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ohdeerfully · 2 months

Note

K hear me out, a wife! Reader x Alastor and Charlie finds out they had a kid when they were alive. (I don’t mind what the kids name is but make them young and passed due to Spanish flu, dark I know)

omg this has been sitting in my drafts so long, i love requests like this </3 im sorry if it seems rushed, i really wanted to finish it!

Mourning Dove

Alastor x Reader (angst, slight comfort at end) TW: CHILD DEATH, child sickness, reader referred to as a woman but doesnt effect story too much join my discord! ═══ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ═══

You sat yourself unceremoniously at the bar in the hotel lobby, shoulders slouched and cheek squished against the cold countertop. You weren’t one for alcohol, but you didn’t mind the company of Husk. He didn’t say much unless prompted, but that didn’t bother you. It was nice, honestly, after a day of dealing with the others.

“Somethin’ the matter?” Okay. Nevermind about him not saying much.

“Hmm?” You responded, barely peeking up from your finger that dragged patterns in the surface you laid against. “I’m good.”

“You don’t look it,” Husk observed, and you knew he was referring to the discoloration of your eyes and the residual dampness of your cheeks from crying. Your hair was a mess, too. Yeah, you looked like shit. “Tough day?”

“I guess, yeah,” You sighed, pushing yourself up and leaning back in a stretch while your fingers gripped the countertop to steady yourself. “Just thinking about… Y’know.”

He didn’t pry, and you were thankful for that. Husk did know a little, actually, and knew better than to push for more details. After being stuck with Alastor for so long, with the guy owning his soul and all, he inevitably learned some deep shit about him and, by extension, you. He just grunted in response and went back to spot cleaning his bottles of booze.

“(Y/N)!” A chipper voice called your name, and you squeezed your eyes shut in frustration. You thought you were done with all of this for the day, and you were so ready to just go to sleep. “I wanted everybody to join me for dinner today! We have a few new residents, so I want everybody to meet each other.”

You squeezed your lips to prevent a harsh word from responding to Charlie’s invitation. You were so tired. You feigned a weak smile and looked at her. You wanted to say no, to say you needed to sleep, but those huge, pleading eyes of hers caught the rejection in your throat. You tried to reason with yourself that Charlie doesn’t host stuff like this very often. It would just be one night. You’ll survive.

“Okay.”

She clasped her hands together and jumped on the balls of her feet, thanked you, and took off to find the next resident to invite. You held your head against your hand and you sighed dramatically. Husk looked at you from the corner of his eye, but opted to remain silent. You stood up after a few more minutes of quiet sulking, deciding you should fix yourself up for dinner.

In your room, you gently fixed your hair and threw on a casual outfit. Nothing super nice, just in case food started flying–knowing the antics of some of the hotel residents, it wouldn’t be a surprise.

You slowly made your way to the banquet room, which Charlie had installed for events like today. You could already hear the low murmur of small talk, and you were surprised to see a few new faces. Not a whole lot, just about five, alongside the familiar faces of your friends. Charlie’s hotel was, slowly but surely, becoming more successful.

You spotted Alastor quickly–he was hard to miss due to his height. You settled yourself in a chair next to him at a long table that Charlie had dragged into the room for everybody to sit at. You felt your skin prickle with the familiar sensation of static, which increased slightly as his attention turned towards you. He gave you a grin before focusing his eyes on the racket that was already picking up. You watched his smile curl, a bit sinister, as the sound of shouting caught your attention.

“-my fuckin’ business!” You picked up the tail end of Angel Dust fuming at Vaggie, one pair of arms crossed under his chest. He had a third hand on his hip, with his fourth hand jabbing an accusatory point at the woman in front of him.

“Guys, please!” Charlie pleaded, pressing her shoulder against Vaggie’s in an attempt to move her away from Angel. “I don’t want to scare my new guests away!”

“Tell this bitch to keep her nose outta my shit! I can’t have my fuckin’ life on the line because she doesn’t like my job!” Angel spat. There was a dangerous, maybe even frantic, look in his eyes. Before Charlie could say anything, Angel had spun around and stormed to the table. He ripped the chair out and slammed his body down. All four of his arms were crossed now as he glowered at the wooden tabletop.

You sighed, and felt a headache already forming.

Angel’s spirits quickly changed when Husk sulked into the room. He had his paws stuffed in his pockets, and glared at the air in front of him. He sat down at the other end of the table, but Angel was quick to stand up and saunter his way over to sit next to the cat. You couldn’t quite catch the flirtatious remarks that made Husk roll his eyes.

You observed them for a while, watching as Husk slowly grew more comfortable in the small talk he and Angel shared. He would never admit it, but you knew Husk didn’t hate Angel’s company. Husk seemingly said something about you to Angel that made him whip his head up to look at you. You quickly averted your gaze.

Charlie had been standing by her own chair, and a cough from her throat made the chatter die down. You didn’t really listen to the overly sappy speech she had started to give, your mind drifting away in absent thought. You picked your nails into the edge of the table, fidgeting with the light cloth.

Alastor caught your attention by lightly nudging his leg against yours. You trailed your eyes up to his, meeting his red gaze. There was a hint of worry in his eyes, and his grin twitched at the edges as he looked at your exhausted face. He tilted his head in a silent question.

You merely shook your head in response, and mouthed a quick “it’s nothing” and hoped that he wouldn’t press. He didn’t, but you knew he’d ask again in a private room.

Charlie sat down again, and Vaggie rubbed her shoulder, murmuring a silent praise. You dragged your eyes across the table, making note of the handful of new faces. None of them seemed to take Charlie very seriously, but that didn’t come as a surprise. They probably just liked free food.

The food in question seemingly materialized out of nowhere, and you chalked it up to her “princess of hell” type powers that she didn’t use very often. You smiled gratefully and, though you didn’t have much of an appetite, you started slowly picking at the plate in front of you.

The room once again began to rumble with small talk, but at some point the multiple conversations began to melt together until the whole table was talking to each other in one. Charlie was doing most of the heavy lifting with keeping the conversation going.

“-the deal with the Radio Demon and that gal next to him?” You perked your ears when you heard this reference to yourself. One of the new guests, some sort of lizard demon, had a finger pointed at the two of you. He had a slight country drawl in his voice. You saw Alastor’s smile widen when the attention of the table turned towards himself.

“My darling wife,” Alastor stated simply, briefly placing a hand on your shoulder. His eyes were closed as he smiled proudly. You silently nodded with a light, polite smiling. “We knew each other in life. It’s only natural for us to remain together. It would have been a shame for death to do us part.”

“Didn’t think you was the type…” The lizard said slowly, eyeing the two of you carefully. You didn’t blame him; what kind of nut job would marry the Radio Demon? Though, as Alastor said, you were married before Hell, and he wasn’t so… infamous back then. He was actually rather sweet, besides the whole serial killer thing–which, in your defense, you weren’t even aware of till he was shot to death.

“Didn’t think ya were the type to have a kid, either,” Angel piped up absently, one arm thrown lazily over the back of his chair. You watched as Husk tried desperately to shut him up as he continued to speak, but you barely heard the words over the sound of your heart picking up pace, and the increased radio frequency of Alastor’s. His body had stiffened and his eyes had shot open, quickly narrowing as his smile strained and curled dangerously, his gums visible in a snarl. His eyes were not on Angel, but on Husk, whose ears were flattened against his head and a nervous look in his wide eyes.

You weren’t really paying attention though, but you felt the intense tension and rapid prickling on your skin. Your breathing became more labored and you pointed your face to the table to try to hide the building tears in your eyes. You had tried so hard, all day, to push back the memories that kept threatening to resurface. What are the chances that on the same day, the topic was brought up, destroying the wall you had built to contain the anxiety, regret, grief…

You were kneeling by the wrinkled, messy sheets of the twin bed your son had been in for the past couple days. Your heart was tight, and you could barely breathe as you looked at him. He gazed blearily at the ceiling, following the path of the rocking fan. Every breath he took scratched at his throat, as if there were pebbles blocking the path. He barely had the strength to cough. His lips were dry and cracked, and his graying skin still had a flush of fever. You used a damp rag to clean the dried snot under his nose.

You had tried everything. Every recommended antibiotic, every treatment, therapy, exercise; nothing had worked. Nobody knew how to treat the illness. You had even tried to work with witch doctors that Alastor knew. You had spent so much of what little money you had trying to save your little boy.

Alastor was often gone during this time, being the one to go out and find something new to try. You never left the room, even when your husband tried to push you to go outside to stretch your legs or take a shower. He promised to watch over your son. But you just couldn’t, not with David laying on these dirty sheets, looking so frail, weak, and small. You had often called him little dove, and it made you sick to think that your nickname was now like a cruel adjective to describe his current state. A sick, frail baby bird. He had barely eaten in the past eight days, and you didn’t want to admit to yourself that any scratchy breath he took could be that last one.

You stiffened when his head rolled over towards you, and his eyes struggled to focus on you. His cracked lips grimaced for a moment, followed by a sharp, grating cough that made your heart drop and your eyes sting. You reached a shaky hand forward to smooth down his knotted hair.

“Am I going to be okay,” David said weakly. His voice caught on the tightness in his throat multiple times. “I feel really bad.”

“I know baby, but you’re okay,” You said tenderly, continuing to stroke his hair. “Your dad is getting you some new medicine. You’ll be okay.”

You were lying to him, and to yourself. But you couldn’t help but cling on to a morsel of hope–it was all you could do, really. David just looked towards you, his eyes flicking around slightly, unable to truly focus on anything.

“I’m tired.” He said. His breathing was labored.

“I know.”

Your emotions threatened to spill from your eyes as you watched him turn his head back towards the ceiling, eyes shutting. You didn’t want to cry; you couldn’t, not in front of him. You needed to stay strong for him.

You pressed the back of your hand to his burning forehead, and then trailed your hand to his chest, lightly pressing against him to feel his heartbeat. It was slow, and slowing. Your own heart picked up in response.

You heard the door in another room open, shut, and footsteps quickly pace towards the room. The door cracked lightly, and the tall, thin frame of your husband peeked in. He held a brown back tightly in his fist. With one look into your eyes, he knew something was wrong. Or, well, more wrong than usual.

You clenched your jaw to prevent any sob from escaping your lips as he sat the bag down on an end table and kneeled next to you, gripping your waist tightly as he looked at David. The boy’s breath had gotten dangerously quiet.

You watched as his eyes opened again.

“I’m tired.” He repeated, weaker this time.

Both you and Alastor leaned towards the bed, his hand on David’s leg as you gingerly lifted the boy’s head into your arms, pulling his light body towards yourself. You shifted yourself up into the bed with him, trying to wrap as much of yourself around your son as possible. You could feel his heartbeat getting slower with every weak breath he took.

“Sleep, then,” your voice trembled. You felt Alastor grip your shoulder, his other hand softly rubbing David’s arm. You couldn’t describe the expression on his face. “I’ll see you in the morning, little dove.” You lied.

“In heaven?” He responded. Your breath hitched at his words. He knew, somehow, that he was dying. How sick it was, for such a young boy to be aware of his impending death. How cruel God was.

“Yeah, I promise,” Was all you could muster. You worried that any more would destroy the dam that held back your tears.

It broke, though, when you felt David’s heart finally stop. You choked on a sob once, twice, before finally you started wailing. Screaming. You held a vice-like grip on the boy, both your arms and legs secured around him. Alastor was still quiet, but he had sat across from you on the bed and pulled you towards him, securing you and David’s still-warm body in an equally tight grip. You could feel his strained breathing and tight jaw against your head. He said something, but you didn’t hear him.

Your mind rushed back to the present when you felt a hand on your back. Your head whipped towards Alastor, who was looking at you. The table was dead silent, and there was still a look of rage in his eyes, but his smile held a softness that was only ever given to you. Your heart still beat strongly, and you struggled to breathe, but you were at least glad that your mind was still back in the present.

Evidently, barely any time had passed. Angel had a nervous look in his expression, which he tried and failed to mask as Husk cursed at him. Charlie was looking at you in worry.

“(Y/N),” She said softly. “...How come you never-”

“Truly, there is no point in speaking of life before death,” Alastor interrupted her, the usual cheer in his voice lilted by a masked emotion. You knew he felt the same grief as you, but he was a million times better at acting naturally. “What a waste of time and emotion.”

Alastor stood quickly, his hand trailing against your shoulders as he walked past you and towards Angel and Husk. Husk’s ears flattened to his skull again as Alastor loomed over them, hands behind his back as a smile twisted his features.

“Husker, my friend,” He said, the cat demon visibly flinching at the mention of his name. “Let’s take a walk.”

Husk didn’t move, and the room grew heavy with tension with every second as the sound of radio frequency got louder and somehow sharper. Alastor bent at the waist, his snarling smile inches away from the panicked expression on Husk’s face.

“Is the tomcat getting too old to hear?” You barely picked up Alastor’s words, but you definitely heard the threatening tone in his voice.

The cat swallowed hard before standing up. He shot one last infuriated look at Angel, before whipping his head back to attention when Alastor tapped his cane against the ground impatiently. The two of them left the room, and the tension in the air immediately lifted when the door shut.

Charlie startled you when she placed a delicate hand on your upper arm, and she guided you to your feet and out another set of doors. A weak smile touched her expression.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked as you both went up the stairs towards your hotel room. You shook your head silently at her offer. She only nodded back, and said nothing more. She opened the door to your room for you, and waited till you settled down in your bed before saying a string of comforting words that you didn’t really pay attention to. The door clicked softly, and you once again began to sob.

Only a few minutes passed before you felt your skin prickle with a static-like feeling. You had grown to find comfort in the odd sensation, and felt incredibly relieved when you knew Alastor was sitting next to you. You didn’t even hear him enter the room.

He pulled you wordlessly against his chest, lying the two of you down. You twisted yourself in his grip till your ear rested against him, listening to the odd drum of what you assumed was a heart.

“Has David been troubling you all day?” He asked you when your sobs slowed and you caught your breath. You nodded. Alastor rubbed a soothing hand on your shoulder blade. You recognized the tone of grief in his voice as he spoke. “What a pesky boy, even all these years later.”

You wrapped your arms tightly around Alastor’s neck as tears began flowing again.

Though you would never tell him, you often hoped Charlie’s idea of redemption would work. Your husband himself would likely never follow that path; you knew he saw no point and enjoyed the power he held in Hell. But, you wished every day to see your son again. To see your little dove.

You had promised him.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #angst #TW: child death #child death #ohdeerfully

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indulgentdaydream · 3 months

Note

Can you write something where the reader is badly injured in some way and jason rushes her to the manor for help and everybody is confused on who she is bc they didnt even know he was in a relationship (despite them being together for awhile) but they see how soft and cute he is with her. (I’ve never made a request so sorry if it got kinda rambley)

anon you’ve got me TEEMING with ideas I LOVE the trope of nobody knowing jason has a girlfriend and they find out but it is NOT by Jason’s choice nor reader’s.

Also omg? Your first ask is to lil ol me?? That means this is a special occassion. And you’re doing great I’ve def sent worse asks.

Out of the Bag

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader || Hurt and Comfort.

Word Count: 1,862

Warnings: Injuries, swearing, near death experience, blood, knife mention, stabbing, canon-typical violence, use of pet names (princess, baby), drug (pain med) use

You were sat in an alleyway, vision going in and out.

“Tell me something, princess. Anything.” Jason’s voice rang out in your ear.

That’s right. In your right hand, you held your phone, to your ear. Your other hand was pressing the fabric of your coat to the side of your stomach. The blood had soaked through, becoming sticking on your palm and fingers.

You should’ve listened to Jason. You shouldn’t have walked home alone, at night. Luckily your phone had been in your pocket and not your purse, which had been stolen from you by the same guy who decided to stab you.

“Princess,” he sounded panicked.

Right. “Wish I had kicked him harder.”

You heard a sigh of relief leave him, “That’s my girl.”

The phone slipped from your grip a little as your head swam. The sight of blood coming from your own abdomen made no help in quelling your nausea.

You fixed the phone. You had called Jason the second the guy ran off, leaving you to bleed out. He was driving, you think. Tracking your phone to try and get to you. “How far?”

He said something you didn’t hear. Your vision was swimming, your side was aching, and you couldn’t help but keep this funny understanding out of your mind that you were dying.

That this is something Jason had come back to your apartment with a few times, claiming it was nothing. It was something.

You heard him call your name, “What’s around you?”

“I’m tired,” you mumbled.

It seemed to happen in a blink of an eye. Jason was trying to tell you to stay awake, to look at the alley around you. To look out towards the street and tell him what you saw. Then he was there, standing in front of you, his helmet hiding his face.

