I'm alright." Hero's mortified to hear the smallest wobble in their voice.

"Hero, that's not what I asked." The stranger's voice is firm, yet gentle, their hand resting on their uninjured knee.

"Right." The hero sniffles, suddenly unable to speak.

The stranger seems to understand the thousand thoughts of the hero's mind that flood the silence, then gently pats their other uninjured leg. "Well, in that case, it's time we get started now that you're awake. I'll get the bandages, and we'll really get you cleaned up and take stock of how much healing you've got ahead of you. No promises, though—I told you, it's only a couple first-aid classes, so don't you judge my wound dressings."

Hero's suprised to hear their own thin, crackly laugh. "Wouldn't dare."

#hero x villain #this is not my usual genre so this was actually kind of challenging???#but a fun challenge for sure #also wild for me to write something that doesn't involve cold whump lol #injured hero #m's writing

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jaegeraether · 6 months

Text

Sunsets and footballers (Part 16)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (16)

Masterlist (other parts here)

Lucy was paying when she heard the yelling. Usually, she wouldn’t think much of it, but in that moment, her body reacted instinctively as her head whipped around. She couldn’t see outside but at the distinctive smashing of glass, she ran before she knew she was. Her knee complained as she negotiated the corner of the restaurant to the front door at pace, and the cold night hit her hard, but not harder than the sight of her girlfriend, limp in the front seat of her car, covered in glass and… blood. Lucy was shoved backwards as three girls took off up the street, but Lucy couldn’t give a fuck, she was at YFN’s door in a heartbeat, grabbing at the handle. The door was locked, fuck. She was starting to panic out of pure fear for her little Australian splattered in blood, tears welling in her eyes. She reached her hand through the broken glass, earning herself a few scrapes but not caring. She pulled the lock and almost wrenched the door off its fucking hinges.

“No! No - little one.. fuck….fuck!”

Her head was tilted, almost resting on her shoulder, and the blood. It was everywhere. She spotted the brick on the driver’s seat and her stomach dropped.

“No - please no…” She was crying as her hand found the far side of her head, hoping her spine wasn’t damaged. YFN shifted, lifting her head a little and Lucy let herself breathe the smallest sigh of relief. No neck injury. She gently lifted her head. The brick had left a gash just above her eyebrow, though the impact area had been slightly larger. Lucy ripped off her shirt and pressed it to the wound, trying to stop the blood running like a river down her face. Lucy was covered in blood and was shaking, terrified.

“Please wake up… please.. I’m so sorry. I…”

As if she’d heard the words, YFN groaned, her lips trembling as she slowly became conscious again. Her eyes fluttered open for a second and shut immediately, squeezing tight from the pain.

“L….Luce…”

“Right here. I’m right here, I’m so sorry my love. This is all my fault. I’m sorry-” Her voice broke. “Please stay awake. Please.”

“I f..feel sick. It hurts.”

“I know, my love. Stay strong for me, please. We’ll be at the hospital soon.”

A crowd had gathered around but they were all useless, standing back and taking photos rather than helping. Especially when they realised it was Lucy Bronze.

“I’m going to get you to the hospital. Little one, do you think you can hold this to your head for a second?”

She helped to lift YFN’s trembling hand to the shirt on her head and ran around to the driver’s side, throwing the brick in the back seat and jumping in. She placed her hand over YFN’s, pressing it down and pushing her head into the seat. She whimpered.

“Sorry… sorry my love, we need to keep your head up. We need to keep the pressure on. Stay awake for me please..” She tried to sound calm under pressure but everything she said was rushed with fear. She’s just glad her neck wasn’t broken.

Lucy sped towards the hospital, not giving a fuck about traffic or lights or laws. She picked up the little Australian who’d stolen her heart and again, ignoring the pain throbbing through her knee, she carried her into the Emergency Department, shouting.

Several hours, scans and stitches later, they were in a private room. YFN was unconscious. They’d made her stay awake for several hours during the questions from staff and police, treatments and for monitoring purposes afterwards, but now she was sleeping softly, a bandage covering the stitches across the top of her left eyebrow. Lucy couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t stop her thoughts. Her eyes drifted over YFN. Here she was, the woman who’d dropped into her life out of absolutely nowhere. She’d had no idea who Lucy was. No idea about football. Nothing beyond that big, kind and caring heart of hers that always wanted the best for the people around her, regardless of herself. She’d seen Lucy at her best, and her worst, and loved her through all of it. But better than that, she’d understood her through all of it. Lucy would be lying to herself if she hadn’t thought about ending it, purely for YFN’s own sake. But that was just a flicker of an option she knew she’d never have the strength to do. The baggage that came with Lucy was significant, and she knew that, but she could never have expected something as dramatic as this. God, she loved the woman. She loved her. And she hadn’t even had a chance to tell her yet. She wanted to go to sleep next to her and wake next to her every day. She wanted to travel with her, experience new things, new foods, new movies… anything. Anything. With her. And no, they hadn’t known each other long at all, but Lucy knew. She’d been around. She understood. This was it, this was her home, her future. She’d accomplished a lot in life, football having been the most important thing to her, but she knew she’d drop it in a heartbeat for her. The tears fell silently as she thought about YFN and all she’d been through. She struggled to comprehend how she was single, and so closed off from letting people into her life. But she’d let Lucy in, and Lucy took that seriously. She wasn’t going anywhere.

Lucy had sent a few messages to her lawyers; they were going to press charges. She’d also messaged Jordan, knowing that she needed to tell her before she saw the photos online. Jordan had lost her mind, wanting to come back, but Lucy had said no. YFN wouldn’t want that. She wouldn’t want to inconvenience her and her training, and they both knew it. Jordan agreed eventually, offering to tell Katie and Caitlin, though she also wouldn’t be getting much sleep that night.

The photos leaked quickly with Lucy receiving multiple texts and phone calls. She ignored almost all of them except her family, Sarina, Alexia and her Barca coach. She even ignored Keira.

Her body uncontrollably shook with another wave of sadness, and she tilted her cheek into YFN’s palm. Her thumb stroked her cheek.

“Luce..?”

Lucy’s head whipped up. “You shouldn’t be awake…”

Her eyes were sleepy, and her brow furrowed in pain as she saw Lucy’s red eyes. “Come here.” She whispered. Lucy opened her mouth to argue but YFN wasn’t having any of it. “You need to sleep, and I need you. Come here.”

Lucy made her way carefully into the bed next to her, sliding under the covers. Her bicep pillowed itself under YFN’s neck and wrapped around her collarbones, while the other pulled her gently back into her. Her lips kissed her sun-kissed hair, and her cheek rested itself gently on her temple.

“Sleep please…” She mumbled as she drifted off to sleep again, much more comfortable and warm than she was before. Lucy slept.

Her head was pounding when she woke. Lucy was already awake, of course, pacing on her phone, talking in hushed whispers to not wake her up. She spotted her and ended the call, immediately by her side. YFN had some water, and painkillers, with the doctor coming in to explain the damage. They were concerned about the impact to her brain, though the results from their scans thus-far had been positive. They wanted to keep her in for another night to assess her. The main thing she craved was a shower and clean clothes, and she told Lucy the same. She’d said that clean clothes were on the way, and seemed a little like she was omitting some details, but YFN was in too much pain to care.

Lucy helped her out of the bed and to their shower. She undressed her with care and showered with her, making sure she was never too far away in case she stumbled or needed her. It was exactly what YFN needed. She needed Lucy right there; she needed to feel her and know she wasn’t going anywhere. Lucy’s hands glided over her in the shower, soaping her up and massaging her tight neck and shoulders after sleeping in a hospital bed. YFN groaned at the feel, turning around to face a tired looking Lucy. Lucy’s green eyes met hers a little blurry as she realised that she must have taken her contacts out and didn’t have her glasses.

“I can hear you thinking from here..”

“Lots to think about.” Lucy murmured.

YFN felt her stomach drop a little, worry seeping in. “Please don’t leave me..”

Lucy was startled by this, and then she understood where it was coming from. “I’m too selfish to ever do that, even if it is what’s best for you.”

Lucy admitting weakness was a rarity, but it just proved to YFN that Lucy was just as self-aware as she was. She breathed an obvious sigh of relief. “What now?”

“Now… we have clean clothes coming-”

“-and glasses I hope.”

Lucy chuckled. “And glasses. Firstly, I want us to leave this fucking city as soon as you’re discharged tomorrow. My lawyers are working on pressing charges. I’m unsure about the rest. I was supposed to leave for Barca in 3 days, and I need to cancel my session today, so I have a few phone calls to make.”

YFN kissed her jaw, her lips brushing up to her ear and back. Lucy shuddered. “I’m really happy to be leaving the city, I’m excited for Manchester and Birmingham and your family, and Dory. As for the charges…” Lucy gave her a look that said it wasn’t an option, but she was already in agreement. “…I’m fully on board. We need to talk lawyer costs though.” Lucy shook her head, but she continued. “But Luce, you’re not cancelling your flight to Barca. And you’re not cancelling your session today. I know its hard because of how fresh this is… but this is your career, and I will not accept you pushing that aside. We’ll still have our third date. You’ll still get me settled in with Dory.. and I’m safe in the hospital. I need to know that these… maniacs… haven’t affected our lives because they don’t get that. They can smash my head open with a brick-” Lucy winced, “-but they’re not taking anything else from us. They’re not affecting your career. They’re not getting me deported. And they’re definitely not ruining what we have..” To be honest, they were even closer than they would have been without all of the drama happening.

Lucy wasn’t keen on the idea, but she knew there was no arguing. If YFN was safe, and they were okay, then she was right, the stalkers didn't get to take anything else from them.

They finished up in the shower and dried off when a knock came at the door. Lucy lifted YFN up, leaving her sitting safely on the sink before exiting in a towel to get the door. YFN heard murmurs and then Lucy was back with a bag of clothes. They got dressed and YFN found Lucy’s glasses, putting them on her gently. She could see Lucy’s eyes coming into full focus again as she placed them on her. A smile crossed her face, followed by a little wince at the sight of the swelling around the bandage. Lucy took her head incredibly gently between her hands and kissed her eyebrow near the wound. Lucia Roberta ‘Tough’ Bronze. In reality, she’d been the most gentle human when it came to YFN.

They exited the room to see Leah sitting in one of the chairs, patiently waiting. YFN couldn’t help the confusion, but Lucy was quick to explain. “Leah’s still off with her ACL, and she lives in town. She called when she saw the photos, and Leah being Leah, offered to help.”

“We definitely appreciate it… thanks Leah.” She gave a genuine smile to the England Captain, feeling a little wobbly.

“You’re welcome, and I don’t want to intrude.. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” She stood looked a little awkward, her hands going to her back pockets, and then out to her front pockets.

“You’re not intruding at all, I think Lucy is headed off soon..” She looked at Lucy who frowned at that. “So I appreciate any company I can get.”

Leah relaxed a little and wandered over to the bed as YFN climbed back in, sitting up. “I heard you’re in here overnight?”

“One more night.” Lucy replied for her. “She’s still dizzy and sick, and a little foggy.” She turned to YFN, fluffing the pillow up behind her back. “I need you to eat today, please. Plenty of water also. Let the nurse know if you feel like you’re getting worse. I’m just a call away.”

YFN nodded, leaning forward to accept the kiss she planted on her forehead before her lips trailed down and found her lips gently. “Anything goes wrong. You. Call.”

YFN smiled at her persistence, her dimple on full display. Lucy admired her a little longer before she gave Leah a look that demanded she also do the same. Leah nodded and Lucy left, albeit unwillingly.

“I understand if you can’t stay.. I just wanted Lucy to feel a bit better about leaving me here after…” She gestured to her head.

Leah smiled and YFN could see what Jordan meant when she’d spoken about her falling for her smile. Leah was adorable.

“I’m happy to stay a while, it keeps my brain from going all sorts of funny places while I’m not training.”

