#literally less than an hour later my arm felt fine

[itscherrylipsforme]

begging for a river cartwright bf headcannons🙏🙏

River Cartwright as a boyfriend

I am so sorry this took my ages, darling 😓 Uni and family stuff made complicated to post for the last months. But now that I am back there is nothing that can stop from writing something for one of my fave losers (affectionately). Without further ado, let's go! 🫶🏼

Masterlist Characters I write for

Okay, this man lives for his shitty job. He hates Lamb and the Slough House with all his heart, yet he would never leave it for anything in this world as he needs them to get his career back on the right path and secretly cares about his co-workers there. Being a spy is literally in his DNA and through the seasons we learn that he is indeed a workaholic. With that being told opportunities to date are few, he does not have the time or the interest to look for a partner rn

So that the situation would be that you both met at Slough House where you ended because you fucked it up and were forced to share office with him. Reluctantly you had to adapt to each other. First of all, you thought you had few things in common: being in a place neither of you wanted and feeling like completely losers. But in a job like that with little to no ways to lose time one afternoon you started to chat in hopes that the hours would run faster. To your surprise they did

First weeks were not much different from the usual, tired “Good Morning” 's and “Goodbye” 's which weren’t good at all, exchanging papers, offering to make a cup of coffee for other when needed… Yeah, he did not give much of thought to your bond. There was no need, you were another co-worker. One much less annoying than Roddy, and in fact prettier and kinder than Shirley. But a co-worker nevertheless

Under that annoyed and tired facade, River is quite nice. Pretty intelligent and can keep a sarcastic banter although impatient and impulsive as you later found out in a mission you worked together. In so told mission you ran into Duffy and his dogs, which left River with a bloodied nose, a purple eye, and nasty cuts. He claimed to be fine and able to handle them on his own but as he nearly fell on the floor while trying to stand up you insisted on helping him

And there you were, with him sitting on your desk hissing like a kid being scolded for scratching his knee and you patching him up. Between "I told you we should have asked Shirley to back-up up", "I said we did not have time to wait for here" and other various reproaches you found his gaze casually drifting to your lips too many times to keep playing obvious. So, you went for it. Soft at first, slightly hesitant he thought, before parting away scared you had messed up again

Your doubts were quickly erased by a smirk and his response, more needy and equally sweet, that soon followed after. It was like walking on a tightrope, the thrill of it but also the feeling in your gut that you could fall in any given moment. It felt good… the best, whether it was because he hadn’t kissed someone for longer that he would like to admit or because he truly liked you was a question for another night. At that moment he did not need answers, but somebody to hold and feel alive once again. A night to forget all his past mistakes. So, he lost himself on your touch and your care

-But this is River Cartwright who we are talking about. He would rather get stabbed (again) than talking with his feelings to anyone. The following days and weeks he acts like nothing has happened and you are too proud and hurt to bring it up. It takes another case, and a bullet nearly ending with your life for him to gather the courage to be honest with himself. He is not good with words, so he does not say anything, just holds your hand in the hospital’s bed while trying to plan how to proceed

However, after nights of losing sleep when you finally wake up all intentions fade to nothing. Instead, he wraps his arms around your neck and whispers softly but seriously “Don’t you ever scare me like that again” You can’t help smiling and the moment he parts away realizing the rush of his actions you feel his gaze on your lips. A nod is the only confirmation he needs before making the move for you to forgive him

Let’s be honest, he is not the most “boyfriend material” person you have met. Reckless, stubborn, impulsive… But also, caring and sweet when he wants to so he makes up for it. His love language is probably acts of service and quality time, but he won’t say no to a couple of hugs and kisses (his childhood made him kind of touch starved)

 Your work does not give you much spare time, but he swears he will redeem himself once you are both out of that hell hole giving you the life and treatment you deserve. Meanwhile you are just happy to clean him up after he returns mostly safe and sound from mission and to have him snoring on your bed because that means he actually trusts you enough to rest by your side

[intheshadowsbehindyou]

Could you do like a little one shot of nsfw Scout with short s/o? Your writing is so good 😭😭😭 the short headcannons got me feeling some sorta way

*cracks knuckles so hard that I spontaneously combust* ok

Scout X Reader: There Are No Good Guys In War (NSFW)

Jeremy hated halloween.

Every year, something incredibly supernatural would happen and it would never be within’ the Mercs’ favor. A guy with a pumpkin head, a floating eye, a centuries old lich that Soldier had once called his friend? He wondered what would occur now — now that the Gravel wars made their way to Japan. Scout had did very short history lessons of this country in high school. But overall the general population in America seemed to agree that Japanese people were somehow “bad.” And Japanese people themselves didn’t enjoy Americans either. He wondered if maybe the locals would kill him before a vengeful kami would find him and Team Fortress.

“I mean— Look at this place. Look, I can’t blame them. Everybody’s lookin’ at me. I’d be fuckin’ pissed too if somebody blew up my city.” Scout told you, as he impulsively scooped white rice into his mouth.

You looked out the window of the countryside restaurant. Watching people walk by. “They are suspicious of us. Like you said. Although to be honest I don’t think they want to hate you.” You said slowly.

“Why not? I’m literally a guy from the country they went to war with not that long ago.”

“Well, yes. But you didn’t give the direct orders, did you? You just want peace. Like the majority of civilians.” You respond. Your gaze fell upon the window again, contemplating his words.

Scout was contemplating your words too. A mild frown spread across his face as he put his empty bowl down. You could recognize that face anywhere from Scout— something was bugging him and he’s going to be ungodly amounts of stubborn about it: He’ll never tell you what the problem is.

The both you left an hour later. Walking out into the stratus clouds overhead. The trees you could vaguely recall having cherry blossoms were now bare and the rest of the trees lacked any shade of green. Scout looked greatly affected, as if his mood couldn’t get any worse from that conversation. He had expressed to you before having mild seasonal depression. He looked down at your short physique and tilted his head.

“Uh, so that bathhouse or whatevea, huh?”

“Yeah, just give me a minute. I forgot to turn in a contract.” You said, the australium contracker in your hands looked dull with so little sunlight. You knew Scout didn’t look too good, but you hesitated out of respect for his wishes. If he didn’t want to speak that was fine. “You remembered to hide that body right?”

“Huh? Yeah. I threw it in some trash bin or somethin.” Scout swayed his arms impatiently on the sidewalk. Shuffling his feet and getting distracted by every single thing that moved.

“Oh great.. They definitely won’t find it there.” You said, sarcastically. Although you were less than surprised. You were used to this incompetence by now.

Suddenly, you felt a lack of weight and you were being hauled into the air. Scout threw you over his shoulder and left your legs kicking in the air. You let out a shameful yelp that would give a Pomeranian a run for its money.

“Wh— Scout! God dammit I need t—“

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Shuddup. Let’s go, nerd.” He placed oddly seductive empathsis on the last word. Although you considered yourselves as friends it was slowly beginning to seem otherwise. Treating you like a high school bully was a subtle hint. Scout was in denial and swore he had eyes for only Pauling. Your interactions begged to differ. You weren’t dumb.

You snarled at him, allowing yourself to be carried for a short distance. Part of you wanted to reach down and spank him on the rear because of how close you were. But Scout was jogging too fast. The bumpy ride didn’t even give you time to think. Let alone his heavy breathing.

You let yourself down from the taller man, trying to assess your surroundings. Only to find you were at the exact address listed on the magazine. You blinked for a second and took in the forested path that wasn’t there before. He shoved you forward with one hand to the bridge that led to the Onsen.

“Hey!” You exclaimed, holding your back. “You’re stronger than you look, that hurt!”

“You’re adorable, y’know that? You’re like a kitten if a kitten was like.. four inches.” He said, raising his hand to your height. “Yeah well, maybe don’t be so small. It’s like you’re begging me to throw you. FYI. Stop drinkin’ coffee and maybe you’ll be a more respectable height, doofus.”

“Jesus, Scout..” You mutter, trying to hold back the smile that nearly crept its way onto your face. He was a rather lovable asshole.

It only took a few minutes to find a private room. By a few minutes — that is — an hour of Scout trying and failing to speak fluent Japanese to the poor caretaker in front. But finally they got the memo and took you two to the outdoor bath, muttering something what you could only assume was derogatory towards Scouts’ behavior. You began to wonder if the reason he felt hated so much by them is because he has a general disregard for common decency.

You watched Scout take off his shirt. This was an unintentional strip tease for you. Watching him undo his belt was making you feel even more. You decided to look away, feeling a bit guilty.

“Hey uh.. Y/N.” He sighed. “Do you think i’m.. A bad person? Like, as in a bad guy?”

“Can you rephrase the question?” You tell him, sarcasm dripping off your tongue like venom. Rolling your eyes at his occasional lack of self awareness. You went about undoing your own work uniform.

“Hey, I mean it. Like, do you think i’m.. Bad, for being a mercenary? Beating the shit out of old men and whatnot?” He asks you. There is a hint of sadness in his voice that makes your heart break.

You sigh in defeat. This is not a conversation you wanted to have, but it was an important question you felt nonetheless. You couldn’t blame his innocence in this situation. It’s not like his Mom had a coherent answer to this either. You fumbled around in your brain for a nempathetic yet truthful answer.

“Scout, none of us are truly good guys.” You say, looking at yourself in the reflection of a puddle. “A mercenary is opportunistic, and takes jobs because he knows it will get him the money he so desperately needs.”

You continue on. “When the war happened, when you were a newborn I mean — they attacked each other because they were scared. Is it bold of me to assume that humans act crazy in general when they feel threatened? In your case it was poverty. You wanted your family to survive. Any other method felt hopeless. Not that these actions are justified but—“

“I enjoy beating the shit out of people, is the thing.” Scout got his clothes off while you weren’t looking. You could hear slight concern in his tone.

“Yeah well that’s probably because you went to school in a shitty atmosphere— what the FUCK?!”

You were about to tell him that in the grand scheme of things, you’d always adore him nonetheless. Even if he was a massive morally dubious prick. But your intimate philosophical conversation with him was cut short when you gazed upon his body. This was the first time you’ve seen him fully undressed.

..Let alone with a massive hard on.

“What?” He asked you. “You see this shit? This is all god’s handiwork, babey.” He assumed you were just admiring his figure and presented himself by flexing. “Lookatdis. Fuckin’ unstoppable titanium. Fifty pounds of concrete stacked atop a goddamn bedrock foundation.”

He was completely unaware of his throbbing dick. Your mouth began watering, and you looked towards the bath. It didn’t really occur to you until now that him holding you might’ve done this.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” You ask him, taking a deep breath.

“I mean.. Two friends bathing isn’t romantic in any way, right?” He asked. “Right?”

“Right.” You lied. Oh lord, you were about to fuck a godamn trigger happy twink silly until he couldn’t walk.

A trigger happy twink that was loved nonetheless.

[demoneyecandy]

When the Rain Washes You Clean, You'll Know - Pt 1

I’m joining the hallowed fanfic tradition of using song lyrics for titles. Cross-posted to my AO3

Work: When the Rain Washes You Clean, You'll Know WC: 4.3k Relationship: Satan x Reader, Satan x MC AFAB reader, she/her pronouns and some gendered terms for reader Warning: Explicit, Minor Hurt/Comfort

Description:  M/C is having some family issues. Who could understand better than Satan? And if he can take advantage of the opportunity to be with the person he's been pining for, and ruin his brother's day? Even better.

All of this had started when Satan had found her sulking in the library, looking out the window at the rain with a pillow clutched to her chest. She’d made the mistake of not answering with more than a shrug when he’d asked what was wrong – she couldn’t help it, his eyes were just so earnest and he seemed so concerned, lying felt wrong but she wasn’t in the mood to talk about it. Not quite sure why she drew the line at lying to a literal demon, but there it was. She’d thought maybe she’d averted one of the brothers’ standard over the top reactions when Satan left the library, only for him to return shortly with her rain jacket, boots, purse, and his own cartoon cat-covered umbrella. She recognized it as the one she had given him for his last birthday and her heart did skip a little, realizing that he actually used it.

“Satan, this really isn’t necessary” the human had tried to reassure him when he knelt down at her feet to trade her slippers for rain boots.

“Well, I say that it is” he replied in a flat tone, leaving no room for argument.

M/C sighed, resigning herself to whatever he had planned for their day. Grabbing her DDD, she sent off a text to Lucifer letting him know that Satan was taking her out. The last time she had let Satan whisk her away for an impromptu day trip he’d also pocketed her phone to ‘live in the moment’, but when she came back home to the other brothers forming a search party (complete with a full-on dossier including her last known whereabouts), she realized from his smug little grin that he was just messing with Lucifer. He’d had his ‘M/C Privileges’ revoked for two weeks, causing a meltdown of epic proportions.

After he’d guided her arms through the raincoat she rose to her feet and took her purse from the demon. He sent a sly grin her way, flipping the hood over her head playfully. Making an annoyed noise, she flipped it back to see Satan’s elbow out and ready for her to loop her own arm through. With that, she let her demon lead her out through the House of Lamentation and into a stormy Devildom afternoon.

Thirty minutes later they were drying off in a cat café that M/C was 80% certain had been founded for the sole purpose of getting in the fourth-born’s good graces. It totally worked. She cupped her hot chocolate between her sweater-covered hands and took joy in the presence of a little tortoiseshell cat curled up on her lap. The human knew better than to think Satan was going to let what he saw earlier go, but he knew better than to force her… yet. He seemed happy enough with that approach, holding his mug of tea in one hand and using the other to lavish affection on a lucky gray kitten that had hopped up onto the table. She laughed internally at the sight, knowing she was going to have to make sure that cat didn’t get smuggled home in her purse. They each basked in the experience of each other’s company, mostly in silence, until the café closed a few hours later.

It was on their walk home (after M/C caught Satan trying to smuggle no less than three kittens in his jacket) that the demon made his move.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She sighed. “Not really, but I don’t think you’re going to drop it”.

He turned to her and beamed, “Nope, not at all”.

“Fine. You know I don’t really have the best relationship with my Dad. He forgot my birthday again and still hasn’t said anything”.

Satan stopped in his tracks. “Wasn’t your birthday two weeks ago? Wait- again?”

“Yep, third time in a row” she kept walking, wanting to get out of the rain (and away from this conversation) sooner than later. Satan caught up with no difficulty.

“I thought my father was a dick, but that’s just plain rude”.

“Don’t you just prefer to call Lucifer your brother?”

“He’s my brother or my father depending on which is funnier at the time” he smirked.

She couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Fair enough”.

They walked in silence for another few minutes, side by side, their hands occasionally touching.

“So” Satan began, “want me to have a chat with him?”

She laid a hand on his shoulder and spun him to face her. The human looked up into his cat-like eyes, somehow summoning some sense of authority into her voice despite the full foot he had on her height-wise. “Satan, I cannot be more clear. You do not have my permission to torture my Dad. He’s a shit dad, but not bad enough to warrant intervention by demons, especially you”.

Satan glanced down at you proudly. “That just sounds like you’re acknowledging that I’m the best at what I do”.

She gave him an unimpressed look, not letting him derail her train of thought with his stupid, cute face. He pouted, folding his arms and making a noise. “Fine, but only because you’re cute when you’re serious”.