“I’m here. I’m here, baby.” He cupped your face, tapping your cheek to get you to open up your eyes. He crouched down, pulling your hand from your side to assess the damage.

You smiled lazily and leaned forward, resting your forehead against his shoulder.

Jason muttered a slew of swears as he pressed something soft yet hard against your agonizing wound. You let out a yelp before Jason was picking you up, placing you on his bike.

He’s talking fast, “Fuck. Okay, listen to me. We’re going to go somewhere new, okay? There’s nowhere around here except there for me to get you safe.”

You passed out nearly as soon as he started the bike.

Jason’s freaking. He had tried to keep you safe from anything like this. From everything less than this. And here you were, bleeding out in his arms as he carried you through the batcave. He beelined for the cots and the medical supplies off to the side. He knows his motorcycle couldn’t have been the smoothest of rides for someone in your condition, but it’s all he had in such a short time span.

He’ll apologize when you wake up.

When. He repeats. When she wakes up and when we can get the hell out of this place again and when I can remind her I love her.

No one was back from patrol yet. He set you down on the cot before tearing off his helmet. He tossed it aside, pulling out a med bag and ripping it open. He pushed up your shirt, examining your side and where he had placed the military-grade gauze pad. He curses at the amount of blood.

His hands are shaking. Jason’s hands don’t shake, but you’ve proven to him a lot of things you could make him do that he hadn’t known he was capable of in the last year and (almost) a half of your relationship.

Jason nearly drops the suture thread before another hand is reaching out from just behind him. It catches the thread and Jason looks back over his shoulder. Alfred’s there, moving up to you.

“Allow me. You keep checking her vitals.”

Jason hadn’t even heard him come up. He’s nodding, stepping back to let Alfred take over the stitching. He moves to the other side of the bed.

That’s when he catches sight of the dark figure moving closer from behind Alfred. Jason immediately fixes him with a deadly glare, pointing at Bruce, “Do not come closer!”

Bruce stills. He’s in his bat suit, his cowl hanging behind his head, exposing his face. He looks down to your body, “Who is she?”

Jason doesn’t want him here. Rather, he doesn’t want to be here. You should’ve been home by now. Getting ready for bed and sending him a goodnight text. He turns his gaze back to you.

There’s some hair across your face that he hadn’t noticed. He moves it out of your way without a second thought, “My girlfriend.”

“Finally feel some remorse for sending someone to their grave, Todd?” Damian’s voice spoke up, walking up and stopping beside Bruce, “He’s probably trying to just reverse what he did.”

Jason ignores him. He wants to yell, scream, and maybe shoot the little bastard, but he was right. In a way, this was his fault. He didn’t look after you. He should’ve offered you a ride. Called you a taxi. An uber. Anything.

Jason grips your hand into his. It’s a way to count your heartbeat, and another way to ground himself. To reassure that you’ll be okay. His other hand stays on your cheek. His thumb gently moves back and forth, stroking your skin.

He barely registers Bruce telling Damian to go wash up. When the brat is gone, Bruce speaks up again, “What happened?”

Jason doesn’t take his eyes off of you, “She was walking home from her friend’s. A mugger got her purse, she fought back. He stabbed her.” Jason takes a deep breath, “She still had her phone. She called me. I brought her here because it was closest.”

A beat of silence. Still stitching you up, Alfred speaks, “How come we’ve never been introduced?”

Jason shakes his head, “I didn’t want her near any of this. She’s bad off enough sticking with me.”

Once you stabilize, Jason brings you up to his room in the manor. He walks past Dick, Tim, Duke, Cass, and Steph without looking at them. They sit around the batcomputer, watching Jason gently carry you out ot the cave.

He changes you out of your dirty clothes once he makes a run back to your apartment to grab you some of your own spare clothes.

Asides from that, he doesn’t leave your side.

He lets you have the bed to yourself. He pulls up a chair beside it, waiting for you to wake up. He didn’t want you to be alone when you did, in a strange place after a traumatic event. It was a recipe for disaster.

The sun’s been up for a long while and Jason hasn’t budged. He sits there, your hand gripped in both of his, held up and pressed against his mouth. His lips brush over your knuckles whenever he speaks up. Uttering a “I’m sorry.” every now and then.

There’s a light knock at the door before it’s cracking open. Jason turns his head to find Dick poking his head in. Jason glares at him.

Dick steps further in, presenting the tray he was holding. There were two glasses of water, some solid foods, and lighter ones, probably for you. Jason looked back down at you, letting his older brother enter.

“Just… figured since you’ve been cooped up in here all day,” Dick begins, setting the tray down on the beside table beside Jason.

Dick moves back around. He stands at the end of the bed, leaning against the tall bed post that was meant to hold up a canopy. “I heard…” he trails off, before nodding and your body in the bed, still unconscious, “Who is she?”

Jason looks up at his brother, not letting go of your hand, “So you haven’t heard.”

Dick rolls his eyes, “You know what I mean.”

Jason raises his brows a little. He looks back down at you. His hand reaches out to brush along your forehead, moving away imaginary stray hairs, “My girl.”

Dick nods in understanding, “How long you two been together.”

Jason pauses in thought, “Over a year. Our anniversary was in December.”

A small, choked sound comes from outside the door, in the hallway. “A year?”

Jason looks up at Dick, who makes a face that shows he’s knows he’s been caught.

“Are they seriously listening right now?”

Steph poked her head in first, an apologetic smile on her face, “We wanted to know!”

Duke pokes his head in next, just above Steph’s, “And we wanted to meet her.”

Tim’s head in next, above Duke’s, “You can’t carry a random bleeding woman into the cave and expect the family of detectives to not be curious.”

Cass’ head appears below Steph’s. She nods in agreement.

Jason let’s one hand go of yours to wave his hand through the air, “What the fuck? She’s not even awake!”

“Well that’s why we sent Dick as bait.”

“For the record,” Dick held up a finger, “They built off of my original, innocent idea of bringing you snacks.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jason stands up, taking a few steps forward. He points them all back towards the door as they start to filter into the room, “Get—“

“What’s going on…?”

Jason’s whole body whipped back around at the sound of your groggy, rough voice. The others watch as he’s back at your side in a millisecond, his whole demeanour changed. “Hey, you’re okay. Everything’s okay. Remember how I said we were going somewhere new? You thirsty, baby? Here, I got you some water.”

“Oh, you certainly did not get the water,” Dick piped up.

Jason glared back over his shoulder as he held the glass of water for you, keeping the straw Dick had added placed in your mouth.

You stopped drinking, your eyes now on the other people in the room. You turned your head, propped up against pillows Jason had put there for you. You weakly raised your left hand to wave, “Hi… oh?” your gaze turned down to your hand. A heart monitor clip sitting on your finger grabbed your attention. You gave a confused pout at it, “I feel funny.”

Jason set the water aside again. His glare was gone. He leaned in, kissing your forehead, “You’re hopped up on pain meds. That’s why, princess.”

“Damn,” Steph spoke up, “I wish I got the literal princess treatment.”

Jason turned back around, pointing out the door, “Get. Out. Leave my girlfriend alone until she’s better.”

You looked at the strangers, pointing at Jason with your left hand, “I’m his girlfriend.” Your head tilted back against the pillows as you stared up at Jason, pursing your lips, "I’m tired.”

“I know,” Jason said softly. The others began to filter out of the room as he leaned down and gave you a soft kiss, this time on the lips.

From the exit, a collective, “Awwww,” sounded out.

“Out!”

Your drugged up voice came after his, once they were all back in the hall, “Nice to meet you!”

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peachesofteal · 6 months

Text

Black Sun

Simon Riley masterlist

Simon Riley/female reader 5.3k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Dark and twisty. Explicit sex, dubious consent, forced breeding/pregnancy kink, praise kink, size difference, creampie. Simon is insane about you. Panty sniffing/stealing. Obsessive behavior. Possessive Simon Riley. Alcohol. Reader is prescribed/taking muscle relaxers. Toxic but I think it's sweet. Angst, comfort, emotional hurt/comfort. Tags are for your health, not mine. Simon never wanted a divorce.

Simon does not consider himself a common criminal.

A war criminal, perhaps. The things he’s done for the 141 would put him behind bar in over fifty countries, and on death row in at least eight. The things he’s seen alone make him eligible for life in a padded room, and that’s if you don’t count the things that have happened to him.

But he’s never stooped to petty crime like this before. Before this mess. Before you asked for a divorce, insisted he move out, demanded time apart.

There’s a first time for everything, he thinks. First time for a lot of things, actually. The first time he actively tried to avoid the divorce paperwork, first time he let his obsession take him this far, first time he indulged in his darkest fantasies, things he wouldn’t even dare whisper about to Price-

The door welcomes him like it always does, squeak gone from the hinges, greased out by his hands in the middle of the night last week, swinging wide so he can silently step across the threshold… into his house. Into yours.

Riley whines in greeting, lowering himself into a play bow, and Simon kneels to pet him, rubbing his between the ears and under the chin just how he likes, before instructing him back to his bed, to keep watch. He’d maul another man who tried to step foot in here, per his training, but his dad- his dad is okay. His dad is allowed.

It’s not that he’s too far gone to recognize the complete dismantlement of your boundaries, it’s that he doesn’t care. The chilling fear of losing you has seeped deep into his bones, fostering the growth of a plan that he knows is not rational, or right.

He knows what he is doing is wrong, but he cannot stop himself.

You are his. His wife. His life, his person, his reason for it all. You’re the sun and the moon and the stars and everything that makes this miserable fucking existence worth living.

He’ll do anything to keep you.

Anything.

So, it doesn’t feel wrong when he stands in the bedroom at the foot of his bed, watching you sleep, twisted up in the blankets, favoring your one side like your shoulder must have been bothering you before you fell asleep. It concerns him, worries him, this lack of improvement regarding your pain, and he wonders if maybe you should be in physical therapy.

It doesn’t feel wrong, when he traces the curve of your ass, perked up in the sheets, as if you’re waiting for him to strip your ratty little sleep shorts down to your knees and shove his cock to your cervix. He wonders if you’d even wake up if he rubbed his nose across the seam of your cunt. You’ve always been a heavy sleeper, through thunder or commotion, you’d stay sweet with your lashes flush against your cheeks, mouth slightly open in a soft snore.

He leans over you in bed, stroking the back of your head with his hand before pressing a featherlight kiss to your temple, something he knows won’t stir you, not with you how deep you’re dreaming, and certainly not with the muscle relaxer in your system.

He is a stealth operator, after all. It’s not like he hasn’t been watching, observing your new routines, the changes to your schedules and habits that have appeared over these last few months. The muscle relaxers, for example, that were prescribed for the strain in your neck and shoulder, that you’ve been taking once an evening for a week and a half, around six thirty. They’re extended release, usually able to keep you mostly pain free through the night, and he’s grateful to your doctor for insisting upon them. For more reasons than one.

He gives you another light kiss before pulling the sheet up around your shoulders, tucking you in how you like. You get cold in the middle of the night, icicle toes usually wandering across the mattress to seek the space between his thighs for warmth, shocking him into a gasp that would elicit a string of sleepy giggles from your mouth. He makes sure you’re comfortable, before slinking onto the second part of his routine.

The bathroom.

Every night, he holds his breath as the medicine cabinet pops open. He hates the anticipation, the fear of what he could discover, dreads the idea of having to start the clock over or worse, swap them for placebo. You never disappoint him though, and he catalogues the perfectly color-coded rows of birth control pills that haven’t been touched in over a month, not since his last op with wicked desire hearting his belly. What a good girl you are.

Before, he would have told you the opposite. He did, tell you the opposite. He told you were good, so good, for taking your pills, for making sure that you were safe for him, that there wouldn’t be any accidents. Guilt would eat at him each time the two of you had the argument, the ‘discussion’, about having a baby, and you would cry with misery staining your cheeks.

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me.” He tried to tell you, dozens of times, that he didn’t think he’d be good at it, that he wouldn’t like being gone so much, leaving you at home all the time with a baby.

“I love you, Simon. I want to have a baby, with you. My husband. Is that so wrong?” You would cry, and he could feel the weight of his choice breaking you apart, the pressure cracking beneath his skull.

“You… you don’t understand. I- I can��t.”

It’s not why you asked for a divorce, but it certainly played a part.

Something catches his eye when he turns to leave, a wayward item of clothing hanging haphazardly outside of the hamper.

Your underwear.

He plucks the scrap of blue lace and cotton from the edge and balls it into his fist, bringing it to his nose with a deep inhale. It’s sick, the way he needs you, the way the smell of your dirty panties, the honeyed ambrosia of your musk, makes his mouth water like a juvenile. Before he can change his mind, he shoves them in his pocket. He doesn’t usually take things, too aware of potentially tipping you off, but this; this is something he needs.

“Simon, can we please just… can we please just meet up and at least look at these papers?” It’s early for you to be up, on a Saturday, and he frowns at the screen in contemplation. Before, you’d never be up this early. Before, you would have insisted he stay under the covers with you, would have draped your body over his eagerly to convince him, sweetening him to your side with barely a whisper.

“How many weekends do we even get, anyway? This is your first one home in weeks. Stay in bed with me.” And he would, because of course he would. Because there was no place he’d rather be in those moments, curled up in bed, his nose in your hair, watching the rise and fall of your chest just to be sure it was all real, that it wasn’t some cruel dream that would disappear as soon as he woke up.

“You’ve been home for two weeks and haven’t even looked at them.” He grits his teeth, pressing the hard edge of his phone into his cheek. He can’t be divorced if there’s no signature. But you sound exasperated, stressed, and he’s eager to fix it for you, easily agreeing without too much badgering.

“Alright, sweetheart. Alright. I’ll meet you.”

He cannot believe his luck.

You’re nervous. Your hands flitter about, constantly touching the table, the silverware, your sore shoulder, the manilla envelope before finding the stem of your wine glass and tilting it to your lips, swallowing the alcohol over and over without any kind of hesitation. You must not have taken the muscle relaxer. He's well versed in navigating your emotions, calming you into a relaxed state with a few words or a reassuring touch, and he wants to reach out and take your hand in his, soothe you, tell you that everything is alright but… it would serve no purpose for him tonight. Sorry, sweet girl. He sits at the little two top across from you with his arms crossed, watching his lack of interest in the conversation break you down, little by little, until you’re ordering another glass of wine, and then a third, all while he nurses the same glass of bourbon. The alcohol distracts you, strays you from your course, and you eventually stop trying to try talk about that bloody manilla envelope, leaning to one side a little more than the other in your chair. When you order a shot after dinner is over, he doesn’t protest, just watches your tongue follow the seam of the citrus wedge, dabbing along the spongy white fibers before your teeth dig into the flesh of it, lime juice squirting across your tongue.

He loves you drunk. Loves you sober, loves you tired, or grumpy, or smiling. He loves you anyway he can get you, but sometimes, when you’re like this, your smile sweet like sticky toffee, buzzing and humming, it helps him get away from himself, helps him stay present and lost inside you, swept up in you. It makes him think about the honeymoon, your feet buried in the sand, tucked away in secluded cove, no one around for miles. He fucked you on the beach, fucked you in the ocean, fucked you in someone else’s cabana that day, and you giggled the whole time. Pearly pitched music that wrapped in him the strongest feeling of bliss, skin that tasted like brine and sun, your hand in his on the walk back the hotel, peeking under your wide brim hat every few minutes to press his lips to yours.

“Wan’ one?” He shakes his head, but pulls your hand into his, feeling the warmth of your skin. When you don’t pull away, his blood heats, churning through his veins like fire. “Figured.” You sigh, and then flash him a mischievous, coy grin. Cheeky girl. Think you’re so clever. “Want to get out of here?” You croon, and he smiles indulgently behind the mask. “Lead the way.”

You’re giggly, excited when he bends you over the table, the kitchen table where you used to eat together, breakfast for dinner when he’d come home, waffles and bacon at one in the morning.

You don’t protest when he slides your skirt down your hips and over your ass, thumbs spreading you wide to reveal your glistening cunt, twitching and desperate.

“My poor girl, has it been so long?” He coos, relishing in the way you moan with your lips on the wood. He knows it has, knows you haven’t been with anyone since the last time he fucked you, months and months ago, on the night you asked for the divorce. “Shhh. I’m here now, I’m gonna take care of it.”

“You have to pull out.” You slur, breath hot, fogging against the finish of the table. “Promise.” He grunts something under his breath, nonsense, but you can’t tell the difference, and when he slides inside your scorching cunt, you howl, breath hitching with the stretch.

Bleedin’ Christ. You’re so tight, so wet, soaked enough that it sticks to the curls around the base of his cock. How could he ever give this up?