YFN gestured to the bottom of the bed and Leah joined her, crossing one leg, keeping her other extended.

“You’re not training at all?”

“Off and on. I’m allowed two days a week at the minute. The rest is cardio and gym work to keep myself fit.”

“You must be dying to get back out there.”

“Yeah, it’s very difficult to be honest. I miss it so, so much. I’m dying to get back out there with the girls.”

YFN and Leah chatted for a while, getting more comfortable with each other. From their conversation, YFN realised that Leah was quietly intelligent, incredibly kind, and humble. She could see clearly why she was the Captain of the England squad. They spoke about her knee, her career, her Captaincy, as well as YFN’s life in Australia, her motivations and even her relationship with Lucy. Leah had known Lucy for a long time, and even though she was Jordan’s best friend and had no doubt seen Lucy at her worst during the years, she was a big advocate of hers. This surprised YFN as she was Keira’s best friend, and they had been together for several years. Though, Leah’s willingness to advocate so loyally for Lucy made her feel like Keira must have been fine with their relationship.

The more she got to know her, the harder it was for her to understand why she would have left Jordan. They seemed like two pieces of a puzzle. She brought Jordan happiness and support; Jordan brought her peace and kindness. Eventually, of course, the topic shifted to Jordan. Leah admitted that she’d wanted to talk to YFN a while about it because she’d become so close to Jordan and was ‘healthily on the outside of the female football drama’.

YFN knew it took courage and trust to admit what she did, but she did it anyways. Leah had felt overwhelmed in the position she found herself in, being Captain of England, and seeing that her girlfriend was so upset being the last choice for both Arsenal, and England when she worked so hard. Leah felt like she was being torn apart as she was in the biased position of dating one of the players least used by the teams. She knew Jordan was a fantastic player. She had nothing but kindness to say about her as a person, and a player, but she felt like she was betraying Jordan by not sticking up for her with Sarina, and with Jonas. It was absolutely not her place to choose squads and she knew that, and she knew that Jordan knew that also. She’d said that Jordan tried to not show how upset it made her, she’d keep it to herself because she didn’t want any pressure on Leah. Leah knew that Jordan never expected her to be an exception, but it still didn’t stop the pain in her heart and the thoughts in her head being stuck in the middle.

Leah admittedly didn’t cry often, but she was crying as she spoke about Jordan.

“It was the biggest mistake of my life. I was so weak." She said as YFN handed her tissues. “I loved her. I… I love her.”

YFN knew that it must have taken a lot for Leah to admit this all to her, especially when they didn’t know each other well. She was pouring her heart out to her because YFN was currently the closest she could get to Jordan. She knew this and told Leah how much she appreciated how open she was being.

“I can’t…speak for Jordan. She’s her own person. But I can tell her your side, Leah. Maybe then she’ll be willing to listen and have a proper conversation with you. I think you two both need to be in a room to talk this out because regardless of what happens, I know that you were really good friends, and you shouldn’t lose that..”

Leah was appreciative, and YFN knew that the outcome was exactly what she’d hoped for. They spent a bit longer together, playing cards and such before Caitlin arrived with someone YFN had never met before, Kyra Cooney-Cross. They’d said that Katie was stuck in interviews and couldn’t make it until later. Leah greeted them and took her leave, needing to go for a suit fitting for an upcoming carpet event.

Kyra was a cute little Australian also, with the personality of a cheeky kid. Caitlin had apparently been trying to ‘keep her in check’.

“A brick?!” Kyra asked, shocked.

“Fucking unbelievable. This is bullshit. Are you takin’ them to court?” Caitlin asked as they were all sitting on the bed, playing Uno.

“Lucy’s pissed. She’s spoken to her lawyers and yep, they’re pressing charges. First problem is they need to actually ID the girls. They all have fake accounts and the fan photos they have with Lucy don't help when they don't know their names.”

“They’ll get ‘em for sure.” Kyra said, dropping a +4 on Caitlin who groaned. “But it’s so wrong, and so scary.”

“Have you had more fans and fanatics since moving to Arsenal?” YFN asked.

“Oh yeah, I didn’t even used to have a chant and now they’re yelling it every game which is so sick.”

“I think it all changed after the world cup, to be fair.” Caitlin chimed in. “Now it’s not just wanting to watch us as players but wanting to know our personal lives as well. I can’t even get a coffee without being papped or recognised.”

“Ah, no privacy..”

“Yep. I’m a football player, not a celebrity. It’s turnin’ more into how the men’s game is which isn’t great, but I guess it just shows how far the women’s game has grown over the past few years.”

YFN nodded, able to understand their situation just a little bit more after being the victim of some Lucy fanatics. Thinking of Lucy, she checked her phone. She had multiple messages from Jordan and Katie, as well as other players she’d met. She responded to Jordan, agreeing to the phone call once she’d finished training, and texted Katie back also. Then she answered Lucy’s check-up message with a quick selfie of the three of them. Kyra had apparently never met Lucy before and was a big fan, getting nervous at the idea that she may meet her if she hung around long enough.

“Lucy’s going to bring food, are you two hungry?”

Although they’d missed half a day of training, they were more than happy to accept any food Lucy would bring them.

As they started their fifth game, Katie arrived with a hug and joined in on the game after checking on YFN. At the end of their seventh game, Lucy arrived. Her eyes immediately found YFN, relaxing at the sight of her okay. And of course, she was carrying pizzas from the restaurant she and YFN had tried to get them from the night before. Hopeless romantic. The Arsenal girls eagerly took the boxes from her hands while YFN shook her head and grinned at Lucy’s thoughtfulness. She grabbed her face and pulled her in for a ‘Hello, I missed you’ kiss. Lucy tenderly kissed back, and then inspected her bandage and head. Her black eye had developed, but YFN gave her the good news from the doctor regarding her progress. Lucy said hi to the girls, clapping hands and they introduced her to Kyra who looked like a star struck kid. Lucy chuckled at that, agreeing to a selfie before she joined them on the bed. They all knew they shouldn’t be eating take-away during the season but as Katie had said with a mouthful of pizza, “We’re eatin’ this in support of our friend who recently won a battle with a brick so dig in, girls!”

The pizza was incredible and according to Lucy, completely free after the restaurant had seen what happened the night before. YFN couldn’t blame them. If she was serving Lucy Bronze, she’d also give her whatever she wanted for free. They ate pizza, laughed, bantered and YFN made sure to massage Lucy’s knee a bit after her session. Kyra asked Lucy an over-eager amount of questions, which kept Lucy well entertained as she began winning all of the Uno games.

At one point YFN took a selfie of them all, Lucy making a point by putting her arms around her in the photo while the Arsenal girls fake-strangled each other in the back. She sent it to Jordan along with a message to tell her that Leah had also visited. Then, just to spite her stalkers, and with permission, she posted the photo to social media and tagged them all.

The girls all went along with the public ‘fuck you’ and reposted to their stories, commenting on the original post.

KatieMcCabe: YFN 1 – Brick 0 *brick emoji*

JordanNobbs: *red heart emoji* love you chicken

CaitlinFoord: they build us aussies tough *bicep emoji*

KyraCooney-Cross: Lucy cheated in Uno

LeahWilliamson liked your post.

Ridley: I want names and addresses. Now. *angry emoji* *blue heart emoji*

LucyBronze: *red heart emoji x 3*

Jordan replied to her message then.

“Leah came to visit you?”

#lucy bronze #jordan nobbs #lucy bronze x reader #woso #engwnt #lionesses #lucy bronze imagine #womens football #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso soccer #caitlin foord #katie mccabe #leah williamson #kyra cooney cross

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yes-divine-ruler · 1 year

Text

Drabble: Bratting out w/ Kai Anderson in Public

CW: sub/dom relationship, oral (Kai receiving)

a/n: lil random thought from a brat herself 😈 inspo linked

You’re hanging out with friends who don’t know about the power dynamic in your relationship. They know Kai is power hungry and domineering, but they don’t know that plays out between you. He always talks about making the world a better place, and running for councilman, and who wouldn’t be lusting after absolute authority and seeking those simultaneously.

“Oh my god, the other day, Kai refused to catch the cockroach in the bathroom,” you laugh, your eyes glimmering with mischief, “it was so cute how scared he was.”

Kai lets out a forced cough, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His friends only laugh, shoving him playfully on the shoulder and teasing him about how much of a baby he was. The hand he had placed on your thigh grips tighter, and you knew that your plan was working.

“In my defence, it was huge,” Kai defends himself, but he only digs a deeper hole.

“Right,” you stir your drink with the straw, taking a small sip while you maintain eye contact with him, “I think you’re all just talk babe.”

Kai’s eyes narrow, and you can tell he’s becoming disconcerted because a very angry vein is becoming prominent in his forehead. He licks his teeth, and stands suddenly, pulling you up with him by the arm.

“We’ll be back,” Kai speaks between grit teeth, dragging you out of the bar and into an alleyway beside the building. You didn’t know if what you’d said would push his buttons, but you suppose you tried it because you knew it would threaten his masculinity.

“What the fuck was that about?” Kai pushes you against the cool brick, his hand coming up to wrap tightly around your throat. It was all fun and games, until it wasn’t, his pupils swallowing the dark irises in his eyes as he seethes at you.

“What did I do?” You choke out, innocently batting your eyelashes, the smile on your face not wavering even though he was slowly cutting off your oxygen supply. He wasn’t falling for your fake naivety, turning you around so now your chest was pressed against the wall.

He lifts up your dress, sucking in a breath when he saw you’d obliged and not worn panties out to dinner. He didn’t let it distract him, laying a harsh slap on your asscheek. It was followed by more, until your knees almost buckled from under you from the pain.

He’d turned you back around, his eyes raking over your tear-stained face and your swollen red lips. It was exactly what he wanted to see; remorse. He didn’t take another moment to force you down onto your knees, the pavement scratching your skin as he pulled his cock from his pants. He took fistfuls of your hair, that you’d done perfectly before leaving the house that night, and guided your mouth towards his throbbing erection.

“You open that fucking mouth for one reason only, and that’s to take this fucking dick,” Kai spat down at you, pushing and pulling your head back and forth along his length, making sure it was completely slick with your saliva. You were a choking, gagging mess, your eyelids heavy from tears as you tried to turn your head away. It was too much, but absolutely perfect all the same.

He grunted, burying his cock deep in your throat as he came, his cum sliding across your tongue and settling in the pit of your stomach.

“If you think this is all I have planned for you, you have another thing coming. Let’s go back inside before I’m tempted to take you straight home.”

You didn’t even have time to tidy yourself, your hair was a disheveled nest, the mascara you’d applied so delicately now in black smudges beneath your eyes, and you weren’t even sure if you’d had any lipstick left on your lips.

“What- where’d you go?” Kai’s friend looked up at you both as you approached the table, your fingers closely and firmly laced. You sat back down in your chair, not being able to bring yourself to make eye contact with anyone seated across from you.

“I had to discipline her because she clearly forgets her place sometimes.”

#evan peters #evan peters fanfic #evan peters fanfiction #evan peters smut #evan peters requests #evan peters imagine #evan peters x reader #american horror story #2nd person pov #fem!reader #kinky kai anderson #kai anderson #kai anderson imagine #kai anderson smut

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veroniquesboutique · 7 months

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Kinktober Day 16 - Double Penetration/Cuckholding

For Kinktober day 16!

Professor!Nanami Kento x Boyfriend!Satoru Gojo x AFAB!Reader

Content warnings: AFAB!reader, female reader, threesome MFM, double penetration, anal sex f-receiving, established relationship, cuckholdry, professor/student, implied age gap, fingering, unprotected creampie, subbiest Satoru ever made, cocky/mean Nanami Kento, pet names "pretty boy, doll, love, baby"

18+ Minors DNI!