At his teasing M/C’s face turned bright red and she sped off towards their home, as though putting space between them physically would do anything to prevent him from realizing how flustered she was. She heard his laugh behind her and her heart beat even faster at the sound. She was so busy trying to somehow fast-walk away from her own feelings that she didn’t notice the crack in the pavement up ahead. The same crack that she successfully avoided daily on their walks to and from school, every weekday for who knows how long, but that she wasn’t able to successfully avoid this time. One second M/C was scooting through the rain and away from the demon that occupied her daydreams, the next she was face-first on the ground and that demon was by her side, checking her over for any injuries.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his face suddenly serious.

She couldn’t do anything but laugh at her own mistake, surprising Satan. His confusion morphed into a fond smile as he realized she really was okay, and he joined in. The human shrieked and laughed even harder as she felt herself be lifted up into his arms, grabbing onto his shoulders.

“Hold this?” Satan handed her the cat umbrella and shifted to get a more solid grip on his human. He quickly worked up to a jog to get them both home quickly, the rain seemingly not affecting his speed or agility at all.

Despite a brief stop in the front hall to ditch their rain gear the two of them somehow made it up to her room without being stopped by any of the other brothers. M/C was thankful, not sure she would’ve survived the embarrassment. Satan bumped the door shut with his hip and placed her on the ground. Before she could thank him for the day out and send him on his way so she could lick her wounds (literal and metaphorical) in private, he started digging in her closet for her towels.

“Go warm up in the shower, I’ll be back soon with a first aid kit to make sure nothing gets infected. Rainwater can be full of bacteria and pollution”. Once again, no room for argument. She took the towel he’d pulled out for her from his arms and headed into her bathroom, locking the door behind her.

M/C took what some may call a gratuitously long shower, but she’d had a long day - let her enjoy herself. The showers in the House of Lamentation were second only to the showers in the Demon Lord’s Castle – the water pressure and temperature was unreal. She didn’t know how she was going to adjust back to living in shitty apartments in the Human Realm, but that was a problem for future M/C. Hopefully very far in the future. Fully refreshed, she had almost forgotten that Satan hadn’t left for the night. If she wasn’t so used to strange demons coming into her room at all hours she might have been more startled to see Satan sitting on her bed with a first aid kit, waiting for her. What did startle her however was the fact that she could see Satan’s hair was unkempt and damp, and that he didn’t appear to be wearing more than a white towel wrapped around his hips. She dropped her dirty clothes into the laundry hamper, except for her bra which she hung to dry and planned to wash separately. It was one of her nice ones, she wasn’t going to let their washing machine eat up the lace.

“I was wondering when you’d be out. Did you have a nice shower?” M/C didn’t trust her voice to respond, so she just nodded when he turned to face her. He patted the bed next to him and smiled expectantly. She made her way over and sat down, clutching her towel closer to her chest. He gestured to her arm, and she swapped the hand gripping her towel so she could give him the arm closer to him to examine. Painstakingly, Satan examined both of her arms to disinfect and bandage the scrapes from her fall. He moved to the floor between her legs, kneeling before her. She tried to close her legs, but he put his hands between her knees to prevent them from shutting.

“Can I make sure there’s no injuries on your legs?” he asked in a calm tone and made eye contact with the human, almost like he was trying to calm an animal that seemed ready to bolt. She paused for a moment – she knew he would stop if she told him to. But… should she ask him to stop? To give her some space, leaving out the part about how him being between her legs gave her unholy thoughts? Satan was arguably the most trustworthy demon she knew. Not to mention her not-so-little crush on him. Honestly, that was what gave her pause. What if she made it weird? What if he just saw her as a friend? Well, she was already in the Devildom. If she died of embarrassment she wouldn’t have to go far. So, she took a deep breath, and as she exhaled she spread her legs to give Satan room to work. He thanked her under his breath and went to work, focusing on the scrapes on her knees. When he cleaned the knee that took the brunt of the fall she inhaled sharply at the sting of the disinfectant, only for one of his hands to find hers for comfort. The human looked down and saw the care in the way he touched her. It was almost funny for the personification of wrath to be so concerned with inflicting the slightest bit of pain on her and it only softened her heart further.

When Satan looked up, he saw the blush on his human’s cheeks and the affection in her eyes and decided to take a chance. He smiled and got up to throw away the trash and place the first aid kit in the bathroom for her to have supplies to change her own bandages later if necessary. He came back to the bed and sat beside her, taking both of her hands in his.

“I need you to know why I’m so upset on your behalf”. He spoke tenderly. It brought him no shortage of amusement that he could see his human’s eyes tracing a stray water droplet as it trailed down his neck, over his collarbone, down his chest and past his towel. Her eyes lingered on the pronounced V of his hips and he could swear he saw her lick her lips subconsciously, as though she wanted to lick his skin dry. As he began to speak, her eyes jumped up to meet his entrancing green eyes.

“You are so wonderful. You’re kind, smart, and thoughtful. I’m always laughing when I’m with you. I can’t imagine being in your life and taking you for granted. I don’t want you to think that you’re not absolutely everything. You’re our everything here. You’re my everything”. She felt her mouth gape, not having any clue where this was coming from. Did she crack her head open when she fell? Was this a coma dream? She was pretty sure those were a thing, but she wasn’t a doctor. Before she could spiral any further, she felt his hand come up and gently cup her jaw.

“M/C, will you let me worship you tonight?”

Before she could spend too much time thinking about the right way to respond to something so romantic, she heard an almost too enthusiastic “Fuck yes” leave her mouth. And before she could panic about that, she felt his lips on hers. Gently at first, to test the waters. He moved his lips against hers reverently, like she was a sacred place and he was a pilgrim at the end of a long journey. Her hands came to lay around his shoulders and Satan’s free hand laid on her thigh, gripping it lightly. The more time went on the more they began to melt into each other. At the first breathy moan that left M/C between kisses, it was like a switch went off in Satan. He redoubled his efforts, pressing against her with more insistency and his hand moving from its grip on her thigh to her waist, gripping even tighter through the layer of her towel. Their gasps filled the air alongside the sound of their lips meeting.

“So fucking hot” he moaned, tightening his grip to the point it almost hurt.

“Please, Satan. I need more” she begged. Not wasting any time, he twisted them around until her back hit the bed and he straddled her waist. Her kiss-bitten lips and lust-filled eyes sent chills up his spine. Every naughty fantasy he’d ever had of the two of them came to the forefront of his mind and he tried his best to sift through them all, trying to choose the best one to show her the depths of his passion. Before he could decide, he felt the towel at his waist begin to slip. He shifted his weight to his knees to catch it, but he felt a human-sized hand grab at his wrist.

“Please?” her voice was softer than it had been, showing some hesitancy, like she wasn’t sure how far she could push this.

“Anything for you, sweetheart. My heart and my body are yours”. M/C could practically feel her own face heat up at the term of endearment. It felt like she was in a romance novel the way he expressed his devotion so whole-heartedly. Her hand stayed on his wrist as the other came up to untuck the towel from his waist.

“Holy fuck Satan, how were you hiding this in your pants?”, she almost sounded indignant. The demon burst out laughing, glad he wouldn’t have to second guess if she liked the way he looked underneath his clothes. He threw the towel into the laundry hamper near the bed, eager to get it out of the way now that he’d been given the go-ahead. He wasn’t scarily long – it seemed proportional to his height, but he was much thicker than any of the humans she’d been with. She almost wanted to ask if this was normal for demons or if he was particularly well-endowed, but she didn’t want to risk him thinking she was asking because she wanted another demon, so she decided to save that question for her and Asmo’s next self-care night. Preferably after he’d had enough demonus that he was unlikely to remember.

Breaking free from her thoughts, she took him in her hand. Half exploring and half trying to stroke him to full hardness, she tried to get a feel for how he liked to be touched. The breathy moan she earned through a hard grip and slow strokes hinted she was at least going in the right direction.

Through his growing haze Satan asked, “Can I see you too?”

M/C nodded, using the hand that had been wrapped around his wrist to untuck her own towel and toss it carelessly to the floor, pulling him back to her to kiss him hard. Wanting to see her but making use of the patience honed through the millennia of his existence, he let her take control of the kiss and instead tried to focus on the feel of her tongue in his mouth and her hand on his cock. If he had ever been in the Celestial Realm as his own being, he would imagine that this was what it felt like. To be enveloped in the love of his human as they tried to learn each other’s bodies, the sound of the storm still audible against the window panes. He was often envious of his brothers, but not this time. They’d experience this particular heaven over his dead body. Satan felt his possessive streak flaring up and he knew he would do whatever it took to keep his human in his arms until the end of his days. He was brought out of his head once again once the human shifted their focus to teasing the head of his cock. Unable to hold back the moans, he pulled back from the kiss only to shift to leaving marks down his lover’s neck. Sharp nips and sucks drew breathy moans from her, and satisfied sighs when he gently soothed the sting with his tongue.

He spent extra time on her collarbones, obsessed with how easily the red marks bloomed for him just on the edge of where they’d be visible in her usual attire. In his head he could see them at breakfast the next morning. M/C would be wearing her usual weekend attire. Of course, she’d cover her neck with makeup or maybe a scarf, but maybe she’d assume her collarbones would be covered by her shirt? What if she were to move just-so and the hem of her neckline shifted, showing off the marks he so carefully left for her to appreciate? Of course Asmodeus would notice, he never missed an opportunity to stare at her tits. No way he wouldn’t make a big deal about it, drawing the attention of the others. He could practically taste how lovely it would feel to feed on his brothers’ wrath. It also had the added bonus of making sure the others knew she was his – always had been and always will be.

Content with his little daydream, he continued downward to his human’s chest. Her fingers grasped at his hair to ground herself as he teased her nipple to hardness with his tongue, stimulating the other with gentle circles using his thumb. Cupping them in his hands, he took the opportunity to lean back and appreciate M/C. His eyes scanned her nude body for the first time, appreciating every curve and dimple, committing every scar and freckle and mole to memory. From her flushed skin to her messed up hair, she looked absolutely wrecked. He moved his hand to tease the marks he left all over her neck and chest, tracing each one.

“Satan, please, don’t make me beg. I want you inside of me.” she was surprised how pathetic she sounded to herself and possibly more surprised at how Satan’s eyes dilated and his smile grew at the sound, like he was a fox that had spotted a hare.

“But you sound positively sinful when you beg, and you know how us demons love to bask in sin” he replied.

Rolling her eyes, she grabbed one of his hands to drag it down her body to her core. Not willing to pass up an opportunity to be a little shit, kept moving downward until he landed at the underside of her knee.

“Seriously?”

“Shush, I’m a romantic, let me enjoy our first time together. I said I wanted to worship you, didn’t I?”

“Fine. You’re lucky you’re cute”. M/C huffed.

“Thank you for indulging me, your graciousness knows no bounds”. Before she could bite back another response, Satan parted her legs and descended on her inner thighs. Kissing and biting, he cut off her smartass reply and it was replaced by the loudest moan he’d gotten all night. The way he held her legs in place was as delicate as when he had been checking her over for wounds, providing a lovely contrast to way he attacked the soft flesh of her thighs.

“Sensitive?”

“I will end you if you don’t touch me where I want you right now, you ridiculous little furry”. This was the kind of shit that made him fall head over heels in love with her. She wasn’t afraid of him, she saw him as more than his sin. She saw all of them as more than their sins, but right now he was only concerned with the two of them. He didn’t think his smile could grow any wider without becoming distinctly inhuman, and while he was pretty sure she’d be into that, today wasn’t the day to drop that on her. Instead, he hooked her legs over his shoulders and dove between her legs with an enthusiasm he hadn’t felt for sex in centuries, if ever.

Her thighs locked around his head and her hands threaded through his silky blonde hair, throwing her head back and screaming his name. The sound was muffled by her legs covering his ears, but she was loud enough that he heard it loud and clear. It motivated him to show her just how agile his tongue was, to ruin her for human partners and other demons alike. He focused his mouth on her clit, rubbing her hips with his thumbs to soothe her as he overwhelmed the human’s senses. Satan’s tongue felt unbelievably long on her sex, somehow seeming to simultaneously cover her entirely and focus in on the spots that made her buck her hips involuntarily and grind down onto his face. She had never felt so overstimulated before and couldn’t help but continue to moan as he brought her closer and closer to climax. She was helpless to do anything but vocalize her pleasure as he ate her through her orgasm and beyond, her body tensing and twitching as he lapped up her release. When her noises of pleasure turned to noises of discomfort, Satan managed to make his way out from between her legs, stroking the outside of her thigh and using a gentle voice to guide her back into her body.

“Holy fuck. Where did you learn to do that?” she panted as she tried to catch her breath. She caught his eye, appreciating how his face was shiny with her slick. She felt her arousal returning against all odds as he grinned wickedly and licked it all off of his face with a tongue that looked different from usual - too long for his mouth, but lined up more with what she felt on her sex.

“I’m Satan, remember? What kind of great corrupter of mankind would I be if I couldn’t eat pussy?” He flopped down next to her as they laughed, basking in the afterglow.

“I’m still pretty sensitive, but I can touch you in the meantime if you’d like?”

“No, let’s just stay like this for a bit. I want to cum for the first time inside of you, if you’ll allow me”.

Her eyes grew large and she felt herself almost salivating. “Yep, yep, sounds great, good, let’s do that”.

Her demon laughed again, loving how awkward and enthusiastic she was even after it seemed like he’d given her an out-of-body experience.

“Oh, wait, can you let Lucifer know that we’re back? I don’t want you getting in trouble for ‘stealing’ me again”. As M/C curled up on her side and drew the covers up over her, Satan paused. His eye caught the lacy black bra hung on the doorknob of her closet.

“Of course, love”. He was the co-chair of the Anti-Lucifer League. He couldn’t pass up this opportunity. So, before he curled up into her side to be her big spoon, he decided to snap a picture of the bra hanging there. He opened up his DDD, holding it in one hand and stroking her arm gently with the other. It conveniently showed a notification that Lucifer had texted him about half an hour ago.

Lucifer: Have you and M/C returned? The weather is getting worse and it is almost time for dinner. Lucifer: M/C is not answering her DDD. Will you please update me on the situation once you see these texts? Lucifer: Satan. If this is a repeat of last time I will make you wish that I just strung you from the ceiling like Mammon.

Perfect.

Satan: Don’t worry big brother, M/C is inside and safe from the storm.

The eldest brother responded almost immediately.

Lucifer: It took you long enough to respond. I will be speaking to you about this after dinner. I hope you’ve made sure she’s eaten, it’s past dinner time and I can’t guarantee that Beelzebub has not gotten into the leftovers. Satan: Don’t worry, she’s having a great time.

*one image attached*

Lucifer: What. Is. That. Satan: Sorry, I’d assumed you’d seen a woman topless before. Silly me. That’s a bra, it’s a type of undergarment women wear to support their breasts. Lucifer: I know what a bra is. Why do you have a picture of what I can only assume is M/C’s bra taken from inside her room? Satan: Oh, I think you know, brother.

He nudged the human beside him, who was enjoying the skinship and starting to drift off to sleep.

“Hey, wanna mess with Lucifer?”

“Always”

“Can I take a picture of you in bed? You can cover as much of your skin as you want”.

She took a moment to think. “Sure, why not?”

He knew he loved her for a reason.

[chariaki]

Tipsy declarations....of love.

