#ripping my hair out and screaming and vomiting | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

explorevenus · 1 year

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something permanent ♡ yandere!leon kennedy x reader

nsfw (18+) - minors pls dni i will scream

this is a dark fic for a multitude of reasons. if any of the following bothers/triggers you, do not read: yandere!leon, stalking, kidnapping, drugging, corruption/training, forced daddy kink, noncon, forced breeding, body horror, gore, & blood

in other words-- DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT.

ahem. now that that’s over.

word count - 4.4k

description - nothing in leon’s life was ever permanent and his life circumstances made sure of that. over the years he was beaten down from a bright-eyed rookie police officer to a weary and angry shell of his former self. when a chance meeting brought you into his life, he knew what he had to do. he knew you had to be something permanent.

tags/warnings - yandere!leon, dark!leon, leon being patronizing and condescending and sickly sweet, fem/afab!reader, stalking, kidnapping, drugging, corruption/training, forced daddy kink, pet names (doll, sweetheart, princess, baby, puppy, etc.), noncon, forced breeding, housewife kink, body horror (spoiler alert he rips your IUD out with his bare hands), slight gore, blood, noncon, stockholm syndrome if u squint, dollification if u squint, descriptions of vomiting, no use of (Y/N)

a/n - ok i genuinely don’t know if anyone even wants this but i personally find it egregious how little yandere!leon content exists out there in this world because listen. i know a lot of people consider leon submissive and breedable but personally i believe this broken angry man just wants a sweet little thing to dote on and take care of to make him forget about the horrors of his life and he will stop at nothing to make that happen ♡ anyways. enjoy. and if it’s not ur cup of tea idc keep scrolling :^)

p.s. this is obviously a very canon-deviant, borderline crack fic so it’s not really established which leon this is outside of referring to the events of re2 being a long time ago, so go wild with your interpretation of that to read this as whichever leon is ur favorite ♡ i personally like to imagine post-re4 or infinite darkness leon !! ;w;

read part 2 here !! ♡

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ♡

-venus ♡

You were slow to wake, which wasn't particularly unusual... as of late, but your body felt so heavy, like your muscles had dissolved into mush overnight. Consciousness gradually took its hold of you, and as it did, you began to realize that something seemed off. Different. Wrong, even. You peeked your eyes open, vision blurry with sleep, but you could see you were beneath your pink comforter, a plush of yours held closely to your chest, all normal so far...

But your walls aren't navy blue, they're white... They're supposed to be white--

You jolted wide awake, panic coursing through your weak body as you struggled to even sit up. That's when you noticed an unfamiliar, muscular arm draped over your waist, and that dialed up your anxiety about tenfold. It was hard to move, but you were able to turn your head enough to catch a look at the man it belonged to.

Strong, blond, maybe a bit tired in the eyes... maybe a bit familiar looking... but you were crying now, blurring your sight all over again.

"Shh, shh... you're okay, sweetheart, you're safe now," He hushed, holding you closely to him as you struggled. Smooching the top of your head, he spoke into your messy hair, "I've got you. I've got you, princess."

But... how? The last thing you remembered was tucking into your own bed, in your own apartment, and falling asleep there, how could you have possibly wound up in a stranger's bed with zero recollection of ever leaving yours? Your head spun as you tried and failed to fend off the unwanted affection with weak arms. His hold on you didn't dare budge as he continued to coo softly into your ear, to reassure you that you were safe, that he wouldn't let anyone, or anything, hurt you.

The anxiety stewing within you finally reached a tipping point, twisting your stomach into tight knots, and that's when you spoke your first words since you'd awoken. "I-I'm gonna throw up," You wept, clawing weakly at the covers and, well, at him, for freedom.

Thankfully he was quick to act, scooping you into his arms as he sat up and rose from the bed, carrying you to the adjoined bathroom. When he turned the light on, you managed to get a better look at his face as you passed by the mirror, and it took you a second to recognize him, partly due to your state of delirium, but primarily because you only knew him very vaguely. You had only met him once at work many months ago, when he'd sparked up a conversation with you as you made him his coffee. After that, he became a regular at the café you worked at-- you remembered his name was Leon.

So why were you waking up in his bed, with your belongings lying around like you'd lived here the whole time?

Your knees hit the tile and you began retching immediately, flinching as he reached forward to collect your hair away from your face. Puking on an empty stomach is never a fun time, but your nerves were alight with panic and every time you reminded yourself of your predicament, a new wave of nausea would crash over you. He rubbed your back sweetly, but it didn't help.

Once the vomiting eventually subsided, an awful, hollow pain took place of it. Your thoughts were running at a thousand miles per hour. You didn't have the time to acknowledge it, let alone nurse it, outside of clutching your shirt at the waist.

"Let me get you some water, babe," Leon said as he hesitantly stood from your side, eyeing you worriedly like you'd just fall to pieces if he let you out of his sight. "You poor thing..."

But all you could think about was getting out of here. "N-No, no, what time is it? I have to get to work--"

"I don't think so, sweetheart," He interrupted. "You're sick, you should be in bed."

"I'm fine," Much to the protest of your jellied legs, you pushed yourself up from the floor and fought through the head rush in an attempt to slip past him, but he simply caught you at the waist and brought you to a halt. Your ears were ringing, the room spinning around you, and you still weren't sure how to interpret what was even going on here. "L-Let go of me!" You cried out.

He simply hushed you, holding you tightly to his chest and petting your hair as you writhed, failing miserably to get him off of you. "Don't worry about work, okay? Just rest up and get better. I'll call them for you."

Your stomach sank even further-- what the fuck is happening right now?

Despite your thrashing he managed to lead you back to the bed as gently as one would fine china, scooping you up into his arms so he could lay you down exactly where you'd awoken earlier. Your chest heaved with sobs as you shrank into yourself in an effort to get away from him.

His eyes left you for just a moment as he reached for the covers, no doubt to tuck you in-- in a split second decision, you seized that time to scramble out of his bed and break for the door. Sadly, as perhaps you should have seen coming, he was more than strong and fast enough to catch up to you, even caught off guard. As soon as your shaking hand made contact with the cool metal doorknob, he halted you where you stood with a bruising grip on your bicep.

You cried out, trying in vain to peel yourself away from him, but it was no use.

"Come on, silly baby, you heard me," He tsked, dragging you back toward the bed. "No need to be running off anywhere, especially on a sour stomach."

"P-Please--" You gasped through tears.

"I'm sorry, little one, but that's final," Leon hummed with a patronizing but oddly sweet tone. It was as if he were scolding a temperamental child.

He basically wrestled you back into the bed, enveloping you tightly in his arms as he laid down beside you. You struggled against his grasp, but again, it was absolutely no use. He simply pet your hair and pressed soft kisses along your cheek and jaw, attempting to soothe you with restraint and unwanted affection.

You sucked in a labored breath, hiccupping, "Don't do this to me, please don't do this to me... I-I just wa-wanna go home, jus' wanna go h-home... Leon please--"

"Shh... oh, good heavens. You are home, princess," He mused, brushing away a stream of your hot tears with his thumb. "You'll see. Just relax and let me take care of you."

Nothing in Leon's life was ever permanent.

All he'd ever wanted was the American dream, to serve his community and meet a pretty girl to share his life with, to settle down in a big house with a fenced yard and two or three little Kennedys running around, maybe a dog. What he wouldn't give to come home at the end of a long day to his beautiful wife, belly swollen with his children, preparing dinner in the kitchen while the existing little ones play with their toys in the other room.

He would enter, slipping off his shoes with a relaxed sigh and a "Honey, I'm home!" to which the aforementioned little ones would rush to the door to hug him at his knees. He'd put one up on his shoulders while the other tugged at his hand, turning into the kitchen to give his beautiful wife a kiss. She would ask of his day and he would say it was good, but better now that he's home with her. With his free hand he would cradle her belly and ask "What's for dinner, you two?" to which she would reply "Your favorite," and as he smiled and thanked her with a kiss he would be silently plotting to thank her properly after the kids are asleep by fucking her full of his cum.

That was all he'd ever wanted. But, day after day after god forsaken day, the chance grew slimmer and slimmer until it had shriveled into something molecular. He didn't even get through his first day at the police station before everything went to shit.

Because of this, Leon began to lose himself over the years. He was no longer the bright-eyed rookie officer looking forward to his even brighter future. He was a broken man, worn down to the bone by years of death, plague, losing everyone he'd ever loved in one way or another-- Leon couldn't take the loss anymore. He wanted-- no, needed-- something permanent, something to give him even the slightest taste of that dream he once had.

When he met you, it wasn't even a question anymore. He knew you were the one. One way or another, he would have you.

He couldn't court you in the traditional way, of course-- it was too dangerous for you to be seen with him. After all, everything he'd ever touched had a way of turning to shit. So, it began with following you home after work so he'd know where you lived. Soon after that he would let himself in when you weren't home-- you weren't smart enough not to keep your key under the mat, furthering how sure he felt that you needed him to take care of you-- he would take little things of yours home with him just to have your scent around.

At first it was just little things like near-empty bottles of shampoo and stray pairs of panties from your laundry basket. Then it was sweaters from your closet, chewed gum and used flossers from your trash can. He'd pay close attention to your grocery lists and what you kept in your pantry so he'd know what kind of food you liked.

When you did come home, he would sneak out quietly and watch you through your windows, familiarizing himself with your routine. The first thing you'd do when you came home from a long day of work was kick off your heels and change into something comfortable to do your yoga. After a while, you'd pull yourself up from the pink mat and cook dinner. After you'd eat, you'd relax with a book or a video game for a bit before taking a shower and changing into pajamas. Then, you'd brew yourself a mug of tea and retire to the bedroom for the evening where you'd watch documentaries or put on white noise until you eventually fell asleep.

At 7:00 a.m., you'd wake up in the morning and do it all over again.

All he could think about was what he'd do when he finally had you all to himself. Under his roof, you would never have to work another day in your life. Gone would be the days of pouring coffee and baking pastries for random idiots who treated you like shit. All you would ever have to worry about is being pampered, having your entire day to yourself, waiting for him to come home, spending all the money on his credit cards.

And carrying his children, of course.

So, as he held you tightly in his arms while you sobbed and begged to go back to that tiny apartment, all he could think about now was how to fix this. How to convince you he really loved you, how to make you feel truly at home.

The first few weeks were hard for him. Really, really hard.

You were refusing to eat, laying wide awake at night, swinging rapidly between sobbing, screaming and complete apathy. Sometimes he would come into the bedroom and catch you fiddling with the window, or attempting to circumvent the lock on the door by stuffing the mechanism with tissue. You would hit him, kick at him and spit in his face, even as you grew weaker and weaker with malnourishment, not that you really stood a chance before that anyway.

Still, it was hard to watch you shrink in your clothes. It was hard to see your cheeks hollowing by the day. It was hard to hold back your brittle hair while you'd vomit from the nerves, still trying to fight him off of you. It was hard to watch your body tense every time he entered the room.

Just when he'd began to lose hope, he discovered a neat little tool to help you behave. In some countries it was called "devil's breath." The slightest bit of powder could be sprinkled into your water, or over your food, or even into your clothes-- it absorbs through the skin-- and within minutes it would render you quite pliable. Leon didn't want to drug you, of course-- he liked you better when you were lucid-- but it certainly felt like a good place to start, a helpful tool to train you.

When he'd give you a dose, you would let him coddle you without incident. You would lay limp on his chest while he played with your hair and felt your soft skin beneath your shirt. You would allow him to spoon food or tip water into your mouth. You would let him dress you up like his perfect little dolly. You would blush and whimper and whine, and more importantly, not fight him, while he fucked you full of his cum, just like his dream.

There was just one problem-- after about two months of trying daily, it would seem his seed wasn't taking.

Your heart pounded in your ears as the sound of Leon's footsteps nearing the bedroom door grew louder. You glanced over at the clock-- it was 6:15. He was off work for the evening and you knew what that meant.

The lock clicked quietly before the door creaked open, revealing your captor.

"Honey, I'm home!" He smiled excitedly, approaching the bed with a glass of water in hand.

You knew it was for you. You knew he had done something to it. You also knew you didn't intend to drink it.

"W-Welcome home, daddy," You said in a near whisper, forcing a half-smile. While you had definitely lost the majority of the fight in you, that didn't mean it didn't nauseate you to comply with his wishes. "Did you have a good day?"