More under the cut

Every time your boyfriend, Satoru Gojo, talked about the professor of your shared Intro to Macroeconomics class, he always started it the same way.

“I’m not gay, but Kento’s built like a fucking brick wall.”

“I’m not gay, but Professor Nanami’s eyes are crazy pretty in the sunlight.”

“I’m not gay, but did you see the way Nanami’s arm flexed in that shirt today? I felt my pussy throb, and I don’t even know what that means.”

You squinted your eyes at that statement, looking up from the textbook you were staring at laying open in front of you to where Gojo was slacking off on your bed.

“You know you can just compliment him, right? Like, you can just say he’s attractive.” You reached your hand up to ruffle his hair as he hung his head off the edge of the bed to look at you with his big, blue eyes. He gave you a small smirk and clicked his tongue at you.

“I don’t want you to be threatened.”

“Threatened!” You scoffed at him. “That would require him to want you,” you turned your attention back to your economics homework as it was his turn to scoff at you.

Conversations like that happen on and off, but there’s something about Professor Kento that Satoru just can’t shake; he’s genuinely never been like that before. You can’t say you blame him, though. That man is an absolute beast. He knows how to dress, how to bend and flex his large, muscular frame in the most flattering way, how to drop his voice and murmur when teaching you one-on-one, how to make a small gasp catch in your throat when he leans around you to collect your papers, point to the right part of the textbook, correct your work as you practice in class. It has made your heart stop before, and you can tell by the blush that covers Satoru’s face when the professor is too class that it stops his too.

You were particularly distracted by the way his blond hair fluttered in the soft classroom AC the one time he called you as the other students starting packing away their things.

“Would you be able to stay for a moment?” Nanami asked, and you let your eyes slide to Satoru before answering. His own marble eyes were giant at the request, and he gave you a small nod when he felt you staring.

“Sure,” you shrugged, approaching his desk as the room emptied and the door shut close behind the last students.

“I just wanted to say that I was impressed by your last test score,” He murmured, shifting through the papers on his desk. You scoffed at the compliment, and you could feel the blush starting to burn up your neck to your face.

“That’s studying for you. I had a lot of help-”

“But you took the test yourself. That’s something,” He cut you off with a smirk, and the way it lit up his face made your heart drop into your stomach. You couldn’t push a thought out of your throat before he was holding out a paper to you. “I wanted to hand it back personally.”

You took the paper out of his hand, letting your eyes gaze over it and stopping on a suspicious 10 digit number at the top. It took an embarrassingly long amount of time for your brain to compute that it was his phone number.

When you looked back up at him, he was watching your face in an attempt to gauge your reaction.

“Just in case you ever…need anything,” He coughed out of his throat, and you realized that he might actually be uncomfortable, uncertain, embarrassed.

“I….I have a boyfriend,” You felt the need to tell him. He smiled.

“Ah yeah,” His eyes shifted to the door then back to you. “Pretty boy. Well, if you ever get bored. Want something new. You know where to find me.”

And then you left, unsure what to do with the paper.

Continued on AO3...

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tetsukuroos · 3 months

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k.t | Take A Chance

Part 5. Maybe He's Not Too Bad

There used to be a time when seeing my name pop up every so often on my timeline was exciting. A new story after every game. Nekomata Izumi scores the final shot! Nekomata Izumi leads her team to victory! Now, after a year, seeing my name just makes her angry. It’s crazy how something could change so quickly, seeing my name spoken about with such greatness and pride, to then everything about me being tied to meltdowns and failures, and now with malicious undertones.

I don’t remember when I started to care, having ignored the past two posts that included my name. I don’t remember when I found the time to check my phone amidst the training sessions with Nekoma or the attempts to hide from the Fukurodani team. I don’t remember when a casual glance at the time turned into hours of scrolling through a thousand responses, most of which called me a leech, a desperate bitch, a disgrace. All I could remember was why I tried to leave everything behind in the first place. Through the hair pulls and tears, I remembered why I tried to forget. The pain never got any better or any easier to manage, it only hurt even more that people wouldn’t let it go. They wouldn’t see past the one thing that happened, wouldn’t acknowledge who I once was or what I was once able to achieve.

I ran a hand through my hair with far greater rigorousness than intended, letting out a choked sob at the throbbing pain circling my head as strands of my hair came out along with my fingers. I tried to turn the phone off, to turn it face down and leave the room, but I couldn’t. Every second I spent scrolling was because I couldn’t help myself. Curiosity fuelled my fire.

Three short knocks tapped against my door and I tried to suck in a deep breath as the man on the other side called my name. “Izumi? I’m coming in,” Kuroo said quietly. So softly that I couldn’t help but think it meant someone cared– couldn’t help but cry a little harder.

“Go away Kuroo!” I yelled, voice strained, tone unforgivably weak.

There was silence and I thought that maybe he had listened to me for once in his life, but then the doorknob turned and the door creaked open. My eyes widened, realising the state of myself and my head whipped to turn away from him, his reaction unreadable. I heard the door knob click as he closed the door behind him and soft footsteps padded forward shortly after.

“What are you doing here?” I couldn’t help but shout, pressing the palms of my hands against my eyes, willing the tears to stop flowing. “Get out!”

“I’m not leaving,” He whispered. The bed dipped beside me, holding his weight up as he scooted an inch closer. “I just… wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I asked you to leave!” I yelled, finally turning back to him. My hands acted on their own, pushing furiously at his chest. He didn’t budge, only flinching at the movement but regaining himself once I started crying harder.

My head was pounding. As if someone was hitting my head with a brick a million times over. The tension in my shoulders was unbearable, holding the weight of a thousand thoughts and regrets. I widened my eyes when my hands came back to their original position, sobbing loudly into the corners of my arms.

“I’m sorry–” I blubbered. “I didn’t mean to– I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Kuroo..” The inner corners of my eyes were on fire, burning as another tear fell right after the other. “Just please leave me alone, I want to be here alone.”

“I don’t know you well enough to know what to say to make you feel better,” He said with a small grin. I looked up at him with furrowed eyebrows, scoffing at his response.

“What?”

“But I’m going to sit here and wait for you. You can yell at me, you can hit me, you can swear and you can do whatever you need to. You can pretend that I’m one of those people that says shit but knows absolutely nothing about you.” He continued and I couldn’t keep my eyes off of him. Off of that gentle smile, the warmth of his eyes, the care in them.

“But I’m going to wait. I’ll wait until you’re feeling better, and then I’ll leave.”

Wait. Patience. The one thing I’ve always hoped for. The one thing I wish people would have done for me back then. I looked at him through the tears soaking my eyes, I sat through the silence he offered, waiting for a response. Just waiting.

My head dropped, my chin touching my chest, and my body leaned forward, pressing my forehead against his chest. I let go of my lip, red and bruised from biting it, just wanting to cry. I just wanted to cry. The sobs came harder than before, ripped from my chest, and laid out on the floor. My stomach hurt, and cramped as I tried to catch my breath and my head began to feel light, as if someone was finally holding the bricks that slammed against me.

And there he sat. With a soothing hand rubbing the back of my hand, he sat there and waited. I don’t remember how much longer we were in the room. All I remember was that Kuroo waited until I was feeling better, and then he left.

Masterlist | Next

ˋ°•*⁀➷ Take A Chance Synopsis

After a year in hiding, Izumi Nekomata is tasked with coaching the Nekoma High men's volleyball team after her father falls ill. Izumi reluctantly agrees despite her past with the sport and swallows her pride to fulfill her father's wishes.

Meeting the rowdy team and their charismatic captain, she is taught to love what she once lost and let go of what had been holding her back.

ˋ°•*⁀➷ Pairing

Kuroo Tetsurou x F! Reader

A/N: Took me a minute to post this because uni has finally started up again!

21 notes · View notes

kingkatsuki · 2 years

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Bakugou sometimes needs help. His first time is one of those times, he offers his humility and pride to you up on a silver platter. His cock is so hard that he doesn't even have the ability to act bratty, instead he whines and bucks as you climb on top of him and grind your hips, promising in little whispers as you bite his scarred and tanned skin that you will take care of him. You promise you will show him what it feel likes, how it works, that you will rewire his brain to see only neon bright instead of that black and white. Your pretty delicate fingers wrap around his throat as you sink deep onto his dick, seating yourself where you have always belonged. The stretch is near painful, tears pricking your eyes as his hips hump up natural and sloppy. He babbles incoherently as his throat flexes in your gentle grasp and you both know he is going to cum but that doesn't matter. Because you both also know that you will continue to fuck him until he's numb and begging you to stop, and until you are spilling his cum over his thighs and yours. -Ram

Ram I am going to scream, biting my fist and tearing my hair out😩

He’s so fucking perfect I stg.

Just the thought of Bakugou spending years of his life working his frustrations out himself, perfectly content with a cold shower or on days where he’s particularly pent up he’ll wrap a palm around his cock and fist himself until the tension leaves his body, watching spurts of his milky cum run down the plug while he takes his morning shower.

It’s not perfect by any means, but it’s enough to stop him from snapping at random civilians or his own agency. And it serves him well into his thirties, convincing himself that he doesn’t need anyone else. That he can take care of himself—

But when he meets you for the first time he can’t control himself, you do something to him that he’s never felt before. A unique throb swirling inside his pelvis, different to the way he feels whenever he watches porn or watches the women dancing at the strip clubs Denki and Sero force him into. It’s an ache inside him that he cannot satiate with just his fist— purchasing toys online that he thinks will step up the ante and alleviate the tension that continues to build inside him.

But as much as he tries, fucking himself into the clear fleshlight as he spills more of his creamy seed inside— his balls still throb with desire. His brows furrowed as he pictures your warm, wet cunt instead.

It’s futile, no matter how hard he tries to push the distraction of you to the back of his mind, he can’t escape the thought of you. His cock chubbing beneath his slacks whenever he smells the sweet scent of you, throbbing when you give him that pretty smile.

You’re a hindrance to his work, his rating suffering when he fails to apprehend the petty thieves or villains that he’s sent out to capture. Even more bricked up than before as everyone around him begs him to sort himself out, to fix it.

And so he does, finding himself beneath you as you look down at him with that same pretty look on your face. The black patent heels still on your feet as he imagines you stepping on his chest, leaving marks so he can keep reminders of this later.

Groaning when he finally feels the warmth of your wet cunt sinking down on him, feeling nothing like the toys he’d bought to try and replicate you. Nothing, absolutely nothing can compare to the real thing.

You allow him a few moments to be submissive, to have someone take care of him for once, to look after him. But now he has an even bigger problem, because he’s become completely and utterly addicted to you.

#jo thirsts #thirst posts #Bakugou thirst

261 notes · View notes

astudyincontrasts · 2 years

Text

Penance X

Priest!Silco x Fem!Reader AU (nsfw)

A nsfw multichapter little fic, dedicated to @purpurniymstitel‘s inspired prompt. One last chapter of fluff and fuckery before the proverbial shit hits the holy fan. This one fought me, guys. If you want warnings its just breakfast and blowjobs. Not even a little sorry. So much thanks to @ink-and-dagger and @x-amount-verbs for their support and help. 🖤

“Come have breakfast when you’re ready, lamb.”

It was terribly tempting, the sudden whim that struck you to slide out of bed and make your way across the loft and into the kitchen completely nude. Just to see what he'd do. To relish the look on his face and see if he'd drop eyes respectfully once more as he'd done when you'd sat up in bed and the sheets had pooled under your bare breasts. Or if he'd stare, perhaps leer silently in that sternly amused way of his, so constantly stoic save for that thin hint of a dark little smile that consistently flipped your world upside down and shook it like a snow globe.

You might've done it too - if the second you'd slid out of bed and stood on your own two feet the entire weight of your combined hangovers from the drinks and mystery drug hadn't come crashing down like a bag of bricks. Fully upright, your stomach soured and head spun, everything ached from the knuckles in your fingers to the roots of your hair. Even eyeballs throbbed and felt like their surface was coated in a fine grit.