Ohhh nothing like walking around in the breezy streets of London on an autumn evening, where you're all nestled up in your thick red scarf, hugged by your long black coat and tightly fitted jeans, while clumsily hopping along with your furry boots. You and your best friend Rin had just graduated college a few weeks ago and had planned this trip to celebrate.

Just the two of you.

You planned the whole trip and the agendas, and tonight... Well, clever Rintarou wanted to get wasted with you in fancy london. It wasn't such a clever idea, because little did he know that he had to look like he was taming a five year old kid 3 hours later.

So here we are, yes, you are walking the breezy streets of london, but not so gracefully. You frolicked and tripped, and burped, and farted, all while sweet and and unfortunately sober (as he claims) Rin, walked a few steps behind you... smilling. He doesn't mind, because it's always a sight to see you so drunk and all over the place.

Given how both of you are close, you have occassionally seen his smiles here and there, but these days, to your surprise its been getting more frequent, and yes it is a good thing, there's just something in the way his eyes glimmer around you that spark hope in that hopeless romantic soul of yours.

But! You kill it yourself, and made the excuse that maybe he's just insanely happy because he escaped that hell hole called college...but maybe its also because he caught feelings for you? -

says the hopeful you in your head.

Well... sober you could never make the first move. Good thing you're drunk!

So yes.. Your drunk ass suddenly had the courage to do the unimaginable. You stopped walking, and you also felt Rintaro stop behind you.

"What's wrong?" - He stood beside you and croyched to see your face.

Yoy turned to him, your face all red and cold. Suna can't tell if the pink in your face is you blushing or if your face is really cold, but either way, his eyes sparkled as it usually does when he's around you. And you're not aware it was because of you. Because you're feelings keep pushing things away.

Nevertheless, you lift your head and faced him, brows furrowing and lips curved into a teasing smile.

"Yu wAnNa KnOw A sEcReTtt?" your words drunkenly slurred.

"Your secret? Of course" He spoke while raising his brow with an amused face.

He took your arm and led the two of you to the side, so you both won't be blocking the middle of the street. You noticed how his hand never really left your arm... He bended down to you and looked straight into your fucking soul. His hands still grasping your arm gently but tightly, and his focus all on you.

"Hmmm? I'm listening. Spill." He was curious.

But, instead of telling him your secret... You kissed his cheek. The kiss lingered longer than seconds before you pulled away, eyes closed, Suna's lips apart and eyes wide. He blushed. Actually, blush is an understatement.

Dude was discombobulated.

Took him a few minutes to organize him. Everything.

The two of you quite literally just stood there, facing each other, but looking in opposite directions. Strangers gave weird glances, but you could care less, because you just KISSED your BEST FRIEND.

You never thought those two words would be in the same sentence huh.

Rin finally looked your way, but didnt say anything. He was just looking at you. For a couple seconds it felt fine, because even you were shocked.

But it turned into a minute, so you had to say something!

"How was my secret?" You spoke in tiny.

""..."

He finally composed himself, smirked, and leaned REALLY REALLY FRICKEN CLOSE TO YOU. LIKE ZERO CENTIMETERS APART CLOSE AND HE SAID-

"So does that mean I can finally be your boyfriend now?" He knew what he was doing. Yes, there were a bunch of times where he flirted with you, but this. This really confirmed everything.

"Yes Rin, now you kiss me."

[snzluv3r]

Have you ever had an allergic fit but couldn’t see what was making you sneeze?

oh my god YES this is so embarrassing and it sounds fake typing it out but long story short yes LOL.

i had a falling out with a friend couple years ago but she still had my favorite shirt in the entire world and for some reason instead of mailing it straight to me she mailed it to my gf at the time. my gf and i both kept forgetting about the shirt so it sat in an (open) box in my gf’s apartment for MONTHS until WE had a falling out & broke up, and she had to then mail it back to me.

i got the shirt in the mail after not seeing it for literal months and for some stupid reason i just assumed it was still clean (because i knew my old friend had washed it before she sent it to my ex) and i was so excited to have it back that i just had to put it on right when i opened the package

i feel like a key factor here is that every single one of us has adhd, so the shirt would sit in a box or on a desk waiting to be mailed for weeks and months at a time (we all suck it’s true). another very key factor is that in their two households combined, they had SEVEN cats—and i am extremely allergic to all seven of them.

of course, that thought never once crossed my mind when i was putting the shirt on and actually didn’t cross my mind until the next morning (dumb and embarrassing!!!!!) so i just went to watch a movie with my friends thinking nothing of it.

less than half an hour after putting it on my eyes started watering and getting really itchy so i rubbed them (i thought it was a regular itch, and therefor would be solved by scratching it) and they kept getting itchier no matter how much i rubbed them. i went to the bathroom to look at my eyes and see if maybe something was in my contact, which was when i saw that my eyes were actually Really red (like, allergic, red) and starting to swell up.

i still had no idea what i was reacting to but i figured it was a weird reaction to dust or something around me and just tried to stop touching my eyes so they didn’t swell up anymore. i went back to the movie and my nose started running and getting really tickly, especially when i sniffled which had become almost constant within five minutes of being back. i felt like i was going to sneeze but it wasn’t the worst tickle, just one of those tingly allergic ones that starts in your eyes and you can almost feel it as it spreads down your sinuses. i figured it was from whatever was bothering my eyes and tried not to focus on how itchy i was, but i started to hitch a little and the tickle went from more of a tingling to a suddenly urgent itch. i barely had time to get my arm up to cover my first sneezes, which were fully stifled and almost completely silent but still made me want to disappear from embarrassment.

i stifled tiny fits of doubles and triples for maybe five more minutes before some of my friends noticed and started asking if i was okay, which made it all the more embarrassing, and i could literally feel my cheeks heating up to match my red eyes and nose. i insisted i was fine and tried my best to hold my breath and will the tickle to go away but trying so hard not to sneeze made it 10x worse (shocking, i know)

i started sneezing again minutes later and managed to stifle ten sneezes in a row before the tickle spread into the back of my throat and the roof of my mouth, and i knew i was completely fucked. i don’t remember how many unstifled sneezes i let escape before i got out of my seat and out of the theatre but it felt like a million and i was so embarrassed. my eyes were so itchy now that they felt like they were burning, and tears were starting to stream down my face by the time i got back into the bathroom.

i blindly grabbed a handful of paper towels from the dispenser and locked myself in a stall to continue my fit which lasted for the entire rest of the movie and a while after we got home. keep in mind, i was STILL wearing the shirt, but there was still no connection in my mind between the shirt and my seemingly random allergy attack. to make it so much worse, in the car, when i ran out of paper towels, i started absentmindedly wiping my eyes with my shirt. in hindsight that didn’t do me any favors.

my sneezes started to slow down once i was in the car and didn’t feel as embarrassed or compelled to stifle but i kept rubbing my eyes (dumb!!!!!) which triggered the itch and made me start up again. none of us had any idea what i was allergic to so my friends were more concerned than they normally would be while i was just frustratingly confused as to what i could possibly be reacting to. it wasn’t pollen season and i only ever react this badly to hayfever or cats, but i hadn’t interacted with a cat in forever.

my friends went out to get some tissues and allergy meds while i showered, and i didn’t really stop sneezing until i fell into my benadryl induced coma and went to sleep for the night. the next morning my eyes were still considerably swollen and ridiculously bloodshot (my nickname for the day at work was fucking sn**p dog because i looked permanently stoned). after about the 5th time of explaining what was wrong with my eyes and why i was wearing my glasses, i had one of those epiphany moments where i literally stopped speaking and my jaw dropped.

both of the girls who had the shirt before me have 3+ cats. both of them left the shirt (freshly washed and clean) in open boxes in their rooms while they procrastinated mailing it. cats love boxes, especially to sleep in, and what’s a better cushion than a soft, clean t-shirt?

i wore a shirt that had been sat on by at least half of those seven cats, touching it with my hands and at some point accidentally touching my eyes. i was quite literally wearing a shirt covered in my biggest allergen for HOURS dumbfounded as to what could possibly be making me so sneezy.

the craziest part is that there really wasn’t any visible cat hair on the shirt, at least that anyone noticed. you’d think someone would point out if there were 5 colors of cat hair sticking to my shirt while i was actively having a mystery allergy attack. my theory is that my ex lint-rolled it before mailing it back to me, which got rid of the fur but not the dander. (i guess that answers the question of whether i am allergic to just the fur).

i was so shocked that i reacted THAT severely to secondhand allergen (one that i couldn’t even see) that i reached out to my ex to ask if the cats had been hanging out near the box before she sent it. the answer was yes by the way, it was all four of their favorite spot to sleep 🙃

side note—this was all during early-ish covid, so when i was sneezing the movie theatre it was all in a mask, which made the whole thing somehow a million times more humiliating. i kept stifling into elbow forgetting my sneezes were technically already covered

[nothing0fnothing]

I was 9 or 10 and sitting in the front seat of the busted little green car my stepdad used the drive.

I hated sitting in the front seat when he was driving. It was a level of separation away from my friend in the back seat, but it also gave him easy acsess to hurt me when he was sitting across from me. He was an expert at it too. I'd have stars in my vision from being smacked into the passenger window or be screaming in pain from having the pressure points in my knee squeezed and rolled, and he wouldn't even swerve.

He pulled the car to a stop outside of youth group and by the time he was round to the open passenger side window I was just taking my seat belt off and finishing my thought.

I wasn't out of the car fast enough for him, so he jabbed me, hard on the arm, 5 times. So hard my eyes stung with the threat of tears and my arm was still tender and sore a half hour later. I saw why when we were given permission to remove our uniform jackets and I got a look at what my arm looked like in my cap sleeve top. I instinctively pulled the jacket back on over it.

4 blue, sore fingerprints in a straight line down my upper arm. No wonder it was tender, it looked awful. The prints looked massive on me too, painting about a third of my entire upper arm. There was no way it'd look like the result of children roughhousing on the playground. These were unmistakably adult male fingerprints.

I'd gone pale and sick looking when I realised how bad it was. It had happened less than a foot from my friends face in the car and it happened so quick, she hadn't even noticed, literally nobody would beleive me even if I told the honest truth, but I had no way to lie either. I was thinking up a solution where I only wore long tops in the June heat for a few weeks when I got pulled to the back.

"You alright Cor'?" It was the sweet old man who ran the youth group. I always liked him, which made it so much sadder for me to lie to him.

"Fine thanks" I tried to put some pep on it but it just sounded like anxiety. That with the sickly drained face and being the only kid in uniform, he was unsure.

A few minutea later, the two nicest grown ups and I were in the kitchen alone while the other kids played and the other 3 leaders supervised. I was given a sugary cup of milky tea and a biscuit while we chatted small talk for a few minutes. They tried to seem nonchalant in their attitude, probably in hopes I'd be more honest if I didn't know this chat was based in concern, but I was too observant for that. I wasn't a normal nine year old kid, this wasn't my first time involved in a 'casual chat' with some nice grownups who just wanted to talk a little bit about my home life.

It made me want to cry, but I knew if I did it would mean even more concern, so I smiled and chomped biscuits and pretended to be a normal kid. I'd felt confident I had skirted my way out of a talk with my parents about my weird behaviour and it showed. So when they ran a scripted "it's so warm in here we should all take our jackets off" bit, it was incredibly obvious my stomach had dropped into the floor and my blood went cold.

Somebody had seen the bruises.

"Come on Cordelia, you're running around out there you must be very warm with your jacket on."

I looked into my tea and breathed shakily to get myself together. "I'm actually really cold." I said, kicking myself because I knew I wasn't fooling anyone.

"Didn't I see you with it off earlier? Were you not warm then?"

"I was, but I'm cold now." I'd gone from GoGo Juice pep to sullen preteen in 8 seconds. They knew they were onto something.

"You know, when you're a grown up at a youth group your job becomes to look after the kids, and if something was wrong we'd like to look after you."

Now I was staring straight at the table, blinking tears down and sniffling. I knew they'd seen it, but I also knew I couldn't show them for fear of what would meet me in 45 minutes when my parents showed up to collect me.

"Imagine if you were a grown up and you had a kid your age who was sad and wanted to wear their uniform jacket on a hot day, what would you be worried about?"

"That they would overheat." I replied, but when the response back was silence I anxiously filled it. "Or maybe they were hiding something."

"Are you hiding something Cordelia?" Fuck.

"You can check my pockets if you want." I said evasively. It felt horrible to lie barefaced like this. I was sure that this would colour their opinion of me forever, that all of the adults would know I was a lying liar and none of them would like me anymore. I felt so sour about it. No other kid had to pick between being safe at home and being liked at youth group. Being liked by the adults was so important to me too. I hoped I could make this up later, but realistically I knew no adult would like a lying child.

When I sipped the tea it was warm and comforting. I'd gone cold with anxiety. I had been given a grown up, pink ceramic mug rather than one of the Styrofoam cups they usually serve drinks to the kids in. I cupped it in my hands felt the comforting wave of warmth spread through my body.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the shiny surface of my phone screen, I looked sick for sure. My eyes looked beady and black, my skin looked pale and lifeless and all over my face and neck I had prickled goosebumps. This is how I look every time it goes very bad at home, I know because I had watched my own face drain of colour in the mirror once when I saw the results of another bad day blinking back at me. It was something to do with remembering it, it just made me feel like it was happening again.

I sat with the group leaders for the rest of our session, honestly thankful for the cups of tea and the comforting space away from the other children to process what had happened on the drive up. I opened up about some things, school and home and friends. I think at first I thought I was manipulating them away from the bruises on my forearm, but eventually I was crying and sipping teas and eating biscuits and feeling the weights I didn't know I was carrying lift off my shoulders.

They were patient and understanding, and they wanted me to talk as much as I could. I think they thought if I opened up enough I'd would bring the walls down and I'd stop being so guarded about what happened to my arm. I didn't. They never got to confirm what they saw, I never breathed a word about my violent, scary home life and I showed up with long sleeves every subsequent week.

I think they told social services anyway, who came to my school to check. By the time I was sat with an investigator it was weeks later and my incredibly obvious finger print bruises had faded to yellow and green smudges I could have gotten anywhere. I said I got them playing outside. No action needed.

[disneyfangrl100]

Chapter Five: First day in Hell

He was nervous at first to introduce his father to his friends. Esmeralda and Phoebus already knew that quasi and Charlie were siblings as well as the fact that Charlie was half demon… what they didn’t know was that they’re father was the literal devil. He knew his father would have no time wining Esmeralda over… or clopan who would probably become his fathers best friend considering they’re similar attitudes… Phoebus however would be hard to win over.

Phoebus had been raised by christen like him so meeting the devil might be a bit surprising… plus he wasn’t a fan of Clopan or anyone like him. However he didn’t have to worry his dad got along with everyone including Phoebus. He was surprised but relieved. However when he dropped the news to his friends… things become a little less cheerful.

“You sure about this?” Esmeralda had asked him. “Yeah I mean running a kingdom or country is one thing but we’re talking about literal hell here… are you sure you want to go down there?”

“I’ve never been more sure about something in my entire life.” Quasi said seriously. “But it’s hell!” Phoebus said. “I know that Phoebus I’m not dumb… but my sister believes that the sinners in hell can be redeemed into heaven and I believe in my sister.”