“That’s it.” He kisses your shoulder, pressing his chest to your back with his weight, pinning you in place, his hands clamping down around your wrists like shackles. “Squeeze me tight, good girl. Show me-“ Show me how you’re going to hold my come in your tight little pussy once I fill you- comes to mind, but he bites his tongue instead, not willing to tip you off too soon.

To have and to hold. In sickness and in health. For better or worse.

I promise to love and cherish you.

Till death does us part.

Till death.

“Simooon.” You sing, hips start to push back with him, fucking yourself onto his cock, chasing him, chasing your pleasure, mouth half open with the little pants and whines that are music to his ears. He keeps you pinned, flat against the table, fingers between your legs, stroking your clit, shoving you closer to your orgasm, delightfully pleased by the way your pussy pulses around him.

“Come on.” He urges, big hand between you and the table, pressing against your lower belly, still tapping away at your clit, indulging in the trembling of your legs.

“Fuck- fuck, Si.” You cry, clenching down around him with your orgasm, voice breaking.

“There it is… what a good girl.” He hisses, keeping his pace, pushing deeper and deeper until he’s notching himself nearly inside your womb. It’s overwhelming for you, he knows, but he doesn’t stop swirling his fingers around your clit, zapping electric pulses through body.

“Nngh Si. Too- ooh it’s- it’s too much.” You wail, a tear on your cheek, and he nods, nosing above your ear.

“I know. You’re doing so good for me, so perfect.” It’s whispered with a groan, hands stroking your hip, keeping your steady, in place. “Just need a little more, just- just a little, I’m gonna-“

“What-” You ask, more with it now that you recognize the edge he’s riding, the roughness in his voice clueing you in to where he is, but he sends you back into orbit, pressing your clit and working you in circles. “Oh, oh.” Your hips rock, and he moves with the momentum, fucking into you faster, grunting the truth as he speeds towards the cliff, desperate to drive the car over the edge, eager to change the course of his life, your life, his marriage.

“Take it.” He spits, wide palm spread across your shoulder. Everything in him tightens, fire spreading through his veins, pressure rising in his body like a fucking tea kettle, about to scream out a whistle. He’s going to breed you, fuck you deep with his come and put a baby inside you, give you what you want, what you’ve always said you wanted, the thing that made you cry in the middle of the night when he refused.

Well, he’s going to give it to you now.

“Fuck- here it comes.” You rock again, half lost to the world, eyes glazed over in pleasure, spasming around his cock with your second orgasm. He slams into you, burying deep and you keen, fingers gripping the edge of the table, his hips flush with yours like a lock.

And he’ll throw away the key.

You blame yourself for the first time.

You blame your nerves. Your lack of self-control. You drank too much, trying to fight the anxiety that was threatening to spill from your mouth by way of your tongue.

And well, didn’t he just look too fucking good, sitting across from you at dinner. Eyes on your lips. Hand dwarfing the rocks glass. Shoulders broader than a door frame. He put on mass since you saw him last, and you spent half the meal trying not to think about stripping his shirt off so you could inspect for new wounds, new scars, new stretch marks.

And didn’t he feel so fucking good too, bending you over the kitchen table, sliding into you from behind with almost no prep, hint of pain making you see stars, just the way you like it. Fucking you like the man you married, like the man you fell in love with. Calling you his good girl and making you come all over his cock like a champ.

You blame him for the second time.

You could blame yourself, for inviting him over- but your intention was clear. Sign the papers. Discuss the house. Be done with it all and close this chapter. Move on with your life, with both your lives.

But he showed up on the wrong day, at the wrong time, with a bottle of your favorite wine, the malbec. The one from your first anniversary, with a large pizza, thin crust with extra cheese (your favorite) and an order of garlic knots.

“Wasn’t sure if you’d eaten or not, figured I’d pick something up, just in case.” He shrugged, and just like that, you were bereft of words, staring at him with nothing coming to mind. Didn’t you say tomorrow? You stood in the door, blinking, Riley whining behind you, already eager to see his dad. “Sweetheart? You feelin’ okay?” His hand was on your arm, warm, thumb rubbing a circle on the inside of your elbow, and even that small amount of contact, that little trickle of concern, sent you into a spiral, muscle relaxer already working its way through your system, slowing your response time, making your brain a little fuzzy. His eyes shimmered in the porchlight, and you nodded, robotically, feet still stuck in the doorway, until he was prompting you to let him inside. “Can I come in then, get this signing business done?”

You ate pizza and drank a glass of wine (frowned upon considering your medication, but one glass couldn’t kill you, right?) out of regular glassware (a sin, if anyone asked your poor mother) as the manilla envelope sat on the coffee table and practically watched the two of you, oozing with judgement.

You’re supposed to be divorcing. Not cozying up on the god damn couch. Weren’t you the one who told him to find a new place to live? Weren’t you the one who said the two of you wanted different things in life, from it? Weren’t you the one did this, pushed him away, shoved him out the door, told him it was all too little, too late?

But when his fingertips drifted to the top of your spine and then over, like he knew exactly where you were tender, you couldn’t stop yourself from melting into his touch, more and more until he had your back against his chest, strong grip on your shoulder, working your taut muscles with expertise.

His fingers dig deep, groan slipping between your teeth, breathy and low, enough that he’s immediately releasing you.

“Did I hurt you?”

“N-no.” You shake your head, which only makes you dizzy. Probably shouldn’t have had that glass of wine. “Feels good.” He chuckles, and tucks you closer, head tipping back into his chest, eyes half closed. “Tweaked something in m’shoulder a few weeks ago.” For some reason, you feel the need to explain it, to tell him. “Went for a slide tackle, ended up halfway under the girl. And she was a lot bigger than me.”

“You still playin’ in that women’s league?”

“Every Sunday.”

You were so relaxed, so pliable, that you didn’t utter a single protest when he leaned you back on the couch like a doll, pulling your leggings down and off your ankles, sliding your panties away to bury his face in your pussy. You didn’t want to protest, or stop, or get up off the couch, even though, somewhere, in the back of your logical mind, you knew what you were doing was stupid. You knew, that doing this once was mistake, but doing it twice was just downright foolish. It’s just sex though. He can still just sign the papers and go. Who hasn’t had a little runaround with their soon to be ex-husband before the final nail is hammered in the coffin? You’ve never been a saint, after all.

“Lift your hips.” He taps your side, and you do, letting him slide a throw pillow under them, plumping it under your ass for good measure. “Good girl.” You beam, woozily, and he chuckles, face cracking into something that’s flooded with light, something happy, the face of the man who used to be your husband, used to love you, want a future with you, not just endless rotations around the world with the 141 and a sometimes wife that he sometimes saw.

“You have to pull out.” There’s backbone to your words, but it’s brittle, and easily breakable. “You didn’t listen last time, and ‘m still mad about it.”

“I’m sorry, sweet girl.” His lips press against your thigh, and then your knee, trailing up to where he’s got your ankle in his hips. “You just feel like fuckin’ heaven.” You huff. “I will this time, promise.” He rubs your thigh, zinging your skin with a small slap, your yelp teetering off into a moan when he presses knuckle deep into your sopping wet cunt.

“This doesn’t change anything.” You don’t know why you say it, why you’re so compelled to draw the line in the sand in this moment, when you could have said it any time before hand. Or, even better, had him sign the papers like you originally planned.

“I know.” He shifts you, pulling his occupied fingers free to rearrange your legs, folding your knees back against your chest, the position combined with the pillow under your hips practically tilting you all the way back, the angle enough to make you a little dizzy. Your hand shoots forward to latch onto his forearm for balance, little whimper sneaking away from you, making his brow crease in concern. “I’ve got you.” He whispers against your cheek, lips ghosting over yours, plucking a sweet kiss from your mouth before there’s heat grazing your opening. He keeps a hand on your knee until he’s pushing inside, thrusting in one fell swoop all the way until he can’t go any further, punching your cervix with the head of his cock, swearing behind a tight jaw. It’s a lot of stretch at this angle, deeper, sharper, and you squirm, adjusting to the pressure of him splitting you open.

“F-fuu-ck.” Your eyes roll back in your head, off somewhere, somewhere not this planet, not this plane of existence where he’s practically in your belly, slick noises bouncing off the walls of your living room, his knees against the pillow, back sloped for enough leverage that he’s practically fucking downwards into you, bent forward with his chest against yours, torso locking you in place, arms around your head like crown. Or a cage. “Si- fuck. It- it hurts.” you babble, gasping into his neck, teeth dangerously close to his shoulder.

“I know, doin’ so good. Almost there.” You start to melt around him, gentled into it, the patting and cooing and kissing sweetening you soft by the passing second. “Easy love, open up for me.” He pants into your mouth, tongue licking in behind your teeth, invading your senses, your very existence, and it’s so much, too much, but you can’t stop. You let yourself get swept away, mind slipping deeper and deeper every time he thumbs your clit, rubbing a circle around the swollen bud, tapping across it just how you like. “Relax, sweetheart, that’s it.” He keeps bringing you closer and closer to coming, playing your body like only a husband could, plucking the strings that make the sweetest melodies, chords vibrating together until you’re clenching down on his cock, spine curling forward, everything inside of you exploding with a blinding, fiery orgasm that has you crying his name, body shaking underneath him with aftershocks. “You’ve been such a good girl for me.” He murmurs into your sweat-soaked temple, cock sliding out just to push all the way deep again, hips grinding against your ass in a circle. “Haven’t you, sweet girl?” You nod, because yes, of course. You’re always good.

“Yeeah.” You squeak, vowels heavy, eyes heavy, head heavy, everything too thick underneath the weight of your orgasm, his cock lodged inside you, the muscle relaxer mixed with the Malbec, the chagrined manilla envelope sitting on the table, a mere two feet from your prone body.

“I know. I know you have.” The muscles in his arm flex, tendons in his neck becoming more defined, and his movements stutter, fucking you in a frantic, desperate way, wild with some sort of chaotic need. “I’m gonna give you a gift for it. For being so good.”

“You- you-“ You mean to say you what? What do you mean? What are you talking about? But you can’t get any of it out, only able to watch him through half shuttered eyes, admiring the slope of his jaw, the white of the scar on his chin, the drip of sweat in his clavicle.

“I love you.” A big hand holds your hip upwards, steady, pinning you to the pillow, pace turning hungry, unrelenting, his forehead pressed to yours as he bottoms out, trying to fuck you as deep as possible, to consume you, to drown in you, shoving you further and further up the couch. It’s erratic, and insane, and so- so Simon, that the tears dripping down your cheeks feel normal, everything feels right in your hazy, fucked out brain. “I love you.” He tells you again, and his jaw clicks in your ear. “I love- fuck, fuck, I’m coming.”

You should have protested. You should have reminded him of his promise. Should have said no, remember, you did this last time. We talked about this. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Couldn’t even get your mouth to work right, too spun out on him, on yourself, on floating on a cloud, high above your life, like choices didn’t have consequences. You were blissed out on your own bad decisions, sleepy in the cocoon of an alternate universe with your hips tilted on a pillow, where your husband was still your husband, and not some absent ghost.

You didn’t even protest when he gathered you together in his arms and carried you upstairs. Didn’t mind that he got one of your make up wipes from the bathroom and cleaned your face, tucked you in, and kissed you goodnight.

You didn’t mind any of it, until you woke up the next morning and faced that manilla envelope.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter, because in a weeks’, two weeks’ time, he’d be somewhere on the other side of the planet, or hemisphere, or country, somewhere classified, doing god knows what. He’d be gone, and you’d be here, just like always. Just like old times. The sex didn’t matter. It meant nothing. You hardly remembered most it, just clips here and there, the taste of his mouth, the feeling of being so full of him. It didn’t matter, and you repeated those three words in the mirror, four, five times in the morning, intentionally not looking at the gleam of your rings, the wedding band and engagement ring, a fated pair… all alone.

Besides, you could always mail the paperwork. Address it to John. He’d make sure it gets taken care of.

You cringed when you thought about the note you’d have to enclose, the awful acknowledgement of your ineptitude- “Hi John, sorry, but could you have Simon sign these when you get a chance?”

And then, everything changed.

“LT!” Soap shouts over the din of the common room, jerking his head towards the office at the end of the hall. “Price needs ye.”

Price is standing behind his desk, arms across his chest when Simon pushes the door open. His lips quirk, head shaking with a sigh. “You have a phone call.” He motions to the landline, one of the only phones in this entire building, currently off the hook, open line waiting in the air. A phone call? “I’ll give you some privacy.”

When the door shuts, and he’s alone with the phone in his hand, he takes a deep breath, and puts it to his ear. “Hello?” His thumb strokes the silicone wedding band on his ring finger, rubbing it in a circle as he waits for a response. This number is for family members and emergencies, real serious shit, and he’s not-

“Simon?” It’s you. It’s your voice on the other end of the line, wet with tears. His heart stops in his chest, lungs frozen in place, anxiety curling in the pit of his stomach. Your crying always puts him on edge, and it’s worse, with him here, and you alone, everything hanging on the precipice. “Simon? Are you there?”

“I’m here. What’s wrong?” He closes his eyes. Say it. Please. Fucking hell. Please.

“I- I need, I have to tell you something.” You’re still crying, hiccupping with distress, and he wishes desperately that he was there with you, holding you, telling you everything going to be okay to your face, instead of over the phone.

“What is it sweetheart?” He tries to encourage, relaxing back into the chair when you take a deep breath. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“I’m pregnant.” His palm covers the receiver immediately, just in case, and he thumps the top of Price’s desk with his fist, stupid grin stretching his face wide.

“You’re what?” He feigns shock, confusion. “Did you say… you’re pregnant?”

“Yes.” You blubber.

“I thought you were on the pill, sweet girl. I wouldn’t have-“

“I told you to pull out! And I was b-but I stopped taking it, like two months ago. I forgot and after the first time when you were home, after the restaurant I thought, oh well, I had only been off the pill for a month, less than, after being on it for like fifteen years!” You practically shriek in his ear, a mix of sob and hysteria, trying to suck air into your lungs before continuing. “Getting pregnant after being on it for so long just doesn’t happen. It’s almost impossible! So, I d-didn’t worry about it. And then the second time was only like, two nights after that night and I just thought- I thought everything would be fine! I’m s-s-sorry, I’m so sorry.” You’re babbling, gasping, and he rubs his neck.

“Alright, alright. Hey, hey listen,” you’re still crying, voice cracking over the line and his heart breaks for you, guilt swamping him over you being alone. This was not the plan. He was supposed to be home for this part, to be there for you, if it took. “Sweetheart, breathe. You need to breathe.” You struggle through a few deep breaths, nearly wheezing, and he winces each time. It can't be good for you, or the baby, to be stressed like this. “Good girl, that’s it. Nice an’ slow. Good.”

“I'm sorry. I don’t know what to do, but-” You whisper, like you’re telling a secret, and he closes his eyes, imagining you pacing in the kitchen, hand in your hair, on your hip, anxious. He knows you. Knows you better than he knows himself, anyone. Soap, even. He knows, the reason why you’re saying sorry over and over, isn’t because you’re apologizing for getting pregnant, the two of you did that together. Or rather, he did it.

It’s because of what’s coming next.

“I do know that I… I want this baby, Simon. I know you… you don’t want this. That you’ve never wanted it, and that’s okay. I can do this, alone. We’ll still get divor-“

“Stop.” He doesn’t enjoy cutting you off, but he needs to put an end to this talk, this idea that still seems to have a hold on you. “Look, I’ll… I’ll come home. We can talk and, figure out what we’re going to do, okay? You’re not alone sweet girl. I’ll be there.” You’re silent for a moment, a moment that feels too long.

“Okay. You promise?”

I promise to love and cherish you.

Till death does us part.

Till death.

“I promise.”

#peaches writes #black sun #simon riley #simon riley x reader #🥞 anon #🌵 anon #tw forced pregnancy #tw dark and twisty #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #tw forced breeding #cod x reader #cod mw2 #female reader #simon riley x female reader #Black Sun by Death Cab

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hehearse · 6 months

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"Hello? You sent this to the wrong address. My brother is still alive. Still dead. Was brought back" Andrew Kozma - SONG OF THE INSENSIBLE

The blame is on @leejihye who supplied me with funds in exchange for my soul <3

#omniscient reader's viewpoint #orv #yoo joonghyuk #yoo mia #tw: death #tw: blood #my art #id in alt

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strawberry-cowmilk · 6 months

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the brothers when they realise mc will die one day

-> brothers x mc

a/n: it's been a good minute since I wrote actual ultimate painful angst so here you go while I wait for my hot makeup sponge soap soup to help me clean the things

mc's gender is not mentioned, not proof read

content warnings: angst, death, crying, sports injury

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Lucifer

he was peacefully listening to a new record he got with you next to him

lucifer was a great fan of this certain composer so he started to talk a little about the music and the meaning behind it

'the composer wrote this piece for their deceased partner-' he suddenly went quiet once he realised he will be like the composer one day

you had already fallen asleep to hear what he said, lucifer carefully pressed you close, afraid of waking you up and afraid of the day you'll leave him

Mammon

mammon was very bored since lucifer took away his card as a punishment, so he decided to watch tv

he was just browsing the channels and ended up watching the news

mammon was already upset about not having his card, and all the depressing stuff on the news made him more sad, and one certain report hit him with the reality that humans die way before demons

tears stung at his eyes as he instantly called you, asking where you are and if you're willing to cuddle him

Leviathan

he got a new game off of akuzon and you're playing it together

it just happens that you're absolutely terrible at this game so you keep dying every two minutes

it was funny at first, you and levi were laughing about it until he suddenly went quiet and started crying

before you could ask him what happened he hugged you and started begging you to not die for real

it took some while for him to calm down a little, you're his (only) friend, how will he live without you?