No, no tempting sauntering anywhere for you this morning. You'd had your 'fun' as it were last night and now there was a piper to be paid.

Offering Father Silco a garbled response to his breakfast invitation that was some incoherent amalgamation of in a minute, gotta shower, and oh my god I'd like to die please, you stumbled for the bathroom. Had to pass by the open doorway and hey, that would just have to be tease enough. All you could manage. The shower was wonderfully hot, water pressure sublime as it pounded down on your aching head, easing some of the pain of the liquified grey matter sloshing about between your ears.

Skin was pleasantly pink by the time you'd toweled off, scrubbed up and soft and feeling about forty percent more human. You towel dried hair until it was no longer dripping, piled it up messily and then dug about in your dresser. Maybe you weren't going to subject him to a Lady Godiva over breakfast but if you had him here, all to yourself, you could still make him suffer just a touch. Cheeky high waisted boyshort panties and a soft-worn, cropped very short and faded old tee-shirt that hung just a little off one shoulder would do just fine. And felt wonderfully comfortable anyhow.

Grabbing the mug of his absolutely vile coffee he'd left for you, bare feet padded out to the kitchen to find him buttering toast, one half-eaten triangle caught in his teeth. Noted with some satisfaction the subtle little double take he gave your approach. That shirt wasn't cut so high as to expose the underside of breasts but a good reach upward would do the trick. You rounded both him and the kitchen island he stood at and poured the contents of your mug into the sink before rinsing it out. Turned to catch him watching as one dark brow arched a slow upward climb.

"You don't like coffee?" He asked mildly.

"Father. That was not coffee. That was a cry for help."

You reached for the pot - he'd poured hot water over the grounds in an actual pot on the stove and then boiled it more! Oh Christ. The look you shot him was dryly incredulous and he had the grace to look at least a little chastened, if shocked at your bald-faced insult. It was an unexpected delightful departure from his usual stern dour. Grabbing the kettle from the stove to refill it, you watched as he wandered over with the plate of toast triangles to peer into his pot of war-crime level coffee as if it might explain itself and how anyone could find it a disappointment. Setting the refilled kettle back on the stove and clicking on the heat you leaned over and stole a bite of the toast he held forgotten between thumb and forefinger.

Golden, generously buttered and delicious. He stiffened as you stole your bite, pulling the toast back afterward like you'd steal the whole thing next. And set the plate within your reach on the countertop by the stove.

"I beg your pardon." So affronted, both at your toast thievery and your coffee insults.

"You ought to." Undeterred and good humored. He deserved whatever ribbing he got and you weren't sorry in the least. Reaching up to open a cabinet, you offered him a slight smile, what little you could manage without feeling like all the brittle bones in your face would crack from the hangover. Watched him eye that reach of yours, the lift of shirt and long stretch up on tiptoes to grab the press out of the cabinet. "And next you should call the farmers that grew those coffee beans and apologize to them."

"You're quite mean in the mornings." He observed dryly, leaning against the countertop and finishing his toast as you scooped grounds into the press then watched the kettle and rubbed at your forehead, willing the pulse of your heartbeat behind it to not throb quite so loudly. He brushed the crumbs off fingers against dark pants before sidling closer, caging you in against the countertop with the brace of the heels of both palms to its edge, to glance over your shoulder at the french press waiting on the counter.

"That doesn't seem like nearly enough." Chin came to rest upon the shoulder half bared by the loose neckline of your shirt, and in spite of the full body agony you were currently experiencing the gentle electric thrill of proximity managed to break through, like a soft static charge up along the whole back side of you where a mere inch or two stood separation of skin.

Mouth opened to explain you only needed a few scoops not an entire half a cup of coffee grounds when his thumbs stroked lightly over the outer edge of your own hands they were braced alongside and suddenly you didn't care all that much about explaining the finer points of coffee making. Even less so when he grazed the touch of his mouth over your bared shoulder, and then back to the soft weight of his chin resting there as you struggled to scrape enough of yourself together to lift the now whistling kettle from the heat and pour the water over the grounds.

Not sure if the rush you felt when he pushed off the counter to go back to puttering about the kitchen was one of gratitude or loss. But for one sterling, perfect second there it had felt so lovely to just indulge in the simplicity of standing in your own kitchen with a person you wanted so badly you could feel it down to the marrow of your bones, both of you half dressed and rumpled and happy. To be free for one second of all the intricate complications that actually came along with all this.

Too early and too overwhelmed with self inflicted misery to give any attention to all those ghosts beginning to gather in the dark corners of your mind, whispering to each other about what a terrible idea this all was. You'd been ignoring them for a little over a month now, what was one more stolen day?

A rummage in a drawer found a bottle of ibuprofen and you knocked two back, washing them down with water cupped in hands under the sink, and then turned to catch him watching you again as he stood by the stove, setting pan on an unlit burner and cutting butter into it. You watched the flex and give of that enormous dark tattoo across his bare skin as he moved, turned attention back to his task and put the butter away in the fridge before grabbing the eggs.

Fingers tingled at their tips, itched to touch and trace. Bad enough you could hardly stand to keep your hands to yourself around him anyhow, now this? You liked it terribly. One more dark little facet and secret page in his book to savor, keep to yourself. It had you interrupting his search for silverware, drawing close to trace the light tip of a forefinger over the coil of one snake. Felt it still him, watched his shoulders stiffen and breath shallow.

"This is... this looks like a story." You observed, watching the back of his head warily as you brushed lips to the bloody red apple dead center. Let fingers span the taut of his waist, up his ribcage. Listened to the soft stutter of breath that escaped him slow before you wound arms around him from behind as he leant weight heavily upon palms on the kitchen counter.

"Mn. One for another time. How are you feeling?" That rough velvet voice of his pitched low. Had you press your cheek to the sprawl of ink across pale skin to feel the reverberation of the words in him.

"Hhrrmm." Noncommittal noise of pain and regret that had him actually laughing, albeit silently. Shoulders just shaking slightly against the press of your cheek. A hand rose to cover one of yours splayed across his chest, fingers sliding into the spaces between your own, palm pressing yours a bit tighter to him.

The timer you'd set for the steeping coffee chimed and you jumped at the noise, peeled yourself away from him to turn it off and push the press down. Glanced up to catch him watching you again, over one shoulder and out of the corner of his good eye. The weight of that gaze made it a fight of sheer willpower to keep fingers from shaking ever so slightly as you poured a fresh mug of coffee for yourself, and then one for him as well. Added the two spoons of sugar you'd seen him take it with before turning slowly to find Silco facing you, still leaning against the counter, expression unreadable.

You held his mug out in silence and watched his gaze flick toward it, give it a long consideration before red and teal ticked up toward you as he reached out and took it. Set it blindly back on the counter beside him before extending that hand again in offering. Warm, when you slid your fingers into its grasp, let him use the tether of it to pull you in before the way he advanced had you backpedaling, unconsciously letting him herd you, chase you until your back hit up against the kitchen island. A sharp slice of a smile tugging at one edge of his scarred mouth, attention straying down you slowly.

A fingertip grazed your bare navel, traced a light line upward so slowly it froze breath in lungs.

"Why is it you seem so determined to show me every piece of undergarment you own?" That finger caught the hem of your short shirt and lifted slightly. In spite of the fact you'd chosen it on purpose to be a tease, heart was a hard pound timpani in your eardrums as the back of his finger stroked light along the curve of the underside of first one breast and then the other in an impossibly slow line, raising the soft sweep of warm fire up both arms and clear across the tingle of scalp.

"Or sometimes the lack thereof." he murmured with the slight lift of one brow.

The accusation was hardly fair. Most of the occasions... alright, at least half of the occasions he'd been party to your underthings it was of his own volition, curiosity, or cunning. The hand you'd been hoping might travel further up instead fell, spanned your stomach before it slid to your hip, joined by his other hand on the hip opposite as his cant of a smile tightened slightly. Had you wrapping your own fingers lightly around his wrist.

"Up." He directed, and you jumped, took a seat on the island countertop. Practically had to stop yourself asking how high?

He settled between the spread of thighs and caught the hem of that shirt again. This time drew it up and up till it came even with your mouth, breasts bared, nipples stiffening slowly against the cool air.

"Open." A second's confused hesitation before your mouth parted. The dark line of a brow over an ocean colored eye quirked slightly. "Wider, if you please."

And you obeyed, mouth parting as you knew he liked it, tongue flat and tip touching the backs of lower teeth. Earned you a darkly pleased smile and the push of that shirt between lips. No need to tell you to close on it, you did so automatically, left holding that cropped shirt up for him in your mouth like a little toy. Hot blush seeping up behind cheeks, the throb in your temples nothing whatsoever to do with your hangover anymore.

He braced a hand on the countertop and settled into enjoying the view, the elegant length of one finger back to tracing the shape of a breast, soft sickle metronome back and forth under the curve before it drew straight up to press lightly to the tip of a nipple that stiffened fully and obligingly against its light touch. Had you exhale hard through your nose. The sound of it only curled the scarred half of his mouth a bit higher.

He drew a lazy circle around the tingling, sensitive little nub, gave it a tiny flick that made your entire body tense in the jerk of a little jolt. Magma heat oozing slow through sluggish veins still waking, still catching up and catching on and catching fire as he toyed with you. Succulent soft fluttered yearning rebuilding in the hungry pit between your legs, as if even though he'd finally given you release a few hours ago, it had meant nothing, done nothing to soothe or ease that constant burn for him, more of him.

He dipped that dark head, messy haired and sleep softened, dipped and dragged the tip of his tongue warmly over the rise of that little bud. Soft, sweet, wet tickle of it sending your head rocking back, material of shirt straining in the clench of your teeth and muffling your little sigh of bliss as eyes drifted shut. And those teasing, featherlight licks continued, had your breath coming in deep gulps until he closed teeth over the primed and singing little cluster of sweet nerves, lovely little pinch fitted right to his front teeth. It lasted but a second and you were staring at the ceiling in hot desperation like god himself was about to punch through the drywall and smite you both.

"I ought to be at Mass right now." He intoned quietly, and the tilt of your head lowered slowly to catch him gazing back at you, expression thoughtful, unreadable save for the scant touch of wicked humor crinkling the outer edges of his eyes. Right back to a savoring soft suckle of the nipple he'd been ignoring, making your eyes roll back as the urge to clench together the thighs he stood firmly between wrung a full body shiver out of you from curling toes to tingling scalp.

"Mmnf. Mmnn."

"What's that, lamb?" Head lifted once more as he reached to pluck the shirt from your mouth for you. So helpful when it pleased him to be.

"We've already got bread." You nodded toward the plate of toast he'd left on the opposite counter. "I've got a bottle of wine around here..."

He pushed the shirt back between your lips with a chagrined expression, as if he was sorry he'd ever given you the opportunity to chime in. Teeth clenched on it again and yes, you pouted. Why not? He'd earned it. Smug bastard. Father Silco leaned on the countertop, jaw working as gaze ticked thoughtfully over you in no rush. The brace of those lean arms was a welcome distraction. Lithely muscled and forearms corded from elbow to wrist, hands rose to trace the lovely thick rise of a vein running across the back of his wrists and up over the top of forearm to disappear in the crook of elbow and rise again softer over the stretch of bicep. Strength belied by his lean frame. You'd felt it; as he'd held you down or lifted you up, his hands on your wrists, your throat, your backside. Good thing he favored a gentle touch because otherwise...

Thumbs hooked in the tops of your panties and he tugged, had your hands hitting the countertop automatically to lift yourself before rational thought could even catch up. And then he stood there with those silk-soft things dangling from a forefinger and your bottom bare on cold granite.

"I've eaten more than enough of the body of Christ, don't you think? Time for a different one, hm?"