“Really every soul? Even your stepfather?” Quasi winced as he looked away. “No… not him… he… he belongs there.”

“Still It’s a lot of responsibility.” Quasi sighed. “I know. But I have to try.” That night he said goodbye to his friends as he headed back to the cathedral.

Unfortunately his father wouldn’t be joining them. According to his father he wanted to spend time on earth a little longer. See the good side of humanity. He was a little disappointed his father wouldn’t be going back with them but his dad said he wouldn’t take to long and would return to he’ll soon if he ever wanted to visit and chat.

He waited in the bell tower for Charlie and Vaggie to arrive. They eventually arrived a few hours later. His sister had a purple book tucked underneath her arm. “Are you ready?” Quasi nodded.

“I-I hope so.” Charlie placed the book on the ground. With the time travel spell in one hand she read the incantation out loud. It was in the language of hell so it was difficult to understand but to his surprise the book sparkled and flipped open. The air shimmered and warped as a glowing portal opened up.

“This should take us straight to the hotel. You ready to go home?” Quasimodo nodded. “I-I’m ready.” With a deep breath Quasi followed his sister through the portal.

Quasimodo stumbled half dazed as he nearly collapsed. “Quasi?” He heard Charlie say his name concerned. Vaggie had luckily caught him before he could fall. “T-thanks, V-Vaggie.”

“You ok.”Charlie asked concerned. “I’m fine just… a little tired that’s all.” He looked around taking in his new surroundings. The hotel was a lot bigger than he’d realized. He almost felt a little overwhelmed.

Suddenly a black shadowy mass raced towards them. However it stopped inches from them taking the shape of a person… no not a person… a smiling red demon it’s eyes glowing red. “Charlie dear it’s been so long where have you been my dear.” The creatures eyes locked onto him. “Alastor I told you we were going to the human world to get my brother.”

“Ahh so this must be the young prince…. Interesting.” The demon said staring him down with that terrifying smile. Luckily they were interrupted. “Charlie!” He saw a pink and white demon descending the staircase.

“Angle I’m so glad to see you how are you?”

“Not good Charlie you didn’t tell me you’d be gone a fucking week! My friend Blitz is pissed he can’t do his job and Prince Stolas… as soon as he heard you were back in hell… well… he’s on his way over to get his book.” Charlie sighed looking frustrated. “I’m sorry it took so long angle but… some things happened in Paris.”

“Yeah well you’ve got a slightly annoyed prince coming to the hotel so you deal with it.” Quasimodo placed a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “I’ll deal with the demon prince you should get some rest you need a break.” Charlie looked at him worriedly. “Are you sure. I thought you were tired?”

“I’ll be fine you get some rest.” Angel looked between them confused. “Who the fuck is this guy?”

“Angel this is my brother Quasimodo?” Angel frowned. “I thought his name was Gavin or something?”

“It is we’re trying to work on reintroducing his name to him we’ve just been… busy.” Quasimodo smiled. It felt nice to have a name that had nothing to do with his deformities. His father had called him that the first time they’d met. He’d been confused at first but once he understood he was happy.

“So this is your brother Huh?” Angel said studying him up and down. “He’s kinda cute.” Quasi turned bright red. “Uh is she flirting with me?”

Charlie frowned. “Angel’s not a girl… also just ignore him he does that a lot.” Angel looked offended. “I do not!” However quasi was quite.

“Him… he. Angel was a man. He couldn’t be a year older than him. He was Twenty six so that would make angel twenty seven. He still couldn’t believe that he was a man. He looked so much like a girl.

“But he doesn’t sound like a girl does he.” Quasi blushed shaking his head. As he waited at the front door for the demon prince to arrive.

When Stolas arrived he hadn’t expected a giant owl to arrive on the front door step. However as it turned out the owl was Stolas. Of course the prince was skeptical until he showed a hint of his power allowing his eyes to glow red for a few minutes.

“So your the prince of Hell? Your a lot smaller than I imagined.”

“I’m half human.” He said keeping a passive face trying not to pass out from fear and exhaustion. “Really? How… interesting. I suppose that explains why the princess was so adamant on using my book as well as the time spell.” The prince took the scroll from him as well as the book.

“Though if you wish to use them again in the future let me know. I must say it has been a while since I’ve visited earth.” Stolas said smiling. “Now if you excuse me I’m far too busy today I bid you farewell.”

Quasimodo exhaled as he leaned against the closed door. Had he just made a friend… with a demon prince. “Your also a prince and besides he didn’t seem that bad.” He felt a hand on his shoulder.

“You ok new guy?” He looked up to see Angel staring down at him. “I-I-I’m fine. Quasi stuttered his face turning red. “Hey about earlier… I get it. I look like a girl.”

“That’s what most people expect from me down here I guess. We all have a part to play I guess. Though sometimes I wish I hadn’t made the choices I made.” Quasi was surprised.

“T-thanks angel but I’m fine. I-I just need some sleep. Quasi pushed past him as he climbed the stairs to his room. Charlie had given the key to his room earlier before Stolas had arrived. Ironically his room number was six, six, six. He closed the door as he collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep.

Later that evening when quasi didn’t come down Charlie sent Angel to take some food up to him. “Why me?” Angel said annoyed. “Well I saw you guys talking earlier and i thought he’d appreciate a familiar face.” Charlie sighed.

“He’s been through a lot lately. I just worry he’s going to take on to much. I know working distracts him from everything that happened but sometimes I worry about him you know. “Yeah I get I’ll go give him the food.”

Angel knocked on his door. “Hello? Quasi? It’s quasi right?” Silence.

He wondered if he was asleep. He put his ear to the door. He heard a muffled sound. It sounded like crying. “I’m coming in.” Angel said.

Luckily the door was unlocked as Angel opened the door. Angel could make out a lump underneath the covers. Angel set the food down on the nightstand as he pulled back the covers to get a better look. He was definitely crying. His face was soaked in fresh tears.

Angel couldn’t help wondering what he’d been through. Suddenly his eyes opened. His eyes turned bright red with anger as he shoved angel away. “What are you doing in here?” he growled.

“I-Get out!” He yelled furiously as he threw a antique teacup at him. It shattered against the wall as angel quickly rushed out of the room. However before he’d shut the door halfway he heard a familiar yet timid voice call out from the other side of the door.

“Wait! P-please don’t go. I didn’t mean to do that. I’m sorry I… I haven’t been sleeping well.” Angel felt sorry for him but was still too nervous to open the door.

“C-can you stay… just for a bit. I-I’ll understand if you say no- sure.” Quasi gasped surprised. “Really?” Angel opened the door a smile on his face. “Sure I’ve got time.”

Angel sat on the bed while the two of them talked quasi ate the soup that Charlie had made for him. As he talked with his new friend. However the soup made him sleepy and he laid down. He continued to listen to angel until he drifted off to sleep. Angel smiled running a hand through his hair.

To his surprise he flinched and Angel pulled his hand away. “Why did I do that?” It was not like he hadn’t touched a guy before but he’d never seen anyone flinch before. He started to wonder what he’d been through. Maybe he’d ask Charlie.

“Sweet dream…Quasi.” Angel said as he closed the door. His face turned bright red. He’d never felt so attached to someone before. But Quasi was different.

Was he in love? “Quite fooling yourself. Besides he’s probably straight. “He was raised in a church I doubt he’d want anything to do with you.” Angel said talking himself down.

However he was wrong Quasi couldn’t stop thinking about angel. He could still feel his hand on his head. He’d touched him. Why? He was hideous.

How could any one even look at him let alone touch him. Maybe it’d been an accident. Still part of him wanted to feel that feeling again, whatever ever it was no matter how overwhelming it was to him. “Stop it! Stop thinking of him this is wrong!”

“You thought that when Charlie first introduced you to Vaggi.”

“That’s different.”

“Is it though.”

Quasi sighed. Maybe he shouldn’t judge someone before he got to know them. Maybe if he spent time with him he’d be able to understand these strange feelings better… little did he realize… that strange feeling… was called love.

[goldfizzle]

ugh i’m so fucking fed up i have exams approaching and i’m being held to extremely high standards for said exams bc i used to be rly clever but now i’m just regular clever and i try to complain to my friend abt how i’m never gonna meet the school’s expectations of me and she’s like “oh boohoo you’re predicted really high grades that must be awful 🙄😒” and i try to explain to her that i’m not predicted rly high grades i’m expected to get rly high grades (which i won’t) and i’m not upset about the grades i’m getting i’m upset about how i’m never gonna live up to expectations and even though i’m getting fairly good grades i’m still gonna feel like a disappointment and she gets mad (jokingly mad but still) at me for being upset and it’s honestly just making me feel worse abt it but idk how to tell her that i’m getting panic attacks over being a disappointment and literally all i want is for her to say “oh yeah that’s a bummer” or something like that just so i don’t feel like an arsehole for being upset abt this

[lavendertales]

Love me tender || Frankie Morales x f!reader**

summary: Frankie almost insists on being there for you on a bad day, and your response is more than welcomed.

word count: 2.1k

WARNINGS: period sex (vague descriptions of periods implicitly). 

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

DISCLAIMER: this is in no way a depiction of how all periods feel. people who menstruate feel it differently. this is more or less drawn from my own experience.

Gratitude and relief were a bit further of your list of reasons to be happy today.

And if you were completely honest, the list was incredibly short as it was.

You woke up feeling cramps and you already felt the impending doom waiting to take over your body. Surely enough, half hour later you were rushing to the bathroom with a pad in your hand and what you liked to call “the emergency granny panties”, the familiar yet ever annoying pressure in your belly persisting.

Displeased grunts filled the bathroom, much to Frankie’s surprise. He knocked on the door, barely daring to press his ear on the door, let alone insist on walking in on you.

“Everything okay in there, baby?”

The response came delayed, merely strengthening his concern.

“Fabulous, yeah.”

“Okay, I can sense your sarcastic tone, but I’m starting to get kinda worried out here.”

“I’m fine, babe, don’t worry.”

“You’ve been grunting for the past half hour.”

The door finally opened and your irritated facial expression met Frankie’s puppy-like one. He puckered his lips, quickly getting a grasp of the situation.

“Time of the month?” he checked.

“Unfortunately, you guessed correctly.”

“There are two ways you can get rid of that, and we agreed on at least one of them.”

You snickered, although that did manage to steal a smile from your lips. You crashed into his arms, his warmth working like an immediate sedative.

“Now, unless you’ve changed your mind regarding one of those two ways and you want to not deal with this for the next nine months—“

“Don’t start now, Morales—“

“—what can I do to help?”

You huffed, looking up at him. “I don’t think you can go back in time and prevent periods from ever being created.”

Frowning, Frankie stared incredulously at you, half amused.

“I don’t think any regular guy invented them, so chances are slim.”

“I didn’t expect you to fight God or whatever. I know it was a long shot.”

He kissed your forehead, cupping your cheeks lovingly.

“Can I get you some tea or anything, at least?”

“Some chamomile tea does sound good, actually.”

“On it.”

Frankie had always been incredibly devoted and kind, always made sure you had everything you needed on all fronts. For the rest of the day, though, he took it to a whole new level of care, one that you never would’ve imagined possible.

After he made you the tea, he brought you your heating pad, stocked up your favorite snacks in case your cravings kicked in, and fluffed your pillows. You saw him fugitively for the rest of the day, with him running errands and spending quite a significant amount of time in his office.

“Frankie, baby? You around?”

He peeked through the bedroom door, phone in his hands, looking curiously at you.

“Did you need anything? I made you some soup if you want. You should eat something warm and nutritious—“

“I just wanted to see you. I feel like you’ve been roaming around all day today, I missed you.”

He put the phone away and scooted next to you on the bed, letting you nuzzle in the crook of his neck while his hand caressed your hair.

“I’ve been doing some reading on periods, trying to figure out exactly what’s going on—“

“You what? Go back.”

You and Frankie exchanged a look of confusion.

“What?” he asked innocently.

“You’ve been reading about periods?”

“Yeah. Just thought I should get more information to know how to make things more comfortable for you.”

Jaw quite literally dropped, you still stared at him with utter disbelief. “Let me get this straight. You voluntarily read about periods to make the situation more comfortable for me?”

“Yeah, what—did I not say it right the first time around?”

“No, no, you did. I just…”

You paused, trying to find the right words. In a heartbeat, you were starting to feel something a little more than warmth. It was a fire, treacherously spreading in between your legs, as sensitive as that area felt in that moment, nesting in your belly the more you stared at the man. You could not believe that a man would go through that much trouble just to find a way to make you feel safer and more comfortable.

You might’ve just hit the jackpot with him.

“This is so goddamn attractive,” you muttered.

“It is?”

“Looking up kinda gross information about women just to make sure your partner is okay? Hot!”

Frankie chuckled, his thumb grazing your cheek.

“It’s not that gross,” he tells you in return.

“Please. It’s a woman’s curse for not being pregnant. Totally uncalled for if you ask me.”

“You women go through so much, it feels unfair.”

“It is, thank you!”

You both chuckled. The cramps have eased for a while now, you were all warm and cozy and the feeling from before persisted. It was like a button waiting to be pressed, gently, in order to release the sweetest, most intoxicating physical form of love.

“I didn’t do any of this for recognition of my attractiveness, just so you know,” he informed you.

“I know. Which in turn also makes you even sexier.”

“I’m on fire today, aren’t I?”

“Oh yeah.”

You grinned, eyes roaming his body with adoration and lust alike.

“So what did you find out in your research?” you asked in an attempt to distract yourself.

“That the pain is as bad as having a heart attack, which is insane—“

“Oh hell yeah.”

“And uh… that every month there’s basically chunks of your uterus detaching themselves during the cycle which, again… insane.”

“Damn crazy.”

“Oh, and also that there’s certain things that help with the cramps.”

“Yeah. Pills, chamomile tea—“

“Orgasms can relieve the pain, too.”

Wide-eyed, you stared rather shocked at your partner, too incredulous to even articulate a single word.

You’ve had your fair share of partners, but none took their time to research about such things, let alone taking their time to put you first. You were just so used to the whole “periods are gross” thing that you didn’t think anyone would actually bother.

But Frankie wasn’t just anyone. He was attentive and kind and sweet – except when you didn’t want him to be.

“I’m sorry—what did you just say?” you checked.

Frankie chuckled just as surprised as you, but for an entirely different reason.

“Orgasms can relieve period cramps as well, I’ve been reading about it,” he continued. “For people who menstruate, if they feel up for it, orgasms can be a great source of relieving cramps, pressure—“

“Okay, this is… you gotta stop talking now.”

“Why?”

“Because this is one of the most attractive things I have ever heard and I am not sure how much of this I can handle.”

“This? Really?”

“Uh, are you kidding me? Taking the time to learn about such a topic, wanting to be there for me and make me feel good… very attractive.”

Frankie’s facial expression turned into one of astonishment. This certainly was an unexpected side effect of his research. All of that work had been put towards his own better knowledge and your potential pleasure, having nothing to do with a gratuitous attitude from your side.

He couldn’t say he wasn’t a fan though.

“So… anyway,” he resumed, slightly flustered himself. “If you’re feeling bad, I’m here for you.”

You grabbed the collar of his t-shirt, thus pulling him in, and you pressed your lips onto his, forming a kiss that’s tender yet passionate enough so he knew what your intentions were.