Tucking your hair behind your ear, he offered you the glass of water while he replied as he always did, "My day was fine, but it's so much better now that I'm home with you, princess."

You smiled at him like it was the first time he'd ever said it, taking the glass with a shaking hand. You stared at it for a moment before mustering up the courage to say, "D-Daddy, I don't want the medicine anymore. I don't think I need it, and it doesn't make me feel good."

"You don't want your medicine anymore, baby?" He asked, tipping your chin up to look at him. You shook your head, rounding your eyes to convince him that much more. "Well, alright, but you have to promise to behave for me."

Now you were nodding, a little bit too eagerly. It was sort of humiliating. "I promise, daddy, I'll behave! I don't want the medicine anymore. I promise I'll be good."

With a proud grin he took the glass from your hand and set it on the nightstand, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "That's what I like to hear, babydoll. You know, good little girls get rewarded..." His large hand spread over your thigh, inching up toward the hem of your baggy shirt.

You stiffened, but didn't push him away. He smirked, dipping his head down to kiss at your neck, large hand sliding up your shirt until he nudged it up enough to pull it off. You were bare for him now, save for panties, and given your experience with him you knew it wouldn't be long until those were discarded somewhere across the room. With a gentle hand at your shoulder he pushed you onto your back, your legs hanging off the side of the bed, and you were curious where he was going with that until he sank to his knees in front of you and began pulling your panties down.

Your eyes screwed shut, thankful that he couldn't see your face as he spread your thighs and greeted your cunt with a slow lick up the length of you. You gripped the sheets with white knuckles, pretty much holding your breath to keep yourself from kicking him away from you. His fingertips buried into the plush skin of your thighs to hold you apart as he began to eat you out more passionately, suckling your clit up into his mouth and lapping at your hole like he was starving.

If there was one thing you would give him credit for, it would be his skilled tongue. Perhaps he was crazy and obsessed, but he certainly knew how to translate that obsession into something that benefitted you both. You wouldn't have succumbed to it so willingly if he weren't at least good at it.

Still, it was hard to feel any enthusiasm. His attention might have felt good physically, but it certainly didn't feel good mentally.

You flinched when you felt a fingertip prodding at your cunt. He pulled away just far enough to tsk, "Relax and let me make you feel good, puppy. You said you would behave for me."

"Y-Yes, daddy," You muttered, continuing to clutch the sheets as you tried to control your breathing.

His thick index finger sank into you down to the knuckle, almost immediately curling up to brush against the spongy spot within you that made you see stars. As much as you tried to fight it you gasped, quickly bringing a hand up to cover your mouth, but the sound you'd made hadn't slipped past Leon. You felt him smirk against your skin as he pressed sloppy kisses to your thigh, reaching up with his free hand to force yours away from your face.

"Don't be shy, princess," He spoke against the inside of your thigh, trailing kisses up to your clit. "I want to hear just how good it feels."

You whimpered, hips squirming into his affection, and he chuckled approvingly, bringing his mouth back to you fully to continue eating you out while he fucked his finger into you. Soon after his index finger was joined by his middle, and you keened as he reached more deeply into you than he possibly ever had.

He pumped his fingers in and out for a moment, alternating between lapping at your cunt and kissing your thighs, and just as the coil inside began to tighten he suddenly... stopped?

You waited for a second, catching your breath, expecting him to continue any minute. But he didn't. Instead, he took on a tone that froze your blood as he asked, "Sweetheart, what is this?"

Then, you felt a sharp tug at your insides that made you yelp.

"Leon!" You shouted at him in a break of character, attempting to scoot away from him, but he grabbed your hips to still you. "That hurt!"

Another tug. You cried out, trying as you might to snap your thighs shut and push him away, but he wasn't budging.

"You never told me you had an IUD."

"Well, I do, so stop yanking on it! It hurts--"

The next words out of his mouth truly fucking broke you.

"That just won't do. It's no wonder you're not pregnant yet."

You sat up immediately. "Pregnant?"

He ignored you, tugging at it again. You screamed.

"L-Leon, don't! I can get it taken out by a doctor, I swear, I'll get it taken out!"

He shook his head. "And wait even longer to knock you up, pretty girl? Not happening. It's coming out now."

You screamed again, thrashing in his hold. He withdrew from inside you for just a moment, pinning you to the bed by your hip while he reached for your panties on the floor and shoved them into your mouth to silence you.

"There, there, angel. It'll be over before you know it, like ripping off a band-aid," He hummed, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you screeched through the cotton. "I'm gonna give you my babies, I promise. Gonna make you a mommy, and we’ll be so happy."

Before you could properly react he forced his fingers back inside you, yanking at the device until you felt a sickening tear and the unmistakable heat of blood rushing out of you. You curled into yourself, wailing, gasping for breath through the panties in your mouth as he withdrew his blood-soaked fingers, holding up the gory IUD in the light.

"There you are, princess. All better," He smiled contently, discarding the device on the bedside table. "You did so good. You were so brave for me."

You were bawling, shrieking through your gag as your vision blurred into white. Leon kissed up your thighs before standing to unbuckle his belt, and he didn't get much further than that before the panic and agonizing pain got to you and you lost consciousness.

You woke up the next morning with your thighs sore and sticky with blood. You lifted the comforter to see a deep red pool seeping out from between your legs, and the more you started to wake up, the more aware you became of the pain. You were cramping terribly, sweating buckets, your ears were ringing and you felt weak. Leon had left for work already, so it was up to you to get yourself to the bathroom.

Your entire body was trembling as you stumbled out of the bed, dripping blood in a trail behind you as you dragged yourself to the bathroom and crawled into the bathtub. You peeled off your pajama shorts and panties, watching in horror as a mixture of thick blood and cum spilled out of you and ran slowly toward the drain. Once again, you began to cry. Obviously he'd had his way with you after you passed out, buckets of blood be damned.

Even with your foggy, staticky brain, you couldn't stop thinking. Thinking about the fact that he had no intention of taking you to a hospital, so there was really no telling what might happen with your profusely painful and bleeding sex. Thinking about how fucking screwed you were now without your IUD, your best defense against falling pregnant with your captor's child. Thinking about the fact that if he wouldn't even take you to a doctor for this, he must be expecting a home birth if you were to become pregnant, which you doubted he was qualified to handle and therefore had a very good chance to result in your slow, painful death.

You couldn't stand the shivering anymore, so you filled the bathtub with hot water. It felt nice, though it was rather gross that the water was stained a glassy rose color with your own blood, not that you really had the strength to care in the moment.

In fact, you didn't have much strength at all. It wasn't long before you found yourself losing consciousness once again.

"Fuck, princess, can you hear me?"

You were trying to open your eyes, to twitch a finger, anything, but it was so hard.

"Shit. Stay right here, babydoll, I'm gonna get you some help, okay? I promise. I never meant to hurt you... shit...”

You heard some shuffling, pacing and possibly Leon talking to himself in the other room. You figured he was trying to decide whether or not to take you to a hospital. Part of you hoped he would and the other part of you hoped he would just let you die there. More than anything, you just wished you would have let him drug you in the first place so maybe you wouldn't be in this level of pain.

After what could have very well been 20 seconds or 20 minutes, Leon kneeled beside the tub and draped a cold washcloth over your forehead, reaching into the bloodied water to pull the drain. With what little control you had over your own movement you managed to crack your eyes open, which seemed to please him.

"Oh thank god... thank god, baby. I almost thought I lost you there," He huffed, voice shaking. "Listen to me closely, princess. Stay with me. I'm going to take you to a doctor but you have to be a good girl, okay? You have to be good for me and go along with what I say, even if it isn't true. I'm just doing what's best for you so you can get all better, okay?"

You nodded weakly. You weren't in any position to put up a fight, and all you really wanted was an end to the pain. Besides, he couldn't supervise you constantly at the hospital. There had to be at least some opportunity to tell someone what he'd done to you.

He somehow managed to dress you in some comfortable clothes of his, a soft black t-shirt that hung halfway down your thighs and a pair of black shorts with some little socks of yours to protect your feet. Then, he carried you princess-style out to the car where he bundled you up in the passenger seat and buckled you in.

As he pulled hurriedly out of the driveway, he made a phone call to someone.

"Hey, it's me... I need the best people we have in the infirmary, stat. I'm on my way now," He spoke sternly into the phone, white knuckling the wheel. "I'm fine, it's not for me, it's my girlfriend. It's a long story that I'll tell you when I get there, but she's bleeding pretty bad. I found her unconscious when I came home... I appreciate it, thanks. See you in 10."

Leon reached over the center console to squeeze your thigh in reassurance.

"You're gonna be just fine, princess. I'm gonna make sure they make you all better, okay?"

Your stomach sank. He obviously wasn't taking you to a hospital. From the sounds of it he was taking you somewhere he had a good amount of leverage, somewhere everyone knew him, held him in high regard and wouldn't dare challenge his word, let alone take yours over his. You slumped to the side, resting your head on the cool window with a quiet bonk. Leon was quick to ask if you were okay but you couldn't muster up a response. Your ears began ringing again and the world around you collapsed into tunnel vision.

part 2 !!

#venustext #sintext #resident evil #leon kennedy #yandere!leon kennedy #dark!leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #yandere!leon kennedy x reader #dark!leon kennedy x reader #dead dove do not eat #something permanent

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feyhunter78 · 1 year

Text

Pink Pastels Pt 5

Description: You're walking home, alone, at night, because this is a spiderman fic and we have to have at least one of these Warning! Reader is attacked, like shoved and cursed at but nothing happens bc Miguel obvi saves the day

Pt 6

It’s dumb, you know, a dumb dangerous idea to walk home alone, at night, but you just couldn’t stay at Todd’s anymore, and you left your car at your apartment. It was supposed to be a romantic evening, you got all dressed up, he took you to a nice restaurant, you were laughing, chatting, and he even seemed to be drinking less.

But then you got back to his, and it all went downhill. He convinced you to have one more drink, then he’d take you home, swearing up and down he was good to drive. He was not good to drive, in fact, the only thing he was good for was screaming at you for flirting with the waiter. The waiter, who was clearly gay and more into Todd than you.

You were not going to let a man scream at you, especially not one who claimed to love you, so you left. You felt proud of yourself for not engaging and keeping your head on straight, but now you were walking home alone in the dark, arms wrapped around you to keep yourself warm.

The moon and dim streetlights were your only sources of light, the street empty as the autumn winds rushed through the high rises, a forest of cinder block and cement, darkened windows like predatory eyes following your every step.

“Hey pretty lady, where you goin?” A voice called out from the shadows.

You kept your eyes forward, walking faster.

Suddenly, you felt someone grab your hair and yank you back, pain shooting through your scalp. “Bitch, I was talking to you.”

“I’m just going home, please, I don’t want any trouble.” You said evenly, trying to stay calm.

The man tsks and pulls you closer, tightening his grip on your hair.

Tears prick at your eyes, and you struggle against him. “Please, I’m a teacher, I don’t have any money.”

You feel a wet tongue drag up your neck, and you fight the urge to vomit. “A teacher huh? Always wanted to fuck my teachers, but they were stuck up bitches like you, never gave me the time of day.”

He shoved you back against the brick wall of the alley, and you tried to blink back your tears. “Please don’t, please, I just want to go home.” You plead, hands shaking, your heartbeat in your throat.

His face is partially hidden in the shadows, but you can see his wicked grin, the foam gathered at the edge of his lips. “It’s too late for that now.”

You can’t stop the tears from falling, as you struggle against him trying to catch his foot with your stiletto heel, it hits driving into his shoe, but then it snaps, and you’re left off balance.

“Stop fucking moving, you bi—” He’s cut off, his hands ripped from you as he’s slammed into the wall in front of you. The resounding crack of his bones is followed by a scream, a blur of motion, red and blue, and then…nothing.

You’re alone in the alley, tear-stained face, body trembling, your scalp tender from his harsh grip, but you’re alone.

There’s a soft sound from beside you, and you dart back, arms thrown out to protect yourself.

“Are you alright, ma’am?”

There standing before you, towering over you, is Spiderman.

“I don’t, I—” You dissolve into tears, covering your face with your hands. This is too much, first the fight with Todd, then the alley creep and now Spiderman? You’re definitely about to have a panic attack.

He approaches you cautiously, his hands held out in a pacifying motion until they land gently on your shoulders. “You’re safe now, he’s gone. I promise.”