Eyes widened as he gathered panties and slid them into a pocket, slipped hand behind one ankle and stroked a cupping cradle of it up the dangle of your calf as it hung off the countertop, caught behind your knee and lifted, the slow lever of it necessitating your slouch backward that turned into a full sprawl as he raised that leg, slipped it over the span of one shoulder. And came to rest between your open thighs.

Breath was coming in hard gulps now, every nerve alight and skin lifted in a map of sweetly prickling goosebumps as small, tense shivers that had absolutely nothing to do with the chill of the stone underneath you swept through you in little waves. He watched it, watched you - barely clinging to the keen edge of terrified excitement- and smoothed a hand up the underside of your lifted thigh in a soothing caress.

"You'll keep that shirt between your teeth, lamb. And behave yourself." Touch left you and there was the soft sound of small beads rattling together. The noise of him pulling from his pocket the rosary he'd taken off you last night in the confessional. Hands cupped as he held it over your lower stomach and he let it puddle into your fingers one gleaming purple bead at a time. "Behave yourself or I'll go ahead and fix those hands of yours together with that again. Understood?"

"Mmnf Mnnffmn." It was tacit agreement, if a bit muffled, helped by the emphatic nod of your head. Oh god. Behave yourself? How? Only he could have asked you, naked in every way that counted, spread sprawled upon your own kitchen island, eager, slicking sex bare and a scant few inches from his face to behave yourself.

Still, you sucked a breath and closed fingers tightly around the rosary as your head rocked back against the stone beneath it.

Warm fingers stroked slow, came to press softly over the shape of your lips, and the fight to lift hips up into them was a bare knuckle brawl within. Unsure which was worse; that he had a front row seat to your suffering want or that he could quite literally feel it stringing through you in little tremors. You'd been so sure that mouth of his would start there, at the soft of inner thighs, that you'd had legs tensed so badly they'd begun to ache. Instead he kept that hand pressed to the shape of your sex and rose a little, leg over his shoulder hitching with it, and brushed a kiss just under the dip of your navel. Soft, gentle. Oh god, the way air left you when the tip of his tongue licked an unhurried little line straight up the softness of lower stomach to that point he'd kissed. And he lingered there, mouth warm as it spread soft worship out to the ticklish hollows where hip and thigh met, tasting the velvet soft of vulnerable skin, breath fanning along the gentle little convulsions of your stomach before he finally found his way down the top of a thigh and let his hand slide away.

The groan you released as his fingertip stroked through the part of your pussy was inhuman, drug up from the depths and pitching out of your throat on fumbling legs, fighting to escape the clench of teeth and stifling damp fabric of your shirt. His tenderness was unraveling, undoing. It was going to end you, and every ounce of you yearned toward it with open arms.

Tears were dripping from the outer edges of eyes by the time a gentle hook and press of thumbs caught and spread you wide. The most vulnerable, bare feeling of your life - and you only spread thighs all the further for him, face hot fire and air struggling to get through the line of your teeth to fill stuttering lungs.

You could hear the breath he took when he spread you. Feel it escape across the slick wet of silk skin.

"Ah, lamb. Such a pretty thing, aren't you?" He murmured, the grit velvet dark of that voice doing just as much to you as his touch could, had eyes closing involuntarily while the beads in your tight fingers bit into skin where they were joined together by little silver links. He sounded almost... almost sad about it, in a way. As if anything he found so lovely could ever be forbidden. Thumbs stroked along lips and folds, drew you more open, wider.

The touch of his tongue sent you spinning.

Just a soft, light little lick. Like one might wet their finger before turning a page. Tender and just over the waiting plush throb of your exposed clit.

Every last inch of you spasmed in one taut, wringing little paroxysm of bliss. Fire rushing through veins and heart hammering so hard you could hear the blood in your ears. Do it again. Do it again, do it more. More. More now.

Suddenly not so hard to understand why he'd been so emphatic that you behave.

Again that gentle, slight lick. And you arching, practically sobbing a moan as you rocked from the back of your head to the crown on unforgiving granite, fingers folded like a tight prayer over little beads. A third little wet tease of his tongue and all the while across the back of your eyelids all you could see was the vision of him, bent over you as he was, the coil and curl of snakes shaped to a cross and brilliant red fruit at its center sprawled dark across his back as he toyed with you spread out before him.

A fourth lick, this one with the tip of his tongue curled, digging in ever so gently, catching a delicious flick of a rub that had another of those little spasms leap out of you, thighs trembling hard. And you heard him laugh, softly. A bare hum of a thing, delighted. As if he'd read your mind, that voice of his picked up before the next wonderful pass of his tongue.

"Now the serpent was more cunning than any beast of the field which the Lord God had made. And he said to the woman, "Has God indeed said, 'You shall not eat of every tree of the garden'?"

Another dragging little lick, but this one lingered, flattened slightly, drew the barest hint of a circle that had you writhing, had that heel pressed to his back digging in encouragingly. Forked tongue and sweet fruit, indeed.

"And the woman said to the serpent, "We may eat the fruit of the trees of the garden; but of the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of the garden, God has said, 'You shall not eat it, nor shall you touch it, lest you die.' "

Slick and slow that tip of his tongue slid up the entire length of you, warm and soft, only to dip straight into your entrance without warning, pressing and filling ecstatic ticklishness, lick and slide and slow thrust before he traced a firm circle around the inner edge of that sweet, sensitive hollow as you felt yourself clench in a mortifying little flutter.

"Then the serpent said to the woman, 'You will not surely die. For God knows that in the day you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.' "

You were whining. The grasp of the shirt in your teeth stopping the pleading, begging, demanding you'd otherwise be doing. And you weren't going to dare let it go. Not if it stood any chance of making him stop if you did so. Cheek turned to press against the cool countertop as you worked hips, trying wordlessly to make him stop speaking, stop that voice of his running over and through you and just give you the attentions he was teasing at.

Instead he pressed a kiss to your clit. Chaste, if such a thing was possible, ineffably gentle.

"So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate, and she also gave some to her husband who was with her, and he ate."

"Mmmn. Mmmnnhhph!" Intolerable. Torturous. You groused under him, huffing breath and lifting hips and struggling.

Until the lips that grazed your clit in kisses closed over it. Left you with the barest ghost of a sensation of teeth just touching at that softly swollen little nub before he sucked, humming gently as if to himself, or in pleasure at the taste of you, and every single other sensation in the world condensed into that one gently vibrating, sublime soft suction that had you arch off the countertop in a shape fit to break your spine.

He did not stop. Not when you bucked into his face, felt the crush of that sharp nose to soft give of your skin, not when you shouted behind your makeshift gag or moaned out a garbled prayer of his name and his name only as hard wringing shudders took you in hot waves, his tongue toying at you as he just kept up that sucking, humming, licking little sweet torture. More and more and more until you broke for him. Back landing hard upon the stone as one long, slow shiver swept down you, the plane of your stomach a fit of those delicious ecstatic fluttering convulsions within.

He kept you spread, and it was your turn to hum quietly now, weak little moans as he lapped at the sticky sweet spill of how wet he'd made you cum, unapologetic in his unhurried taste of you and how you dripped for him. Delicious warm passes of his tongue leaving you boneless, reeling, smiling indolently to yourself as you reached fingers still holding beads down and let them card through his hair, let them catch and tug just a little and then smooth gently against the mussed fall of it.

One glance down yourself found the juxtaposition of blue eye and violent red gazing back up at you, watching as that sharp point of his nose nudged against the tender pulsing swell of your clit, sensation of his tongue dipping into you again, sliding deep as it would go if the way that teal eye slanted near closed was any indication, or that softly delicious rolling pressure at your entrance. And then up he came slow, fingers splaying gentle strokes at folds he kept spread, and started those little, light licks once more, this time to either side of the gentle ache of the cluster of nerves he'd already left agonizingly sensitive. Infuriatingly gentle things that had you squirming until he dragged the whole broad flat of his tongue along you proper, sending a shocking, sudden and hard little second release rippling through you. Fingers clenched in his hair, every fibre of every muscle gone taut and trembling as you bucked a little flailing spasm, groaning against the sodden fabric in your teeth as you rode out that lovely ecstasy against the play of his tongue.

Sucking breath and trapped for a moment behind heavy eyelids, you felt rather than saw him nestle and rub a cheek against your inner thigh. Felt the brush of a cluster of kisses to the heat of tender skin just at its innermost as he released his spread of you and stroked soothingly over glossed lips. Arms reached out blindly to him and he gathered you up, a gentle hoist off the stone to cradle you against himself, tugging that shirt free from your mouth before folding your bonelessness in close. Scent of his hair as your nose crushed to his temple, feel of the way the lean muscle of his back bunched and spread under your fingers as you cradled arms around his shoulders. Blade of his nose pushed up under your jaw, against your throat and then down as he bit gently over the shelf of your collarbone.

"Breathe, little lamb, I've got you."

Up he scooped you, legs winding about his narrow waist, and got you across the room to sink down into one of the large chairs by the windows, cuddled up to him, just trying to find an even pace of breath as lovely little tremors like aftershocks clenched little fits within. Nothing but the heat of his skin, the scent of him, of you on him, and those long fingered hands caressing lazy long strokes up and down your back as you slid down into the warm waters of sumptuous afterglow.

"Lamb?"

"Hmm? Head turned to nuzzle at his ear, catch it between your lips and tug just lightly. Felt it tense and lift his shoulders like it tickled him.

"I want a promise from you."

Oh god, not another one. You hadn't necessarily been on the winning end of the last promises exchanged. Until recently, that is. In this moment the bargain you'd struck felt very rewarding indeed. If one could reasonably call getting the most amazing head from a priest on your own kitchen island a reward. Heaving a breath, you released his ear and sat back, twisted that rosary into a lose bracelet around your wrist as you met his gaze.

"Alright."

He held that eye contact in a considering silence until you began to nearly squirm under it, brows knitting slowly as you withered under his introspection and hesitation.

"What happened last night. Never again, yes?"

Heat flooded your face and keeping even with his gaze became an impossibility, attention sliding away to the window, to your own lap, to the flat of his chest where you let fingers splay out and stroke gently across pale skin. His hand closed on the wrist not wrapped in rosary and stilled it, squeezed.

"Lamb." Tone almost on the edge of warning.

"Yes, Father." God, it made you sound like a petulant, scolded thing. And all while sitting there still bare-assed and soaked from his attention. Hand released your wrist to press forefinger and middle up under the soft of your chin until you had to look at him again.

"I mean it. Never, ever again take something when you don't know what it is. Promise me." So emphatic. Voice with a ripped edge to it and the last between gritted, chipped teeth.

Wait. This was about the drugs?

"Wh- Yes. Yes I promise." What? Just the drugs? You'd known it was stupid and reckless of you but he was acting as if you'd held a gun to your head or perhaps tried walking tightrope on the edge of the building roof. It had just been some Ecstasy. Probably. Maybe.

The promise had him relax visibly though. Let him rock back against the chair, hands falling to your hips before he seemed to remember he still had your underwear in his pocket and dug it out for you, offering it back with a wicked little tilt of a smile that had no right to look as good as it did on the angles of his face. You took them, hesitantly, shooting him another confused little look that took him a moment to interpret.

"If you think I want to share you, you're wrong." It came out quiet, his turn to let attention stray away, watching one thumb trace a pattern across the top of your thigh, that muscle in the edge of his jaw back to jumping at the hard flex of it. "But I have no right to ask you - no right to make a demand like that."

Lying, if you said that didn't sting a little. Not that he was unwilling to press the issue of wanting you all to himself, but rather that he couldn't or didn't understand that it was already what you wanted. What you'd realized quite profoundly, and to some detriment last night. Your turn to catch his hand at the wrist and still it, stop its patterns before sliding your fingers between his own and lifting them both in a laced clasp to brush your mouth over his knuckles one by one between yours. Waiting until you had his full attention again.

"I want you to."