Satan

he was working on a group rad project with solomon, eventually he started talking about how he accidentally made himself immortal

eventually satan demanded to know how he did it, and he was pretty angrily asking too, during the conversation he realised you are not immortal (unlike solomon)

the prof literally had to separate them because satan was getting too angry

satan wasted no time, he went to look for you so he can spend time with you and forget his awful thoughts

Asmodeus

there was some fashion week event in the devildom and some high fashion brand asked asmo to model for them (he accepted)

but on the day of the event, it got cancelled

asmo was not pleased with this, but you told him it's ok and you can watch him on the catwalk next time he gets invited, but the thing is that probably won't be until another 500 years-

he realised there's a very good chance you won't be alive for the next time, he cried and clung to you, denying reality

Beelzebub

beel was playing the finals of his fangol game and things were getting very serious, there were players getting tackled left and right pretty badly

his mind started to drift away from the game for a while, and remembered that time you asked him to play with you

but if you, a human, were on this field, you'd probably get badly injured, or worse

the coach had to get a time out because the team's got beel literally crying his eyes out on the bench

the team won, but beel is not in the mood for celebrating

Belphegor

it just randomly hit him

he was looking at the stars next to you in the planetarium and something about the stars today made him think about everything, and eventually the fact that humans don't live long compared to demons

he turned to you, said something along the lines of 'don't go' and curled up against you, falling asleep

belphie needed to give himself a good dream right now otherwise he feels like he won't be able to handle it now

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me scenarios #obey me swd #obey me imagines #obey me angst #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #asmodeus obey me #beelzebub obey me #belphegor obey me #gn!mc #tw death #tw injury

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anantaru · 3 days

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⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ synopsis. breaking up because he wants to keep you safe, right person wrong time, cw. angst, he's lying to you, break up, mentions of death, gn! reader

what if childe doesn't want to break up with you, yet he's also aware that someone being close to a harbinger was way too dangerous, keeping you as his significant other would be a death sentence for you— his enemies are countless, he doesn't fear them but you should. what if he cannot protect you? aside from that, even within the fatui, he cannot trust a single individual.

who knows if somebody was actually able to find out about your secret relationship and use it in order to force childe into doing something? blackmail him or threatening to hurt you if he doesn't comply? can he even come to your rescue then? just thinking about you dying in front of him makes him want to fall asleep and never wake up.

after he went through those multiple concerns spreading inside his head, trying his hardest to find a solution, or, an answer. childe ultimately decided to break up with you— of course, in order to protect you.

but what's worse than that is that the harbinger was aware that, if he was to say it's due to "keeping you safe" you wouldn't accept it and would probably change his mind.

the thought alone of you looking at him with those eyes of yours, with droplets of tears hanging from your lashes, childe would fall to his knees immediately and admit defeat.

what does he do then?

you see, he's lying, lying that he's fallen out of love with you, that there was someone else he's fallen for yet that person wasn't you anymore.

he doesn't feel anything when he looks at you. no love, no future, he doesn't want to touch nor feel you, hear or see you.

saying those words out loud, precisely to your face actually broke his heart into a million pieces.

childe thinks he's numb now, and his colleagues were already talking about how weidly ruthless he's gotten over the past weeks— more pitiless and bloodthirsty than before, like he's lost a part of himself after he's lost you, after he pretended like he cheated on you so you would let him go.

childe doesn't care anymore, you were the one reminding him of his humanity, but with you gone, what even was humanity to him?

he doesn't mind that you hate him now, to him it means that you'll never come anywhere near him anymore, he's succeeded with his plan on keeping you protected from harm— meaning, that you're finally safe now.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #childe angst #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #childe x you #tartaglia x reader #tw mention of death #tw breakup #tw lying #tw cheating

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toxicanonymity · 7 months

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Hunger.

7k, raider!Joel x f!reader

Raider master list ⭐ Joel master

raider playlist 🖤sweet pea (smutty)

SUMMARY: Joel takes you on an eventful trek. You have a bit of a meltdown and he comforts you in a way he hadn't before. He kills a guy. And later, Joel finally goes down on you because he craves you and can't physically resist. WARNINGS: I8+ oral f receiving 🎉, unsafe P in V, creampie, jacking off, brief violence (og raider typical?), hurt/comfort, neglected animal (he's ok), angst, dark fluff, emotional tension, POV changes. A/N: 1/3 smut. Can read alone - Joel has been resisting the urge to kiss you. Carter is Joel's right-hand man. Jack was your bf Joel killed. Happy 6 months to the 1st raider Joel fic, have some oral.

—You 🌸🫛—

You're reading in a clover patch at one end of the trailer while Joel chops wood. Two of his men come up the hill, and Joel tells you to stay put while he talks to them. Even when Joel addresses you, they don't look in your direction. They stay in the doorway of the trailer. You put your book face down and start looking at the clovers while you try to eavesdrop. You can't hear what they're saying, but it sounds like someone might have tampered with one of the vans. You brush your hand through the leaves, and one catches your eye. Without plucking it, you gently separate it from the others to make sure it's not an illusion. There really are four leaves. You smile and get down on your stomach to look at it. You think about leaving it so it can grow more. That's what you did when you found one earlier in the week, but you pluck this one.

The men go back down the hill, and Joel goes inside for a moment before emerging again. You're laying the clover leaves flat between the pages of your book when Joel calls you inside. Then he leans against the trailer with an arm above his head, the side of his wrist resting near the top of the door frame as he waits for you. He's wearing a body holster now. "C'mon, let's go," he shouts so you can hear him.

"Ok," you call.

You just want to finish pressing the clover into the page, but he rushes you: "Now."

"What for," you ask.

"Cause I said." He disappears inside, and his back looks so broad, framed by the holster straps.

You come in and pout in the window nook with your book closed, waiting for him to explain. There's a belt on the kitchen table. Joel emerges from the bedroom and tells you he's going down the hill to help fix the van, and you're coming.

“you good in that?” he asks, looking at your spaghetti strap dress. You nod. You like the dresses he gave you, and it’s still warm enough, you think. He confirms, “Sure ya won’t be cold?” and you nod. He seems glad.

He approaches the kitchen table holding something strappy and leather. He pulls out a chair and faces you in the window nook.

"C'mere," he says. "Gonna carry your gun today."

"Oh," you put down the book. Sounds exciting. Sounds like he trusts you. "Yeah, sure," you try to play it cool. He takes your knees and swings your legs toward him.

"Gonna see if this piece'a shit's worth anything. If not, ya wear mine okay?" He thumbs the shoulder strap of his holster.

You frown and mutter, "I like when you wear it," eyeing the muscles straining his white shirt. He suppresses a smile, but you see it in his eyes.

"Gimme your leg," he commands. You give him your leg on your shooting side. You watch his face. He has a toothpick behind his ear. He bends your knee and puts your foot on his thigh. He lets the skirt of your dress fall all the way down your raised leg, exposing your panties. His eyes linger there, and he draws in a slow breath as he unbuckles the strap of the holster. He wraps the strap around your thigh and mutters, "good." He slides the strap into the buckle, then tightens it. "Too tight?" He asks.

"No."

He fastens the buckle on your inner thigh, and his massive hands map your thigh, checking the fit. You flinch in pleasure as his fingers graze the edge of your panties.

There's a long ribbon dangling from the other end of the holster where another strap should be. He laces it through two hand made grommets on each side. There are two more empty holes on the top of each side.

"Here," you offer and take both ends of the ribbon from him. You tie it in a bow on the outside of your thigh.

"That gonna hold?" He asks.

You shrug. "Feels ok, what do you think?"

He's not listening. His eyes have returned between your legs. You spread them a little more, and innocently widen your eyes. He wets his lips, and his gaze remains for another inhale, then he pries his eyes away, sticks the toothpick in his mouth, and lets your foot down. You stand up and he hands you your gun, then adjusts himself, quickly cupping his crotch through his pants as you slide the gun into the holster.

"Walk," he mumbles.

You walk the length of the kitchen.

It's a weird sensation, having one of your legs burdened by a weight while the other one is free. But aside from that, it's fine.

"Alright?" He asks.

"Yeah."

He nods, "Good. C'mere." You stand right in front of him, between his knees. "Hold your dress up for me."

You hold it up over the holster.

"Higher. Belly button."

He grabs the belt from the table and when he picks it up, ribbons are dangling from its holes. The ribbons have their ends burned and melted like a shoelace for threading. He fastens the belt securely around your bare middle, then threads the loose ribbons through the empty grommets on the top of the holster and secures them.

He turns you to the side, tugs at the ribbon, and mutters, "good." Then he can't help but grab a handful of ass, and your bottom lip creeps under your teeth.

As he turns you to face him again, he takes the toothpick out of his mouth and gives you a serious look. "Comin' with me today, sweet pea. Ya do what I say, understand?"

You nod.

"I say get outta here, ya run. I say stay put, ya don't fuckin' move."

"Got it."

—-

He puts the toothpick behind his ear and picks up a few pieces of jerky off the counter as he stands up. He hands you a piece.

You take a bite and chew it as you walk down the hill. You watch his jaw flex when he chews. You tell him, "This one's good."

"Cause Carter made it," Joel notes. You cringe at yourself,but he doesn't seem offended. "Turkey," he adds.

Turkey, that's why. Much better than venison. You haven't had poultry in a while, not even grouse. Traps have been empty.

"I love yours," you tell him.

Joel gives you an appreciative pat on the back of your head, then his hand trails down your back, over the swell of your ass. He slides his hand under your dress and palms your butt cheek. He lifts it, then lets it drop.

Joel brings you around the front of the stash house where the vans are normally parked and tells you to wait. There’s only one van. One of the other guys took the second van to get gas and isn’t back yet.

You reach under your dress and adjust the holster as you sit down on a patch of grass to watch. Joel's muscles glisten and flex as he lifts the hood of the van and props it open. He looks around the inside of the van and dabs his head with a bandana that he tucks back into his pocket . He looks under the van while you pick tall blades of grass and braid them together.

When he's done, he tells you they need a part. Need to go to the junkyard and see if they can find one. You’re going with him and Carter on foot.

—

The junkyard is a few miles on the other side of Joel’s trailer. You go down that side of the hill and walk through the abandoned mobile home park to get there. It’s the first time you’ve seen most of it close-up, aside from through the scope of Joel’s rifle. The rest of the journey is mostly on a dirt road, and you have to climb through a fence to get into the junkyard.

It feels like you’re there for a long time. You hear the weak bark of a dog in the distance. Joel thinks it’s coming from the woods. It stops. There’s a house that looks abandoned, but Joel thinks there might be junkies in it. He says they gather around there. He’s even found one sleeping in a car. When Carter finds a part they think will work, they have trouble taking it off the truck. They don’t have the right tools. Brute force isn’t an option because it could easily break.

The three of you cautiously approach the house and the barking starts again. The structure is run down, and the windows are busted out. It’s small, can’t be more than a couple of rooms.

—--

As Carter sweeps the house, you go around back with Joel, and there's the dog. He's skinny and his bark is weak and strained. He's chained to a pipe on the side of the house. The pipe has been pulled a little bit outward so it's leaning, but he wasn't strong enough to free himself. He's a scrappy little mutt with a floppy ear. Probably less than 20 lbs (9 kg). You and Joel both stare at the dog, then Carter calls from inside, “Miller!”

Joel looks around to make sure you’ll be alright for a minute. “Don’t move. Stay alert. Hand on your gun.”

As Joel goes inside, Carter says, “Think he’s alive.”

“Infected?”Joel asks.

“Nah, see the track marks?”

“Piece’a shit left his dog to die.”

Outside, the dog watches you. He sits attentively with his head down. You put on a soothing voice for him. "Hey, buddy. Whatcha doin'?" He lowers his head almost to the ground as he slowly stretches his arms out, then his tail starts to wag hesitantly, staying close to the ground. He begins to whine. There are a couple of bones behind him with no meat left on them at all.

Carter comes out to watch you. There's a metal bowl upside down out of the dog's reach. "He needs water," you say. Carter looks around then reaches into his backpack and hands you his water. You pour some into the dish for the dog, and his tail begins to wag with more pep. When you reach out to touch the dog, he flinches and backs away, then cautiously returns and gets closer to you than he was.

Carter gets closer, and when he reaches out for the dog, it growls and barks ferociously. Carter isn't afraid–it's too small to be afraid of. He reaches for the dog's collar and the dog chomps his hand with a vicious growl, high pitched from his throat. He doesn't want to let go.

"DAMN!" Carter yells. "SHIT," he shakes his hand.

"No," you firmly tell the dog. The dog lowers his stomach onto the ground and raises his brows pathetically with a whine.

"He's just scared," you tell Carter as he rinses the wound with the rest of his water.

"I know, I know," Carter nods. He puts his water back in his backpack. "Feisty little fucker." He spits on the ground.

“We’ve gotta get him out of this,” you mutter.

Carter tries to stop you. “Don’t touch–”

You hold your hand out to the dog, and Carter sighs in resignation. The dog reaches his neck out to sniff you, then licks you. He lets you touch him. Then you touch his collar and he growls, but not as bad. The collar has inner spikes that must be hurting him. It's too big and has some slack hanging down from where it's been tightened.

Joel comes outside with a bag of tools clinking heavily against each other.

"What the hell's goin' on out here?" You give Carter a hopeful glance and he doesn't snitch on the dog for biting him.

You look at Joel. "He's gonna die if we don't get him free," you explain. Joel lunges toward the dog and you try to warn him, "WAIT-" Joel stops short of bending over and instead looks at you. The dog goes after his ankle, bearing his teeth and going nuts. Joel shakes his leg free. You tell the dog, “No" and he submits on the ground with a whine. Joel looks at the dog and raises his gun.

"You wouldn't," you whine. "He's protecting me."

“Course i wouldn’t. Damn.”

Joel steps closer and aims at the drain pipe behind the dog, shooting the chain to break it. It hurts your ears but it works. The dog yelps and skips out from the building, chain dragging behind him. Joel takes the bag of tools back to the truck where they found the part, leaving Carter with you while you try to free the dog.

"C'mere," you sit back on your knees and open your arms for the dog. With the freedom of movement, you can work the collar off him. The dog whimpers and paws at the collar with you. When he lets out a sharper, high pitched whimper, you freeze as it triggers a memory. Your chest feels hollow and long-buried grief stabs at the backs of your eyes. You push it away. You don't want to cry. You want to be tough and whatever else you need to be for Joel to always take you with him. The dog whimpers again and you return to the task. You free him from the collar and he trots away from the house.

— Joel ⛓️ —

When he gets back, the dog is playfully pawing at your knees. You scratch behind his ears and he rolls over. One look at your face and Joel knows what you want.

"Alright, let's go," Joel says and looks at the ground next to you. He steps forward and the dog growls. "It's ok," you tell the dog and you reach for Joel's hand.

“Maybe he wants to come with us,” you say as casually as you can.

Joel clenches his jaw and shakes his head.

"I can take care of him," you plead, your eyes big and watery. "He's not big, he doesn't need much."

Joel shifts his weight as he looks at you for a moment. "I know ya get bored-"

"Not because I'm bored," you protest. "He's hungry."

"No," Joel tells you firmly and your tears overflow. God damnit, not here. He's hungry because he was chained. He'll be fine now.

Joel doesn't want to share resources, doesn’t want the barking to attract attention, and doesn’t want someone to come after the dog–after you–if there’s anyone left to come. The junkie inside is as good as dead, but they run in packs and they’re dangerous.

"It's for your own good, sweet pea.” Joel really thinks it is.

You shake your head no. "I had one," you sniffle. "Before."