He’s so warm, and his hands are so big, his thumbs gently caressing your skin, a repetitive back and forth motion that you focus on as you slow your breathing.

“Thank you.” You manage to choke out through your tears, looking up at the masked figure.

His eyes dilate and expand as they take you in, an almost dizzying thing to watch. “Why are you out here alone?”

You sniffle and shrug, feeling stupid. Why didn’t you call a cab or just suck it up and stay at Todd’s? Why did you risk it? “I got in a fight with my boyfriend.”

He makes a low sound of sympathy, tilting his head ever so slightly. “Why don’t I escort you home? Just to make sure you’re safe.”

“My shoe is broken.” You say pitifully, a fresh wave of tears appearing. “They were my favorite and now ones broken.”

“I’ll carry you, just hold on tight.” He says, scooping you up into his arms, then you’re being flung into the air.

You scream, clinging to him for dear life, burying your face in his broad chest, just barely managing to give him your address before another scream rips from your throat.

Finally, he sets you down on the front steps of your apartment building, your arms like a vice grip around him.

“No offense, but I hope I never have to experience that again.” You tell him as you untangle yourself from him.

“You’re not the first person to tell me that.” It sounds like he’s smiling, but you can’t tell under the mask.

“Well, again, thank you, I don’t know what would’v—” Another wave of tears surges forth and your tongue feels heavy, your body still trembling as you search in your purse for your keys.

“You’re safe, he’s gone, go inside and get some rest.” Spiderman gently orders, brushing your hair back from your face, his gloved fingers lingering along the curve of your cheek, catching your tears as they fall.

“I will, thank you.” You whisper, giving him one last look before disappearing into your building.

You’re watching the news the next morning and see reports of a wild animal attack downtown. The same section of town you were in last night. A chill runs down your spine, and you switch off the TV, grabbing your bag and heading out the door.

As you head out the lobby doors, one of the front desk girls calls out to you, a shoebox in hand.

You open the box in your car. It’s your shoes, well not your shoes, you left the broken one in the alley, the other you threw in the trash. These are a brand-new pair, same color, design, and size. As you pull them out, a card flutters into your lap.

New shoes, maybe get a new boyfriend with them to avoid any more nighttime incidents. -Spiderman

You laugh at that, tracing the letters of his name, a fluttering in your stomach at the memory of his toned body wrapped around you, of his raw strength as he quite literally threw your attacker into a brick wall. You slip the note into your purse and change into your new shoes, feeling strangely protected with them on. A placebo effect, you’re sure.

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @miggyoharaswife, @badbishsblog, @imisshim2much, @wanderlustingcastaway, @lynn-9703, @sleepyamaya, @erensbbg, @sweetea85, @ilovemiguelohara, @natthernandez, @stxrrielle, @ihateuguys, @jenniferdixon05207, @blep-23, @luvisaaxoxo, @minimari415, @emerald-09, @violet-19999, @kenchosaikuo, @groovycass, @youcantseem3, @lovefks

#miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x y/n #spider man 2099 #atsv miguel #meg's writing #Miguel's pastels

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publicenemy212 · 4 months

Text

Filthy (Lute x fem!sub!reader)

Warnings: smut, dubcon, descriptions of violence, fingering, gagging, choking, knifeplay, degradation, sadomasochism dynamics

crossposted from AO3 under public_enemy_212. requests open for any hellaverse wlw pairings or f!reader

word count: 1280

NSFW under the cut

“You disgust me.”

The angel’s voice hissed, mere inches away from my ear. I groaned in response, my lips sticky and wet with my own blood. Her gloved hand grasped my hair with enough force to make me feel like my scalp was ripping off. Perhaps, at that point, that was the only thing keeping my eyes open. Without warning, she threw my face towards the pebbled alleyway ground.

My skull cracked on impact. The world faded to nothing, but only for a moment. Curse my new body and its resilience.

Sharp pain exploded in my chest as the exorcist sent a flying kick directly at my chest. I whimpered in agony and helplessness.

“Aww, does that hurt?” she purred mockingly. “The little sinner’s regretting her choices now?”

With effort, I painstakingly lifted my head off the filth-stained dirt to face the angel. All I could see was a blur of white and gray against the dark red background of Pentagram City. Extermination Day was almost over. I just had to survive until then.

I opened my mouth to speak and immediately fell into a coughing fit. Fresh blood splattered out, painting the concrete crimson. Hacking and spluttering for another minute, I forced out my words.

“Y-yes, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please—”

I heaved again. Fuck. The angel clicked her tongue impatiently as she stood with arms crossed, watching me vomit up more internal bleeding.

So much pain. So much pain. Hurts. Everything hurts.

I fell over onto my side again, groaning and panting for air.

“Are you done?”

“Ma’am, with all due respect, you’re wasting your time with me…” I rasp weakly.

If pleading for my life wouldn’t work, I might as well try sucking up to her ego.

I prayed to God, Satan, whoever would listen; if only the exterminator would just move on to find other victims and leave me alone.

To my dismay, she only began to laugh.

Despair washed over my broken body. Was there no end to this torture?

“Wasting my time? No, no. I’ve already killed my fair share of your filthy kind. Now, it’s my turn to have a bit more fun by making you suffer slowly before I eventually kill you too.”

A sob bubbled out of my bloodied throat. I crumbled to the ground once more.

“Lute. Remember this name. It’s the last thing you’ll hear before you die.”

Something flipped inside me as all the pain and terror suddenly turned into indignancy and rage. Gritting my teeth, I summoned all my willpower to drag myself up. Glaring, I snarled, “You call yourself an angel? After making thousands of souls suffer and die a second death, as if dying once wasn’t enough?”

“It’s what you sinners deserve.” Lute brandished her sword, as if challenging me to take another step forward.

I was walking into a certain death, that I was sure of. But she was going to kill me regardless; why not try to fight back?

Claws out, I lunged forward unsteadily. In response, the angel flew forward at an inhuman speed and chokeslammed me directly into a wall. I scrabbled helplessly at her grip.

Lute roared with sadistic laughter.

Leaning closer, she whispered, “Can’t speak? Devil got your tongue?”

Fighting my survival instincts, I let go of her fingers around my neck…

…and sent my fist flying towards her face.

The blow landed squarely, shattering the glass of the exorcist mask.

“FUCK!” Lute screamed in shock. The surprise loosened her grip, allowing me to breathe only slightly more easily for a second. She ripped off the broken helmet with one hand and tossed it aside, using the same hand to punch me in the jaw.

I grinned at her distress. So it was possible to get under these exorcist angels’ skin. I decided, for my own cynical entertainment, to take it a step further.

“There is no way you don’t get off to this,” I croaked.

Lute growled in frustration. “Shut your fucking mouth.”

Her eyes flicked to the entryway of the dingy alley. No one was watching. The only sounds were the occasional distant screaming and the sound of my pained moaning and wheezing.

Her golden eyes slid back to the demon under her control, narrowing as she gritted her teeth.

She leaned in and kissed me with a fervor reminiscent of a starved animal. Her hand slackened again, her body pressing against mine. My blood smeared on her soldier’s uniform, mixing with the various splatters of her other, unluckier victims from earlier in the day. When we finally broke, gasping for air, Lute let go of my neck and stepped back. She drew her saber once more and pressed it against my bruised throat.

I whimpered and pressed my legs together, desperate to relieve the growing need between my thighs.

Lute was absolutely taken aback and scowled in disgust at my reaction.

“ Filthy. ”

Yet, against her own venom-laced words, her other hand slid down my body.

“ Worthless .”

Two fingers pressed against my cunt.

My eyes screwed shut. I didn’t even know what I was feeling anymore. Pain from my injuries mixed with lust and pleasure at the angel’s ghosting touch. Oh, agony. Pure, sweet agony.

“...Are you serious? Does beat within an inch of your life turn you on that much?”

With that, she shoved her fingers into my mouth. I gagged at the sudden intrusion while she continued to finger-fuck my mouth with no breaks, generously coating her hand with my saliva and blood. Once she was satisfied, she drew her hand out and slapped me so hard my eyeballs shook in my skull. I moaned loudly and Lute immediately smacked her palm back over my mouth.

“Shut the fuck up before somebody finds us.” She hissed dangerously.

Once she was sure no other angels were coming, she sighed and returned her attention to me. Lute ripped off a chunk of my tattered clothes and shoved it in my mouth as a makeshift gag.

Her hand then returned to my pants, sliding beneath the fabric and between my slick folds. She wasted no time in dipping right into my hole, using three fingers immediately without giving me any time to adjust. I yelped in pain, but the gag muffled any words I had. Lute grinned and leaned directly next to my ear.

“What’s the problem? It hurts? This is your punishment for going against Heaven, so you better fucking take it.”

Drool and tears collected at my chin, mixing together before dripping to the ground. My body threatened to lose consciousness with each brutal thrust. My head fell forward and landed on Lute’s armored shoulder as I continued to babble incoherently, the exorcist pushing me for orgasm after orgasm with no mercy. Only after I finally passed out from the sheer exhaustion of hours of getting fucked up and being straight up fucked did she pull out and toss my limp body aside.

Much to my disappointment, I woke up again to Lute kicking me repeatedly.

“Hey. Get up.”

Her boot pushed my head face-up to check if I was conscious. I stared at her, bleary-eyed. “You’re still alive? Huh. That works for me. I want you to watch me kill you.”

A flash of light. Warm liquid started gushing out of my chest. I looked down slowly to see the divine metal sunken halfway through my chest. Lute then yanked her blade out effortlessly and walked away without a word, leaving me to bleed out in a pool of my blood and cum.

The siren signaling the end of this year’s Extermination Day was the last thing I heard before eternal darkness swallowed me whole.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lute #lute x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hellaverse #lute smut #hazbin hotel smut

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annebaby · 6 months

Text

National Anthem ♡

hello all! this is my first multi-part fic, and I hope you like it! part two will be posted very soon :)

part two!

part three!

warnings: toxic snow, bribery, fem!reader x young!coriolanus snow, use of Y/N, that's it for this chapter!

I hope you enjoy! this is national anthem ♡

The capitol streets were bustling with the obnoxiously ignorant, blind-sighted chatter about the games this year. People in all the most unnecessary of extravagant clothing, smiling, laughing, and celebrating death. It was sickening, truly. Hearing them talk about their favorite tributes and the gruesome details of their death made you want to rip all your hair out.

Surprisingly, you were not a stranger to this life. Born a capitol brat, you shouldn’t let this get you to your breaking point at all. A senior in the academy this year, you vividly recall the students being mentors in previous years; the thought of helping a child to their death made you want to vomit.

So, you tried your best to get your single errand for the day done as fast as possible. Your goal: to find a dress for the gala in a few days. Nothing too showy, but not too modest. A dress that screams, ‘I’m pretty, but smart. I am a district doll.’ As the President’s daughter, appearance and impression were the two most important things drilled into your head.

Your father, President Stirling, was a new favorite of Panem. His pride for the land, his love for the people, and his goals for the future are what got him elected. He was a very clean-cut man, always showing how much he loved his family.

You knew better though. He was a cold man, one who hardly showed affection behind closed doors, a man who had spoken very rarely to his daughter. You didn’t really know much about him, always locked in his office and never really caring about you. Unless, it was about your appearances or impressions.

Scurrying through the mall, you quickly find your go-to dress shop, a more quiet and less popular location. This dress shop has all of the current trends, but they always had something different about them that you loved. You hated capitol fashion, but it was your only option as the most looked upon girl in Panem. At least they all had a unique look to them.

Entering the store and smelling its sweet fragrance, you hurriedly got to work. Giving every dress you liked to a worker, she put it in the dressing room for you. A common customer, they adored your business. They adored your money.

Dress after dress, you had finally found a winner. A thin-strapped velvet dress with jewels adorning it in a beautiful pattern. It was a deep red, floor-length dress. Happy with the way it adorned your body, you took it off and handed it to the shop worker. Swiping Daddy’s credit card, you smiled at the workers and thanked them sincerely for their help. They handed you the dress across the counter and you started to make your way home.

Navigating the large mall, there were people everywhere. You did your best to hide your face, sunglasses and all. The President’s daughter was always known as the Princess of Panem, a girl that the younger children looked up to. It was hard to be unnoticed.

Swerving and dodging people to the best you could, you made it outside at last. Unfortunately, your presence had become known and now none other than Lucky Flickerman was awaiting you outside. Probably one of your least favorite capitol citizens, always pushing you for personal answers to appeal to the audience.