The ruin of his teeth bared and he wrenched hand out of yours to catch at hips, drag them tight and flush to his waist, fingers bruising grip as he shoved the bridge of his nose hard against your own.

"You could have died last night. That idiot boy could have killed you. And what then, hm? Would you like to hear how I spent half of last night convinced I was going to feel you stop breathing and the other half hating a man I never met because he had the audacity to touch you?"

The heat of it was stunning, ran so contrary to his usual calm, icy grip and chill stern anger when you'd seen him riled. It had you smoothing back the dark locks of mussed hair falling over his brow as he drew back slightly, looking half uncomfortable himself at the outburst that hadn't even raised his voice past a low snarl.

Hands shaped themselves to the broad of his shoulders, swept from the inner rise toward neck and back out again as thumbs dug gentle circles into the round of muscle and lower lip tucked itself between your teeth in a hard pinch. It should have been flattering that he'd been jealous. Instead it felt bitter that you'd done something so cavalier and callous. A justifiable sensation, but terrible nonetheless. It was a fruitless search for decent words of apology, or promise that it wouldn't happen again. Everything you floundered up from the depths felt trite and silly the second you repeated them in your mind.

"I'm sorry." The mumbled roteness of it all you managed. Both of you breathed soft resignation at it.

Against the way he'd grabbed you close, you became slowly aware of how hard he was. How hard he must have been since he had you over the countertop... and how hard he'd been earlier in bed. It had to be torture. A second's hesitation and you slid a hand down between you both, shifted hips back to slide the cup of that palm over him and watched him struggle not to press into it, falter, fail with a shift of hips under you before he forced the slow close of that teal eye back open again and reached for your wrist.

"Lamb, please-"

"Don't you want me?" It wasn't infantile, wasn't pleading or teasing. You asked it honest, hurt at the way he kept rebuffing you over and over in the face of his obvious need. Because what else could it be at this point?

His look was stunned, dark brow drawing toward the ruination of its scarred and barely existent brother as he stared taut consternation at your question. The hand that had been reaching for your wrist rose. Slid to cradle the curve of your cheek, thumb a press against the corner of your mouth as he shook his head slightly.

A weight dropped like a stone into the pit of your stomach.

"All I do anymore is want you." Barely a whisper of his voice.

And that awful weight vanished. Dissolved blessedly quick as it had formed. Head turned and you caught his thumb, drew it into your mouth and watched him as you sucked the tip of it slow, pressed the roll of your tongue against its pad as his lips parted, mismatched gaze trained upon your mouth with some silent battle going on behind that scarred countenance. You let his thumb slip free to rest its dampness against your lower lip. And then leaned in, nestled against the scarred half of his face and brushed a trail of slow kisses back over one of the deeper etching lines, ran the tip of your nose along the outside of his ear as fingers of one hand spread over the rise and fall of his chest. Nudged forehead to the softening grey at his temple.

"I want you, too."

The lines of his throat worked a swallow you could feel under fingertips that had taken up a light stroke from chin to collarbone and he curled his own hand over the nape of your neck at your words, turned his head, enough to press forehead against yours and meet your gaze again. Fingers grazed along the softness of your hairline down along the tender skin at the back of your neck, waking a soft little thrill that coursed down through skin and tingled sweet electric fire up over your crown. That teal eye blinked once and you pressed the hand cupped to him tighter in a little rub. Felt him suck a hard breath.

"Kneel."

No different than the first time in the rectory; that breathless, illicit little tension stringing up your spine and the soft ache back between thighs that had only just abated. Had you shutting eyes as you repressed an all too obvious little shiver.

His legs spread and you slid down between them, panties forgotten on the arm of the chair as you settled on knees between his thighs, watching him like any second now you expected him to change his mind and scramble backwards up out of the chair and out of your reach. The way he was breathing hard as you hooked fingers in the waist of his pants and tugged the button open was no comfort at all in waylaying such a notion. Yet his hands settled on your arms as they rested atop his thighs, and that gaze down at you as you tugged zipper open didn't waver. Still, you went slow. No room for both him and your heart in your throat.

Fingertips curled in the waist of underwear as you leaned close, pulled the split of pants open wide and bared the skin of his lower stomach down to the base of that hard cock, but did not free him just yet. Instead, rocked forward to press your face fully into the gentle curve of one of the shallow lines of muscle that traced from hip inward, buried your face in warm skin and inhaled the scent of him, filled lungs with it. And then began to lick slow at the velvet softness of his lower stomach. Nuzzling kisses and dragging your tongue from the line of fabric on up in ticklish slow drags that had his stomach tightening with each pass that rose nearly to his navel.

One of his hands came to rest across your forehead in a caress that curled back into your hair, thumb dragging against your hairline as you let eyes drift shut at the taste of his skin, salt sweat and clean as you remembered. Warm against your tongue and tensing in slow fits with every pressing suck of a kiss as you traced the sparse line of soft hair that trailed below his navel. Listened to breath hiss from between his teeth as fingers tightened their grip in your hair. And then you finally turned eyes back upward as you helped free him from the confines of clothes.

Only half as lost as he had looked the first time you'd done this to him in the confessional, far more in control of himself but still gazing down at you with something behind that ineffable expression as if he struggled to believe you were real. Or perhaps that he was willing to allow this.

So terribly, achingly hard, he twitched the moment your hands grazed him.

The desire to speak to him, to tell him the most indecent things sprung to mind, but the way his fingers curled and released in your hair only to tighten again, the slight tremble you could feel in his thighs, the way the tip of him was already slowly oozing thick beads of precum all stopped you. Had you recall exactly how this went last time, with him finishing so terribly soon and that horrible look of mortification mingled with the agony of his relief. Not your desire to be cruel, to torment him into cumming himself prematurely all over again.

Instead, you kept touch light, decided to return the favor of those little licks he'd teased you with. Wrapping a hand around the base of his cock, rosary dangling off your wrist and down around him as you traced the thick vein that ran the whole length of his underside straight upward with the tip of your tongue. Skin fever hot and smooth, taste of him blooming across your tongue as you rose, licked and toyed at the hypersensitive little web of skin just at the underside of his head and watched the way his stomach muscles rolled a slow clench and release, smiled to yourself at the stifled sound he made.

Silco was huffing breath audibly by the time you'd finished tracing little licks around the ridge of the head of his cock, gaze trained up on him before you slid the wet gloss of your tongue over the dripping line of cum that had begun to seep down that smooth bell curve and along the length of him. Let him watch your eyes slant nearly closed as that slight bitter salt hit tastebuds. And you kept up that delicate torment, treating him no better than you would a melting ice cream cone until his hand in your hair caught a tighter grip and gave a little tug. Stopped you mid lick, tongue still out and pressed against the pulse of one thick vein as you looked up at him, all feigned innocence as to what could possibly be the matter.

"If being a tease were a sin, lamb, I don't know if there'd be any saving you."

His expression one of mingled dark amusement and absolutely livid lust, he used that grip to draw your head back, and you arched your neck obligingly, kept mouth open and wide as he slid closer, toward the edge of the chair, took himself in hand over top of your grip still on the base of him and gazed down at you as he gave himself a few slow pumps before drawing you in, laying the head of his cock on the flat of your tongue and pulling you onto it.

"Swallow me." The words came out of him thickly, like he had to fight to keep that tone calm.

Lips closed around him as you let him slide in, let him pull you forward onto his cock, jaw opening and tongue flattening further the more he filled your mouth. And he did fill your mouth. You'd almost forgotten how your jaw ached the following day after the first time. In he slid himself until you both felt him nudge at the back of your throat and heard him groan softly at the surrounding wet heat that enveloped him. Fisted grip of your hair made to draw you back but you resisted, glanced upward and lifted chin just a touch, let the back of your throat relax as best you could and slid him just a little deeper.

The thin of his lower lip caught hard between chipped teeth as your gag reflex betrayed you, convulsed slightly, had you choking gently around the head of him before you slid back. There weren't too many of those left in you, but you'd offer him what you could, and worth it to see how badly he liked it. He set the pace and you sucked hard, rolled tongue against and over him, saved the hardest suction for the sensitive head of his cock as he nearly popped from your mouth each time.

Not long until he was unraveling, till those hips of his were lifting as he slumped back in the chair, his grip relaxing into a fitful hand at the crown of your head. Above you, he fought between letting his head rock back and wanting to watch you. One hard little twitch as you swallowed him to the back of your throat again had you bracing as he lost the battle, chin lifted and eyes closed as he fought not to buck himself down your throat, the spill of his release hot and hard, both his hands a cradle to your face as you struggled to swallow him. He pitched forward, curled slightly over you, grip gentling, and you were able to let him slide out just enough to catch the last of him on your tongue.

Your name a quiet gasp following the aching moan that had escaped him as he came.

He was panting breath still as you let him slip from your mouth, his fingertips a warm tremble against your cheeks. Having him in the confessional, shocked, slightly terrified and off his game had been delicious in its own way, but this felt wonderful. So undone by you, dark hair falling over his forehead and teal eye shut as he rocked with each inhalation, all those lovely bare lines of him things you wanted to memorize, keep sacred and secret to yourself. The way he sprawled back in the chair, indolent and boneless and still magnificent in his splay making you grin. Like no matter how you tried him or broke him or ruined him there was forever this air of lazy strength that clung to his shape. The way even a loose fist could curl tight in a moment's notice to wield again.

His hands slid away, one coming to prop the weight of his forehead between the span of forefinger and thumb, elbow on the arm of the chair, and he smiled thinly.

"Good girl."

The raggedly breathed praise had you preening, using his knees to push yourself to your feet and pull panties back on before you caught his hand and hauled him to his own feet. He groused slightly but rose, put himself away, and let you pull him into a piled sprawl with you on the couch, arms loose about each other as you draped half over him, cheek to the hammer of his heartbeat as it slowed gradually.

Stolen time and precious. Tried not to think too hard about it, not to count the seconds or minutes and just take the day for what it was. You both lapsed into a little quiet doze upon the couch. Well, quiet save for the fact he did indeed snore at the level of some kind of hellish heavy machinery. A casual elbow to the ribs woke him, had him mumbling and rubbing at his face before lacing a hand in yours and settling it upon his sternum. Kept you there, draped warmly over him and pressed the occasional kiss to your hair as the pair of you lazed together.

Breakfast became late brunch. Toast warmed in the oven and him admitting that your coffee was indeed better than his crime against nature. Thankfully his omelets were worlds better than his coffee; golden and perfect, oozing cheese and the perfect final remedy to the damaged you'd done yourself the night before.

He helped himself to your shower, and you exercised an inhuman amount of restraint not joining him by surprise.

The normalcy of it all was so alien. How strange, to know that when the pair of you curled together later in one of the large chairs with him in a book and you on your phone that it was a thing that could have ruined both your lives if anyone ever knew about it. To have the underlying understanding that later that night when you both splayed across your bed with takeout to watch a movie that it was somehow wrong. None of it as wrong as what had come earlier, but still. That a simple thing could be so forbidden.

And perhaps that was why you liked it so much. The guilty pleasure of the mundane; of sitting half propped back against him as he lay on his side, not complaining in the least at the way you slurped your lo mein, or stole the last bite of his eggroll. At the simple intimacy of him getting drinks for you both when he'd only got up to pour one for himself. The way he touched you throughout the day; little thoughtless caresses any time you were close enough, as if the urge to constantly reaffirm your nearness played a soft undercurrent to all those thoughts of his you wished you could hear.

It was painful when he left later. Physically stung to watch him pull his shirt on and redress himself respectably. Took everything in you when he leaned over where you sat on the edge of the bed and pressed a last kiss to your forehead not to grab hold of his arms and tell him to stay the night again, to leave early next morning instead. It left a vacuum of silence and a hole behind when the door shut behind him. Everything quieter, emptier, less.

The ghost of him still in that bed with you when you laid down. Pillow a poor substitute for him even with the scent that still clung to it.