Joel’s nostrils flare at the shake of your head, then his stomach drops. He doesn't want to know about before. He does, but he really doesn't. He covers his mouth with the crook of his thumb as he rubs both sides of his beard. Before. It gets harder and harder to avoid. He shakes it off. All he can do is keep you safe and take care of you the best he can, which means taking care of only you. He shakes his head no again, then reaches into his backpack. He throws a piece of jerky as far as he can. “He’s fed, Gonna be fine.” He throws another piece.

You watch the dog run off for the jerky, but you're in a trance, thinking about something else.

“Let’s go, baby,” Joel steps forward, wraps a hand around the inside of your bicep, and gently pulls. You try to resist walking, and his grip gets firmer. You stand there watching the dog, feet planted on the ground, muscle tensing under Joel's grip.

Joel faces you and cups your face with both hands, making you look at him. He gets a few inches from your face and lowers his voice. “Ain’t gonna spank ya in front’a Carter, but ya better move.” He means it. Non-negotiable.

He grabs your arm again, and as he starts dragging you away, you blurt out, "Her name was Daisy. She saved my life."

Joel ignores it. “Move. Now. Or I’m pickin’ ya up.” You relent and stop resisting. Smart. He wouldn't want to regret bringing you with them.

Joel squints into the ground as the two of you walk. Carter walks ahead, not wanting to get in the middle of it. “Maybe this one could save me, too," you suggest. "if you’re gone.”

Damnit sweet pea, you sure are smart. Nice try, but that's what Carter is for.

"Dog that size?” Joel laughs. You compose yourself. You walk in silence for a few minutes, but Joel is still thinking about it. “How,” Joel asks, and adjusts his backpack. “How’d she save you? Must’a been bigger, right? meaner?”

Carter looks over his shoulder with a side-eye at the word “meaner,” but doesn’t reveal his injury.

You don’t answer Joel. You're checked out. You keep eyeing the tree line, but you wouldn’t. . . There's no way you’d run, right?

You look at him with your eyes red. “You don’t wanna hear it.”

The vacant look on your face makes Joel stop in his tracks to face you. “Tell me,” he demands.

You sniffle and look toward the tree line again. “Can I go pee?”

Joel can’t read you right now, which disturbs him. “Yeah,” he mutters and puts his massive hand on your back, guiding you to the edge of the forest.

He starts to come in behind you, and you ask him, “Do you mind if I go?”

He swallows and furrows his brow as he looks at you. You must read his concern, because you hand him your bag. He nods. He steps into the woods, but tries to give you some space, without losing track of you. He doesn't wanna have to chase you down, but damnit he'll tackle you if he has to, to save you from yourself. His stomach is uneasy.

There’s a hollow, rusted truck about 30 paces away. You go on the other side of it. Joel knows you’re not just pouting about leaving the dog. There's more to this. But you’re right, he’s not sure if he wants to know.

Until he hears you sniffling, and it's not just sad, it's scared, painful.

Ah, fuck it. He moves as quietly as he can.

“Sweet pea,” he says softly as he walks around the old hollowed-out car. You’re squatting–not peeing, just hugging your knees, facing the abandoned car. You're shaking and your cheeks are wet. There's not much space, but Joel gets between you and the car. He takes his backpack off and drops it to the side.

“She wasn’t afraid like me, Daisy,” you choke out and wipe your cheeks with the heel of one palm. “They,” you croak. You pause and try again. “He had a gun-” you close your eyes. “Pointed at, pointed at me," you take a deep breath and keep your eyes pinched shut. "He was, he was gonna—but she wouldn’t," you choke on a breath. "She wouldn't stop barking.”

"Shhhhh, it's ok." Joel cuts you off. It's too hard to see you re-living this. He doesn't want you to get to the details. He squats down. His head is full of pressure, and his heart is full of rage. You take shaky, shallow breaths.

He puts a hand on your shoulder and lets his knees into the ground. “Breathe,” he says. “Breathe, sweet pea.” You lean forward, letting your weight into his arms, and he holds you for a minute as you regain your breath. He cradles your head. "Yeah, you're okay, I got ya." He buries his mouth in your hair. "I got ya, baby," he whispers. You wipe your eyes on his shoulder and your cheek catches on the holster. When you lift your head, you apologize and he shakes his head no. He brushes a fresh tear off your cheek, and arousal stirs in his pants.

“Who did it,” he asks, unable to mask the darkness in his question.

“Just a guy,” you tell him. A guy like himself, Joel assumes with disdain.

“What kinda guy”

You sigh and he hates making you think about this, but he needs the answer. “Mean. Had a gold tooth.”

Joel takes a deep breath and nods.

"FEDRA," you add, and Joel's face goes cold. His mind goes blank. For a moment, he doesn't even breathe as the life is sucked out of him and replaced by ice cold rage. FEDRA. Not a guy like him.

“How’d ya get away?” Joel asks.

You look at him for a second, doing a double take at his face. You shake your head. “You don’t wanna hear it." You bury your head in his neck again. You’re right, he doesn’t want to, but he insists.

“Tell me.”

“Jah–” you stop and look at Joel’s face. His jaw clenches. He knows what's coming, but the thought of FEDRA has fortified him with numbness.

“S’okay, sweet pea.”

“Jack shot’m.”

Joel takes a deep breath and looks up at the forest canopy, then bows his head and looks at your knees, bracketed by his own. For a moment, Joel is filled with an uncomfortable appreciation for Jack. But that fades into, no, it should have been Joel, he should’ve had you all along, he should’ve been there to save you *and* your dog.

“He take good care of ya?” Joel asks in self-loathing.

You shrug.

“Better than. . .now?” He can take it.

“No,” you shake your head. “He didn’t shoot him dead.”

Jackass fucking moron cuck. He left that motherfucker breathing? Suddenly Joel is glad he killed Jack.

Joel nods, “I see.” He keeps nodding slowly, looking to his right at the moss on a far off tree, clenching his jaw.

"And I didn't have a gun," you add. "Cause I killed a guy Jack said not to." Joel scoffs. You could've killed the guy yourself if not for Jack.

You continue, “and. . . Jack didn’t cook.” Joel chuckles, caught off guard -- he'd forgetten his original question. You keep going, “And he didn’t–I didn’t–I didn’t feel the same,” you wipe your eyes. This has gone far enough, and Joel knows it's his own fault. His stupid question. He takes the toothpick from behind his ear.

You look at him with your eyes all watery, and Joel's cock twitches. The next thing he knows, his massive hand is wrapped gently around your jaw. You put your hands on his shoulders, then straddle him. You wrap your arms around his neck.

"Mmm," he sighs as your warm crotch meets the bulge in his jeans, and he swells harder against you. He holds your face about two inches from his, looking down at your mouth, then your nose, and your eyes again. He puts his toothpick in his mouth and looks past you as he lets go of your jaw. You bury your head in his neck, blinking warm tears into his skin, making him harder. He whispers your name. He relaxes and takes the toothpick out of his mouth just in time for a branch to fall on the car with a loud clang.

"All good?" Carter yells from the treeline.

“Shouldn’t stay here long,” Joel mumbles as he puts it back behind his ear. ”Bad area.” He eases you off his lap back onto your feet, as you both stand up. He brushes dead leaves off his pants and your knees. He adjusts himself, puts his backpack over one shoulder, then reaches down and you take his hand. You walk a few steps together and he looks back at you slightly behind him. He realizes you’re shaking. He drops your hand, goes in his backpack, and pulls out a flannel that he packed even though you said you were fine. He unfolds it, holds it out, and helps you put it on.

“Thanks,” you whisper and rub your nose. He keeps his hand on the back of your neck as you walk.

Joel stews and broods as you leave the forest together. He wants to go back in time and kill everyone who’s ever hurt you, anyone who let you get hurt, and anyone who failed to hurt the people who hurt you. His muscles are all tense, and his veins are throbbing.

When you get to the treeline, Joel asks Carter, "Can ya gimme five?"

"Sure thing, boss.".

“No ones gonna miss that asshole," Joel mutters as he checks his gun then sets his sights on the house.

Joel can’t go back in time, but by God, he’s got to kill someone. He drops his backpack then hurries back to the abandoned house, rifle in both hands. When he gets there, he puts the rifle around his back and grabs the dog chain off the ground on his way in.

—---You 🌸🫛-—

You and Carter look at each other. “How’s your hand?” you ask him.

“It’ll be fine,” he reassures you. “I dunno where the little bugger went,” he looks around for the dog.

You both ignore the sound of the chain thrashing around until you hear grunting and look toward the house. Punches are landing. Carter puts a hand on his rifle but doesn’t move yet. Joel grunts and yells between punches. A minute later, Joel steps out of the house, walking backwards, with the chain pulled taught, and a bloody man dragging behind him. Joel kicks him up against the wall, hits him in the face with the butt of his rifle, then wraps the chain around the drain pipe where the dog was tied up. Joel hits the man again, then aims the rifle and calmly shoots him. Even if you never see the dog again, you're certain the dog is better off without that man. Joel wipes blood splatter off his brow and scowls at the ground as he walks back to you and Carter.

“Ya good?” Carter asks him.

Joel nods. He’s sweaty, chest heaving. You try not to let your eyes linger on the remaining blood. You observe his throbbing veins instead. The whole scene has you clenching your thighs.

You walk mostly in silence. When you stop for water, you realize you're being followed. Joel doesn’t notice, but you see the dog duck behind an old car when you turn around. You keep a straight face.

You hear something in the distance. Dust is kicked up down the road. Carter says, “Finally.” It’s the van that still works, picking you up. You didn't know it was coming and wish the dog could follow you the rest of the way home, but you don’t say anything. You're glad he's unchained.

—–

When you get back to the stash house, Joel works on the broken down van. When he’s done for the day, he takes you back to the trailer and washes the grease off. When he comes out of the bathroom, you're sitting in the window nook looking at your book, but thinking about the dog. He comes over, wiping his hands off on a towel. "Wanna go out 'n' shoot?" He seems to want to cheer you up.

Joel goes first. He looks through the scope at the trailer park. Ever since those guys showed up one night, he's looking for other raiders or troublemakers. Then he lines up a shot at the usual target. Your eyes are on his biceps. When Joel is about to take aim, the rare sound of ducks honking startles you. They should’ve already flown South. Joel gets up on his knees and aims toward the front of the flock. He hits one, shifts ahead of the flock, and hits another. It gives you butterflies. You hear a thud as the second one hits the ground.

“Nice!” you tell him. He winks at you and puts the gun strap over his shoulder. You smooth your dress under your butt as you stand up, then adjust the thigh holster. Joel groans as he stands up. You peer down toward where the birds fell, and something is moving up the hill. A bird, moving strangely. A dead bird, in a little dog's mouth.

You gasp. Joel looks at you, then follows your eyes. The bird is as big as the dog. His mouth is open wide to fit the neck. He crests the hill and drops the bird. "Good boy!" You praise. He does a happy circle and trots back down the hill.

You look at Joel and try not to smile. Joel puts his hand on his hip and shifts his weight to one leg. He looks down at the ground and rubs brow with the flat of his index finger, squinting. When the dog returns with the second bird, Joel mutters, "alright, big guy," and squats down to accept the bird from his mouth. Then you barely hear him mutter, "good boy." The dog does another circle and trots around the other side of the trailer.

"How'd he find us, all this way?" You marvel.

"Must have some hound in’m," Joel shakes his head. “Guess ya made an impression.”

Joel starts a fire and boils two big pots of water. The dog keeps a respectful distance, lounging in the same clover patch where you were sitting earlier. Joel chops the heads and feet off the birds, and tosses them on the ground. The dog scurries over, wagging his tail. He drags one of the duck heads over to the grass to chew on with his butt in the air and his tail wagging furiously, all the way upright now.

Joel beckons you back inside to wash up and change. He takes a quick shower while you take off the flannel and wash your hands in the kitchen sink. You take off the belt, untethering the ribbons, but you leave the holster on. You sit back down in the window nook.

—-

When Joel comes out from the bathroom, he sits down, manspreads, and pats the kitchen table in front of him, looking at the skirt of your dress as you get up from your seat. You unholster your gun and set it down, then use your hands to help yourself onto the surface, sitting on your dress so your thighs won't stick. Joel spreads your knees so he can be between them, and grabs your ass to scoot you closer.

He lifts the dress to look at the holster, and he puts his toothpick in his mouth.

"s'prised it worked," he mutters. He eyes your legs and runs his hands all the way up your thighs with a deep breath. "Looks good on ya, too," he murmurs. He thumbs the ribbon of the holster, then unties it. He unbuckles the real strap, too. Then he lifts your knee, slides the holster out from under you, and sets it aside with the gun. He runs his hand over the indentation in your skin from the buckle. "that hurt?" He asks.

"No."

He puts his elbows down on either side of your hips, and his biceps rest against your thighs. He looks back and forth between your breasts and takes the toothpick out of his mouth. Without taking his eyes off you, he throws it into the kitchen sink and it hits the metal with a light plink.

He furrows his brow and looks at your body, then puts his cheek flat against your breast at the lace neckline of your cotton dress while he palms the opposite tit. He turns his face to nose your nipple, and it hardens through the fabric of your dress. He dampens the cotton with his mouth as he flattens his tongue against it. One hand holds your back, near your shoulder blade for leverage, with his thumb hooked under your arm.

He kisses wetly at your breast through your dress, then glances up at you. His hands slide up to the straps of your dress. He gently nudges the straps off your shoulder. His fingers skim your nipples as he curls his thick fingers into the lace neckline, then pulls the dress down below your tits. He presses his wide tongue onto your nipple and closes his eyes as he latches onto it. Then he lets go with a soft pop and sucks below the nipple as he massages the other breast. You're gushing arousal with your legs wide open. He inhales through his nose and his stomach growls.

"Joel," you sigh, resting your hands on his muscular back. You watch his vein

His only response is "Mmm," into your nipple. You're throbbing, and the more attention he pays to your tits, the more your cunt aches to be filled. You want to let him explore your body, it's not something he normally does, but it also makes you want his cock so bad. You want him to slide you off the table and sink you onto his massive erection. He's really taking his time. You take a deep breath and try to relax. Your clit twitches.

Joel pulls down the dress a little more, exposing an inch or two below your breasts. He switches sides, dragging his mouth to his right, your left. With your left nipple in his mouth, he looks up at you and makes sleepy eye contact. His pupils are blown wide.

"Joel, I want it," you plead.

His tongue trails as he moves his mouth an inch to the right of your nipple, then he closes his eyes again. He licks and sucks the outer curve of your breast, massaging the other one with a thumb lightly brushing the nipple, then the heel of his palm flattening it into your breast. His eyes open to watch his massive hand moving languidly on your breast.

You whine his name again and slot your fingers into his dark, curly hair. He doesn't look up. You finger his curls and the pads of your fingers lightly caress his scalp. He pulls his mouth off your breast and backs his head away enough to look at your body. You let your fingers fall out of his hair and rest back on his shoulders. One of his hands moves to rest on your hip, his fingers curling around your flesh and his thumb brushing the hem of your dress.

His voice is low and husky. "Ever feel like ya just. . ." He meets your gaze with hungry eyes, then looks at your lips. "gotta have your mouth on somethin’?"

His eyes fall down your body as he sits back and palms himself through his jeans. You whisper "yeah," with a smile and begin to scoot off the table so you can suck him off. He abruptly leans forward and stops you with both hands firmly on your hips. He doesn't let you move. His brow furrows. He looks back and forth between your breasts and noses a nipple again. He murmurs low and gruff into your supple skin, "Ain't talkin' 'bout you."

Your chest erupts in goosebumps. He drags his hands down your dress to the bare skin of your legs, then slides his massive palms back up your thighs, slipping his fingers under your dress, leaving his thumbs hooked on top. You brace your hands on the table to lift your butt for him. His hands keep moving up, reaching your hips. The fabric of your dress bunches above your ass, then he curls his fingers under the waistband of your panties and begins to take them down. You let yourself back down on the table as he slides the underwear down your legs. It dangles between his fingers as he brings his hand to your neck and caresses the side of your throat with his thumb.

You feel the damp cotton against your throat and smell your own arousal as he grips your jaw. He locks eyes with you for less than a second before his gaze drifts downward. He returns his other palm to your breast, fingers slotting under your arm to hold you steady as he pushes you down until your back is flat on the table. He nudges your thighs farther apart. He sucks in a sharp breath through his nose and hums "Mmm."

He drops the panties on the table. He spreads you open and thumbs your folds, bringing the moisture up to your clit. He hunches over to bring his face between your legs and his left hand reaches up to fondle a breast. He drags his nose through your slick and inhales, then moans at your scent. He plants his mouth on the crease of your thigh. He sucks the skin into his mouth, then lets go. He runs two knuckles through your folds, then gently nudges his middle finger inside. Your walls spasm around the intrusion and he breathes, "god damn."