It was so easy to get lost in your scent and your taste, and the way you were kissing him was maddening enough that Frankie was half hard already. You opened your legs, making sufficient space in between for him, and Frankie’s nearly gone when one of your legs wrapped around his waist. He grunted in your mouth as your hands roamed at the hem of the t-shirt, eager to remove it from his body.

“Well this was a fast response,” he muttered, lips nibbling at your jaw.

You smiled in a frenzy as more of Frankie’s skin was exposed before you. You adored every inch of him, every scar, every slope and softness of it. You trembled when he peppered kisses down your neck and onto your cleavage, teeth barely pinching your nipples through the shirt; your hands went to his sweatpants, pleasantly remarking he was so hard already, and you rushed to get him out of them.

Frankie followed your lead and undressed before you, reaching into the nightstand to grab a condom. You watched the scene unfold with incredible lust, desire pooling in your lower belly even more than before. Although it was hard to say if it was arousal or your period – or a mixture of the both – it mattered not. He took one of the pillows on the bed and placed it underneath your back, as well as one of your darker colored towels, to which you shivered.

“Are you okay?” he asked, noticing that.

“Yes. I’m just… I didn’t expect you to be this prepared.”

“These are your favorite sheets, I doubt you’d want them stained in any way if—“

“Oh, shut up and do me.”

You couldn’t handle it anymore; you pulled Frankie back in for a kiss as he gently disposed of the clothes covering your lower region. He carefully placed your underwear and pad away, guiding himself to your entrance with care. You both gasped as that first push of his cock through your sensitive walls weakened your whole body.

“God, you feel… so good,” Frankie whimpered, biceps rippling as he leaned on the mattress for support.

You couldn’t do anything but moan and reach for his lips as Frankie began to roll his hips into yours, pace tender and caring just like the man atop of you.

“Is this okay? Are you okay?”

“Yes—yes, just please keep moving—“

You didn’t have to tell him twice: Frankie set a pace that was equally pleasurable as your many other past encounters, arguably needier and filthier. He knew you needed him in a more intimate manner now, in a way that expressed care above all.

The only sound in the room were your huffs and moans and the squelching sounds that betrayed your arousal and your delicate disposition. His hands traveled to your hips, holding you in place as he kept thrusting, watching your reactions closely. He pushed deep and slow, the friction maddening enough. It was more than enough to feel him so closely, so full of him and wrapped up in his warmth and care.

There was buildup in your belly, one that made you more sensible than usual and you tried to warn Frankie by grabbing onto his forearm and drawing him closer. But he felt you, he felt every portion of you and knew when you were close. He learned every inch of your body and its tell signs inside and out.

“I know, baby,” he muttered, forehead on yours. “I know… I got you.”

“Oh God—Frankie – “

“It’s okay, I got you… cum for me? Hm?”

Your chest heaving, you came and let yourself go completely. Frankie’s thrusts didn’t stop; on the contrary, he sped up a little, eager when he felt his own climax building within.

“You get so tight when you cum, shit—“he groaned, face scrunched in pure ecstasy.

With a few more thrusts, Frankie came, cock throbbing and pulsing inside of you, causing you to tremble all over again. You cupped his cheeks as he began to climb down from his high, pecking his nose sweetly.

“I am so thankful you looked all of that stuff up,” you breathed.

Frankie smiled, visibly flustered. “Did that feel good? Are you alright?”

“I got my dose of dopamine, so… I will go ahead and say hell yes.”

Another smile from his side. He kissed you sweetly, still inside of you.

“I love you so much,” you whispered. “Thank you.”

“I love you so much too, baby, but… what are you thanking me for?”

“Taking such good care of me. You’re incredible.”

You pecked his nose sweetly, fingers caressing his hair.

“Eh. I do my best.”

“Mission accomplished, honey.”

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Take You Away || Bucky

Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Summary: You and Bucky are friends from work. You are a chef at the Avengers Compound and you see him every day but after a while he becomes suspicious of your home life and sets out to save from the abuse you receive. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, domestic violence (abusive boyfriend, mentions of an abusive father), injuries, fluff, WC: 4451

main masterlist || bucky masterlist || part one || part two

The end of your pen was a sharp mess of twisted plastic by the time you had finished chewing on it. The added responsibility of stock taking the kitchen was adding more pressure to your already busy day and you still needed to get the food order sent for the menu next week. The head chef was on leave and thought you had been there long enough that you could handle it on your own, you had thought so too.

Banana blueberry muffins. You still had to make them and breakfast would open in less than an hour. Rushing out of the storeroom you crashed into a wall of muscle that you hadn’t expected to find in the galley. Your face hit his shoulder and you groaned as the metal hit your already sore cheekbone. His face blanched as he heard your whimper and his arms gently caught your shoulders as he apologised profusely for hurting you.

“It’s fine, Bucky.” You said with a small smile, trying not to rub away the makeup on your face. “I’m more surprised than anything. Were you looking for something I could help with?”

He blinked as if he forgot what he was there for before nodding. “Coffee, please, I’ve run out.”

You turned around and ducked back into the storeroom to grab a packet of instant coffee that was used on each individual floor's kitchenette. Bucky always seemed to go through more than anyone else and it was probably to do with how early he rose each day. You grabbed two just to save him the trip down to the cafeteria later in the week and handed them over with a smile.

“Oh shit.” He gasped as he brushed his thumb over your cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

Your eyes widened with panic as he saw the bruise under your foundation and you brushed his touch aside. You turned away so you had space to breathe and waved his apology off the best you could. “It’s fine, nothing to worry about.”

“It’s not fine, I hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me, I just bruise easily.” Your eyes misted at the guilt lacing his voice and you wanted to admit the truth so he didn’t feel bad but you couldn’t. “I’m really busy this morning, was there anything else I could get you, Bucky?”

He shook his head sadly and retreated from the kitchen, a dark cloud hanging over him as he left. You felt terrible that you had caused it and you wiped your eyes before composing yourself, you had got yourself through a lot worse by pretending you were fine and you could do it once again. By the time the muffins were ready you had almost forgotten the event completely and the cafeteria opened for everyone at the compound.

Laughter and smiles filled the tables but there was one noticeable absence that you knew you were responsible for. Handing control over to the chef de partie, you tossed your apron over your hook and filled a plate of food before leaving the kitchen. The gym was almost empty since everyone was at breakfast but there was one man at the back, taking his anger out on a punching bag. You knew he heard the door close from the way he froze before continuing the assault.

“I, um, thought you might be hungry.” You murmured as you held out the plate to him.

“I already ate.” He grumbled between punches.

“No, you didn’t.” You said as you took a seat on a bench and placed the plate beside you. “I just got the order forms from your floor, you haven’t used anything from the kitchen. Just coffee.”

He sighed and dropped his hands to his sides, sweat glistening across his forehead. “You’re not going to leave until I eat are you.”

“It’s literally my job to make sure you are well fed.” You shrugged and pushed the plate closer to him. “It’s your favourite. You don’t want me to get fired do you?”

It was a low blow since he was already feeling guilty but he knew you wouldn’t get fired over something trivial like that, at least you hoped he did. His strides were slow as he grabbed a towel and wiped away his sweat before sitting down, looking at the plate piled high with food.

“How do you know it’s my favourite?” He asked as he picked up the muffin.

“It’s the only flavour you grab two of.” You smiled before your phoned rang in your pocket and your face fell, the personalised tone letting you know exactly who it was calling. “I should get going.”

“Everything alright?” He frowned at the change in your mood and you mentally slapped yourself for letting anything show.

“Just the usual stress and chaos in the kitchen.” You joked and rose to make your way to the door.

“If you want to talk about it, I’m pretty good at listening.” Bucky offered with a shrug.

“Thanks, Buck, I’ll keep that in mind.” You said before the phone rang again and you rushed to make it back to the kitchen.

Your shift had ended five minutes ago and your boyfriend was impatient at the best of times so keeping him waiting was not a smart move. You hurried your way through the kitchen that was being cleaned down and ready for the lunch team to begin preparing their meal. You waved to a few of the chefs on the way to grab your bag and reminded them you would be back for the dinner shift later. The split shifts weren’t ideal but until the head chef returned you would just make do.

“I’ve been waiting fucking 20 minutes.” Justin growled as you got in the passenger side.

It hadn’t been 20 minutes but you were not going to correct him as he started the engine and pulled out of the compound way too fast. “Sorry.”

“I’ve got the boys coming over for the game tonight. You can make it up to me by cooking us something good.”

“I’m working tonight.” You reminded him weakly.

“Does it look like I give a fuck?” He said, looking away from the road to stare at you. “Figure it out.”

“Alright.” You dropped your head to the cold window beside your head, trying to get a few minutes of rest before you got home.

You were completely exhausted as you reached the kitchen. You had planned on resting between shifts but instead you had made a feast for Justin and his friends and prayed he followed the reheating instructions you left. Stifling another yawn at being awake for 13 hours already, you hung up your bag and grabbed your apron, four more and you could go home to bed.

There was nothing you wanted more than to rest your sore feet but as you left the compound you found the car park dark and empty. You should have known he would have forgotten to pick you up, in fact he was probably drunk so it was best he didn’t drive. Gripping your bag closer to your side, you started making your way to the security gate only to see a pair of headlights illuminate the night.

“Y/n, hope in.” Bucky ordered as he pulled up beside you with his window down. “And don’t even try to argue, I’m not letting you walk home in the middle of the night.”

You looked at the gate that was still so far away and you knew there was no way you could decline his offer. With a small smile you walked around the car and he pushed the door open for you to climb in. The ride was quiet but it was the nice type of quiet, something you rarely got to have and you almost fell asleep it was so peaceful.

“It’s just up here on the left.” You said quietly, embarrassed about him seeing the rundown trailer that you called home.

He came to a stop outside one of the nicer homes on the street and you grabbed your bag from the floor. “Thank you for the ride, Bucky, I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem, any time.” He smiled sincerely before seeing a group of men stumble down the footpath, angry shouts about the losing team they had supported. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary.” You assured him but he wasn’t having it and the car was already turned off. Placing your hand on his arm, you turned your eyes to his and hoped he saw your silent pleas. “It’s not necessary, Bucky.”

His lip was pinched between his teeth and he waited until the men had gone past the car before he nodded begrudgingly. “Ok, but give me your phone.”

You handed it over, knowing how stubborn the man was, and he messaged himself before giving it back. “Text me when you’re safe inside.”

You thanked him once again as you got out and walked quietly up the porch steps with a wave. Your sigh of relief was heavy as you watched his car disappear around the corner and you sent a message to him as you walked down the street to your home, his reply coming back almost instantly.

Bucky: Anytime you need a ride just let me know.

You left his message on read as you unlocked the door and heard the loud snores of Justin asleep on the couch with empty beer cans scattered over the coffee table. Even though you could barely keep your eyes open you knew he would be angry if he woke up to the mess so you quietly collected the rubbish and cleaned the sink full of dirty plates. You didn’t even take the time to wash the smell of cooking from your skin before you went to bed and instantly fell asleep.

A sharp slap to your cheek woke you with a cry of pain and you found Justin towering over you with your phone in his hand, Bucky’s message on the screen. “Who the hell is Bucky?”

Your cheek was burning and tears were stinging your eyes as you shook your head rapidly. “Just someone from work, they dropped me off because you didn’t pick me up.”

“Don’t put this on me.” He spat. “Are you fucking him? You are, aren’t you?”

The back of his hand struck out but you managed to protect your face from the hit, the big cheap ring on his finger cutting across your forearm instead. Your scream was muffled by the squeeze of his hand over your mouth and you whimpered until he let you go.

“I’m not, baby, I would never cheat on you. I just couldn’t walk all the way home.” You pleaded for him to listen as his hands trembled and carefully reached out to take his hands in yours. You could see his eyes were bloodshot and the stench of stale beer turned your stomach but you had to calm him down, any way possible. Pulling him into the bed with you, you turned your face away from the sloppy kisses and apologies he whispered against your skin, letting him have his way until he collapsed back to sleep on his side. You slipped from the bed as his snores filled the room and showered away his touch.

The bruise on your cheek was almost gone but now you had the angry cut on your forearm that you needed to clean and cover before it got infected. The rubbing alcohol stung and you bit your lip to avoid crying out and possibly waking Justin, the whimpers bouncing off the tiny stall that could barely fit the shower and toilet. It was still dark outside and you thought about taking the car but if Justin woke before you got back from the breakfast shift you knew you would pay dearly for it, and you didn't have a licence, so you put on a pair of sneakers and began the long walk to the compound.

You covered your elbow over your mouth as you hid another yawn and found Bucky’s eyes narrowing in on the bandage covering your forearm. “What happened?”

Your exhaustion was making you more susceptible to tears and you worked hard to be nonchalant as you laughed it off. “I burnt it when I was getting the muffins out of the oven.”

“I didn’t see you getting dropped off this morning.”

You shrugged off his concern and busied yourself topping up the bacon that was always a favourite. “I didn’t realise you were keeping such a close eye on me.”

“You’re my friend, and I don’t really sleep so I keep watch of who comes and goes.” He said defensively, as if you had shouted to the entire cafeteria that he was a stalker.

“I appreciate the concern, but I chose to walk this morning.” You lied smoothly, or at least thought you did. These were trained professionals who regularly interrogated people for their job but you had been lying to yourself for years. He still looked concerned but added the fresh bacon to his plate and chewed on a strip of the crispy protein as he watched you walk away.

Fear consumed you as you stepped over the threshold and saw Justin waiting, leaning against the sink with his arms crossed over his chest. You had tried to dissuade Bucky from giving you a ride home when Justin failed to show but it was raining and he would not leave it be. Your shadow was cast against the wall as Bucky reversed out of your drive, and you were already feeling ill that he had seen where you really lived.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s not much to look at.” You had whispered quietly when you had shown where you lived and not the house he had previously dropped you off.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, doll. I grew up in a shoebox and had to share a room with my little sister until I was 20.” He reassured you, your heart hammering at the casual endearment that shouldn't have affected you as much as it did.

Your shadow disappeared and all you were left with was the looming mass of Justin stepping closer, your body seeming to shrink as he leant past you and closed the door. The smell of cigarettes and weed clung to his clothes while whiskey tainted his breath and you wished you could run back out into the rain and beg Bucky to stop. You didn’t even feel the first hit or the second, there was a place you had created deep in your mind and that was where you went on nights like this.

The cold water of the shower ran over your face and hid the tears that stung your cuts as you sat on the floor beneath the spray. There was nothing more you wanted to do than walk out of this shower, walk out of this trailer and out of Justin’s life but he controlled everything. You couldn’t even go to the shops without his permission, you didn’t even have your own bank cards, he controlled your life.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when he banged loudly against the door and you shut the water off quickly. There was no way you could go to work looking like you did and you turned away from the foggy mirror to slink into the bedroom and find some loose clothing. You only had one objective and that was to avoid any confrontation and let your wounds heal. You searched for your phone to call in sick but you couldn’t find it anywhere.

“Jus, have you seen my phone?” You asked as you limped to the living room and found him scrolling through your device.

“Why? So you can message Bucky?” He growled.

“I need to tell work I won’t be in.”

You kept your eyes trained on the floor and for a second he held the phone out but before you could wrap your fingers around it he dropped it to the floor, the screen shattering on impact. “Oops.”