Trying your best to spot your driver without being noticed, you see the blacked out SUV parked right down the street. It was a different car that dropped you off, but this SUV was still branded with the President’s logo. You open the doors to exit the mall, and Lucky Flickerman is already on you.

“Is that the anticipated gown for the Gala, Ms. Stirling? What color is it? Just a peek? We’d love to see it!”

By the time he was done getting his jumble of questions out, you had already reached the SUV. Opening the passenger door, you quickly threw the dress in the back. However, you noticed your driver was a different man than usual.

“Coriolanus? Did my dad send you as my driver?” You took the sunglasses off your face, confusion taking over as you awaited his answer.

Coriolanus Snow was your father’s newest intern. A charming man, certainly. He was handsome, smart, and cunning. You had a schoolgirl crush on him since he started working for your family, but you pushed it to the side. You didn’t want to be just another nuclear wife with a nuclear family in the capitol. You just weren’t ready to accept your inevitable fate.

“Yes. The other driver wasn’t aware he was supposed to wait for you, and he returned home,” Coriolanus says. He puts the vehicle in gear and begins to take you both back to your estate.

“Oh, that’s odd. He’s never done that before,” you say. He was a nice man, you had actually gotten on with him quite well. You weren’t sure where communication went wrong.

“Yeah. He was fired immediately after he stepped in the door.” Coriolanus doesn’t look at you, just keeps his gaze on the road ahead of him.

You didn’t expect much less from your father at all, but still your chest ached for the nice man. After all, he talked to you more than your own father did.

You looked at Coriolanus for much too long after he said that. You admired his slicked-back blonde hair, his prominent jawline and you took in all of his aura you could. The Snow family had a newfound power in recent years, and boy did he know it. He was dripping in luxury. He carried himself with such seriousness and coldness that it drew you in.

You broke away from your trance, looking forward at the road as well. It was hard to focus on anything but him when you were around Coriolanus. He too was a capitol brat, one of the worst. He supported the games in all their glory, though he was never too extravagant about it. He’s a few years older than you, meaning he’s seen more of the games. He probably accepted the fact that they were never going to end.

Stuck in your thoughts once again, you hadn’t even realized you reached your estate that quickly. The car stopped, and Coriolanus opened the door and shut it quietly. He headed to your side of the vehicle and opened your door, holding out his hand for you to grab. Blushing, you smiled and took his hand, slowly exiting the car. He opened the back of the car, retrieved your dress, and you two headed into the house. “Thank you, Coriolanus. You didn’t have to do all that,” you speak gently. “It’s a part of my job, Y/N,” he says coldly. You wonder if you’ll ever get past his emotionless wall. You enter the house, and Coriolanus hands the dress off to a helper so they can take it to your room.

“Lovely seeing you today, Miss Y/N,” he says before walking back towards her father’s office. He strides when he walks, hands in his pockets and chin up. You smile to yourself, before heading up to your room.

The next day at the academy was dragging. Excitement bubbled in your stomach for the Gala the next day, and all of the classes were giving you a headache. You didn’t need them anyway - your success was guaranteed thanks to your father.

As you were finally dismissed from your last class, you gathered your things and headed for the door. Cascading down the stairs, your best friend Bridgette Sinclair joined you.

Both of you had been friends for years, taking a fancy to each other's' company. She was a shorter girl, with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes. A true capitol beauty, you had always thought. She too was born into the power she had, and she too believed all the same as you did. She didn’t act arrogant, never bragged on any of her assets. You loved her like a sister.

“I say, we go to the park and discuss the Gala tomorrow! I can’t wait to see you there, Y/N.” You giggled with the girl, allowing your teenage personality to peek through.

“Let’s go to my house instead, I’ll show you my dress!” You smiled and jumped up and down, finally allowing yourself to be true to how excited you were.

She squealed in response as you waited for your driver. You hoped and prayed it wasn’t Coriolanus, Bridgette would never shut up about it. She knew about your crush, and she wanted you to talk to him so bad. Every time she’d hear about him, see him, or even just think about him, she would always tell you and then laugh at your blush.

The both of you sit and gossip until the black SUV comes to pick you both up. Fingers crossed behind your back, you open the door with your other hand, and almost roll your eyes. Coriolanus is your driver again, of course. His blue eyes look at you through the rearview mirror as you sit down, not breaking his gaze even when Bridgette sits next to you.

“Still no new driver I guess, yeah?” You look back at him through the window as he suddenly stops staring. Bridgette laughs and grabs your hand.

“Uh- yeah no. Not yet. Your father is a particular man,” Coriolanus says, hesitantly.

He slowly starts to take you both back to the estate, the car ride consisting of awkward stares from Coriolanus as Bridgette pesters you through hushed whispers. You almost feel as if he’s hearing everything she’s saying. You smack her quickly and quietly in hopes she’ll shut up.

Arriving at the estate, Coriolanus does the same thing as before and opens the car door for you and Bridgette. However, his hand is only offered to you, not her. A strange action for him, you had always known him to be cold but still very polite. You took his hand and exited the vehicle before running into the house with Bridgette, looking back at Coriolanus as a ‘thank you’, before heading inside.

“Y/N I have got to see your dress. I won’t tell anyone what it looks like, just please show me!” Bridgette plops onto your bed, anticipating your dress like a child on Christmas morning.

You smile and head into your closet to retrieve the gorgeous gown. Grabbing it off the hanger, you slowly unzip the protective bag off of it. Bridgette’s eyes widen as she gets up to feel the dress, jaw dropped to the ground. She feels the material all in her fingers, gently admiring everything about the highly anticipated gown.

“Oh my God Y/N. It’s beautiful. I absolutely love it!” She starts smiling widely before getting a mischievous grin on her face.

“You know who else will love it,” she says, giggling slightly.

You zip up the dress and hang it back in the closet, getting flustered by Bridgette’s continuous mentioning of Coriolanus. As much as you wished he had noticed you in the same way, you knew it would never happen. You were just like every other girl in the capitol. Nothing special about you. You wished he would see you as something special, but you were sure he didn’t.

“If you don’t stop mentioning him, I'm going to strangle you, I swear.” You point at her, smiling sternly. She puts her hands up in a ‘it wasn’t me’ motion, before you plop down onto the bed next to her.

“I really wish he did say something to me, just once you know? He is really handsome,” you admit. You hardly ever opened up about your feelings for him, just felt like getting it off your chest.

“I know, Y/N. But I'm telling you, in a dress like that, with looks like yours, you won’t go unnoticed. There is simply no way he won’t stare at you tomorrow. And believe me, I noticed him looking at you in the rearview today. And! He only gave his hand to you for help out of the car. That had to mean something!” Bridgette sits up on the bed, you shortly following. She shakes your shoulders and tells you to be more confident in yourself.

Hours pass by discussing makeup and flirting tips and all the other girly topics you could think of. All in preparation for the gala, of course. You discussed which shoes to wear, which hairstyle would look best, what color lipstick, everything. You knew you would feel pretty tomorrow, just maybe not pretty enough for him.

Bridgette left after all the discussion, being picked up by her own driver. As you were walking back to your room after taking her to the door, you spot Coriolanus in the hall. He was passing off cash to a man you had never seen before. You quickly hide in the doorframe and try to listen as best you can. The man is short, seems friendly enough.

‘Maybe a new hire?’ you think to yourself. Then, you’re finally able to pick up their conversation.

“Just let me pose as the driver for a few more days. I won’t tell Mr. Stirling. Just leave the premises when you’re supposed to pick her up, and return back to the house in however long it would take you to pick her up yourself. Just this last time,” Coriolanus quietly whispers. He’s practically begging the poor man, shoving wads of cash towards him.

‘Are they talking about me? He wants to drive me around? Is that why he’s been my driver?’ Thoughts are running through your head a mile a minute. So fast, you weren’t able to notice the conversation being over, and Coriolanus now heading your way.

Too late to try to hide, you slowly start to reveal yourself as if you had just been walking to your room. He spots you immediately, eyes getting wide. You smile at him slightly, before trying to reach the stairs. However, he speeds up and grabs you by the shoulders, pressing you against a nearby wall.

“Did you hear any of that, Ms. Y/N? Be honest with me.” His eyes piercing into yours, quickly darting from your lips and back up. He looks absolutely insane.

“I- uh no. I don’t even know what you’re talking about I swear,” you lie. His eyes are scanning your face frantically before he releases you.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N. As I'm sure you’re now aware, I'll be your driver. Be ready at 5. I’ll pick you up.” He slowly stares for just a second before walking away. He’s wearing a long coat, taking long strides. Something about him is so addicting.

You catch your breath for a second, slowly starting to put the pieces together. He knew you were listening, and now you knew you were correct. He wanted to be your driver and he was bribing the new hire! Oh you couldn’t wait to tell Bridgette about this.

You hurriedly headed up to your room, changing into your PJs and getting ready for bed. Your mind continuously running on overdrive, you couldn’t seem to focus on anything, except the fact he was taking you to the gala tomorrow. Did he like you?

Getting into your bed, it wasn’t long before you fell asleep, Coriolanus heavy on your mind.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you #coryo x reader #coryo snow #coriolanus x reader #tbosas #tom blyth x you #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth #corio snow #fluff #toxic #rich #dark #young coriolanus snow

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cephei-ea · 1 year

Text

Genshin - Argument pt2

Characters: Diluc, Ch*lde, Dainsleif

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Synopsis: You walked out after an argument and the guys are a mess

Warnings: cursing, mentions of assault, mugging, car crash and murder/kidnapping, ch*lde content, no HCs for this one sorry😔 Can be read as a stand alone but it may be confusing, refer to part one for a full experience. (Argument, genshin 2)

A/N: can you tell i rushed the fuck out of this after realizing how long it’s been since this was requested? This is not my best writing I have to admit my heat wasn’t in it for some reason and I’ve been super busy. I was hit by some old man in a sudan a few weeks ago and I only recently healed so I just finished. Enjoy

___

Diluc

Diluc ripped the blazer pulled taut around his strong torso off and discarded it haphazardly on the floor below. The material clacked together and landed with a dull thud with its weight in front of the fire. He stood, ripping his gloves off of his hands and loosening the shirt constricting his airway.

He hadn’t experienced true panic in a long time but the thought that you were most absolutely pissed off with him gave him chills that ran violently through the vertebrae of his spine. The fact that you up and left, intensified those chills. He was unsure whether you would be back tonight, next week or ever at all, but even considering entertaining the idea of you never returning to him made his blood boil beneath his veins despite his years upon long years of steeling himself and building walls up around himself. In his mind, you could do no wrong and if his dear lover had deemed it necessary to leave the house because something he said that had stung so badly, it must have been true that he deserved it.

Ripping the leather gloves from his hands, his skin crawled at the image of your back facing him. At the idea that you were somewhere he couldn’t find you and that you could have been in immense danger. At the sour, fist clenching reminder that despite the long hours of search he conducted for you, it proved inadequate, Diluc slammed his hands aggressively against the nearby ebony console stand. In one swift, yet piercingly angry motion, Diluc had belted every set of papers, folder, candle and any other item on the surface, to the floor. The crimson seeping from his hand did not cease for a moment and instead smeared against the wood of the console stand. The fire wielder dragged a hand through his unruly red hair and found that the knots building in his locks had become out of control. The hair tie used to keep his hair from his face was proving inadequate after so many hours of running and panicking.

Finally, after nearly ten minutes of trashing his office and then another 30 spent roaming the winery aimlessly in search of the strongest liquor he had and knocking down anything in his way, Diluc sat down at his couch. With his messy thoughts and scrambled heart, the building was left in total shambles.

The fire in front of him was dimming, the numbness and amnesia it’s bright light and the buzz from the alcohol he managed to dig up gave him, at once began to fade. Luckily, with his worried heart and a pounding headache, the world favored Diluc and allowed him to find sleep. Though his rest was all but pleasant, Diluc awoke a much more sane man. His irrationality from the previous night of delirium had worn off and he was ready to ask around for you. Call in as many favors as he needed.

Against his plans and his wishes, before the redhead could manage to sit up, an aggressive, dull pounding emerged beneath the skin of his forehead. He fell immediately back onto the couch, gripping his head, skin wrinkled with pain. For a moment, Ragnvindr did not attempt to so much as open his eyes again until he was sure he wouldn’t fall on his ass or vomit the second he watched the world spin. What woke him, albeit the pain all over his body and the protests his muscles screamed at him, was the sound of the doors to the winery opening.