In so deep, terribly deep. Very horribly aware as you lay there in the sleepless dark exactly what had come after the bite of that forbidden fruit for poor Eve.

#penance #silco #silcoxreader #silco x reader #priest!silco #arcane #arcane au #silco fic #arcane fic #arcane silco #silco arcane x reader #priest silco

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spibbb · 3 months

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Symbruary Day 10: In Sickness/In Health

Some time after the events of The Hunger, Eddie catches the flu. The symbiote struggles to help his body fight it off. Living "happily ever after" continues to be a challenge.

Another short, also inspired by land-of-brains-and-chocolate and their pre-Hunger one-shot on AO3.

It took a couple of days, some prodding of Eddie's memories and some physical prodding of Eddie's face, to coax him awake, to learn what was afflicting him. Some kind of virus. Influenza.

The symbiote had never seen anything like it before. It made his arms and legs so weak. His entire body was like a furnace. His mouth was thick with saliva for the better part of a week even when he didn't puke (which was, alarmingly, often). At times, the symbiote had to bodily drag him at night to find water because he'd be too tired to do it himself.

The symbiote grew agitated over this. Angered, but not at Eddie. He waved it off, collapsing back into another heap of garbage bags tucked into an alley.

“It's nothing to worry about,” he said thickly, his nose blocked (still blocked). “It will pass.”

It hadn't passed. Which the symbiote wouldn't have had cause for alarm for, except for the fact that all of Eddie's memories of this wretched thing told the symbiote that it would last a week at most. It had been two weeks, and Eddie's muscle mass was starting to feel the lack of stored food.

After the great, terrible hunger that had afflicted them, Eddie's body had shrunk noticeably. Noticeable to someone living inside him, anyway. Now it was even worse. It didn't like it at all, not one bit. It would fix this. It had to.

Medicine, Eddie, it urged. It pushed the strange bottle of liquid into Eddie's chest. He stirred, half awake, face scrunching.

“Where'd you get this?” he slurred. He didn't remember picking any up. The last thing he remembered was passing out on a rather large pile of bags that smelled like freshly discarded Chinese take-out. The symbiote batted the line of questioning away, insistent. “Alright, alright,” he conceded. He drank the wrongly sweet smelling liquid before clearing his throat.

“Ah, just as terrible as I remember it.” He smiled, turning the bottle around to look at it. But his eyes were extremely unfocused. The symbiote could see how the text swam in his vision. This did nothing to quell its anxiety.

Water, it thought urgently. Water, Eddie. Need water. Thirsty.

“I know,” Eddie said, with no particular panic. His eyes closed, but the symbiote pried them open with all its might. Eddie coughed wetly. “We’ll go get some water, yes. Okay.” Eddie tried to stand but his knees wobbled dangerously. The symbiote caught them both, leaning against the brick wall.

“Hm. Maybe I'm sicker than I thought.”

The symbiote hissed and pinched Eddie’s ear, writhing in frustration just under his skin.

Eddie ignored this and pulled himself upright. “Yes. Wouldn't do to have–” he took a moment to hack and wheeze, “to–ah, I can't think.” His head throbbing didn't help.

Need water. Food. Eat.

“Mm,” he hummed in agreement. He patted the pocket of the threadbare robe he’d pilfered from a dumpster. “I’m afraid we’re short on funds.”

The symbiote didn't have the words to describe it, but it could feel it: delirium. Eddie was absolutely delirious. In all his past memories of this sickness, it never seemed like this. The symbiote writhed some more, forming hands with claws to dig into Eddie’s collarbone.

Will get food. Need to walk.

So he did. With all the grace of a drunk gazelle. Thankfully, he was too out of it to pay any mind to people gawking at him as he stumbled down the sidewalk.

They managed to swipe a pizza box and an accompanying bottle of water off the back of a delivery man’s bike. The symbiote felt bad for a few seconds–before remembering its host, and it flung the lid off, slapping a slice of it into Eddie’s face.

“Hrffg,” Eddie said.

The symbiote chirped in response.

He chewed slowly, feeling his throat still trying to rebel against him. The symbiote did its part to wrangle his still churning stomach.

It was so frustrating. His body had worked perfectly well before, and then this–if it could tear apart the concept of Sickness itself with its teeth, it would do so with immense ferocity and prejudice. It was tired. They were tired.

Eddie dug his fingers into a clump of the symbiote’s mass, which had situated itself on his lap as he sat cross-legged.

“Thank you,” he said warmly. The symbiote pooled into his hand, mollified. He agreed that it was strange to be sick for so long. He downed the water bottle in about five seconds. His parched throat thanked him.

They sat in silence for a while; Eddie breathing, the symbiote feeling his pulse in his wrist, his chest, tendrils wrapped loosely around him.

“I'm sorry,” he said hoarsely. “I should be taking better care of us. I promised.” The symbiote uncoiled from his hand to look at him, eyes unblinking but not cold. Strange but in a good way.

Took care of me, it thought, unsure. It’s okay.

“I made you worry. I'm sorry, dear.”

It shivered.

Not worried. Ate. Drank. Not puking.

It was still pretty worried, but it could worry about literally everything now, so it was hard to differentiate it all quantitatively.

Eddie smiled broadly, eyes more focused now, more awake, and it shuddered with his gratitude, seeping out of every pore.

He kissed it between its eyes, squeezing it in his hands.

Then he sneezed directly into its face, making it splat against the wall.

“Oops.”

#symbruary #symbruary 2024 #spb.txt #no too sure about this one but nnghhgh. just take it #me when eddie doesn't eat in The Hunger: babygirl your muscles. they're dying #I'm sure it's symbiote abilities keeping it together but like. what if consequences #also I think this infection is really fucking him up bc of weird alien biology shit. [hand waves]

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writermask-0807 · 1 year

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A PRANK GONE TOO FAR - SMAUG X READER

A/n: heiii I'm baaackkkk. So this is a request from a fellow follower!! Im sorry this took me so long, but I wanted it to be perfect, which it still isn't. Also, I want to thank you for requesting!!! Also, can anyone tell me where to find the italics font?? Cus I can't find it...

Warnings: OOC smaug??

THE sound of hastened footsteps rapidly morphed into a full time sprint, bare, petite feet slapping against the damp stone floor echoing unceremoniously throughout the disturbed silence. The unusually loud noise came to a screeching halt as you crashed head-first into the hard cobblestone bricks below, tripping over your own feet in your haste and recklessness, a throaty yelp escaping you. Fear seizing you far more tighter than ever before, you scrambled up onto your trembling feet, casting a nervous glance over your shoulder, wondering whether he'd heard it or not.

When you confirmed that the Dragon was not in sight, you took the moment to calm down your roiling, knotted nerves, your flesh feeling as though there were bugs crawling beneath it, writhing and itching with goosebumps, your rigid spine swept with constant shudders that was from both the abnormal cold and dread. You felt the heavy weight of eyes rest against your skin uncomfortably, the nape of your neck burning as you felt the hollow sensation of sharp eyes bore into your skull, and you swiveled on your heel, glittering e/c orbs nervously darting from one corner to the next frantically, a wild desperation lancing through your veins. Though you could not draw the exact source of the prickling sensation of being watched, you felt it. It was a terror so absolute that it made your blood curdle with unprecedented fear.

Clank!

Your heart plummeted into the pit of your stomach, your eyes widening in pure, raw horror as you whipped around to see what the source of the sound was, sure that it was your end, a silent prayer on your lips. You were immensely relieved to find out that it was just the breast-plate of an old, dusty Dwarven armor clattering onto the cool flooring with a dull thud, conveniently at that very moment, scaring you out of your wits, as if you already weren't. Still, it did not fail to make you a little bit more fearful of what was to come, and the blissful, temporary relief was almost immediately flooded with panic, leaving you wondering whether he'd heard the noise. Your dainty palm flew up to your heaving chest in hopes of easing your hammering heart that pounded fiercely against your ribcage, the pumping organ threatening to carve its way out of the safety of your ribcage, and into your trembling palm in one way or another as it crept up into your tightly clamped throat, finding itself a permanent lodging there.

Beads of sweat gathered on your furrowed brow despite the frigid atmosphere that suffocated you, adrenaline coursing through your veins more fluidly than your freezing blood, your legs threatening to buckle underneath your weight and give way to your exhaustion as your thighs burned. Honestly speaking, the only thing that kept you alive and conscious so far was the pumping adrenaline, and your sharpened senses that remained on high alert in spite of the silence.

Perhaps the fragile, blessed silence should have calmed you down, but it wasn't really quiet, not to you, at least. Your throbbing pulse crept into your ears and reverberated through your skull deafeningly, writing off any other sounds as simply white noise, the steadily rising beats of your heart occupying the invisible folds of space where the silence dwelled, narrating each passing second as if it were a ticking time bomb within your chest, and the soft, labored pants that fell from your chapped lips and the shortness of your breath growing more prominent with the bleeding second, that you feared they would be heard by the sharp, alert ears of your charge.

You both had been at it for approximately four hours now, and you were thoroughly exhausted. Your limbs were beginning to numb from both the cold and the strain you were pulling in them, and you were sure that your muscles were tearing and shredding themselves apart, tormenting your frail body in an agony so raw and painful that it felt as though someone was slowly peeling the skin from your bones, letting the blood gush out freely, unrestrained, taut muscles stretched upon your withering bones, and yet at the same time you were weighed down by a great fatigue. And you didn't mean a simply temporary tire; it was a great fatigue that was now thoroughly soaked into your flesh and blood, pumping through your veins, and clinging onto your very bones, a lethargy and lack of motivation seeping into the very pores of your existence, a bone-deep weariness that latched onto you with a burning vengeance. The adrenaline was slowly beginning to ebb away, and the persistent, burning ache within your limbs were starting to spread rapidly, the various bruises garlanding your frail body becoming more pronounced, your lungs feeling as though they were doused in liquid fire. It took everything in you to swallow the scream of mortal agony that threatened to rip through your throat, and you knew that the end was drawing near as your strength dwindled into nothing more than just a shred of will-power. And although you were sure he already knew that you couldn't hold out for much longer, Smaug showed no signs of stopping his sick game of hide-and-seek any time soon, and it was honestly beginning to frighten you.

You truly hadn't meant for things to take such a rapidly detoriating change, but there wasn't anything you could do now to amend what you had done, because it seemed that your idea of a prank was not exactly approved by Smaug, and now, things had gotten too far out of hand. It appeared that your actions had awoken the more cruel side of him, the part you weren't even aware existed, and your mischief had finally become your undoing. (But jeez, why'd he need to get so angry anyway? It wasn't like you stole his precious hoard or something…)

Speak of the Devil…

" Oh, Y/N ~~~ " Smaug sang, and the call reverberated throughout the many abandoned hallways and corridors of the previous Dwarven hold, bouncing off the walls and reaching your ears as a vehement hiss, scraping against your eardrums harshly, chilling you to the very bone, and your skin crawled. His normally soothing voice had now darkened with an unseeing predatory grin, impossibly deep with cruelty as it rang out, colored with a dark undertone, voice rich with silk and velvet, and laden with the ripe promise of your impending doom that he would definitely, and swiftly deliver when he would find you. It echoed maliciously throughout the winding archways and labyrinths of the great structure, and you were unable to pin-point the location of his voice.

With the last remaining strength you possessed, you strained your screaming muscles and hobbled towards a fallen pillar, hiding yourself behind it. Your heart began to drum even more violently within your chest, erupting into an erratic racing so loud that it forcefully echoed in a deafening rhythm in your skull, morphing into a chorus of chaos as your pulse mirrored its rapid song, the brutal, hellish cacophony ringing so loud that you feared he'd heard it.

Your exposed, supple and now sallow skin was cool against the stone structure of the broken pillar, and it sent a sliver of fear trickling down your rigid spine. You folded your legs beneath your weight, and bent down so that you would be hidden from sight, ears perked for any sounds that might have escaped your notice.