He pumps his finger once and adds a second digit. You moan, and he hums a deep "Mmm," in response. He takes his fingers out and sucks one, then both into his mouth. "Fuck," he breathes.

He doesn't waste any more time, spreading you wide open with his thumbs and burying his face in your cunt. He starts at your entrance where your wetness pools and licks up from there, punctuating the first lick with a kiss on the clit that makes your thighs tremble. Then he laps at you more selfishly, like he's thirsty, like he needs to drink you. His tongue starts flat and stiffens as he digs for more and explores each crevasse. He moans into your folds. You've never felt anything as powerful and precise as his tongue. It's stronger than his fingers. It makes you tingle in one swipe, then presses into the tingle for relief. He holds you gently until you wriggle in pleasure and he holds you down firmer with one forearm across your lower belly.

He breathes through his nose and moans as he devours you. When he pauses, he draws in a deeper breath through his mouth then exhales vocally against your wet cunt.

"Feel good?" He asks with a glance to your face, then plants his mouth on your clit.

He slides one then two fingers into your core again and you gasp then answer "y-yeah," as he sucks your clit while he pumps them.

He takes his arm off your abdomen to unbutton his pants and take his stiff cock out. He pulls his face away from your pussy. You're throbbing, and your body races to replenish all the moisture he's sucked up. He gathers some on his fingers then also spits into his hand and wraps it around his length. You want it inside you so, so bad. You hear the squelching as his hand moves up and down his shaft.

He brings his face between your legs again and puts his arm back on top of you to hold you still, angling his elbow so his thumb is planted at your clit. He laps at you again, moaning into your throbbing, swollen lips. He firmly licks between your clit and hole, then thrusts his tongue into your entrance and you whimper. He tilts his head and jabs his sharpened tongue into you again and again, pumping his cock all the while. He noses your clit as he sucks and laps, then fucks you with his tongue again.

You writhe under his arm. "Yeah," he whispers before planting his mouth again. He works your clit with his thumb as he thrusts his tongue into you, dragging it against the top wall, and your desperate cunt twitches against him. You let out a long whine, and his thumb gently rubs the top of your clit, over your hood.

"Joel," you whimper and it turns into a moan.

His thumb slows down, and he gathers more slick on his fingers. He wipes it on his shaft, then pulls you by the thighs closer to the edge, unsticking your bare ass from the table. You sit up on your elbows and whimper, "want you. . ."

He's holding his cock, chest heaving. "Want this?"

"Yeah-yes," you whimper. "Please."

He gazes darkly at your cunt and decides, "Ain't done yet."

You whine his name as he puts his face between your legs again. He sucks your clit for a few seconds until you're whimpering, then he plants his mouth a little lower. He flattens two fingers to rubs your clit while he fucks you with his tongue. You moan his name as your climax seizes you, and you clench around his tongue. He moves his hand from your clit to your mound to hold you steady as you come. He withdraws his tongue from your hole and laps up and down your folds for a few seconds as you continue to twitch.

Then he stands up, holding his stiff, wet cock. His face is flushed, and he's shiny from the nose down. He braces a hand on the table and teases your clit with his swollen tip. You flinch in pleasure, still reeling from your first orgasm. He notches his tip at your wet little hole, holds onto your thighs,.and shoves himself into you with a groan. He stays in for a moment, sighing “Ohh, fuck,” admiring your body as it rushes to accommodate him. You spasm around him, still twitching with aftershocks.

He backs up then slams into you with a low growl from his chest. It's a lot to take, but god it feels good. He lifts your legs and puts his arms under your knees, wrapping his hands over to hold your thighs as he buries his length in you, grunting and sighing. His balls slap against your ass. His biceps flex, and It isn't long before you begin to moan and writhe, and squeeze his cock.

"Good girl," he breathes. "Good, sweet pea."

He closes his eyes and fucks you through it. He breathes deep and slow, like he's trying not to come yet. He slows way down, moans, then bottoms out and begins to pulse. He brings his hands to either side of your body and hovers over you while he thrusts slowly with each warm burst he releases. You milk his cock until his balls are empty, then your contractions fade.

Joel hovers there, admiring your body. Then he slides out and sits down on the chair between your legs again. His armpits are warm and humid on your thighs. He puts one hand on each breast and lowers his head to rest his cheek on your lower abdomen, tickling you with his beard. He wipes his mouth on your belly and a spot of drool from the corner of his mouth hits your skin. He stares off at the front door of the trailer in a trance, gently cupping your breasts. He mumbles, "Taste so good, sweet pea."

You reach for his hair and he doesn't stop you from fingering his curls. His eyelids droop, and after a few seconds, he closes his eyes. You lightly massage his scalp again.

He only allows himself a minute or two before he tenses and clears his throat. He lifts his head and slides his hands under your arms, helping you sit up straight.

“I'll check the birds,” he says as he tucks his cock away. He squeezes your thigh and gives you a wink before he stands up to go outside.

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Thank you for reading and engaging 🖤 It means the world to me when you show him your love! whether this post is new or old. I also love when people throw a comment when they re-read. It's like adding coals to the fire that keeps me warm and writing lol.

You can find more raider!Joel oral on the raider master list under hypotheticals/imagines/HCs.

My tag lists are being phased out. . . please subscribe to notifications on @toxicfics.

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All Joel minus ones i'm pretty sure already saw it or are on toxic notifs or don't read joel anymore? . . : @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading

Raider: @randomhoe @princessloveweird @mugshotqueen @anas-dreamer @eggnox @dindjarins-brown-eyed-girl @tulipsatmidnight @imaginary98 @neobanguniverse@quietlyignoringyou

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #tw animal death #tw animal neglect #dark!joel miller #raider!joel miller #toxicanonymity ☠️#raider!joel #raider!joel ☠️

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a-reader-and-a-writer · 6 months

Text

Remember....

AI-Less Whumptober 2023: 6. Mind Control, 23. Begging, 24. Hunted Down, 25. Nightmares, Alt. 11. Suffocation, Alt. 29. Prison Fandom: Marvel, Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier, f!reader Summary: When reactivated while infiltrating a HYDRA base, the Winter Soldier is now on the hunt for the two people Bucky cares most for in this world. Word Count: 2171 TW: Character Death (or is it...?), Nightmares, Mind Control, Choking, Hunted Down, Chased Notes: A huge thank you to @musings-of-a-rose for the ask that inspired this! 🥰 Also thank you so much @loverhymeswith for beta reading for me! Part of @ailesswhumptober's event

The snow had just begun to fall once more as The Asset entered the woods. Around him, the wild underbrush jutted out through blankets of undisturbed frost, and the bare trees stood like shadows against the moonlight. Anyone else may have paused to take in this haunting beauty, and yet, he stalked forward without the slightest hesitation. Beauty and nature meant nothing to him, especially on a night like tonight. Because tonight, the Winter Soldier was on a mission.

He continued deeper into the woods, his steady stride never wavering as he tracked his prey. Two SHIELD agents had infiltrated the base he had been guarding and, as they fled into the woods, his handlers ordered him to terminate them. For just a second, there was the slightest hitch in his march as a thought tickled at the back of his mind: He couldn’t remember anything before the order. It was as if time hadn’t existed until that moment.

But the thought disappeared as quickly as it had appeared and his steadfast pursuit continued. It didn’t matter anyway. He was made to follow commands and nothing else held any importance to him. So, even if this one order was the only memory he had, that was enough.

The Asset reached a small clearing in the trees and paused, listening intently to the silent landscape around him as his eyes scanned the area for any indication of where his prey had gone.

To his left, there was a set of heavy boot tracks imprinted into the snow and the underbrush had been haphazardly pushed aside leading in a clear path. Small splatters of blood stood out against the pure white canvas further illuminating the trail. It was all so blatantly obvious that even someone with absolutely no training would be able to spot it. It was the sort of trail left by either an amateur or someone deliberately attempting to draw his attention.

To his right, however, the snow had barely been disturbed to the point he had to kneel in order to truly see anything in the pale moonlight. And even then, only the faintest of markings could be made out in the densely packed snow, boot prints that could have only been made with the gentlest of care.

Most hunters would take one look at the first trail and charge after the prey in that direction. Whatever had gone that way was apparently hurt, possibly to the point of not being able to mask their escape route. However, the Winter Soldier was no ordinary hunter and he instantly recognized the trails for what they were. The pair of agents had split up and they were trying to draw him towards the stronger of the two.

He stood and resumed his hunt—taking the path to the right.

Though they had escaped before he was able to get more than a glance at them, The Asset had identified the agents as a man and a woman. The man was taller, broader, and most assuredly stronger than his companion. In fact, he may even pose a challenge to The Asset in hand-to-hand combat, something that he had rarely encountered.

However, everyone had a weakness. And by the way the man had shielded the woman and aided in her escape into the woods, it was clear that she could very well be that weakness. By tracking her down, The Asset would not only be able to take out the easier target first, but if he captured her, he would have leverage over the man. A leverage he could use to take out the man as well.

Suddenly, The Asset picked up the faint sound of panting up ahead and he lengthened his stride. Within a few moments, he caught a glimpse of the woman through the trees as she hurried as quickly as she could while still creating those faintest of footprints. However, she must have caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye because her head whirled in his direction and their eyes locked across the snowy woodland.

They both froze in place as they held one another’s gaze. And slowly, her wide-eyed panicked expression softened and, inexplicably, she gave him a cautious smile as her eyes sparkled with a hopeful gleam. She mouthed something he couldn’t understand but it ultimately didn’t matter. He didn’t need to know what she had said in order to complete his mission.

But as he took a step towards her, the terror instantly returned to her face and she bolted, no longer concerned about masking her tracks. She fled into the trees as fast as her legs would carry her but it was going to be a futile effort. She was no match for the power of the Winter Soldier.

He took off after her, weaving in and out of the trees with ease. As he began to close the distance between them, the woman pulled out a gun and pointed it at him. There was a momentary hesitation….then the sound of the gun shattered the quiet of the night.

The Asset easily blocked the bullet with his left arm and continued running. The woman let off a few more shots but he continued to either avoid or deflect them. Possibly because she wasn’t able to aim as she fired while still running, but he found it strange none of the shots were targeting his head or chest. Even if he slipped up and a bullet did manage to hit him, with their trajectory, they would only cause minimal damage. They would definitely slow him down but they would not do enough to stop him for good.

As he closed the distance, he heard the recognizable click of the trigger being pulled on an empty gun and the woman swore. Tossing the gun to the side, she reached for a second weapon, but it was too late. He had caught up to her.

Reaching out, The Asset grabbed the back of her tact vest and hurled her into the side of the nearest tree. She slammed into it with a sickening thump and the sound of breaking bones followed. Curled at the base of the tree, the woman screamed as she grabbed her left shoulder, her arm jutting out at an unnatural angle. But that didn’t stop her from trying to escape him.

As he stalked towards her, she used her feet to push herself back a few feet until she bumped up against a tree. Looking up at him, tears streaming down her face, she begged as he approached, “Bucky, stop! Don’t do this, please! Baby, this isn’t you, not anymore. The Winter Soldier is gone. You’re James Buchanan Barnes—you’re Bucky—and you don’t have to do this. Just try to remember. Please, baby, please come back to me. I love you! Just remember!”

But her words meant nothing to him.

The Asset’s metal fingers closed around her throat and he lifted her off the ground. Her legs began to thrash frantically in the air as her fingers on her right hand clawed at his own. It was an instinctual act, her body attempting to free her windpipe despite the obvious uselessness of her nails on Vibranium. She tried to choke out more pleas for her life, but all she could manage were a few raspy hisses. Her eyes were bulging in her head and The Asset watched as her blood vessels broke and clouds of crimson leached into the whites of her eyes.

Soon however, her clawing and writing slowed to little more than a twitch as her body began to shut down from lack of oxygen. And just as he felt one last desperate gasp building in her throat, he tightened his grip. He felt the bones and cartilage in her neck give way with a loud crunch and her body instantly went limp in his grasp.

The Asset heard someone calling out a name from behind him and the sound of something large crashing through the trees. He turned just as the other agent he had been sent to track down burst into the clearing. The man staggered to a stop as he saw his companion still dangling from The Asset’s hand.

As The Asset opened his fist, the woman dropped in a lifeless heap at his feet. In a mock imitation of her fall, the man dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face. As he stared up at The Asset—not in fear or in defiance, but in agony—he whispered, “Bucky…. What did you do?”

The Asset reached into his belt, pulled out his gun, and aimed it directly between the man’s eyes as he said, “Who the hell is—”

Bucky bolted up from his resting place on the floor, chest heaving as he gasped for air, a cold layer of sweat coating his body. Looking around frantically, his breathing slowed slightly as he took in the sterile room around him and he remembered where he was. He had been sleeping. It had been a dream.

Collapsing back down with a sigh, Bucky stared up at the ceiling. He scrubbed his hand over his face as he attempted to wipe the vision of your lifeless body from his mind, but it didn’t work. No matter how hard he tried or what else he focused on, you were still there, hanging limply in his grasp as he heard the crunch—

Sick to his stomach and struggling to get his heart to stop racing, Bucky climbed unsteadily to his feet. However, he had barely taken two uneasy steps before he reached the wall and was forced to turn, take a few steps, and turn again. For the most part, he had become accustomed to his tiny room—after all, it was still a vast improvement over the cryostasis chamber he had spent the majority of the last fifty years in. However, at night he wished he had some way to work off his adrenaline-fueled energy. Not that he really wanted to go back to sleep. Sleep meant dreaming, and dreaming meant repeating this cycle all over again with the same agonizing scene playing in his head.

Because it wasn't just a dream…it was a memory.

Six months ago, a HYDRA agent had gotten ahold of his trigger words and reactivated the Winter Soldier when Bucky tracked him down along with you and Steve. Trapped once more within his programming, The Asset had been ordered to find and eliminate both of the SHIELD agents that posed a threat to HYDRA. Steve was able to bring Bucky back just before he could complete his mission, and he re-emerged from the conditioning to find you lying at his feet—your throat crushed and tears still staining your face.

You who had never given up on him no matter what. You who had never looked at him with fear or pity, only kindness and understanding. You who constantly reassured him that he would never hurt you. You who he loved more than life itself.

You who he had murdered in cold blood.

Once he had been reexamined and deemed no longer a threat, SHIELD had agreed to let Bucky go and chalk your murder up to “collateral mission damage” but he had refused. He was a danger to every person he was around, especially the few remaining people he still had whom he cared about. The fact it took your death for him to finally accept that fact was devastating but he was never going to let it happen again. That was why he voluntarily offered himself over to SHIELD’s custody so he could pay for all of his previous crimes. SHIELD was more than happy to oblige him and they immediately confiscated his Vibranium arm and threw him in The Raft. Bucky just hoped they never let him out.

Steve hadn’t agreed with his decision—he still didn’t—and had tried everything he could to talk Bucky out of it. He pleaded for him to reconsider, that it had been the Winter Soldier who had ended your life, not Bucky himself. But Steve didn’t understand. No one did.

It didn’t matter where he spent the remainder of his life. From the moment your life ended, he had been given a life sentence of endless torment. Bucky might not have been in control that night, but that didn’t mean he didn’t remember what happened. That he didn’t hear your voice sobbing as you begged him to remember you, remember that you loved him. That he didn’t feel your fingernails snapping as they tried to dig into his metal hand in a futile attempt to pry it away from your throat. That he didn’t watch the last beautiful spark in your eyes flare once before fading into oblivion as he crushed your neck.

No. His mind had already become his prison before he was placed behind bars. And this time, there were no magic words anyone could say to bring him back and allow him to escape from it.

Taglist: @loverhymeswith, @tavners, @sunshineflowerchild789, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @merlehs, @mandylove100, @writercole, @princessmisery666, @musings-of-a-rose, @mayhem24-7forever, @depresseddyslexic

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 1 year

Text

Last Kiss

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Jake “Hangman” Seresin, f!reader

Summary: You were Jake's first everything. Unfortunately, for every first, there has to be a last.

Word Count: 1062

TW: Angst, Blood, Concussion, Major Head Injury, Reader Death, Car Accident

Note: Written for @footprintsinthesxnd's 500 Follower Celebration. Big thanks to @loverhymeswith for beta reading for me! 💖

You were his first kiss.

As Jake headed to the bus after school in sixth grade, you popped out and dragged him into an empty classroom. Before he could ask what you were doing, you pressed your lips firmly against his. It was your typical closed lip, “smash my face into yours” sort of juvenile kiss, but it still made Jake’s head spin. As you stepped back, a sheepish smile on your face, he stared at you with his jaw hanging open. But then you tore from the room and Jake ended up missing the bus.