Had he lost his mind?

Diluc must have lost his mind.

The maids and butlers wouldn’t be here for another hour or two and the building, still, was a mess. To say the least. He shot up from his seat, praying that when he turned to the door, he would find a servant that arrived early, rather than a customer.

Not only were his expectations not met, but they were far, far exceeded at the same time. Instead, Diluc found himself staring at you as you gaped at the mess burdening the building. Your jaw all but dropped, wide eyes staring at the shattered glass of a vase he swore he liked when you asked him, papers and an old telephone from an antiques store you two visited in your free time left forgotten on the floor. Everywhere. Looking up, you noted that Diluc himself, had been mirroring his panicked mind in the state of his winery. His hair was ruffled and knotted, clothes from the night prior still glued to his body.

“Diluc what the hell happened!? Did someone break in!?” You shouted, kneeling in front of a flower vase nearby and lifting it back into place. You liked that one, thankfully it was intact. A painting of you two in your 2 year long honeymoon phase was tilted on the wall. “I leave for five minutes, Diluc!! What happened to you, why are you bleeding!?” The vase as well as the painting, however, were both quickly forgotten. You instead lent your focus to your lover, crawled out of the couch and staring at you like you weren’t real. A thick white wrapping of bandages covered your abdomen, wrapped around your waist and the smallest of patches of red had seeped through the side. Where the glass shard from earlier had hit you. Dilucs mouth hung agape, he couldn’t find the words to say to you before you were kneeled before him. Using your strength to gather him in your arms and help him up. Though it didn’t require much effort on your part, Diluc could feel you picking up the pieces right in front of him. The pieces of his heart that had dropped when you left. He was quick to wrap his muscle corded arms around your neck and hold you against him.

“I’m... so sorry.” He didn’t lift his head in fear that if he did, you would be reminded of what he did, and leave him again. “Don’t go. Please, don’t.” The red head was only put at ease when he felt your secure arms hold him back. And though your hands didn’t reach far enough to touch around his back, Ragnvindr had never felt so at home and so relieved than in your warm embrace. He finally allowed a sniffle to escape him; but was sure to block you from the view of the countless tears slipping down his cheeks. “Where- where can I go without you?” This failed, however, as it was all too clear that you’d heard his quiet sobs of relief and the desperation in his voice. The last question in his mind was whether or not you would forgive him or not. Whether or not you could move on and forgive his outburst. The fit of rage that had left a small gash on your abdomen. And even if you could find it in your heart to accept his apologies, Diluc knew this night would be branded into his memory with a hot iron rod. His fingers tightened against your clothes and the knight could swear he felt his knees weaken when he saw the blood staining your side. How could he ever recover from this? From such a wicked sin? He couldn’t, for once, imagine the day he would forget hurting the single most important person to him. The idea itself was so repulsively vile that his stomach tighten with the weight of his actions. He gently pressed his hand against the wound, through the pain seeding through his own skin. “Darling, I don’t have the words.” He shied from your gaze, constantly blinking away the tears that threatened to spill again. What could he say to you? How could he know what you were thinking?

“Okay- okay, Diluc come here.” You placed a hand against his and gently pried it from your side, instead placing your lips against his knuckles when you felt the tremble beneath his skin. And the crimson dripping down his arms and outlining his veins. “It’s alright-“

“It’s not. It’s not alright.” He suddenly spat, eyes having softened upon watching as you forgave him.

“Diluc it’s okay. I wouldn’t lie to you, alright?” The knight latched onto your hand so tightly, you feared it might have fallen off, should he have let go. “It’s okay.” Small sniffles, and another sob erupted from your ever stoic lover. Finally the walls of the strongest man you knew were coming down and you were awaiting readily to gather him in your arms and accept every apology he chanted.

Ch*lde

As soon as Tartaglia’s key alights his car with its colored LEDs, the gas pedal is nearly floored. You couldn’t have gotten far, surely. Surely, you were okay with all of the snow and slush caking the concrete roads at this ungodly hour. Surely, you would have kept a level head while driving and ensured your own safe. All the same, Childe gripped the steering wheel like it was keeping him from losing his shit. That it was. His eyes, burning bright and blue searched every bus stop, every bench, every dark sidewalk where you may have stopped.

“Crash reported ahead.”

His navigation blared, pumping a newfound level of fear into the blood of his popping veins. He never imagined a few words could end with the love of his life running in search of escape from him, of all people. That it could have resulted in the possibility of losing you so suddenly. That the consequence to his mistake would have been so grand. The ginger ground his teeth to dust, pressing on the gas until he was doubling the speed limit. Still, not a gust of a wind of your presence or merely your scent, whatsoever. Nevertheless, his speed did not hinder him from checking the car parked on the side of the road, it’s hood decimated horribly by a girthy tree. The second he did not recognize the vehicle, he sped on, sighing a breath of relief he had no idea he’d held in until the moment it escaped him. Childe could not comprehend all of the terrible things that might have happened to you in this cold, icy weather. Nor did he want to. The guilt from his having said something cruel enough to make you leave crushed him under its weight alone. The ginger wanted to pull out his hair. Might something have happened to you during the time which you were meant to be under his protection, his worries would not have lied with his reputation. But in the fear that you would not return to him.

Childe slammed his hand against the steering wheel, blaring his horn at a slow car in front of his. He didn’t have time for this. No time to wait for you. No time to wait on this perfectly sane person. No time to be waiting around for you as if you’d fall into his hold once again. He could not, Childe opted, give you the time to consider leaving him because you really would this time.

“Piece of shit.” He seethed through his teeth, swerving past the small Sudan as soon as a clearing to the side of the road opened wide enough. And it astounded him above all else, really, how fast you must have been going to have avoided his sights for so long. The wind howled, the blizzard seemed to pick up significantly, ice and snowflakes blaring at his window. It took the ginger all too long, too much driving, too much fear, too much gas to finally catch sight of the car you’d taken. Seeing it, a newfound relief washed over him like a tidal wave and he floored the gas pedal again. Childe thanked the good heavens that the freeway the two of you had entered was fairly unoccupied. Between the cars and the lanes of the road came opportunity for the ginger to swerve skillfully between tanks of metal in order to finally approach yours. You were quick to make your exit not long after, however. He was glad you didn’t seem to notice his car following you but as he thought about it, Childe hadn’t thought about what he would do when he found you. At the time of his chase, he had been too panicked to decide on how he would get you back home to him.

The car you’d picked came to a stop in front of the ocean. Though you couldn’t see the moon nor the stars, the blizzard seemed to have calmed momentarily. Hopefully, you thought, long enough to dip your toes in the freezing sea water and distract your mind from the screams of the argument you hadn’t resolved.

Childe watched you exit the car slowly, hair blowing wildly in the wind and frost almost instantly forming on the soft locks of your hair. You hadn’t expected it, despite the weather, to be so difficult to move your legs. To step away from the car you two shared and in your mind, just one step farther from a solution with your lover. Walking away from that car was like walking away from him, so your lead-heavy legs worked like steam engines to push you forward with your hesitation. It did not pass the harbinger how you had removed your shoes and left them in the car, reddening your toes and making your fingers tremble from the sheer cold. His panic hadn’t dissolved, however, and Childe struggled to unbuckle himself as quickly as possible. His lithe fingers fumbled hurriedly against his buckle and the car door handle. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. Fortunately for him, you stopped dead in your tracks the moment you heard his car door shut behind you. With wide eyes meeting his, you paced backwards.

How did he find you? You didn’t know. You thought you’d been sure you sped enough to escape him, even if he’d followed right after you (which you weren’t actually expecting). Just as quickly as you met his eyes, he’d sped to you so quickly you couldn’t back up. Childe looked livid, volatile and like if you said the wrong thing, he would turn red and explode. So you kept your mouth tightly shut when he picked you up and quite literally shoved you into his passenger seat. Finally sitting beside you once more, he looked to you, the windshield, down at his lap and back to you again. His hands trembled, unsure of whether to touch you, support his pounding head or slam against the wheel in frustration.

“What are you thinki-…. What were you thinking!!!???” Childe screamed at you, wiping a palm against his mouth in an attempt to calm himself. “Can you even fathom how afraid I was!? There is a Snezhnayan blizzard out here right now and you want to hit, what, 110 on the fucking highway!!?? Are you out of your mind!?” His eyes were red, a sudden change from his blue irises. “What if you crashed!!?? Huh!!?? What the fuck do I-…” he covered his mouth for a moment before continuing. “What am I supposed to do? If I can’t find you one day?” His tone was soft now, cold and shaky hands gripping the steering wheel like a vice and head resting against his forearms.

“You’re yelling at me again?” You spoke after many too moments of silence but Childe didn’t so much as lift his head. “Is this how you want it to be? Constantly screaming and cursing at each other over things that can be prevented?” You were sick of seeing merely his orange tuft of hair. How could you get him to meet your gaze? “How do you think I’ve felt for months now, Tartaglia?” The ginger immediately shook his head and for once leaned back into his seat.

“Don’t say that. Don’t call me that. That’s not my name.” The harbinger was long past recognizing his mistakes. His issue now was his guilt. Because, yes, he definitely knew how you felt. Those nights coming home half breathing had flown past him. Never would he have thought that they affected you so deeply, had you not said something. And at those times when he was so very tired, so very sore and ultimately craving sleep and nothing more, screams of displeasure and fear from his lover we’re of his least concern. He imagined you felt the same way at that moment. Listening to him scream about how you could have died had the highway not been so fortunately empty was likely nothing but a passing nuisance to you now. Hearing his harbinger name form on your tongue cut deeper than any wound he’d earned in battle. That name was reserved for those he did not trust and those who did not care for nor trust him either. The only name his ears craved to hear you speak was Childe, Ajax or a pet name. Now after such a long day and so much stress and screaming and driving, Childe swore he was going to have a heart attack if you continued using that godforsaken name of his.

“Try again. Maybe an apology, Tartaglia- why don’t we start with th-” you retorted, unprepared for him to cut you off with yet another scream.

“-That’s not my name!!!” He still wouldn’t opt to meet your eyes but you could tell he craved to with how his head shook. “I’m sorry. Okay, I’m sorry.” Finally his eyes were visible and you leaned forward to put yourself in his line of sight. Hesitant but relieved you didn’t seem angry, Childe finally complied. “I didn’t know it was so important and I brushed it off because I really didn’t think much of it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, if I knew it pained you this much I never would have ignored you.” He fought a small battle in his mind. Whether to try and grab your hand and selfishly soothe his own nerves with the softness of your skin or to allow you to come to him. He placed his shaky hand open in front of you, fingers bent and aching to enclose around yours. “Please. Don’t use that name.” If it made him feel like he’d lost you, it was clear you did not care. But when you placed your hand in his scarred palm, his fingers reacted like the teeth of a Venus flytrap and ensured you could not let go of him. He’d felt so sure of himself when he thought that you were overreacting when you scolded him for returning home hardly alive. Of course while it was clear to him how dangerous his line of work was, it hadn’t occurred to him that it would pain you emotionally as much as it did him physically.

“Okay, Childe. Tell me honestly. If me driving in the snow was so scary, how would you feel if I returned home every day from now on on the brink of death and bleeding into the carpet? Just imagine it-“ You’re voice shook with each word, holding back tears of frustration at the reminder of how much you despised the night time upon catching sight of his bandages again. The harbinger shook his head furiously in an instant. Then he did again, even more aggressively this time and his nails dug into your hand. He didn’t want to imagine that. He couldn’t. You reciprocated, knowing that he could imagine the stress he’d caused you. “Childe because I can’t-“ you clasped a hand over your mouth for a second and dragged it down with the tear that slipped past your defenses. “I can’t keep seeing you like that.” Your voice was a whisper and Childe took that as his queue to stop being pathetic. After all, he was the one who cursed himself to death or a fate worse than death a mere few minutes ago. A life without you. “And I can’t… literally can’t handle it. I’m not strong enough, I’m sorry. I never imagined you felt that you’d rather die than stay with me. If you felt that way you could have said something. I’m not here to hold you down and if you- if you di… die-“ your tongue went rigid. Hiccups and small gasps of fear erupted mortifyingly from your throat. You couldn’t finish your sentence fast enough before your lover yanked you into his embrace and curled his muscle-corded arms around you.