You swiped it off the ground and hurried back to the bedroom, hoping it still worked but the screen was completely dead. You knew Justin would never let you touch his phone so you just hoped you still had a job when the swelling went down and you could hide everything under a thick layer of foundation.

“Hey, have you seen y/n?” Bucky asked the chef’s rushing around the galley.

A round of no’s circulated the kitchen and his frown deepened as he called your number and heard it go to voicemail once again. Leaving the cafeteria he went into the administration wing and found Pepper leaving her office.

“Good morning, Mrs Stark.”

“Hi Bucky,” she smiled, “you look a little lost. Who are you looking for?”

Bucky scratched his neck as he looked around the mostly empty office space, but it was still too early for most people to start work. “I was wondering where y/n was.”

“The kitchens I should assume.” She chuckled.

“She didn’t show up today.”

Pepper’s eyebrows knitted together as she knew no one had called through the office in the time she had been in, which was earlier than everyone else. “That’s strange for her. Let me try to call her, just give me a minute.”

She started to turn back to her office but Bucky stopped her. “I tried, it keeps going to voicemail.”

“Well I’m not sure how else I can help, sorry, we don’t have an address for her or I’d send Happy to check on her.”

“What?”

“Yeah, HR has been chasing her up for months about it but…I’m sorry I can’t help you.”

The pit in Bucky’s stomach was getting heavier with each word out of Pepper’s mouth and he was already heading back to the elevator before she had finished, looking confused by his sudden departure. His fingers were nearly bending the car key he fiddled with as he made his way down to the garage and sped out of the compound. He told himself you were fine, you might be sick and resting, your phone left unplugged from the charger and had died while you were sleeping. But a stronger instinct in him told him something was wrong.

He skidded to a halt in your driveway, his boots stomping loudly up the warped wooden steps before his fist knocked on the trailer door. He could hear whispers inside but couldn’t quite make out what was being said before the door opened and Justin filled the doorway. You had seen the sleek black car pulling in and been sent to the bedroom where you wouldn’t be seen before Justin had opened the door.

“Where is she?” Bucky growled.

“What’s it matter to you? Get your own whore.”

Justin’s insult hurt but it was Bucky’s laugh that you found crushing as you buried your face in your pillow to catch the tears escaping your body. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy this little punk.”

A crash sent your heart racing and you heard groaning before more of your little house sounded like it was being destroyed. You slipped from the bed and hid beneath your blanket  in the furthest corner of the room, covering your ears as the violence escalated just like your mom taught you. You screwed your eyes shut and tried to remember the songs she used to hum to calm you down but the panic kept rising, she wasn’t here to distract you and she wasn’t here to be the distraction like she was with your fathers anger.

“Y/n?” Bucky’s voice called out. “Where are you, doll?”

You lowered the blanket slowly, just enough so you could see him standing in the doorway to your bedroom, his chest puffing from the short fight. You couldn’t see Justin anywhere. He caught sight of your movement and rounded the bed, his hand held out as you pressed yourself further back into the wall.

“Hey, hey, it's okay, beautiful.” He said softly. “Can I see your smile? I missed it this morning.”

You swallowed deeply, refusing to show him the bruises and the split lip Justin had inflicted. “You should just go.”

“Not without you.” He said with a shake of his head and crouched down to your height. “I’m going to take the blanket now, okay.”

His movements were slow as he reached out and you gripped the frayed edges tighter for a moment before you saw your timid reflection in his eyes. This was the man who had been shy and quiet when you met but you had watched him grow into this man in front of you. If he could overcome the violence he had endured, then maybe there was hope for you. Letting go of the blanket, you saw his eyes harden and you flinched away.

“I’m not going to hurt you, y/n. I’m not angry at you.” He promised before looking back at the door and pulling his phone from his pocket. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

You could hear him talking but it was too quiet to hear and in less than 60 seconds he had returned with his hand out to you. “Can I help you up?”

You placed your hand in his and he helped you to stand, noticing the wince as you put weight on your leg and his arm curled around your waist to pull you into his side. “I’ve got you. I’m going to take you away from here, doll.”

“I have nowhere to go.” You muttered.

“Now you do.” He gently turned your head into the curve of his neck as you left the room and he hid the destruction from your sight. “You shouldn’t have to see this.”

By the time he had got you sat safely in his car you saw the Falcon land on your small patch of lawn and Bucky pointed inside your home. They didn’t need to communicate anything else, even with the tinted windows it was clear to see what had happened and Sam looked almost as angry as Bucky did. He looked like he was going to slam his car door shut as he hopped in the driver's seat but at the last moment he caught it and quietly closed it.

“Is there anything important you need Sam to find?” Bucky asked as he started the car but you shook your head.

“I don’t have anything.” You admitted as you clung to your seatbelt. “Just my clothes.”

“No family photos?”

You shook your head, you weren’t allowed to keep anything and you had stopped trying after he destroyed what little you had. You sank low into your seat as Bucky pulled into the compound and the gates opened automatically for him. You didn’t want anyone else to see you like this, you didn’t want the questions that came with it so when he came to a stop in the basement you weren’t ready to move.

“You can have my room. The bed might as well get used by someone.” He offered as he sat along with you after turning the car off.

“Why are you being so nice?”

It sounded ruder when you asked it out loud but it was pure curiosity and he turned in his seat so his body was facing you.

“You used to leave meatloaf in the fridge on my floor. It took me a while to realise it wasn’t on anyone else's.” He answered with a small smile. “I wasn’t ready to handle being around so many people in the mess hall but you were the only one who noticed. You went out of your way to be nice to me when no one else did. You deserve someone who treats you like royalty, doll.”

Tears spilled down your face as every thought in your head told you it was just another mind fuck and he sighed as he saw you weren’t ready to hear the truth yet. The thing with Bucky was he had time and he had patience, he was willing to spend both on you until you saw what he did. Getting out, he walked around the car and opened your door.

“No one will bother you here.” He said as he held his hand out to you. “I’ll make sure of it.”

You looked around and found the basement empty before taking his hand, taking a small amount of comfort as he laced his fingers loosely in yours. “Friday, 4th floor, and no stops.”

Bucky stuck his head out into the 4th floor, finding it empty, before he led you to his room and opened his door. You stepped inside before feeling his fingers slip from yours and he stayed in the doorway. Your eyebrows pinched as you wondered why he stopped.

“Is there anything I can get you?” He asked as he checked he had left his room tidy that morning.

“I…” You looked around the unfamiliar space that was uniquely his until you were back facing him. “I…don't want to be…left alone.”

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, hanging his jacket up on the hook behind the door. His boots were kicked off next and he lined them up beside his other pairs at the bottom of his closet before turning the blankets down and taking a seat against his headboard. “Do you want to watch some tv?”

You nodded and took your own shoes off, placing them next to his and climbed onto the other side of the bed. The mattress was so much softer than yours and he pulled the blankets up over your legs, the fluffy sheets quickly reminding you how numb you had been and you shivered as your body came out of the shock you were in. You apologised as you jumped at his touch but you quickly relaxed under his arm that he placed protectively over your shoulder.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt safe in someone's arms, perhaps it was something you hadn’t experienced until you felt him pull you closer. You could finally relax, you were safe and your body and soul knew it as years of exhaustion caught up with you. Your eyes were closing before he had even found a film to watch and your head lolled into the crook of his neck. The last thing you felt before you were pulled into a peaceful sleep was a whisper in a language you didn’t recognise and the soft touch of his lips on your forehead.

Click here for part two.

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[fic-dumpster]

i think i reached the 5 anon per hour limit or sum even tho im pretty sure i didnt??? anyways. one of the scenes in one of the weird dreams was toji with a long long long dick but thin thin thin. it was literally an uncooked spaghetti strand. i wont elaborate but what if doe has a dream about a deformed dick from bonten and goes to their room at 2am 'just checking that dick is still pretty' -qx <3

👁👁 qx anon what did you eat before going to bed. HAHSHSHAH I CANT WAIT I READ THE LAST LINE AND IM 😂😂💕🧍🏻‍♀️ hold up! Let me-

DIH || Cheeking if their dicks are still pretty

Bonten x Reader || 941 Words

Warnings: dicks, nonsense, blurb, idk what happened, manhandling. Crackfic sitcom typa thing (still in my semi-hiatus)

You woke up in a cold sweat, looking at the clock you saw it was two in the morning. Images of the dream you had filled your vision; it felt too real to be just a dream. Air couldn't reach your lungs as panic settled in your chest. What if...? What if it was true? What if it wasn't a dream? Anxiously, you scrambled out of bed; there was none home yet.

Without thinking, fueled by the fear of that nightmare, you called the first number on your phone. Less than three beeps and Mikey’s voice could be heard on the other side of the line.

“Doe? I’m on my-”

“Mikey!? Please, please, bring everyone home,” you didn't let him speak—panic in every word. “Hurry up, please.”

-

Not even fifteen minutes later, eight men burst through your door. Sanzu, Rindou, and Ran had their guns out, ready to shoot at any given moment. They expected anything to be happening with how frightened you were in your last call with Mikey. But they never expected to see you run straight for Takeomi’s belt, hastily unbuckling the item and fingers working the zipper in a flash.

“Y/N! What are you doing!?” Takeomi tried to hold your hands before you could touch his underwear.

The rest just observed the scene unfold. The haitani brothers, Sanzu and Kokonoi, took a step back, afraid that you might be angry at them for some reason and their jewels would be paying the price. Mikey and Kakucho stood closer to you two; they both didn't hold the same thoughts as the other four, but curiosity invaded them.

Nobody noticed how Mochi had turned around, giving his back to your handling of Takeomi’s pants.

“Let me!” You slapped Takeomi’s hands away, “just—just let me check!” And he did, against his best judgment, Takeomi let you do what you wanted. Without looking at the man in front of you, your fingers pulled at the waistband of his underwear. As you peeked in, Takeomi groaned—large hands holding your shoulders. “Oh my god, it's fine,” sighing, you patted his clothed dick.

No words of explanation, and you moved on to the next closest person. Kakucho’s eyes widened as he saw you closing in on his pants. This time you were faster, knowing that Kakucho tends to leave his belt behind. He felt the cold air once you looked in. Kakucho stood dumbfounded, feeling his dick twitch—your back now facing him.

“Y/N! What's going on?!” asked Kokonoi, moving away from you. He was next.

Rindou and Sanzu glanced at each other, and they moved. Sanzu fastly surrounded your torso with his arms, and Rindou held your legs up.

“Sweetcheeks, stop,” Sanzu said.

Your back hit Sanzu’s chest as Rindou wiggled your legs around his waist.

-

Minutes passed, and the mullet duo didn't let you out of their hold. Mikey demanded an answer as to why you were checking their dicks in such a hurry.

“So?” again, asked Kokonoi, casually standing behind Ran.

“I had a nightmare...” you mumbled, looking away, heat beginning to rise in your face.

“About what?” questioned Ran. He was concerned. For a second there, he thought you would rip his cock off.

“About...” you didn't want to say it. Sanzu saw your hesitation and proceeded to tickle your sides, only for your ass to rub against Rindou’s crotch. “Oh my god! I can feel your bulge!!” You said happily, wiggling your hips again.

“Stop! Explain,” Sanzu pulled you away, but Rindou had your calves in a clutch; he wasn't going to let go. “Let go! Goddamnit!”

“Like hell I am,” said Rindou.

From an outside perspective, it looked like dogs were fighting for a toy.

“You’re gonna break her,” Kakucho walked over to the two idiots that were tugging your body from different sides. Taking hold of your middle section, Kakucho hurled your body away from them, “now, explain,” ignoring Sanzu and Rindou’s nagging at the back, he looked at you expectantly.

And explain you did. You told them about the weird dream that you labeled as a nightmare. Mochi couldn't help but laugh at the faces the other men made when you said uncooked spaghetti dicks and deformed cocks. Even Mikey unconsciously covered his crotch at your words. “So... Can I make sure they are still pretty?” you said.

A chorus of okays and sures accompanied by jiggling belts and the sounds of zippers was your answer.

The last one was Sanzu, furiously blushing as you inspected his dick, “Wait, you were excited because you were glad to feel Rindou’s bulge because it wasn't a spaghetti dick?”

“Kinda, yeah,” you patted his clothed cock, “don't worry, though, yours is still the prettiest dick.”

At your words, a war began. But for once, Sanzu ignored the chaos, too lost in your voice calling his dick the pretties. The pink-haired man was on cloud nine, eyes twinkling in joy, so lost in the moment that he didn't see Rindou coming from the side to smash a fist on Sanzu’s cheek while Kokonoi smashed Mikey’s sandal on Sanzu’s forehead. But the pinknette didn’t care.

As for the rest, Ran and Kakucho argued about who had the biggest dick. Everyone knew it was Kakucho, but Ran didn’t want to acknowledge it. Mikey was holding Takeomi down, demanding an answer to why Sanzu had a pretty dick.

You sat there blinking, not knowing what to say or do. Because... From what you could see? They were already too deep in the fight.

Meanwhile, Mochi sat in the kitchen with a bottle of wine in hand—regretting some, if not all, his life choices.

[jackrrabbit]

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t look like a demon.

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

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

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

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

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

You nod.

“And you don’t want to be.”

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

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

Those eyes. No human has eyes like that.

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

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

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

‘Le Malin qui Ravage et Rebâtit’— Overhaul?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Simple enough. What else?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Ow?” You wince.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“To ‘save yourself’? To save what?”

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you stop breathing.

It doesn’t hurt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not here.”

“What—?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You should know this place.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The…promise?

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

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

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

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

///

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

Of course it wasn’t just a ring.

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

“Look at me.”

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

“Look at me.”

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

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

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

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

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

A good girl wouldn’t like this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then look at me.”

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

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

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

“Does it hurt?”

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

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

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

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

and it doesn’t hurt anymore?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t know it was like this.

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

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

///

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

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

Overhaul’s still here.

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

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

“Yes—”

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

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

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

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

So you put your hand in Overhaul’s.

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

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

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

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

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

[nightowlfandom]

Billy Loomis And Stu Macher x Reader- Our Favorite Girl (Slight gore warning)

CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

Leggo!

...(Trigger warning, stabby stab)

“Hey newbie!” 

You looked up from your textbook to find Stu Macher prancing up to you. With a polite smile, you greeted him.

“Hi Stuart.” you said. “How are you?”

“Hey! I said you didn’t have to be so ‘oooh hi Stuart I’m so prim and proper.’ “ he laughed out loud. “We’re friends aren’t we?” 

“I guess so.” you laughed nervously. “ Um...what’s up?”

“I’m havin’ a party and you’re coming!”

“Parties?” You frowned. “I-uh...” you wanted to reject the idea. You hated parties and your parents would probably blow a fuse if they knew what was going on around town. ‘Stuart, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not, kitten?” he winked. “Afraid to be seen with little ol’ me?” there was a darkness behind his words that you couldn’t ignore. “Don’t like being out after dark?”

“I’m not the partying type is all.” you shrugged. “If you hadn’t noticed, I’m not the most popular person around here.” you stared down at your shoes. “I just don’t wanna ruin your party. I’m the last person you wanna be seen with.”

“It’d make me real happy, kitten.” he stepped forward and slipped his fingertips under your chin and made you look up. “Please? Just for a few minutes.”