However, he didn’t stay speechless for long. The next day, he asked you to get ice cream after school and his best friend quickly became his girlfriend.

You were his first time.

Your parents were naive to allow two fifteen-year-olds to study alone in their house while they were at work. As soon as Jake walked in the door, you took his hand and led him into your room. Sitting him down on the bed, you stood before him while you tugged your shirt over your head. Jake was once again left in a stunned silence, even as you climbed onto his lap and unhooked your bra.

What happened next was awkward, and clumsy, and over way too quickly, but neither of you really seemed to mind. In fact, despite how much the two of you improved over the years, that first time always held a special place in Jake’s heart.

You were his first forever.

The night he came home from the Academy, Jake got down on one knee in front of you. He had planned to make it special, to really blow you away with his proposal, but he didn’t even fully make it through the front door before he couldn’t wait any longer. He knew he had missed you, but he hadn’t realized how much until he laid eyes on you again.

You fell to your knees beside him, covering his face with your kisses and your tears as you cried “Yes!” over and over again. And though you both knew it would have to be a long engagement with Jake’s burgeoning career, it didn’t matter because you were his and he was yours. For the rest of your lives.

You were his first loss.

The two of you were heading home after celebrating the news that he had been accepted into Top Gun. While it meant having to delay the wedding yet again, you had been nothing but supportive and overjoyed to hear about Jake’s accomplishment and it made his selection all the more special to him.

It was late and Jake glanced over to look at you resting your head on the passenger window. You looked so beautiful in the dim light that it was hard to look away. Jake never saw the semi that ran the red light until it plowed into the side of his truck.

The world exploded in a shower of glass and metal. Jake was thrown from the truck but luckily, he soared over the asphalt and tumbled into the snow on the side of the road. It was still a rough landing and he was left dazed for several minutes. When he regained some semblance of coherence, he lifted his head to see the burning remnants of his truck in front of him.

Despite the pain in his side from what felt like broken ribs, or the soreness of every muscle in his body, Jake scrambled to his feet and woozily stumbled towards the passenger side. As he approached, he could see you shifting slightly in the seat where you were still strapped down which seemed like a good sign. But as he got closer, he had to stop himself from falling to his knees in dismay.

During the collision, your head must have slammed violently into the passenger window. It had shattered on impact and pieces of glass jutted from your scalp. The right side of your head was drenched in blood which cascaded down your face, obscuring your right eye. Your left pupil was blown wide, almost completely dilated, and though he was just inches in front of you, Jake could tell you were struggling to focus on him. There was no doubt that you had a severe concussion, if not something much worse.

When he reached you and carefully pried open what was left of your door, your lips began to move, though no sound came out. Finally, you managed a weak, “Ja–... J–...Ja–...” Your speech was slurred and stilted and it seemed as if you were struggling to form complete words.

Jake took your hand. “I’m here, baby. I’m here.”

“He–...Hea–.... Head.”

“I know. I know your head hurts. But help is coming and they’re gonna get you patched right up and give you something for the pain. I just need you to hold on.” He squeezed your hand tighter as if doing so would transfer some of his strength into you.

Your lips began to move again, but the words took longer to come this time. Eventually, Jake could hear your whisper, “L–…L–…Lo–…Love…. Ooo.”

Jake had to bite his lip to keep his sob from tearing from his chest. Once he managed to choke it down, he brushed your hair gently from the uninjured side of your face and said, “I love you too. So much.”

Carefully, he leaned over and pressed his lips to yours. It was a chaste kiss, yet a fierce one and it reminded Jake of your first kiss all those years ago. Though this time instead of strawberry lip gloss, your lips tasted of iron and rust.

When he pulled back, a ghost of a smile flickered across your lips seconds before everything dimmed as if someone just unplugged you. You went slack and your one visible eye stared off into nothingness.

Jake felt his heart shatter as he desperately clutched at your limp body, frantic for the slightest hope he was wrong. “No, no, no. Baby, come on. Stay with me. Please. Come on. No. No…. no.”

He buried his face into your still chest, tears stinging his eyes. And though he could hear the sounds of ambulances quickly approaching, he knew it was too late.

You were his first kiss. But he was your last.

Taglist: @valoraxxx-blog, @m3laniehearts, @autumnleaves1991-blog, @rule107, @vintageleather, @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak, @slutforadambanks, @americaarse, @reneki, @ynbutbetter , @sugarcoated-lame, @imagineadream, @sadpetalsstuff, @salty-thembo, @rachelizabethgraham, @duckandrobin, @queenbbarnes, @grincheveryday, @uselesslyromantic, @choochoo284, @littlebadariell, @blue-aconite, @thescarletknight2014, @dempy, @nik2blog, @dumb-fawkin-bitch, @shirley2996, @kkrenae, @zebralover

#fic #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman #hangman x reader #jake seresin #glen powell #jake seresin x reader #f!reader #angst #whump #grief tw #blood tw #car accident tw #reader death tw #concussion tw

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gglitch1dd · 26 days

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Cheating Dilf Izuku Pt3

Husband Midoriya Izuku x Wifey Reader

Warning: Mentions of infidelity, BLOOD, VIOLENCE, mentions of a child's death, Canon typical terrorism and violence. READER DESCRETION IS ADVISED.

[PART 2] [PART 2.5] [Cheating Dilf Izuku MASTERLIST]

“You know why I like being friends with you?” Hanta asked as he looked over to Izuku who sat next to him as the plane slowly went down the runway, just having landed.

Izuku shook his head as he held a cup of juice in hand. “Nope.”

Hanta leaned back with champagne in his glass and an easy smile on his face, the first easy smile in a long time. He looked over to Izuku raised his glass to him. “Cause I get to travel on your private jet.” He stated bluntly making Izuku laugh in amusement.

You and your entire friend group had decided to take a vacation to a resort so that you could all get away from work. It was initially just going to be your family and the Seros, but then the Iidas and the Todorokis were free, then the Satos and then even Bakugou and Kirishima. Soon, you were all booked and flying.

Which is how you found yourself herding your boys out of the private jet one by one. “Hero, no running!” You shouted at your second youngest as you held Koda’s hand as you headed towards the VIP lounge where you would meet your friends. You sighed as you shook your head.

“Don’t worry mom.” Toshinori stated with a hand to your arm and a smile before doing a brisk jog towards where your boys had run off to. “WHAT DID MOM TELL YOU!” He shouted only making you laugh.

You were glad to see the boys so excited for a holiday. It had been just over a year since your last full family holiday and it was nice to go out again. You had to admit that it was a bit hard, packing for the boys and making sure you had all their documentation and realising that one of your boys wouldn’t be going on this trip with you.

You clutched the little stuffed rabbit toy that held just a little bit of your son’s ashes in it. It felt wrong to leave him behind, but then again it also felt wrong to go on this vacation at all despite how needed it was.

Izuku moved to pick up Koda and throw him in the air making the little boy let out a loud giggle. He hoisted him up onto his shoulders to sit there. “You good up there buddy?” He asked as he held onto Koda’s leg as his other hand carried one of the bags you had on the plane with you.

The little four-year old, nodded with a smile. “Yah.” He notified as he held onto his father tightly.

You smiled up at your little boy as you all headed out to collect your bags.

“Hey.”

You turned to look at Mina who gave you a gentle smile, coming up beside you and taking your arm. You gave her a trying smile. “Hi.” You said softly as you leaned against her gently but tried to focus back forward.

Mina’s eyebrows furrowed noticing how hard this was for you. She pulled you tighter against her as the two of you walked side by side. “Y/N…” You turned to look to her with a hum. You looked to Mina who had a sad smile on her face. You then noticed that in her other hand was a little stuffed teddy bear that looked like a cute spider. You knew that within that little teddy bear was the ashes of her daughter. She gave you a nod. “We’ll get through this.” She reminded you.

You smiled, remembering that out of everyone in this world, there were two other people who knew the pain you had been carrying in your heart for the past six months. “We always do.” You told her honestly.

Side by side, the two of you got your bags before heading to the VIP lounge. There you already found Tenya and Mei as well as Denki, Shinso and Jirou. Izuku and the other men got your luggage so long carried towards the pickup area for your hotel while you waited.

You sat in the waiting area with Momo, sipping on a cider when you noticed a certain large man heading towards all of your direction.

“Hey everyone! Sorry we’re late.” Eijiro said with a bright smile, his hair was it’s natural black with a few light grey strands now. He walked beside his new wife of two years who had a noticeable pregnancy bump to her and his daughter Satomi who had a bright smile as she pulled her own bag, and last but not least his youngest daughter, Reika, who was strapped to his chest dressed in a little Red Riot onesie and chewing on a toy.

“There they are!” Denki said with a broad grin. “We were afraid you wouldn’t show up.”

“And miss this?” Eijiro asked as he held his wife’s hand. “Not in the world.” He laughed. Ever since meeting his new wife its as if Eijiro got a piece of himself back again. He seemed brighter and happier since the divorce. Satomi immediately moved over to say her hellos and stand along with Toshinori and their friends.

Shoto looked left and right with a blank expression. “Where’s Bakugou?” He asked.

“Right here you icy hot bastard!” The loud voice of Bakugou Katsuki was heard as he pulled his bag along with a rather board looking Kane who kept headphones on his head as he walked beside his father. Katsuki held a scowl on his face as he carried his and his son’s passports. Katsuki grew sideburns now and still managed to look as burly and mean as ever, but it suited him. He tsked. “Stupid passport lady tried to confiscate my utility belt. Had to pull out my hero permit and everything.” He growled out annoyed.

Kane ignored his father as he walked over to you. He smiled. “Hey Aunty Y/N.” He greeted as he slid off his headphones.

You smiled up at him, putting a hand to his face. “Hey there baby. How have you been doing?” You asked with a sympathetic look. Ever since Eijiro and Katsuki’s divorce, Katsuki had won custody over Kane and the blond lived with him eighty percent of the time.

Kane shrugged looking more and more like his father everyday but still so young and so much softer too. “Same old same old.” He answered cryptically. You knew he wouldn’t answer you immediately. The poor boy had a habit of concealing his real feelings and keeping them away from everyone else. You gave him a sad smile and he took that as a cue to head over to Toshinori and Satomi, who happily accepted her older brother in a hug.

“Great. Now that we’re all here we can head to the hotel!” Tenya stated factually.

You leaned back in your lounge chair as you saw the kids have fun in the pool. Izuku was in the pool with the kids with Hanta and Sato too. They all looked like they were having a great time. Eijiro was at the grill with Shinso and Tenya, getting food started already. Your entire friendgroup had purchased the east side VIP part of the hotel, allowing you a whole lot of freedom and privacy.

Mina let out a hum as she was peering over her glasses at something. She glanced over at you for a moment before looking back forward. “Is it weird that I’m sorta rooting for us to be in-laws.” You raised an eyebrow at what she was saying. She motioned forward at the side of the pool.

You looked over there to see Toshinori sitting at the edge of the pool talking to Hina Sero, Mina and Hanta’s oldest daughter. He seemed like he was having a good time, talking while she laughed as she sat beside him. Unlike Mina she took after her father’s skin tone but had Mina’s eyes so it was easy to see the blush on her face.

You turned to look at Mina with a knowing expression. She looked at you with the same smug expression and laughed. “That would be interesting.” You stated as you decided to spectate a bit more. You noticed Kane was chasing Sonomi Todoroki (Shoto’s daughter) around with a water gun. Satomi was sitting not too far away keeping a lace cover up over herself as she sat in a one-piece swimming costume.

Your eyebrows furrowed for a moment. “Satomi.” At the sound of your voice, she turned around to look at you. She stood up and walked over to you. Satomi had always been on the chubby side but it suited her so well. You knew she was fit and she always tried to keep in shape but she was just naturally rounder. It made you sad to see her holding her body like that.

“Yes, Aunty Y/N? You need anything?” She asked you politely as she walked over to stand at your side.

“Are you alright? You haven’t dipped into the pool yet.” You expressed your observations as you looked up at her.

She hesitated but gave you a gentle smile. “I’m alright. I just… I don’t know if I’ll have fun.” She confided in you with a shrug.

“I’m sure you can have a great time! I’m sure Toshinori would do make sure of it. Toshinori!” You called to your son who was sitting at the edge of the pool. He turned to look at you, from the sound of your voice. He waved a hand and stood up, deciding to come to you.

Immediately you saw Satomi get pale. She shook her head, her dyed red hair in a braid over one side of her shoulder. “No, no it’s okay. Toshinori doesn’t have to-”

You waved a hand done. “Stuff and nonsense I’m sure he would be happy to.” You told her as Toshinori walked over.

“Yes mom?” He asked, folding his arms over his bare chest.

“Can you help Satomi have fun?” You asked him sweetly.

He grinned. “Sure. Come on, Satomi.” Without warning, you watched your son pick her up like she was a sack of flower.

Poor Satomi went red in the face as she kicked her legs. “TOSHI! Toshi put me down! I’m heavy!” She complained.

Toshinori seemed unbothered as he shook his head. “Nope. My dad is heavy, you aren’t.” He told her as he ran towards the pool, making the poor girl scream as he jumped inside with her.

“IZUKU!” Eijiro shouted as your husband seemed to have gotten out of the pool heading towards you. Eijiro pointed tongs towards your husband with a glare, before motioning to the pool where Satomi was being curried towards the edge by Toshi. “Get your son away from my daughter!”

“He’s harmless.” Izuku shrugged with a smug look on his face. He motioned to his chest. “He’s just like his old man.”

“Then we’re doomed.” Momo stated nonchalantly making Pony giggle.

You watched as Izuku walked over to you. You watched him with a raised eyebrow until suddenly you were up and off your chair. Your eyes grew wide as you were thrown over your husband’s shoulder. “Izuku? What are you doing?” You asked destressed.

“You haven’t gotten into the water yet.” He said factually.

You wiggled and kicked as you started to panic, not wanting to get into the cold water. “IZUKU PUT ME DOWN! RIGHT THIS INSTANT.”

He held your thighs tightly as he marched right over to the pool. “No can do, sweetheart.”

“BOYS! Help me!” You shouted. Hero ran over to you with laughs as he tried to pull you off of Izuku’s shoulder. “Attack your father!” Without hesitation, Izuku grabbed Hero by his boxers and flung him into the pool. Your face dropped in horror as your husband and your friends laughed as he got right into the pool. You squirmed as he moved you into his arms as you squealed and couldn’t help but laugh as he kept you in the cold water.

“No! Izuku no!” You laughed with shrieks as he kept large arms wrapped around you.

He laughed as he kept you there. “Uh uh! You’re gonna love this and I won’t let go of you till you do.” He chuckled.

You wiggled and squirmed in his grasp. You held onto him as tight as you could as he walked deeper into the water, deep enough that you couldn’t touch the floor of the large pool. You moved to wrap your legs around him as you clung to him. You couldn’t help but giggle but you glared at him.

Izuku gave you a smirk and a broad grin at having you in his arms, his hands holding onto you securely. “Well hello there.” He moved his eyebrows making you chuckle at how cringe he was, but you couldn’t help but enjoy it.

You let out a sigh as you didn’t think about it. You rested your head on his shoulder as you let him hold you in the water. You didn’t want to think, you didn’t want to remember. Right now you wanted to be as close to your husband as you have ever been in the past eight months. You closed your eyes at the warm feeling of his skin even in the cold water, just wanting to float there with him.

Izuku went stiff realising what you were doing. Although he did know you had a bit to drink but he wasn’t going to reject this. Lord knows he might never get this opportunity again, so he held you. He held you like he was going to lose you. Because he knew he already did once.

You adults laughed as you sat together outside on the balcony, away from the rooms. All the kids were in their rooms, hopefully asleep. You had all put your eldest in charge of watching them in exchange for giving them free time to do whatever they wanted tomorrow. You sat outside together around a large table as waiters brought drinks and snacks to you all.

“It’s been wonderful!” Eijiro’s new wife expressed as she leaned back, one of Eijiro’s large arms over her shoulders as they sat next to each other. She kept on hand resting on her pregnancy bump and the other held her cup of apple juice. “Reika was such an adjustment but her and Satomi are the best of friends despite the age gap.”

Eijiro hummed as he nodded his head. “We were worried about the big age gap thing but it seems like it was misplaced.” He chuckled.

You waved a hand down with a shrug sipping on what must have been your fifth alcoholic drink today, the effects already making your head hazy. Izuku hummed as he sat next to you, his arms wrapped around his chest as he sat with his own drink in front of him. “As long as you give the older one enough attention, they understand.”

“Coming from the Midoriyas, you know it’s real advice.” Denki stated motioning to the both of you making you all laugh. He had a gentle blush on his cheeks showing the effects of alcohol on him. “Honestly, I was surprised that Koda was your last one. I was whole heartedly expecting at least two more boys.”