“My god I didn’t mean that. A life without you is worse than death. A life without you is stripped of meaning. Is bland and colorless. I can’t do…” he smooshed your face into his warm chest and you muffled a sob into his chest. “Cant do without you.” He rested his cheek on your head and rubbed it snuggly into you. “Love you so much. Cant leave me okay? Okay?” He chanted with a voice so genuinely dripping with honey that you quite literally melted into his arms. Your body went limp in his hold apart from your hands gripping the back of his black t-shirt. “You’re not leaving me. You can’t.” He smiled to himself, eyes red and trained on your smaller figure smooshed like slime to his. You only hummed in response. And if that meant you would die before leaving him; and if it meant he would kill anyone before letting you leave him, you didn’t care.

“Okay.”

Dainsleif

If Dainsleif had gone insane, he wasn’t sure. But waiting for a few hours at your shared house had never felt so long. Nothing had felt so long. The blonde could brandish his achievement of living for centuries at any moment. And it was clear in his appearance, his intelligence, experience and demeanor that he’d had already seen more than he could handle. He’d experienced wars, heartbreak, torture, decades in complete solitude with no one to care for nor anyone to care for him. When you came along and lit a small wisp of a flame in his heart, it made all the difference. He found himself quickly addicted to your smile and the way your heart beated for him and him alone. You made as much clear. This warm love for you was not exempt from becoming a problem, however. Though Dainsleif would never admit it, he loved you sincerely, cripplingly and cruelly. Dainsleif found himself searching for you at his lowest, with you at his highest and when without you, paralyzed. You'd forced your nimble fingers into the cracks of his shielded heart and wedged it open, finding a way to corrupt his steeled mind to depend solely on you and your affection in order to survive. He knew then, when you'd left him in your house alone that you'd succeeded. The moment you shut the door and whispered his greatest nightmare to his face, the blonde couldn't breathe. He stumbled over himself when his legs instinctively took action to catch up to you but it was almost immediately that he failed. His boot caught on his heel and Dainsleif almost went tumbling to the wood floor.

Should he follow you? Should he wait here? Should he call you, knowing there was no chance you wanted to hear from him? He was lost when it came to you. You were the only one who could ever rule him completely disoriented. It took him a long while to realize he had been taking himself in laps around the living room. His mind raced faster than his heart. Where were you? Were you okay? What if you’d been kidnapped or mugged or assaulted or raped? He felt his blood run colder than the endless snowstorms that ruled Snezhnaya at the prospect of not being sure whether or not someone had their rancid hands on you.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Any sailer would have been proud of the string of prays and curses Dainsleif muttered every few seconds. As long as you returned, he told himself. As long as you came back to him unharmed and alive, everything would be okay. That obsession he had with you had, somewhere along the way, had given Dainsleif the irresistible urge to brutally disembowel and skin alive any person who spoke to you for too long. Anyone who smiled just a little too much beside you. If he said he hadn’t hunted down at least one or two people for crossing a line with you, he’d be lying. Now, however, the only solution to his guilt ridden mind was to have you chew him out.

You, nevertheless, were too plagued at the brain with thoughts of insecurity and doubt to even think of returning home to your worried lover. Your mind drifted to his scrunched face, angry tone, and the phrase that lived only in your nightmares until that day. The nightmares you would wake from in a cold sweat, yearning for his reassurance and affections. Hoping so dearly with everything within you that you would never screw up bad enough to receive such a world ending look directed at you. Dainsleif was usually hyper aware of your doubtful mind. Sensing the moments when your insecurities surfaced in the slight stilling of your dulled eyes or the way your fingers twitched. Tonight, you realized quite vividly he hadn’t noticed a single one of those signs.

Instead, the worried man was questioning whether you were alive. Or if, instead, you’d been stolen off the streets at the ungodly hour it was. Maybe you’d been hurt. Or raped. Or murdered. What scared Dain the most, above anything in the universe that could possibly frighten him, was the unknown. More especially when it came to you. Not knowing where you were, if you were healthy or okay. Not knowing what to do in order to soothe his heart pounding through the gaps in his rib cage and attacking his chest. While his impenetrable immortality was a benefit when it came to protecting you, if you were not there to be protected, Dainsleif was the most powerless man on the planet. And he couldn’t stand the feeling of knowing that if you were screaming for his help to save you at that very moment, he wouldn’t know until later that night when the police arrived at his door with news that you’d been stolen from him for good this time. And that moment would crush him under the weight of every syllable. And his world would legitimately collapse within an instant. And his sanity would shatter like a cheap wine glass in front of his very eyes. And his life and his purpose would crumble away.

If you should have returned home, you didn’t know. What was clear to you was that you were ready to make up with him. Whether he wanted you there or not, you were unsure of as well. But you were prepared to pack your bags if he asked it of you. If what he said was true, in that extreme moment of anger, then it would be better to remain there, at the beach you walked down as you released every milliliter of terminal heartbreak in the form of every tear your eyes could manage. Avoiding the thought of him was impossible; as you’d found a long, long while ago, without being dead. Dainsleif occupied and owned every fiber of the pathetic excuse for a brain you called your own. Any waking moment was lived entirely in hopes that maybe he would praise you, give you a kiss or lend you some of his precious time. And now that your world had crumbled before you, you weren’t sure of how to react. Sure, there had been nights were your dreams turned to nightmares in which Dainsleif would leave you, abandon you or incidents like these would occur. But similar to dying in a nightmare, you’d woken up before they progressed and were left to dread every idea of an outcome. Now that those vile words had actually been directed towards you, all that preparation to feel indifferent about heartbreak over the years went out of the window. As you sat silently and pathetically alone by the water, you sobbed with fear. Fear that you weren’t sure of how to react. How to move on. How to respond to his humiliating confession. How was it possible to move past this? You’d wanted to believe so desperately that you were dreaming still, your brain finally able to fabricate some form of a story to break your heart again. Alas, you heard your lover speak it with his own lips. And ignoring the invisible fist gripping your heart painfully, you stood with shaky legs and a trembling lip. You knew what was to come.

Now, whatever you may have thought was to come, definitely had not looked anything like that. Arriving home to find your calm, collected boyfriend ripping his hair out. Like literally he ran in laps around the room, hands gripping the light of his locks and letting an unnatural amount of hair fall to the floor. You cringed at the awful state of your home. Had the house been ransacked in that short period of time you’d been gone? And was Dainsleif so disoriented that he would let an intruder tear your home apart to such a degree? Why was there a knife lodged into the flat screen tv that took you three months to save up for? With part of the carpet torn up from the floor and the biggest knife of them all gripped tightly in your lovers hand. Of course, that wasn’t the least of it. Plenty of other sharp objects had been stuck into various spots around the room, a plate or two shattered on the kitchen floor and your dining table quite literally knocked over.

You were surprised at the level of shock Dain must have been experiencing considering the fact that he didn’t so much as notice your return to the house for a few minutes. You stared in awe at the prospect of your sweet lover making a mess of the place. He’d never been one for a mess, for trouble and certainly not for any kind of chaos. Being as calm and collected as he was, it was out of character when Dainsleif whipped his head to you with wide, red eyes when your keys fell with a tension shattering clatter. It was like he’d seen a ghost with his hollowed irises. Had he truly been jumped in your absence? If he had, it wasn’t like your immortal lover was incapable of defending himself. He was more than adept at subduing any threat that crossed his path.

“Dainsleif what happened in here?” You asked in genuine concern. He could only open and close his mouth in shock, likely not having had expected you to return. And most definitely not having a word to say in response. In all honesty he, too, did not know how the apartment managed to reach such a state. More than likely, the disheveled rooms were a reflection as well as a result of the delusions he’d fabricated in the confines of his own mind. It showed in the trembling of his fingers that were gripping another knife he planned on throwing into some other expensive piece of furniture.

“You… here… why-when did you-why did you come here?” You hardly had to ponder the answer to his question. You knitted your brows together, confused beyond belief.

“What do you mean why, Dain? I live here. With you. Remember?” You scoffed, trying to imagine a reason behind his clear outburst.

“You haven’t… chosen to leave?” The five words he’d spoken out of fear in that moment told you everything you needed to know. He was afraid. He’d expressed his grief and crippling fear in the destruction of countless items in your home together. Finally— and likely for the first time that night— Dainsleif looked around him at the chaos that had ensued. It would take a burglar effort to cause as much damage in a number of hours that Dainsleif had in only one. It astounded him what he was capable of when he didn’t put his mind to it. Truthfully, he’d felt so many negative emotions for the first time that night that the memory of destroying the house was but a fleeting concern. Now with you having returned when he could have promised that you were to leave him, Dainsleif teared up.

“No! Why would I leave you, Dainsleif that is ridiculous! Did you do this shit!? What are you, five!?” It’s clear in your tone of voice that you’re not happy with him, but Dainsleif could not care less about how angry you would be with him. Even if he hugged your leg with sweaty skin and teary cheeks, at least you would interact with him. Thankfully he opted to refrain from touching you. You looked angry. Confused or overwhelmed. He couldn’t tell which. You looked so troubled that despite his desperation for you touch, he wouldn’t risk losing you.

“Are you upset with me?” He whispered, straining his wilting muscles to stand up. You weren’t mad. Not with the looks he gave you. Not with how much he loved you so preciously. You knew he hadn’t meant what he said. Dainsleif wasn’t the type and never had been. You weren’t stupid; well aware of the fact (especially with the disorder in your home as a consequence to your absence for a mere hour or two) that he had regretted what he said. The look in his eyes when your eyebrows furrowed at his question reassured you of it.

“Dainsleif I’m not mad. I just wouldn’t have taken you as the type to trash the house in a hissy fit in a matter of, what, an hour?” His face scrunched with what looked to be discomfort.

“No! Please don’t do that. Be upset with me. Hit me.” Was he angry?? Surely not. He stepped closer to you and gripped your wrist. Thrusting your hesitant hand against his chest and repeatedly slamming it against himself, he looked as though he would cry. “Yell at me.”Watching your lover as he lifted your hand once more and hit it harshly against his face broke your heart. Thud after thud, he was unrelenting. “Hit me and label me with terrible names. Hate me.” You began to bawl. Maybe your arm pulled back in protest but Dain had always been stronger. Smarter. More experienced. You couldn’t overpower him or his insatiable desire to feel you release your anger onto him. You tried. And with all your might to stop him from forcing your hand against his skin. To stop even yourself from leaving such red marks against his skin. “I’m sorry.” Now he slowed. Suddenly he loosened his grip on your hand; it hardly mattered. Your guilt ate you alive. You made him feel this way. If you’d had no heart to be upset with him for what he’d said, now you certainly had no right. You weren’t even strong enough to tell your lover to stop hurting himself. It hardly mattered whether he would retain the damage or not. Never would you lay a hand on the man you loved. Dainsleif, however, could say the same thing when it came to how tears spilled down your cheeks. He’d been the cause despite his endless promises to protect you.

“Don’t make me do that to you.” Your wrists fell from his hands. “I could never do that-“ your sniffles must have ripped courage from Dainsleif. He’d found the strength to wrap his arms around your smaller frame and crush you against him. “I could never hate you. I don’t ever want to hurt you.” Burying your face into his warm chest, you kept a mental note to speak with him. I’m the moment, your priority would be to hold him in your arms and drill the fact that he was long past forgiveness into his heart.

___

Thanks for reading

Sorry for the delay, it will be a normal occurance

914 notes · View notes

dellalyra · 1 year

Note

you putting “megumi needs his mom rn” in the cw makes me wonder how he and the family reacted to yuuji dying after the detention center mission (and also what was the reaction to him coming back since i’m assuming gojo told reader before they revealed it to everyone else)

Family Formations - Part Eleven

Summary: Deja vu visits you when your son loses his best friend.

Warning: swearing, angst, acc kinda soft too, mourning, mentions of blood and vomiting, canon typical violence, MDNI

A/N: I had already started this fic when this request came through so loving the telepathy going on here. Also. This is sad. I’m sorry. I’ll make it worth it dw dw.

Recommended Listening:

Daylight - David Kushner

No Surprises - Radiohead

Ghost of You - 5 Seconds of Summer

Sparks - Coldplay

Your doorbell chimed, glancing at the clock hanging above the fireplace from you’d spot on the sofa, 8 pm? Satoru wasn’t due home until 9 pm plus - he just warped inside your home. Did he order your flowers again? You check the baby monitor and see your 4-month-old is still sound asleep in his crib.