Call it weakness, but you couldn’t say no to him.

“Okay.” you smiled lightly. “I’ll go”

“Great! Don’t worry, it’ll be super memorable.” he winked as he skipped off. 

Later on, you were walking to your locker only to bump into Adam. Typical bully. “Hey Y/N. Heard you were going to Macher’s party tonight...you gonna wear a dress for me?”

“No.” you answered curtly. “It’s amazing how you don’t seem to have anything better to do other than shove your nose into my business.” you hugged your books to your chest. “Can I go now?.”

“Hey...is there a problem?” you turned around to find Billy Loomis stalking up to you. You had seem him a handful of times but never actually talked to him before. “You...where do I know you from?”

“I sit behind you in English. We had a project together once.” you replied sheepishly. “Stuart forces me to sit between him and his girlfriend at lunch when they’re fighting. You talk to me from time to time...”

“Stuart...” he raised an eyebrow. “You mean Stu?”

“mhm! You probably don’t remember me because I never reply...” you nodded. 

“You goin’ to his party or somethin’?”

“He asked me to go.” you trailed off. “You’re going too, right?”

“ Why? Excited to meet me there?”“ he smirked, totally ignoring Adam at this point. 

“I mean...” you stared down at your books. “I was hoping someone I’d know would be there.”

Billy raised an eyebrow at you. You gave off a shy aura and for some reason he was into that. He and Stu had been planning a massacre, and they were gonna blame that damned Sydney Prescott. It was the perfect crime. 

“Hm...I’ll see you there.” he winked at you, then sent a death-bringing glare at Adam. “Problem, handsome?” he sneered as he passed the athlete.

... at the party

“Not even three hours in and I have to hide...” you cursed yourself out. “Damn asshole...!” 

Adam was informed that you had arrived and was looking for you, shit!

You ran into the kitchen, losing your breath. “Billy?” 

The suspect in question whipped around. Billy was holding what you assumed was the house phone and instantly hung it up. “Hey...”

“Am I glad to see you.” you sighed.

“Somethin wrong?” 

Billy was in the middle of executing his plan, but for some reason he couldn’t help but want to talk to you. 

“Adam is looking for me.” you sighed. “Could I...stay here with you? Please?”

Billy smiled, darting out his tongue to run across his bottom lip. You were absolutely adorable. “I have a better idea.” he smirked, walking up to you. “Why don’t we send him a little message?”

“You have a girlfriend.” you put a hand on Billy’s chest. “I c-can’t.”

“Not anymore...she dumped me for Randy.” he tusked. ”Figures right?”

“Well...that’s her fault...you’re pretty cool.” you bit your lip.

“So...” Billy tilted your head up towards you. “Let me-”...he gently kissed your lips. While it felt wrong, you melted into him. He held the side of your face in his hand. Sidney wasn’t your friend, not by a longshot, but you still respected her. The fact that Billy was so willing to kiss you, like this.

“For once...stop worrying about other people.” he mumbled against your lips. “Just live in the moment...shit I know what I want...you know what you want...so act on it damnit.”

“Are we still talking about getting Adam off me back or-”

“Shush...don’t think.”

“Kinda hard to when your girlfriend is in the other room”

“Shut up.” he shushed you, tightening his arms around you. You kissed him back with just as much urgency. How would the others react, seeing this...seeing you. Billy backed you up against the counter. Before it could get any farther, you both heard screaming, girlish screaming. 

“What the hell was that?” you asked, feeling your heart race.

“Stay here.” Billy ran in the direction of the noise, leaving you to stand there in terror.

You could hear screams and cries for help, followed by what sounded like gleeful laughter. You were left frozen in place as a man with a mask on his face kicked open the kitchen door. 

You immediately braced yourself with a kitchen knife.

“Stay back!” you warned. “I will cut you!”

“Easy kitten, I’m not gonna kill ya.”

Call it ignorance. Call it instinct, but there was something familiar about the way this stranger spoke to you.

“What did you just say?” you dared ask this man. “Did you just call me kitten?”

“You’re naive, childish...and adorable...like a little kitty cat.” the way he laughed under the mask led you to believe he was laughing with his tongue stuck out.

There was only one person that you knew who spoke like that. You slowly lowered the knife and walked up to him cautiously. The figure didn’t move in the slightest. You were standing toe to toe with him. 

You cautiously raised the mask only revealing the bottom half of the strangers face...only they weren’t a stranger.

“Stu.” you concluded.

“....You said my name.” he flirted.

“Care to explain?”

“In a bit...got something to take care of.” he straightened his mask again before disappearing again.

It was only less than a minute before Stu came quite literally crawling back into the kitchen.

Stu doubled over, holding his stomach as you rushed over to his side. “Stu?” you put a hand on his forehead. “Stu, please don’t be dead!” you winced. “It’s okay, you’re okay.” That damn Sidney...she must have had something to do with this.

“Y/N...it hurts.” Stu moaned in pain. “Hold me?” 

You wasted no time in gathering him to the best of your abilities. He rested his head in your knee. You hummed thoughtfully, shushing him while you used his sweater to apply pressure to his stab wound.

“Y/N, are you sure you aren’t an angel?” He shamelessly flirted, smiling through his pain.

“No, I’m not.” you giggled. ”Save your energy.”

“I’d have more if you just gave me those lips of yours...” he winked. Just to shut him up, you kissed his forehead. 

“Not what I meant, but works for me.”

 As you chided the poor boy, Sydney ran into the kitchen, screaming at the top of her lungs while Billy also wounded stumbled behind. 

“Billy??” you gasped in horror. Seeing you must have caused him to loose his footing, because he slowed his movements. You laid Stu on his back and urged him keep his sweater over his wound. 

You scrambled to your feet, eyeing Sidney with a glare no one had ever seen you wear.

“Y/N! You’ve got to believe me! They’ve been the ones doing this.”

“I find that really hard to believe that when you were just standing over Stu with a bloody knife.” you seethed. “Your own boyfriend? Really?” you dared step closer.

“Y/N! They’re manipulating you!” she began crying. “You have to see it!” She was obviously hysterical.

“Then give me the knife.” you faked calm, cautiously stepping towards her. “Give me the knife...and we can-” you stopped yourself. You looked over at Billy, praying he wouldn’t be mad. “We’ll call the cops.” you you held your hand out.

“WHAT?” Billy seethed. You avoided his gaze. Hopefully he wouldn’t sense your fear. 

“Trust me...” you said, just barely above a whisper. You were mostly talking to Billy, but had to make it look like it was directed at her. “We can get out of this...”

Sidney (very stupidly) outstretched her hand, the one that was holding the knife. Once it was within your reach, you grabbed her wrist, and grabbed the blade with your free hand, throwing it to the side. You tackled to to the floor and held her down.

“Crazy bitch.” you mumbled. She began thrashing, and screaming bloody murder. You were eventually able to get the best of her. “Whoever is the least dead...COPS...NOW!” You struggled as Sidney screamed. “This bitch is out of her mind!.”

“I have a better idea.” A seemingly fine, and now very much not dead Stu rose to his feet, a sick smile plastered on his face. The knife had slid over to him and you hadn’t even realized. You were too focused on keeping Sidney on the floor.

Suddenly you were yanked back into Billy’s arms as a sharp object came down from above, plunging through Sidney’s chest. 

“Oh my god!” you buried your head into Billy’s shirt, trying to block out the terrible sounds you heard the terrible sounds of skin ripping. 

“Shhh it’s over babe.” He shushed you. “It’s okay.” he stroked your hair with his bloody hand. Stu laughed manically as he wiped the sweat off his face. 

“Some party huh.” Stu cackled. He wasted no time in sandwiching you between himself and Billy.

“You had us thinking you’d betray us, Kitten.” Stu dug his head into your shoulder.

“Y/N would never do that to us...she’s our good girl.”

“You guys are-”

“Absolutely.”

“And this party was-”

“Smart girl.”

“And now that you know our little secret, we’re never letting you go, kitten!” Stu laughed. 

“And if you tell anyone, we’ll have no choice but to take you down with us...but you won’t do that to us, will you?” Billy asked, nuzzling his head into your neck.

[eddiemunsonssoulmate]

Bruises and bitemarks say, takes one to bring the pain

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: You belong to him and he wants everyone to see it

Warnings: Smut, marking kink, possessive!JJ

Available on: AO3

Part of: Passion lies in screams of ecstasytic dreams

A/N: I was thinking about putting some smutty drabbles/shortstories together for JJ x Reader and here we go.

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

“I can’t even believe you went to him! That dude is a psychopath, nothing more!”

JJ was fuming and you really didn’t understand why he was so worked up.

Rafe had been threatening the Pogues once again and you were so fed up with his behavior at this point. The two of you had been childhood friends, back when he was still a normal child, so you had hoped that he might listen to you.

He didn’t. Instead he had tried to make good use of the time you had been there with him, flirting with you, trying to win you over, fully aware that you and JJ were a thing.

Rafe hated JJ and ever since he had known that you dated the Pogue, he had tried even more to break you two apart.

“Calm down, JJ. Nothing happened,” you said almost annoyed as you tried to get past him to the Chateau. You had agreed to meet up here later with the rest of the Pogues but for now, it was just the two of you.

“You say that now! What if he would have touched you? Kidnapped you? Killed you? You know what kind of guy he is!” The anger was written on his face and for a moment you wondered if you should take his concern more seriously. Rafe was dangerous indeed, unpredictable but would he really go that far and kill you only because you didn’t want anything from him?

“Babe, it’s fine,” you say and take JJ’s face in your hands. His cheeks were hot, his hair was messy from running his hand through there too many times.

His jaw clenched and you felt it against your skin but his breathing also calmed down a little.

“I don’t want you near him,” he told you and there was possessiveness in his voice, something you didn’t hear very often because everyone knew you were his and he was yours. Sometimes a tourist tried to flirt with you at a beach party but JJ would quickly make sure that they knew where you belonged.

You clenched your legs together a little at the tone of his voice and smiled sweetly at him. His eyes darkened and he grabbed your hips, lifting you up. You instantly wrapped your legs around his waist and let him carry you toward the Chateau. 

Thankfully the others wouldn’t arrive for at least another hour.

“You’re mine,” he almost growled into your ear when he fell down on the couch with you, his hands stopping his own fall so he wouldn’t crush you in the process.

“Am I?” you asked with a teasing tone and he gritted his teeth before sinking them into the crook of your neck.

You yelped briefly at the pain shooting through your skin before his tongue started to swirl on the mark he just left, gently sucking it.

“I’m going to mark you all over. You are mine. All mine.” He sounded almost desperate and feral when he spoke those words next to your ear before moving to the other side of your neck, sinking his teeth into the skin there too.

You wrapped your arms around him, pressing him closer to you, your hips bucking against the bulge that had formed in his pants.

JJ just smirked against your neck and thrusted his hips down, pinning yours against the cushions under you.

“Stay still,” he mumbled before running a hand over your stomach, slipping it under your shirt to push it upward.

Next he bit your stomach. One, two, three times, all over the place. Leaving little bite marks. It was painful but arousing at the same time. 

You really didn’t know what to do with your hands. Sometimes they were wrapped around him, sometimes in his hair but every time he shifted it became slightly awkward.

He picked up on this and took both of your wrist in one hand each to pin them over your head.

“Leave them there, you look beautiful like that,” he said and gave you a quick grin before he pushed your shirt up further, revealing your bra which he moved down carelessly until your tits were spilling out above.

He took one nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before biting down gently. You yelped in pain and looked down at him in surprise but he just grinned at you when he let go of your nipple only to blow cold air on it a moment later.

A shiver ran down your spine and he moved to the other breast to do the same there. Wetness was pooling between your legs now and a whine left your throat.

“Hm? Anything you want?” That bastard knew exactly what you wanted and the grin on his face gave him away.

You huffed in anger and when you opened your mouth to reply, he bit down hard on the top skin of your right breast, causing you to take in a deep breath instead of saying a word. He sucked the spot, harder than the spots on your neck and you gritted your teeth.

“I want you to fuck me,” you said when he let go of the sensitive skin and moved over to repeat the whole process on the other breast. This time you were prepared for the pain to come and when you looked down your body you saw the marks that he covered you in.

“But I’m not done marking my property yet,” he hummed against your skin and you let out a frustrated sigh. 

He was always good at getting you worked up and right now, you really wanted him before the others came over.

JJ opened your pants and you lifted your hips so he could pull your shorts and panties down, leaving them at your ankles.

“Hm, so wet for me.” He chuckled and pressed a kiss to your wet center which made you moan. You tried to buck your hips upward, closer to the face he was already pulling back but there was no chance. 

You pouted and watched how he kissed down your inner thighs. Open mouthed kisses, sucking in between and sometimes he bit down hard, leaving a lot of marks on your inner thighs.

It was almost too much, the pain of his bites and the arousal pooling between your legs, dripping down on the cushions below you. You were sure that if he touched your clit only for a few seconds, you would come apart. 

“You really like this, huh?” he asked when he watched the wetness between your legs become more and more.

“Of course I do, you idiot. Can you please fuck me now?” You literally begged him and there was a glint in his eyes that couldn’t hide that he loved it when you did this.

“Why should I?” He licked his bottom lip and looked in your eyes, then between your legs and back up again.

“I want you to mark me on the inside too,” you said with as much confidence as you could muster up and it seemed to do the trick.

It only took him a couple of seconds to completely remove his pants and boxershorts, meanwhile you had kicked away the clothes still around your ankles.

His dick moved inside of you with one, smooth stroke, your wetness coating it enough to be able to do this without any pain or stretching beforehand.

When he was between you, your legs wrapped around him and you hissed in pain when the bite marks on your inner thighs came in contact with his skin. They were more sensitive than you had thought. You almost came from just the feeling of him inside of you but you held back, wanting to wait so you could release together.

“Fuck, you feel so good around me,” he murmured as he thrusted into you, hands between your face, his whole body just towering over you.

He leaned down to kiss you but couldn’t stop himself from biting your bottom lip, pulling on it a little while he kept a ruthless pace up.

Suddenly a noise you both knew very well came up and he stopped for a moment, both your heads going toward the window near the entrance.

The Twinkie had just pulled around, there was no mistake. That old car would make the same stupid noises for the time it would run.

“Shit,” you said and groaned in frustration but then you felt how JJ started moving again.

“What the-?” you were about to complain but his deep thrusts became so intense that you had to swallow any words you were about to say. Instead you had to bite down on your arm to keep yourself from moaning so loud.

“I’m not going to stop now. I’ll mark you from inside, just like you wanted to.” That stupid grin on his face was so big and he was so proud of himself and god, you hated and loved him at the same time.

Muffled voices reached your ears and JJ only sped up more, causing you to moan around the skin of your arm that you were biting so hard you weren’t even sure if you were about to draw blood.

With one last, deep and hard thrust JJ came inside of you and you felt how he was painting your inside with his cum. He growled as he came, louder than expected and you prayed that the people outside didn’t hear it. You weren’t sure who was there, only John B, maybe Sarah too, maybe they had picked up the whole crew. 

As his hot semen was spurting inside of you, you finally let go too, coming with him together. You loved it when the two of you came together and you had trained hard so you would be able to hold back whenever it was needed.

He pulled out of you quickly and grabbed his clothes, putting them on quickly.