Izuku laughed and so did you. “No.” You shook your head. “Five boys-” You caught yourself there. You swallowed down harshly as your grip on your glass turned harsh. Izuku quickly caught on, putting a hand to your shoulder. You tried not to shrug it off but at the same time, you couldn’t help but feel that you needed it. Mina put a hand to your thigh with an emphathetic look. You let out a soft chuckle. “Four… four boys is enough for us, right now.” You shrugged it off. “Besides I’m sure the labour nurses are tired of seeing my face anyways.” You made a gentle joke to ease the mood.

“They sure are tired of seeing mine.” Pony let out with a gentle frown and a slight glare to Sato who put his hands up in surrender.

Denki took a sip of his drink and turned to Katsuki. The other blond had been otherwise silent the entire time, which was surprising considering that it was highly unlike the blond to do so. Denki tilted his head and motioned over to Katsuki. “Hey Kacchan.” Crimson eyes moved over to Denki. “How life been? You’ve been really hush-hush lately.” He let out surprisingly observant for someone who was half drunk already.

Katsuki shrugged with a gentle smirk on his face. “Nothing big. Just expecting someone soon.” He stated as he glanced at his phone screen before looking back at Denki.

“Oh?” The other blond male let out with a knowing look.

Eijiro held his tongue as he leaned back. Shoto however raised an eyebrow. “You’re seeing someone, Bakugou?” He asked.

“And you invited them here?” Mina let out unimpressed as she looked him up and down. It was safe to say that despite Katsuki having cheated on you in the past, Mina seemed to take it more personally than you did.

Katsuki shrugged as he leaned back. “I thought it would make things… interesting.” He stated as his crimson eyes moved to Izuku. “Especially since she has such good history with some of the people here.”

Your eyes flicked to Izuku who seemed just as confused as everyone else. However, catching your eye was a woman you never wanted to see again, least not on your vacation. “No…” You let out lowly. You looked to Izuku and the man looked annoyed as he rolled his eyes and brought a hand to his forehead.

“Hey everyone!” Walking over to your table was Ochaco. She was dressed in a pretty black dress as she did so, but her eyes were on you with a smug expression. Katsuki stood up and greeted her with a kiss to her cheek before moving to allow her to sit next to him.

You turned to look at Izuku, too drunk to bother to hide your expression. “What is she doing here?” You asked.

“Why can’t I be here?” Ochaco asked as she shrugged looking over at you.

“I don’t know.” Izuku looked over at you with a deep sigh, furrowed eyebrows.

You looked at him with a disbelieving look. “Did you invite her here?”

“Y/N I haven’t spoken to her in over a month, I swear.” He defended himself, telling the hard honest truth but you struggled to believe him.

“What’s the matter?” Mina asked with a hand to your side, wondering what on earth was going on and why you both seemed so tense to have Ochaco here.

Katsuki sat smugly across from you as he stared at you. Suddenly this entire holiday felt like one claustrophobic trap. This was all one elaborate scheme to have you cornered and look like a fool. “I have a question, Y/N?”

“I’m leaving.” You stated as you stood up from your seat. “I’m going to check up on the kids.”

“You can’t even answer one question?” Katsuki laughed as he looked up at you. “Like how you allow Deku, of all people, to cheat on you and you stayed with him but when I did it, you dumped me easier than you could breathe?”

“I beg your finest pardon?” Denki let out, sobering up quickly as all eyes went onto you and Izuku.

You stiffened at the question as you looked at Katsuki. He was doing this on purpose. He always did this on purpose. Getting you in an ugly position forcing you to side with him or entertain his position.

“Hold on!” Hanta let out, his eyes wide as he looked to Izuku. “You did what!?”

“Tell me, Y/N.”

Izuku stood up and pointed a finger at Katsuki with a warning glint in his eyes. “I’m warning you Kacchan, shut it! Y/N…” Izuku looked at you as he placed a hot hand to your shoulder. “Lets go. It’s late.”

“Don’t speak fo-”

“If you open your mouth again.” Izuku left open endedly with a flash of lightning in his eyes. “Yes, I cheated. Yes, I regret it more than I’ve regretted anything in my life. Yes, it was a mistake and yes Y/N knows about it. Yes, I stopped talking to Ochaco the moment Y/N and I talked about it and have no intention of continuing anything with her! So please!” He sighed as he clearly seemed like he was at his wits end. “Tonight can not get any worse!” Suddenly his phone rang making him groan as he pulled it out of his pocket. “WHAT!”

“Deku sir… Sorry to bother you on your holiday but there’s a Code S.”

Izuku moved a hand to the bridge of his nose. He was beginning to get a headache and as much as he wanted to put down the phone, he knew it was important. He had strictly told his sidekicks not to call him unless it was a Grade A or S level emergency. “Who is it?”

“It’s… It’s Jigsaw sir… He’s escaped out of tarturus.”

You immediately noticed the change in Izuku’s demeanour as he went pale. You could tell by how stiff he went and how his face fell. You felt uneasy as you looked at him with a questioning look.

Izuku swallowed down hard. “How long?”

“We aren’t sure sir. It could be hours since the security video was on repeat so we aren’t sure.”

Izuku let out a deep sigh as he furrowed his eyebrows, fear and anxiety bubbling in his chest as he realised just how bad this situation was. This was bad, very bad. Jigsaw could be anywhere and the last thing that you all needed this holiday. You watched as Izuku’s hold on his phone tightened as he scowled. “Ground every flight in this country, I don’t want him getting out. Send four jets here and get the bunker ready in my agency! I want every available unit scowering the country for him until he is found!”

“Yes, Deku sir.”

“Izuku.” You placed a hand on Izuku’s shoulder, pulling him out of his ProHero mode that had overcome him. Your eyebrows were furrowed in worry as you looked up at him, concern etched onto your face at the sound of his voice and the instructions he was giving to whoever he was on the phone with. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

Izuku hesitated to tell you but he knew it would be wiser to do so. He looked up at everyone before looking back down at you, putting down the call. “Jigsaw escaped.”

The glass you held in your hands shattered on the ground at the name you heard. Your entire body froze as pure fear rushed through your veins like cold water. Mina went pale at the news and Hanta looked visibly sick. Everyone immediately went on edge.

The name of the villain that had intentionally stalked you and your friends. The name of the villain that had hunted down your son’s preschool and killed two security guards and injured one teacher. The name of the villain that had slaughtered your son and Mina’s daughter.

“The boys…” You whispered, remembering that you weren’t currently with your sons. “Where are the children?” You asked loudly, remembering that you never agreed with Toshinori where on earth him and his friends would be watching over the other kids.

Izuku immediately saw the worry and felt it too. He turned to look at Katsuki with a serious look, both men putting aside their petty rivalry and issues for this situation. “Kacchan-”

“I’ll tell the hotel to evacuate.” He stated as he was already out of his seat and running towards the lobby.

Izuku glanced at his phone as a message hit his device. “Everyone grab the kids and head to the minibuses. Get to the airport as soon as possible.” He instructed.

Mei nodded. “I’ll go get them all lined up for us to leave.” She stated, but you were already kicking out of your space beside him and racing towards the elevators to head upstairs.

Suddenly you felt yourself lifted off your feet. You turned to see Izuku had you in his arms and with a flash of electricity around him, he was sprinting towards the staircase, knowing that that way would be faster than taking the elevator. Once on the floor that you kids were on, Tenya right on your tail, he put you down on the ground.

“TOSHINORI!” You shouted as you ran to your own family rooms. You took the keycard out of your back pocket and tapped it to allow access into the room. Your heart was beating out of your chest as you entered the room.

A few faces turned to look at you. You counted three of your boys, Satomi, her little sister, Hina and her younger brother. The girls seemed to be in charge of looking after the younger kids but you couldn’t see Kane or Toshinori.

“Satomi! Where is Toshi and Kane?” You asked her.

At the sound of panic in her voice she stood up with a worried look. “They went to go get drinks downstairs at the hotel café. Why?”

You felt worry fill you. You could hear your husband shouting somewhere in the background but beyond that you could barely hear anything over your beating heart. “Take everyone and get downstairs to the lobby! Your parents are waiting for you there and don’t stop for anything other than each other.”

She didn’t hesitate and nether did Hina as they both nodded and turned to grab the kids and heard them out. You ran out to the hallway, seeing Izuku flash back into the corridor with the other access keys from your friends. He looked up at you. “Where are the kids?”

“With Satomi and Hina but Toshinori and Kane aren’t there!” You told him as you ran towards the staircase. “I’m going to go get them! Meet me in the lobby!” You shouted, not waiting for a response as you raced down the staircase.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe, even as you forced your body that felt like it was totally detached from your head. This was your worst nightmare all over again. The fear of not knowing. You felt like you could barely think let alone move your body. You ran out to the lobby, heading down a corridor as suddenly the lights of the hotel flashed red, indicating an emergency.

It seems as though Katsuki did what he did best and managed to get the hotel in evacuation mode. You tried to remind yourself that there was a slim chance that Jigsaw was here. That you were probably all over reacting and there was no reason to fear.

Or that’s what you were telling yourself until you saw the café.

You stilled as you saw a dead body of the barrista slumped over the counter and other pools of blood around the place. Your breath got caught in your throat as you realised that this scene couldn’t have been caused naturally. You took a hesitant step, looking around trying to catch a glimpse of blond or green hair that you knew all too well. But then you noticed that another door leading down to the parking was open, blood on the handles showing that someone had gone that way.

You fumbled to grab your phone as you ran in that direction, heading to the staircase beyond the door. You entered the stairwell that was dark besides the flashing lights. You kept one hand on the railing as you ran down, being careful of blood on the floor. You texted to Izuku that you were heading down to the underground parking area.

You pushed open the final door heading there when you heard an explosion.

Kane threw an explosion at the large villains face but his hand got caught. His eyes went wide as he was thrown against a car, causing the car alarm to go off. You bit back a scream as you saw a flash of green as Toshinori held back the villain from getting closer to his best friend. He let out a grunt as he ducked and used a hard kick, in the same style as his dad, to the villains face causing the larger man to stumble, but a sneer went to his face as he grabbed your son and held him in a headlock.

“TOSHINORI!”

At the sound of your voice, Toshinori’s eyes looked up at you. His beautiful eyes were filled with fear as he looked at you. He let out a struggling voice as he gripped at the arm that held his neck trying to suffocate him. “Mom-” He coughed out.

“Well, well, well… Mrs Midoriya.” At the sound of a voice you hadn’t heard since the trial, you felt yourself still in terror. A deep laugh arose from the villains throat as he gave you a bloody smile. He looked at you amused as his eyes, black and red were locked onto you. He was still dressed in his inmate uniform of Tartarus supreme prison as he stood in front of you. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. And here I was thinking I’d have to drag this one’s body for you to see after I killed him.”

You shook your head as you took a step forward. “Please…” Your voice broke as you reached your hands out, terror filling your very being as he held your son. “Please don’t kill another one of my boys. Just let him go.”

“Oh but that wouldn’t be fun, now would it?” He let out with a tilt of his head as you saw him drop Toshinori on the ground.

You saw his big foot move to stand on top of your son’s head earning a shout from Toshinori. Your legs seemed to give out as you fell to your knees frozen in fear. Toshinori let out a cry in strangled fear and pain as he coughed out. “Mom! Mom! Get out of here!” He shouted as he tried to activate One for All to push the large villain off of him. “MOMMA!” He screamed to you.

A deep chuckle came from Jigsaw as he pressed down harder. “Now isn’t this familiar?” He let out as he thought back almost lamenting. “Your boys must really love you because his brother did the exact same thing before a crushed his skull in. Always screaming for their mother. You must be such a great one for them to do that.”

“Please.” You sobbed out. “Let him go! Let them live! HE’S MY BOY!”

Jigsaw nodded. “Your eldest, and your husband’s heir. Killing him would probably leave more of an impact than the little one did.” He stated with a nod. “That makes sense to me.”

You saw Toshinori was crying but he had a smile on his face, forcing himself to smile. You couldn’t let him kill another one of your boys. Another one of your little sprouts.

Toshinori… Your eldest. Your first. You could still remember the feeling of him pressed against your chest when you gave birth to him. You remembered his giggle and his laughter. You remembered him reaching out to you as he took his first steps. You remembered being his first words. You remembered him dancing with you at the Mother and Son’s dance. You remembered how much he cared for you and took so much of your worries and burden onto himself.

He was your boy.

He was your sweet little boy.

“PLEASE!” You sobbed, tears streaming down your eyes. “Kill me instead!” At the sound of your ultimatum, Toshinori’s face fell. “Take me!” You shouted as you put a hand to your chest. “I’m the one that gave Deku everything he has now! You want your revenge on my husband, take me instead! Please I’ll do anything! Just… just don’t kill my baby.” You let out with crippled sobs as you dropped your head in a bow, begging and pleading that that would appease him.

Jigsaw was silent, before lifting his foot off of Toshinori. “That sounds interesting.” He let out amusedly.

“NO!” Toshinori shrieked as he tried to scramble over to you. You lifted your head finally noticing he was free. “MOM! MO-” Suddenly Jigsaw grabbed Toshinori’s arm and twisted it funny, making you hear an audible snap as your son shouted in pure agony.

“TOSHINORI!” You burst forward.

Jigsaw kicked your son away, only hurting him so that he would be too blinded by the pain to come and help you. Suddenly you found your wrist being gripped as you were pulled up with a hand to your neck. You stilled realising that this was it. That you made your choice and you could only pray to God that this demon kept to his word.

Toshinori was laying near a knocked out Kane, who had blood dripping from the top of his head. Toshinori looked up in pain, tears in his eyes as he tried using his good arm to get up and get to you. “Mom…” He let out weakly.

You forced a wavering smile to your face. “It’s okay baby, it’s okay.” You lied to him as you kept your eyes on him. “I love you. I love you so much! You’re such a good boy, always know that.” You told him with a nod of your head. Your hands were shaking as the reality of being at deaths door made your body grow cold.

Right as his grip on you turned tough.

“Let go of my wife.” The parking grew quiet as your eyes moved. You heard the voice of your husband but you couldn’t see him, but you could tell that Jigsaw had grown stiff.

“Well isn’t this cute.”

You were suddenly thrusted onto the ground, your hands barely catching you in time as you landed on the floor. You shakily lifted yourself up as you turned to see that Izuku had his hands on Jigsaw’s neck, a second away from snapping it. His hair was glowing white and his eyes buzzed with the power of One for All as he stood behind the villain, keeping him still.

Jigsaw chuckled. “Looks like you were fast enough to stop this one, huh, Deku?” Your husband didn’t comment as he stayed quiet. He glanced at you for less than a second, making sure you were okay before flicking his eyes back down to Jigsaw. His hands gripped the villain tighter. A laugh came out of the grade S villain. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He said singsong. “I’ve rigged explosions to every one of these pillars underground. The moment I die, my quirk will go off and the entire building will come collapsing down ontop of you and your precious wife and son.”

Izuku knew he wasn’t bluffing. He had seen Jigsaw’s quirk work before and it was horrifying. Entire puzzle piece looking holes could be found wherever he left, whether in buildings or people. Izuku swallowed down hard but stayed where he was.

“Y/N, get Toshinori and Kane out of here. I’m going to buy you some time.”

You trusted your husband wholeheartedly, so you did what he said and you ran towards Toshinori and Kane. You quickly helped Toshinori to his feet, despite the pain he was in and you carefully got Kane’s dead weight on your back as you carried him whilst he was unconscious. You carefully ran towards the opening to the car ramp that led up towards the outside to the street. You ushered Toshinori forward, forcing him to go around the boom gate when you paused.

You realised that izuku wasn’t fighting Jigsaw. He was just standing there.

You turned to look at Izuku and that’s when you realised what he was going to do. Your eyes widened in horror as you were about to turn around and run to him.

“TOSHINORI GRAB YOUR MOTHER!” Immediately you felt blackwhip surround you, as Toshinori kept you in place, instinctively listening to his father’s instructions and not thinking first.

“IZUKU-”

“Y/N, take care of the boys for me!” He told you sincerely with a broken smile as he looked at you, tears in his green eyes but surety. “I’m so sorry for what I did. I don’t deserve you. You are an amazing wife and I don’t deserve you.”

“NO!” you shrieked.

“Toshinori get your mother out of here NOW!” Your husband shouted.

Toshinori was confused but he pulled you along anyways out of the parking area. You felt your eyes burn as you saw the last glimpses of Izuku. You saw a tear leave his eyes as he smiled. His hands moved and a scream left your throat as suddenly everything went white.

“IZUKU!”

-Glitch1d

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