Walking up to the door, you sensed a very familiar cursed energy. Megumi? What’s he doing here, it’s Wednesday.

You could hear the rain and thunder pouring and hitting your windows in waves.

You open the door, and you see nothing.

A whimper emanates from beside you, and on the ground – slumped against the doorway is your eldest boy.

You fall on your knees beside him.

“Megumi! Baby, what’s going on? You’re going to catch a cold.” You brush his hair out of his face, and you are stricken with the realisation that he is crying. His angular face is so devoid of any emotion, but the tears scream otherwise. You could count the number of times you’ve seen him cry in 10 years on one hand and you hadn’t been prepared for this tonight.

“Jesus, baby what’s going on?” You try to heave him up from the ground and he’s as limp as a rag doll as you try to guide him inside the door. The hallway is as far as you can manage his weight before you give in and shut the door to the outside world. He’s now just leaned against your sage green wall, if he wasn’t breathing, you’d think he was comatose.

Only now do you realise he’s bleeding. His lip is busted, and his eyebrow is too. But what type of curse would elicit this reaction?

“Megumi? Honey? Talk to me - what’s happened?” You kneel beside him, one hand on his shoulder, the other on the top of his head.

Empty eyes, now a dull blue, look up at you through lashes soaked with rain and tears.

“He’s dead.” The tiniest voice, again, void of emotions.

Satoru? No – you had been on the phone with him 20 minutes ago.

“He killed him.” His eyes are facing you – but they’re looking straight through you.

“Who’s dead, Megumi?” You probe – anxiety gripping your stomach like a vice.

“Sukuna – ripped his heart out. In front of me. Just ripped it out. His heart. He’s dead.” The words are barely intelligible in the mumbles that come from his out and you’re still as confused, Sukuna? How could- oh my god Yuuji is dead.

Yuuji Itadori.

Dead.

“Oh my god – fuck. Megumi, my sweet boy.” At this point, he turned to you.

He looked into your eyes.

He turned his head and vomited on the floor beside him.

You pull him into you, tears flooding your face as you think about that sweet, sweet boy – a soul too good for this world so brutally ripped out of it.

You wipe his mouth on your sweater sleeve and once again haul him up into your grasp he almost falls but you pull on every muscle fibre you had – you needed to get him dry and cleaned up.

A memory played in your mind, a sense of déjà vu – Satoru vomiting and sobbing and you shaking with tears curled up together – the loss of another best friend. The fates were cruel masters to make you relive this scene again.

Once he was up the stairs you lay him on his bed. Where he just sat on the edge, legs still on the ground and stared at his shoes. He went to vomit again, and this time you caught it with a bucket you’d retrieved from the closet.

“I need to get a cloth. I’ll be right back.” He didn’t acknowledge this. You just needed a moment to gather yourself before you went back in - you’d be no good to him if you continue to try to help in the state you're in, a mess of shock and grief and anger. White hot anger.

You shut the en suite door of his room behind you, and you rush to the toilet and heave up all of your remaining food at the mental image of that darling boy laying cold and dead and gutted on the ground.

You give yourself a moment – your son and you breathe so that you can deal with everything later – wait, does Satoru know?

Grabbing a cloth – you go into the room, laying the cloth down for a moment, you go into your and Satoru’s room and grab one of his sweatshirts. In Megumi’s room, you pull sweatpants from his wardrobe and look at your son. He’s dripping rainwater onto the carpet and there’s blood from his injuries mingling, tinging it pink.

You think some of the puddles might be tears, his or your own, you don’t know.

You stand in front of him, remembering the times when you’d do this to help him into his frog pyjamas - he was only 6 back then – 16 now and 5ft 9 – almost a whole foot taller than you. You lift his arms and unzip his jacket – his T-shirt underneath is soaked through too. You peel them both from him and check for cuts on his torso – bruises, old and fresh – but no blood.

You pull Satoru’s sweatshirt over his head, and he doesn’t even seem to notice that you’re moving him. He’s just limp in your arms, and you swear to anyone who’s listening to if you could take that pain and shoulder, it yourself then you would.

You peel his slacks down, pulling his sweatpants (a Christmas present from your brother) onto his lanky legs you tuck his hair behind his ears and dry it with a cloth. You then dab at his bleeding wounds, they’re clotting now, and the bleeding is stopping.

You throw the cloth away to the far side of the room.

He’s seen enough blood for today.

Tears are flowing freely from you both as you sit beside him on the edge of the bed.

Your proximity must trigger him back to this plane of existence and he looks at you.

“I couldn’t save him.”

“I know sweet boy, but it’s not your fault. You did everything you could.”

“It was a special grade – he, the curse had a finger. Our mission didn’t say any of that.”

“A special grade? Was Satoru there?” He couldn’t have been, he was in Osaka today.

“No. Just me and Kugisaki and Itadori.” His voice quavers.

You knew exactly what happened. It was clear from even the bare minimum you had heard.

But – now was not the time. Willing yourself to push the thoughts aside. Megumi doesn’t need that right now.

“You did everything you could, ‘Gumi. There was nothing you could have done.”

This was his kryptonite. A heavy, choked sob broke through the air and his body collapsed onto you.

“His heart – he ripped it out. He was right there and he just – momma, he’s dead. I couldn’t save him, Momma.” You broke down, sobbing yourself, cradling this boy – this poor broken boy, into your chest as you hugged him so tight you could feel every shake of his body in your own. You carefully moved. you both so you could sit against his headboard with his sobbing head laid on your stomach.

You are so grateful that Akio is a heavy-sleeping baby because you need to focus on your oldest son now. He needed you, and you were his to protect him, 100%.

You stroke his hair and whisper placating nothing into his ear. Nothing will fix this. Nothing will make it easier or make it feel better. You just need to be here; you just need to hold him now. You can tell him until the cows come home that he did all he could, he couldn’t have stopped Sukuna, that it was not his fault – but all these worlds will refuse to sink in until he’s ready to hear them. Yet, you tell him anyway. Over and over again.

You’ve no idea how much time passes. Your tears mingle with the lingering water on the side of his head as you cry with him but eventually, the sobs turn into heavy breaths, and you realise he’s passed out. Sheer exhaustion has taken his body hostage and for a second, you’re put at peace knowing at least right now – his mind will be quiet.

You slip your phone from your pocket, without moving or disturbing the boy on your lap.

‘Please call me.’ A message from Satoru.

You ring him.

The phone barely dials once before you hear his voice – hoarse.

“Y/N. I –”

“I know ‘Toru. Megumi came home.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t there.” He sounds so broken.

“You have no reason to be sorry baby, we both know how this managed to come to pass.” You hated that he always still felt the weight of the whole world on his shoulders.

“I’ll kill them all.” He says, and you know he’s serious.

“You could, but you won’t. Maybe 10 years ago – maybe then we’d have done it together. But not now, not anymore.” You reply, voice still thick with tears.

There’s silence.

“Where are you, ‘Toru?”

“The morgue.”

“Shoko?”

“On her way in.”

“I can’t leave the boys.”

“I’ll be home soon.”

“I love you.”

He hangs up the phone. Nothing more needs to be said. These feelings are sadly all too familiar to you both. You realise Shoko will have to do the autopsy.

She delivered Akio 4 months ago. Now she’d be cutting up the corpse of the boy who waited outside of the labour ward for 16 hours.

You lean your head back – closing your eyes. Flashes of a pink head tossing back in laughter and strong arms hugging you in thanks, of meatballs served to you as you nurse your newborn and the Spider-Man lamp being plugged in making you smile at the giddy teenager. The faces change, now they’re old and wrinkled and whisper words with serpentine tongues laced with deceit and heartlessness in their actions. They knew what they were doing. Satoru wasn’t in Osaka for no reason. They knew.

They all fucking knew.

They sent him to his death, knowingly and intentionally. They sent three children into a trap all because they are scared. Cowards who hide behind words of ‘the good of society’ and the guise of ‘the greater good’. Satoru and you had screamed and pushed and threatened to stay the execution, but they found a loophole anyway.

They risked Megumi and Nobara – did they think you wouldn’t piece together the big picture? Did they think that you wouldn’t realise?

You don’t know how long you sat there but your phone buzzed again.

📲Satoruuuuu is Calling… ✅⛔️

You pick up.

“He’s alive.”

“What?”

“He’s alive. Yuuji’s alive. Sukuna woke him up…” There are so many tones in his voice and so many thoughts in your head you have to close your eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Well - he’s talking and walking so unless The Last of Us was accurate then…” he attempts a joke – relief clear in his voice.

You softly lift the head from your lap, and place it on the navy pillow. He doesn’t stir.

You walk out into your room, sitting on the balcony – the air was what you needed.

“I don’t know what to say.” That is all you can manage.

The torrent of emotions your mind went through was making you so dizzy you sat on the wooden chair looking at the sky.

“He’s not safe here, they’re going to come for him.” Satoru’s voice comes, quiet through the phone.

“What will we do?” You say.

“He needs time, he needs to train and learn to manipulate and use his cursed energy. If he can protect himself…” Satoru begins.

“We need to hide him. He can’t stay at school or come here.” Your sorcerer’s brain was switched on now.

“I can’t bring him to the Gojo estate either, the elders the family visit too much.” He speaks.

Lightbulb.

“They visit your family… but they’d never think to visit mine. Satoru, bring him to my mom’s. I’ll call her, you can train him there every day, and if we’re being watched it’s not suspicious to visit our own family. She’ll take care of him.” You say, you knew that your family would protect this boy with their lives, he was family to Megumi, family to you.

“Y/N… we can’t tell anyone. The only people who know are me, you, Shoko and Ijichi.” He says, and your heart stops.

You’ll have to lie to Megumi.

“Fuck. It’s too dangerous for him to know – if they catch wind of this, and they find out he knows…” you say.

“He’ll be branded a traitor. Who knows what they’d do for information.”

“He’s going to hate us.”

“He’ll understand. He’s a smart kid.”

“Come home to me, to us – ‘toru. Bring him to my parents and then please come home.” You whisper to him.

He agrees and tells you he loves you.

The weeks fly by as you feel yourself crumbling from the weight of the sadness spilling from your son, Kugisaki isn’t much better and Satoru is still reeling from the elder’s deceit. You stormed to the council meeting the following day and threatened to burn the place to the ground if they so much as considered harming a hair on the head of the other kids.

“Unfortunate circumstances occur on missions. Nobody knows the outcome of these situations.” They fought.

“Oh – you knew the outcome of this one. You knew full well. All of you, every single one of you knew and you allowed it. In legal terms, that’s murder. You’re all sociopaths and whatever awaits you in the next world, I hope it hurts even a fraction of the pain you’ve all caused. Endanger my family again, and I’ll deal with you all personally – never mind Satoru.”

The training was going well – you had gone to your mother’s house two days after his resurrection, after the water cooled and you were sure you weren’t being surveilled.

You had run to Yuuji, running your eyes and hands over every bit of him, checking for wounds and crying into his shoulder. He had died, and somehow you were being comforted by him.

Satoru and you explained the situation, taking turns to train with him. They came up with a ridiculous idea of Yuuji playing Jack in the Box at the exchange event all you could do was allow it.

Back home – you explained to Megumi that the mission had been a nefarious plot concocted by the elders and higher ups to get rid of Yuuji, since you and your husband kept getting in the way – they took the opportunity of your maternity leave to send Gojo to Osaka and place the kids in the path of a Special Grade Curse. You hoped being armed with this information would help him understand why you and Satoru had lied to him, and allowed him to grieve. It hurt you, but his safety was paramount.

When the day came and Yuuji was released, you stood beside Megumi as he and Nobara watched him return from the dead. Jaws hanging open, they couldn’t tear their eyes from their friend.

Reunions and rejoicing complete, you and Satoru pulled Megumi by the sleeve away from the scene, into your classroom.

When the door shut, you began to sob.

“‘Gumi, I’m so sorry. We didn’t have any choice but to keep it a secret. It –” Satoru wraps you into his chest.

“We had to keep it secret, because they would have killed anyone involved if they found out, kiddo. We had to keep you safe.” He says hand on Megumi’s shoulder and a crying wife clinging to him.

“It’s okay.” Megumi shrugs.

You freeze, you thought he’d never forgive you.

“What?” You and Satoru say in unison.