“Lovely,” he said when he looked between your legs, watching how his cum dripped out of you. “I wouldn’t let it run out though. They’re almost here and you won’t have enough time to get cleaned up or clean the cushions.”

The blonde boy laughed when he saw your blushed face and you reached over to pull your panties on quickly.

You could clearly hear John B and Sarah approaching now.

JJ walked towards the door and waved at them. “Hey guys!” he called over to them and they greeted him back.

You weren’t sure if you ever got dressed this quickly, running a hand through your hair to make it look less messy.

Without thinking you simply turned the cushion around, hoping no one would notice. It would dry soon enough.

“The two of you are here early,” John B commented as he and Sarah walked inside and JJ just smirked at you behind their backs.

“Yeah, I got off work earlier and JJ lives here anyway,” you said with a nonchalant shrug while you felt JJ’s cum dripping out of you, coating your panties in wetness.

Sarah gave you a look and you groaned while blushing. John B might be oblivious to the amount of times you and JJ had sex at his place but Sarah clearly almost always knew.

When your best friend saw your reaction she just grinned at you and picked the chair to sit on purpose.

[lxvislxdy]

Lock and Key | Bakugou K.

Summary: It all started out as a harmless prank - Denki’s idea, to get the two of you to talk. It was no secret that you had feelings for Bakugou Katsuki, at least, not amongst your friends. Denki had meant well, sure, when he’d handcuffed the two of you together, but when the key goes missing... well, let’s just say, it’s gonna be a long 24 hours.

Pairings: Bakugou Katsuki x reader

Warning(s): Swearing, that should be it

Notes: Reminder that my requests are open! Let me know what you’d like to see on my page! Hope you enjoy this cute little fic for Bakugou :) I just wanted to write something soft and lighthearted, and cute, so this is that.

You were going to kill Denki. That is, if Bakugou didn’t get to him first.

“Calm down, Bakubro! Murdering one of our classmates would not be very manly of you!”

And if it wasn’t for Kirishima, holding Bakugou back with all of his strength and giving you a sympathetic look as you were dragged along, Denki would’ve been toast. Literally. 

“Look, man, I’m sorry!” Denki was saying, hiding behind Mina and Sero, “It’s just a prank, dude, a joke! Don’t kill me!” 

“I’m gonna end you, spark plug!” Bakugou growled, “Get over here and get this shit off of me!”

Sero, barely holding back his laughter, said, “Aw, come on, Bakugou, I wouldn’t call y/n ‘shit’!”

For a moment, Bakugou blinks like he’s stunned, but then his murderous glare returns ten fold. “That’s... That’s not even what I meant, dunce face! I meant the handcuffs! Get. Them. OFF!”

You know, from the look Mina is sending you, that you’re blushing. 

“Okay!” Kaminari scrambles out from behind the two, smiling sheepishly as he searches all his pockets, “No worries, man, let me just... let me... get the... key...”

Bakugou finally settles down, and you breathe a sigh of relief as he drops his hand, yours falling with it. You rub at your wrist lightly, eyebrows drawn together. You’d been handcuffed to Bakugou for almost ten minutes now, and your wrist was already sore from being yanked around so much. 

“What’s taking so long, dunce face?” Bakugou grumbles.

“Well, you see, uhm... okay, listen, don’t be... don’t be mad, bro, just...” Kaminari laughs, eyes wide in fear, voice dropping so low you could hardly hear him, “I can’t exactly find it.”

You yelp in surprise as Bakugou activates his quirk, feeling the heat against the back of your hand. 

“What did you say?!” 

Everyone winces as he yells, face almost as red as Kirishima’s hair. 

“Careful, dude, don’t burn her!” Kirishima says, hand on Bakugou’s shoulder. 

Bakugou shoves him off, but listens to him nonetheless, and the heat subsides. 

“It’s okay, Kiri, I’m fine.” You tell him quietly. 

“Y/n, I’m so sorry,” Denki says, guiltily. 

“Yeah, you’re about to be real sorry.” Bakugou says, “If you don’t get these off in the next five seconds!”

“Look, let’s just calm down for a minute, okay?” You say, stepping between the two. You feel Bakugou’s arm tug back against yours, as you move farther away from him, and your blush deepens. “Sorry. Anyway... why don’t we just see if Momo can make an extra key? Right?"

“That’s a good idea!” Kirishima says, optimistically. “See? Everything’s fine.”

“Yeah, why didn’t I think of that?” Kaminari scratches his head.

“Because you’re an idiot.” Bakugou mutters darkly.

Mina purses her lips, shifting back and forth on the balls of her feet. “Yeah, that would be great... Except Momo is visiting her parents, and won’t be back till later tonight.”

And just like that, Bakugou explodes again. “WHAT?!”

...

After a stressful call with Momo, involving Bakugou taking the phone from Mina not once, but twice, and telling her to ‘get her and her stupid ass ponytail back to UA NOW!’, it’s finally decided that you’ll just have to wait it out. Even Bakugou can’t say he’d rather go to Aizawa, because explaining this meant explaining the handprint shaped burns in Denki’s door.

Of course, Momo promises to help as soon as she’s back, but that’s still hours and hours away. 

Bakugou, who still practically had steam coming out of his ears, sat beside you on the couch silently. Across from you, the rest of the group watched in sympathy (and fear). No one dared to break the silence, in fear he’d blow up on them again. You couldn’t say you blamed them. 

“Come on.” Bakugou’s sudden command startles you.

“What? Where are we going?” You ask, following his lead and standing up (you were getting dragged along, either way). 

He rolls his eyes, sighing, “I don’t know, but I’m not just gonna sit around like an idiot all day.”

He doesn’t wait for your response, marching out of the room. You look over your shoulder on your way out, a silent cry for help, and Denki has the audacity to give you a thumbs up and wink. You glare at him, sending your friends into a laughing fit.

“What are they laughing at?” Bakugou mutters, brow raised.

You flush in embarrassment, shrugging. “Dunno.”

The two of you eventually end up in the kitchen. You knew Bakugou could cook, everyone did because he regularly kicked everyone out of the kitchen so he could, but you’d never actually seen him in action. He was much calmer now that the two of you were alone, but the scowl never left his face. 

After a few minutes of awkwardly trailing behind him as he gathered ingredients, you mustered up the courage to ask, “Can I help?”

He doesn’t answer for a moment, and you begin to think he’ll just ignore you, before he’s handing you a spoon. “You stir while I chop vegetables. I don’t trust you with a knife.”

Ignoring the backhanded comment, you take the spoon from him, happy he’s letting you help. You stir with one hand, resting the other on the counter beside him, so he can use both hands to chop the vegetables. It’s not easy, trying to cook while handcuffed to the angry blonde, but the two of you eventually find a rhythm. 

“So what are you making?” You ask, turning to look at him. His focus is all on what he’s doing, and he looks so serious you try your best not to giggle. Does Bakugou ever just... relax? Still, the way his lower lip just barely juts out and his brow furrows, when he concentrates hard, is really cute.

“We’re making zosui.” 

You’re heart does a little flip as he says ‘we’. He doesn’t mean anything by it, you know that, but you still have to turn away in an attempt to hide your smile. As mad as you were at Denki, you had to admit that being able to actually spend time with Bakugou doing something so... normal, domestic? It was nice. You’d spent an embarrassing amount of time daydreaming about a moment like this (except, in your daydreams, you weren’t handcuffed, and maybe there was kissing involved), but you’d never thought it would actually happen. The only time you got to spend time with him outside of class, normally, was if you asked for help with the homework or agreed to spar. But that was rare, these days. Bakugou normally sparred with Kirishima, anyway, and you always felt like a bother when you asked for help. 

Sneaking another look at Bakugou, you find he’s already looking at you. He takes the spoon from you, gently bumping his hip into yours to move you out of the way, and you watch as he adds the veggies to the soup. As he stirs them in, he asks you to hand him the spices he’d set out beforehand. 

“What, have you never seen someone cook before?” He asks.

You laugh sheepishly, “I ate a lot of microwave dinners growing up.”

The look he gives you is incredulous, borderline angry, and he scoffs. “You’re kidding. That shits terrible for you!” 

You laugh, wrinkling your nose. 

He meets your eyes for a moment, lips parted slightly, and you raise a brow at him. Before you can ask, his attentions is back on the soup, and he’s quiet again.

It doesn’t take long for the soup to be done, then, after he adds the rice. And you have to admit, even though you hadn’t helped much, you do feel a sense of accomplishment when you sit down to eat a meal that you made yourself. 

The two of you sit down beside each other, forced to scoot your chairs so close that your thighs are almost touching. Surprisingly, he doesn’t complain.

“Thank you,” You say quietly, before digging in. “Wow! This is delicious!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” He rolls his eyes, but you recognize the slightly smug look on his face. “You helped.”

You giggle, bumping shoulders with him. “Sure, but you’re the chef, here!”

He hid it behind another bite of food, but you could have sworn you saw him smile, too. 

The two of you finish your meal in silence, Bakugou waiting with surprising patience for you to finish eating, before putting the bowls in the sink. 

“Thanks.”

He gives you a look, “For what?”

For being so nice.

“For teaching me how to cook!” 

He shrugs, muttering out ‘whatever’ in reply. 

“So... what do you want to do know?” You ask, hoping his tolerance for your company would last. 

You end up back in his dorm, awkwardly huddled together at the head of his bed. He was reading, as you mindlessly scrolled through your phone. The silence wasn’t awkward, like you’d thought it would be. It was comfortable, almost calming. You found yourself getting tired, the more you sat there. 

Eventually growing bored of your phone, you turned to see what Bakugou was reading, and started reading the pages yourself. You didn’t think he’d noticed, until he slipped his finger behind the next page to turn it, and paused. 

“You done?” He said, quiet and soft, his cheeks tinted the slightest pink. 

Your eyes widened, blushing, “Uh, yeah. S-Sorry.”

He turned the page without another word, looking at you from the corner of his eye. You tried to ignore him, pretending to read, before he sighed. 

And then, Bakugou began to read to you. 

“W-What are you doing?”

He stopped, narrowing his eyes. “Reading, dumbass.” He snapped. “You read slower than me, it’s annoying.”

Despite the backhanded remark, you grinned. “Oh. Okay.” 

He started again, sounding significantly less irritated, and you tried to slow the beating of your heart. In all the times you’d imagined hanging out with Bakugou, you had never thought of something this sweet. You especially hadn’t anticipated his voice ever being this soft, and calming. 

As he read to you, you shifted closer, eventually resting your head on his shoulder. He faltered for a minute, hiding his fumble with a cough, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge it. It wasn’t until he reached the end of the next chapter that he realized you’d fallen asleep. 

And he definitely wasn’t blushing, no, not Bakugou.

Hours later, when Momo and all your friends piled into his room, he whispered harshly, “Wake her up, and I’ll kill you!”

Maybe Denki’s plan had worked out, after all. 

[dany-is-my-queen]

Invincible

Kate Bishop x Reader

Word count: 947

Note: this was fun to write! It took my less than two hours x)

Warnings: a bit of angst but not much really, happy ending, cursing

You were so so in love with your girlfriend Kate. You guys met a few months ago in archery lessons. Ever since you’ve been getting to know each other to perfection; and lately even if you would worry sick when she’s with Clint Barton you’d still support her.

The Christmas party her mother was hosting was an elegant event, everyone was dressed up quite nicely. When you saw Kate approaching to you you were literally drooling all over your own gown.

“Hey darling. Glad you could make it. You look lovely.” She said with a big grin on her face, a couple of band aids in it.

“I’m always speechless when you walk in the room. Guess how I feel about you now.” She blushed and you laid a sweet kiss on her hand.

“It’s not very safe to be here right now though. The tracksuit mafia is after my mom. I wouldn’t want you to get involve in any of this.” Concern washed over her features, you smiled gently at her.

“It’s alright, dear. I know myself a few tricks with the bow too, remember?” You quipped, she chuckled along side you.

“Still. I want to protect you at all costs. But I really need to focus tonight. Make a good impression in front of my partner.” She alluded to the Hawkeye avenger. He was standing a feet away from you, raking the place.

“You certainly have to.”

“Kate, they’re here.” His voice was louder than a whisper, she grabbed your arm swiftly and put you in a corner.

“Stay here. Don’t do anything stupid, Y/N.” And she left with a hurry to search for Eleanor. You cursed in silence. The next thing you heard was bullets being scattered all around the Gala, you wanted to go find Kate to be of some help (even if she didn’t want to) when you felt a cold hand placed in your mouth preventing you from screaming.

Yelena was being childish perhaps, kidnapping the “enemy’s” girlfriend just because she was upset that Kate decided to stay by Clint’s side after explaining the whole situation. Even if she didn’t had any intentions of harming you.

Then all of the sudden you were in what seemed to be almost the top of the construction, you looked down the window and indeed you were up high.

“Damn.” You started to shift to the side, managing to get loose of the rope you were in, you noticed the captor didn’t tighten the knot, so you successfully got out. You went down in the elevator, desperately to get to Kate, and regretting horribly not bringing your own gear.

The enormous Christmas tree was all tore up in the ground, you ran to it hoping to find Kate when you fell in the ice pond where several mafia guys where laying unconscious, the peculiar arrows on them.

You flinched when the ice hit your bare skin. “Shit shit shit. Help! Help! Over here!” You shouted to no avail. You tried to grab onto something but it was useless, you started to panic.

“Y/N? Y/N!!” The voice of your girlfriend filled your ears with relief, she appeared shortly. “Darling!” Kate pulled you out in seconds, you let your body rest all over hers, you were shivering and trembling. “Y/N are you okay? I was so worried, God. What happened?” She asked while she took off her new purple jacket to place it in your shoulders.

“Someone kidnapped me… I don’t even know. My plan was to fight with you. You were nowhere to be found, it all happened so fast. What happened to you? You’re bleeding Kate…” You alarmed once again, she brushed it off by bringing your face to hers.

“I think I know who was responsible for that. I’ll deal with them later. Clint and I finally teamed up! We kicked those guy’s asses, I got into trouble with that big guy I told you about, my mom got arrested… jeez, all within the last hour. It was crazy. What matters now is that you’re fine, Y/N. I was scared to death…” Kate still seemed to be processing everything. You nodded, embracing her.

“I’m sorry for your mom, Kate. I’m sure you did a great job with Clint. He must be very proud of you.” She smiled, weeping. “I’m here, my dear. I promise I won’t let anyone kidnap me ever again. Oh and I won’t slip into an ice pond either. Now, the ambulances are coming, they must patch up your wounds.”

“Okay. Before that I gotta say this.” You raised an eyebrow in slight confusion. “I love you. You are one of the best things of my life, if not the most special one. You are so wonderful, and the thought of losing you because of any of this is just unbearable. I love you so, so much Y/N Y/L. You give my heart meaning. I’d give my life for you, you know? You make me feel like I’m bulletproof inside.” She finished her sentence, you could literally cry right now. All you did was stare at her in pure awe, contemplating her features under the sky of New York.

“I feel the same exact way about you, Kate. I love you. I… feel like superwoman in your eyes tonight.” You sealed your words with a salty kiss, her lips and yours were cold yet when they touched heat spread all over you. You felt an immense sense of peace within. And nothing could ever erase this beautiful moment, even if hours prior it was a disaster. You were so in love with your archer.