You made the wise decision not to move, and thank God you did so too, as you heard a slight rustle permeate throughout the freezing atmosphere, once again, shattering the delicate silence the cold corridors held. Your breath halted within your throat, hitched in your heaving chest and sat beneath your ribs silently, lungs burning with a red-hot intensity as you did so. Your delicate skin flared with a new set of shudders, bruised limbs spreading with a rekindled ache, eyes widening with edges of pure insanity, so much so that they might've even popped out of their respective sockets if you'd tried, and you swallowed thickly, a silent plea on your breath to whatever deity was up there to save you, as you held out a trembling palm to cup your quivering lips, so that no sound would escape from you. Your petite form shook with uncontrollable tremors, but you shed no tears. You weren't able to, your eyes wide and unblinking, almost as if some unseen force was prying your eyelids open so that you could feel them boiling as well.

In that moment, even that quiet sound inflicted upon you a pure, absolute sense of paralyzing dread, a heavy sense of foreboding settling into the pit of your stomach as a stone to water, and you couldn't shake away the horrible feeling crawling up your throat.

Everything had lapsed into another restless fit of silence, inevitable to be broken once again, the soft noise that had earlier ruffled the frozen moment gone, but a thick tension clouded the atmosphere, thickening the unbearably cold air with an ambigous and dark sense of foreboding. A bead of sweat trickled past your brow, despite Winter's icy breath smothering the air, sucking the soul out of you. When you were sure that enough time had passed, you released the sigh you'd been holding in, and watched as your breath shrouded the air in front of you, forming into something that was vaguely reminiscent of clouds of dusted frost swirling with the current of the winds.

The silence was palpable, and too tempting as it simply coaxed you to break it, to break it and be heard. The sound of silence beat cruelly against your eardrums, filling you up with a sense of indescribable gloom and dread.

Mustering up enough courage to see if whatever made the sound was gone and the coast was clear for you to clamber up to your frail limbs and make your grand escape, you tentatively peeked out from behind the pillar, your smooth palm clasped tightly around the stone surface, gripping so tightly that your knuckles were painted the same shade of marble as the ivory pillar beneath your gaunt fingertips.

There was nothing. The seemingly wet, gray bricks of the claustrophobically narrow hallway stretched onto the horizon, creating an impossibly smooth surface that appeared too damp for touch. You suddenly appreciated the gloom-and-doom theme of the hallway, knowing that Smaug's bright scales would glimmer and glisten underneath the dim lighting, shimmering with a myriad of vivid colors. You had seen it before, knew how majestic it looked, and knew it would be a dead give-away to his surprisingly silent presence.

You released a relieved sigh, your shoulders slumping forward, the heavy weight that rested on them dispersing. Your arms fell limply by your sides as you let your weight rest against the pillar, exhausted, and even that miniscule twitch of action made the ache grow even more stronger, until you saw the corners of your eyes speckle with shards of darkness from a broken oblivion.

A soft, brittle pant slipped traitorously past your clenched teeth and drifted into the misty air, but you found yourself reveling in the rare moment of blissful ignorance, your heart strangely at ease, your worries slowly ebbing away with the flow of the seemingly frozen time, and perhaps that was partly because the Dragon was nowhere in sight, (and maybe the cause was also a slight touch of hysteria). Shifting your weight beneath your crumpled up form uncomfortably, you finally ripped your eyes away from the gloom of the seemingly never-ending corridor, and a greater horror awaited you.

There, in all of his magnificent glory, situated between the once empty space of two marble pillars, was your furious charge. You had no idea how he had managed to sneak up from behind you, and God knows how long he'd been waiting there patiently, for you to turn your head and meet his gaze. However, when the small shred of sanity left of you reconsidered this fact, you realized that he'd always been that way. Despite his hulking, colossal form, he had always been able to maintain a polished air of impeccable grace around him, and all the times you had sneaked off to explore the darkened nooks and crannies of the mountain, he had always managed to find you, in one way or another. Unfortunately, you did not possess his admirable elegance, and couldn't help the mortified squeak that fell from your quivering lips.

This, however, seemed to enrage him further, and the ever-bright plates of armor that were his scales shifted to the color of deep grapefruit pink, smoldering shades of raw tongues of bleeding crimson and auburn, and the waning blue of gloomy cerulean flickered ominously on his scales in the dimly lit fog, mirroring his cold fury. The vivid, lustrous splatter of bleeding colors were a stark contrast against the gloom of the dull background behind his towering form, and the thinly veiled clouds of rich colors shifted ever so slightly, a colorful cosmos so painfully bright that it hurt to look at, the very epitome of an elusive beauty. His nostrils were flared in anger, his sharp canines bared into an ugly snarl, anger brewing within his lustrous irises.

Your heart quite literally stopped in mid-beat, plummeting into the pit of your stomach where a black hole formed, and chaos erupted in your head, distorted, withering voices wreaking havoc in your mindscape, filling your mind with incomprehensible, over-crossing thoughts and white noise. Sweat began to pour more vigorously down your brow as your eyes widened in pure, unadulterated fear, and your feet remained stubbornly rooted to the spot, escape out of the question. You felt a fear unlike no other, horror flooding your senses with a disassociative sort of panic, and you felt oddly detached, as if time had stopped for a few nanoseconds, numb from reality for a few long moments, before the whole impact of the situation slammed into you, bringing you back to your senses, burning with the white-hot intensity of a heated rod.

You let out a small gasp, and the world continued its steady pace once again, though the grains of time between you and the Dragon seemed suspended in the air.

You didn't dare move, fearing that if you did, he would snap, though your cramped muscles screamed at you to. Your skin crawled underneath his scrutinizing glower, and you felt as though his deep, molten orbs pierced through your flesh and stared at your very soul, almost as if he were assessing your weaknesses, waiting for an opening, a sliver of opportunity for him to sink his teeth into your soul. A shiver swept down your stiff spine, and this time, you were unsure if it was the cold, the thickening suspense of the seemingly frozen moment, or the fierce intensity of his glare, or a curious concoction of all of them.

Your eyes darted around frantically for an exit as you shrank further into the pillar, your aching back pressing deeper and deeper against the cool, harsh surface of the ivory pillar, a violent, raw desperation flooding your veins.

This appeared to be the opportune moment Smaug had been oh so patiently waiting for, as he slid closer to you, movements silent and predatory, almost lazy as he cornered you, a hungry predator teasing his fearful prey. " Tell me, dearest, are you afraid?" He crooned softly, almost lovingly, but the soft tone of his voice did not fool you, because the rich, silky voice that spilled past his tightly clenched jaw was not his own, for it was too sickly sweet in its falsity that it felt horribly bitter and thick on your tongue, dripping honey, but embedded with an acidic venom, daring, mocking, taunting you.

But what frightened you the most was his eyes. Those deep, luminous orbs of amber and molten gold held a sharp, sadistic twinkle in them as they gleamed brightly in the dim lighting. They swirled with pigmentations of speckled hickory, bleeding a metallic lustre, holding the entire cosmos within their lustrous depths, star-tinted, and undeniably, terribly beautiful. But they were cruel, and there was a feral sort of look in his eyes, the sort of harsh, malicious glint that could make you bleed with just one uncaring glance, animalistic and raw and primal, almost as though he were dangerously teetering over the brink of insanity. His eyes seemed to glow brightly in the darkness as if they contained the sun itself within their deep golden depths, sly as they narrowed upon your shaking frame.

" I - …" Your voice came out as a harsh, raspy whisper, the caverns of your mouth suddenly dry as your voice crackled like yellowed parchment, the fear in your faltering tone never waning. You had no idea what to say, your mind suddenly blank and devoid of thoughts as the words wilted on your tongue, burdening you further.

" Yes?" The Dragon pressed as he circled you, his voice coming out as a slow, uninterested drawl, but there was a barely noticeable note of eagerness buried underneath the monotony of his dull wording.

You swallowed thickly, hands clutched into tight fists, nails digging into the soft flesh of your trembling palm, threatening to draw blood as you struggled to form proper words.

Finally, it seemed as though his patience was beginning to wear thin, because he stopped cornering around your trembling form, and stopped in front of you, his towering frame imposing, and striking fear into your thundering heart as it hammered desperately against your ribcage, threatening to jump out at any given moment. He seemed to hear your rapid heartbeat, as his eyes lit up with a feral sort of amusement, his lips twisting in the vague semblance of a cruel, foxy smile, and you couldn't help but be reminded of a serpent's forked tongue flicking out to taste the fear in the air, fear it detected from you. " Tell me, beloved, did you truly find your 'joke' amusing? Forgive me, but I failed to see the humor in it. Enlighten me as as why the 'brilliant' thought occurred to you in the first place." Smaug said, and although it was oh so polite, appearing no more than rich velvet tumbling off of his lips in a low whisper, you knew it was a demand, a threat.

You swallowed the distressed cry that rose to your throat, and was now very aware of the thick crimson substance trickling down your skin as your nails sank deeper into your palm -

"Well?!"

You flinched as he raised his voice against you, the thunderous roar rattling you to the very core. You couldn't help the tears that welled in your lustrous e/c orbs as you finally cried out, sputtering and stumbling on your words. " I'm sorry! But you weren't waking and I didn't know what to do and I wanted to prank you and - " Your rambling was cut short when Smaug heaved what suspiciously sounded like an exasperated sigh, plumes of steam bellowing from his nostrils as he drew closer.

Confused, you raised your head to meet his gaze shamefully, and spied what was dimly reminiscent to warm amusement flickering within his luminous orbs. " So you decided that the best solution was to stick coins up my nostrils? While I was sleeping?" He put a heavy emphasis on the last sentence, and you felt as though he was almost chastising you. You suddenly felt very small and very childish, and an embarrassed heat flushed your tear-stained cheeks.

The viciousness that had lingered in his words had vanished, the dark, sinister undertone that had previously occupied his voice gone, almost as though a switch had been flipped off. You suddenly realized it was just a facade, a mask he wore to intimidate you into speaking. As realization dawned on you, heat crawled up from your neck and tinged your ears a pink, your cheeks flooding with dark crimson, as you wondered just how much dumb you were. Sure, maybe it wasn't all that obvious, but you had known Smaug almost your entire life. This was a new low, even for you.

" Oh… " You murmured, your normally boisterous voice dropped to a soft, quiet whisper. Your charge shot you an unimpressed look that practically screamed," I'm not even surprised that you still have no clue."

Seeing the rich amusement within his cognac, star-lidded optics, you knew he was teasing you, and you almost immediately shot to your defense, hollering indignantly, your arms flailing around madly, as though to prove your point. " H-hey it's not my fault that you decided to scare the living soul out of me! I wasn't able to think properly- !" But somehow, the thought that he could quickly change from your loving charge to a predator in a second scared you, and you felt a sudden surge of relief knowing that he'd never hurt you (at least not intentionally), and you felt bad for those who'd incurred his wrath previously. The thought brought a smile to your lips, the plump flesh curling into a bright beam, rivaling the warmth of the sun in all of its magnificent glory.

Smaug chuckled, a deep, pleasant rumble that vibrated throughout his broad chest, more amused at your childish antics than anything,

"Consider it a reciprocation of sorts, for your earlier actions." He said, pivoting on his heel, heading back towards the treasury, with you hot on his tail. His eyes glistened like the dying rays of the waning sun, fondness reflecting in the rich, cosmic orbs as they melted into golden rays that circled an eclipse.

Even though his eyes were trained firmly on the corridor stretching before him, Smaug could hear the smile in your voice as you muttered something along the lines of ' We'll see soon,', and it managed to make his own lips curve into a semblance of a real smile, one that almost mirrored your own.

{Perhaps he ought to do this more often.}

#smaug x reader #reader x smaug #fluff #cliche #cringe alert #idk how to tag this shi #the hobbit

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