“I get why you did it. Thank you, guys, – for helping him, and uh – for protecting us all.” He says and God this boy will never fail to amaze you. His maturity was something you and Satoru could only have dreamed of at his age and even rarer was hearing such genuine praise from him – he was softer with you, but this was directed to you both.

Wordlessly, you and Satoru wrapped him in your arms and he begrudgingly and awkwardly reciprocated the affection.

Over his head, you looked at your husband. His crystalline eyes filled with relief and love for you and your patchwork family, and you pressed a soft kiss to his lips – a silent thank you for everything you do. The road was never easy, but God was it worth it.

TAGLIST: @vesta-ro @lilithlunas @mialexandruh @sassy-cat-in-town @madam-ri @cjm-cookiethief

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #anime #dad!gojo #megumi angst #megumi fushiguro #itadori yuuji #pixie writes: family formations

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corpsebasil · 1 year

Text

I Will Tell You Who You Are

When Nikolai is infected with Merzost, the only one who can comfort him is his queen.

You were sprinting down the hall.

You could hear him, screaming, screaming your name as you made your way to his rooms. The guard outside merely stepped in your path, a troubled look on his face. You couldn’t catch your breath; you felt like you’d vomit as you heard Nikolai’s scream of pain, his voice catching on a sob.

“Open the door.” You gasped, feeling desperate. “Open the fucking door.”

“I—I cannot, Your Majesty. The King has requested no one—”

“I am his wife. If I wish to enter I will.” Nikolai’s sob split the air around you and you almost threw the guard to the floor. “Move or so help me God, I’ll kill you myself.”

The guard’s throat bobbed.

Your husband was barely around anymore. You’d been traumatized at the coronation and were desperate for his attention. And yes, while he saw you in the day, he didn��t feel fully with you anymore. He hadn’t shared a bed in almost a month, and you couldn’t take it.

That’s when you’d heard his scream.

“Move.” You commanded, voice shaking, and the guard slowly stepped to the side.

You almost ripped the handle as you shoved the door open, a shriek leaving your lips at the sight in front of you. Nikolai was chained—chained—to his bed, black tendrils of dark power wrapping around him. He was trembling, sweat beading on his brow as the power seemed to dull.

“Y/N,” he was shaking. Shaking. “you can’t be here.”

“What is happening to you?” Your voice broke as you moved forward, trying to ignore his flinch at your approach.

“It’s in—inside me.” He panted, shaking his head. “Don’t come near me, Y/N. Please. It’s fighting—” he bent double, back bowing towards his knees as a cry of pain left him, every muscle tensing. Nikolai sobbed, gritting his teeth, and you saw that the clenched fingers of his hands were tinged with black.

“My love what—”

“Go!” He shouted, yanking at his own chains as he panted through clenched teeth. “Go, Y/N, I never wanted you to see—”

“Nik.” You choked on a gasp of pain and dropped to your knees in front of him, grabbing his face. He shook his head wildly, eyes wet and squeezed shut as he fought your grip. “Nikolai it’s me. It’s me.”

“No, no, no.” He shook, still attempting to scramble away as you held him fast. “Don’t touch me. You have to leave.”

“I love you, Nik. Please, please let me help you.”

“I’m insane.” He sobbed, the black slowly vanishing as he collapsed roughly into your chest, his locked muscles releasing. His hands strained painfully against the restraints, but they were the only things holding him up. “I have lost my mind, Y/N. I cannot live in this way. I am dangerous to you you need to leave—”

“I will not leave you.” You fought, running your hand across his sweaty brow, forcing those gorgeous eyes of his to meet your own as you gripped his chin. “I am not weak. Am I weak, Nikolai?”

He swallowed.

“No.”

“And have I ever left you?”

His eyes shuttered.

“No.” Nikolai’s face crumpled as he shook, dropping his head against your shoulder as you held him. He was gasping for breath, shaking his head lightly back and forth, muttering to himself. “Get it out of me.” He whispered, and your heart cleaved inside your chest. “Get it out. Get it out. Get it out.” He yanked at his chains and let out a scream of anger and pain, shaking in your desperate hold as tears ran hot and fast down your face.

“I am here. I am here.” Your hands gripped his hair, your body pressing him to your own, feeling your nightgown soak as he cried out of frustration.

“I cannot control it.” He wept, wrists raw from struggling as he attempted to calm himself. “I cannot control my own body—my own mind. I will hurt you. Do not allow the one thing I love left to be lost. If I hurt you—” he sucked in a breath and you gripped his head again, pulling his tear stained face off your shoulder to peer up at your own.

“If you cannot control it,” you said, voice trembling as you stared down at the raw blue gaze of your King. “then I will be your control. I will be your anchor.” You wrapped your arms around him, mouth wobbling as you kissed his head. “I will be your tether to this Earth. I will ease your suffering, Nikolai.”

“Please.” He whispered, but was pressing as close to you as he could get. “Please do not leave me alone tonight. Please.”

“I will never leave you alone.” You promised, and when he had calmed enough to attempt to sleep, the clasps still around his wrists, you curled up on the couch, your mind racing and your heart heavy.

short and to the point and very much inspired by bridgerton because it just makes sense

#shadow and bone #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #wattpad #nikolai x reader #shadow and bone imagine #fluff #angst #i love angst #bridgerton #merzost #the darkling #general kirrigan #sturmhond x reader #Sturmhond #Patrick gibson #angst fanfiction

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fandomnsfw · 1 year

Text

I hate you I love you - Isaac Lahey x Reader

Pairing: Isaac x Reader

Prompt: Requested by Anon

Warning: Smut (hate sex)

Thank you to my wonderful Beta who edited this despite the stressful day she’s had! @lets-imagine-fanfics

ENJOY!!

*****

You let out a growl, your growing apple green eyes flashing at Isaac from across the room. You saw Stiles rolls his eyes out the corner of your eye but you honestly could bring yourself to care because, for the second time in the last hour, you were five seconds away from ripping Isaac jugular out.

He had one of his annoying scarves on along with a light grey cardigan, light denim jeans and a plain white t-shirt. While you wore the exact opposite of. You had a black blouse with a blood red leather skirt, a small Prada bag, gold hoop style earrings, a matching choker and a pair of black suede heels.

Your lips were painted blood red, your eyes dusted with golds and browns with a thick wing and your hair was bouncy and curly courtesy of Derek though he would deny curling your hair until his dying breath.

“Why don’t you just keep your fucking opinions to yourself?” You snarled viciously as you shot up from the ‘u’ shaped sofa in the newly built Hale house.

“How about you keep your excessively painted lips shut!” Isaac snapped back causing Scott to let out a groan as if watching this caused him psychical pain.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You growled in anger.

“Shutting up- Definition being told to shut up means to hold back your words and happily keep them to your fucking self!” Isaac huffed sarcastically.

“No, I meant, why bring up my lipstick what does this have to do with anything!?” You grumbled resentfully.

“I mean it’s a pack meeting and your dress up to the nines looking like somebody’s god damn Mistress. It’s off-putting in the most sickening and vomit inducing way.” Isaac laughed but as soon as the words left his mouth you were across the room.

You felt the change take over your body as you tackled him to the floor, baring your fangs at him angrily. He only let out a laugh as he threw you off him only to stand up and stride towards you. However, before he could reach you Scott grabbed him while Derek grabbed you.

“Let me go! I’m gonna kill him!” You yelled as you twist and turned in Derek’s arms in an attempt to escape.

“Y/N, calm down!” Scott roared, his eyes flashing red as he stared at you from his spot behind Isaac.

“Derek and Cora. Lock them in Isaac’s room until they get this out their system.” Scott huffed in annoyance as you tried to flap your arms, hoping Derek would show mercy.

You and Isaac always got into verbal fights, however, today was a first. You and Isaac never ended in physically violent altercations, still for some reason today his words just seemed to piss you off more than usual.

Derek threw you into the room before Cora followed suit, throwing Isaac with slightly more aggression than Derek had thrown you. You tried to launch at the open door but before you could they closed it firmly before you heard the clicking of several padlocks. You let out a frustrated growl as you turned to Isaac your eyes flash green once again.

“This is YOUR fault!” You snarled your tone filled with more wrathful than before.

“I hardly think it is! If you weren’t such a bitch all the time we wouldn’t be having this problem!” Isaac retaliated.

“ME!? THIS STARTED BECAUSE YOU BASICALLY SAID I DRESS LIKE A HOMEWRECKING SLUT!” You screamed, your fangs extending as you approached him.

“I said Mistress. I never said slut!” Isaac chuckled as he flashed his golden eyes at you.

Without another word you launched at him, effectively tackling him to the ground. You pulled your fist back before bringing it down across his stupidly defined cheekbone. He let out a hiss of pain before reaching up and taking your throat in his hand and flipping you both over so he was now on top of you, his hand still wrapped around your throat.

You clawed at his hand and arm hoping to rid your throat of the pressure but much to your dismay it seemed rather impossible. His hand wasn’t squeezing but that didn’t mean you felt comfortable enough to have this gorgeous man’s hand round your throat.

“I will only allow you to hit me once, sorry, sweetie.” Isaac growled, his hand tightening around your neck causing you to gasp for air.

“I hate you!” You snapped as you thrashed around underneath him.

“The feelings mutual.” Isaac laughed before staring into your eyes as they return to Y/E/C.

Silence fell over both of you for what felt like minutes but in reality, it was seconds. Seconds of silence before his eyes drifted to your lips for a millisecond, then his lips were on yours. His hand never loosening around your neck.

But if that wasn’t enough of a shock. Then you kissing back, with just as much hostility, was. There was nothing gentle about this kiss it was full of pure hatred and quite honestly? It was the best kiss you’d ever had. Your hands weaved their way into his hair, pulling at the roots aggressively as your tongue fought for dominance. Which to be perfectly honest was becoming more difficult to keep up.

There was a secret that you hid from everyone in your pack. A truth you could barely fathom at the best of times. And that is the love you feel for this man with his hand round your throat. Saying it like that you knew it sounded insane but right now you were in the middle of a quarrel. And for as much and for as long as you’ve argued with this man, he had been the object of affections for way longer.

It had started in junior year right after the Nogitsune, though you didn’t know that at the time. You had just come to Beacon Hills along with your Aunt Sophia and her newest husband Enrique for the summer. She had recently gotten a large sum of money from her most recent divorce which meant apparently getting a magnificent cabin in the woods near the lake coursing through the little town.

You had asked why you couldn’t get one in a larger town or maybe even a cabin in the middle of nowhere but you Aunt’s response was always the same. ‘I used to come here as a child with your mother.’ She rather talked about your mother so you just nod your head and went along with it.

It was a few days into your stay when you’d gone out to the lake to relax. You had a book to read and a blanket to lay on. However, before you’d realised it the sun had begun to set. You let out a huff as you stood up taking out your phone to light up the path. But before you could get any further you heard a howl.

In the five seconds it took for you to realise there should be no wolves in California there was a heavy body covering you’re and a set of animalistic teeth sunk into your side. You wanted to let out a scream but it felt like any sound died as you finally looked at the thing with its teeth in your side. You’d watched enough movies and played enough 'Witcher' for you to know this wasn’t a wolf…it was a werewolf.

That night a rogue Alpha bit you less than a minute later Scott and his pack were sitting you down and apologising like it was their fault. He explained what would happen and you took in everything as well as you could.

When you thought your life couldn’t get any worse the first time you transformed you took the shape of a were-jaguar and months later…You met Kate and suddenly you felt sick to the stomach. You had never hated your were-jaguar but after that day, you did.

But this boy who is pulling back from the kiss panting? He said something to you after you began to hate your true form, which not only shocked you but shook you to your core.

His eyes were hooded as he clutched his side in pain. The berserker had managed to slice open his stomach as he jumped in front of you when you’d fell to the floor in shock. The shock that you were anything like Kate Argent.

You’d never met her but that didn’t mean you didn’t know her. This cruel, vindictive, sociopathic woman who murder innocent people and took advantage of a broken-hearted child who had just lost his first love. You were like her.

Isaac grabbed you face when you didn’t respond to him calling your name. His eyes stared into your, panic and concern evident in them that you honestly couldn’t bring yourself to care about…because you were like Kate Argent.

“Listen to me!” Isaac roared causing you to snap out of your daze.

“YOU are nothing like HER.” Isaac added softly.

“H-Her eyes are l-like m-mine…” You muttered brokenly, tears welling in your eyes.

“No! Her eyes are slimy bugger green! Yours are the most beautiful apple green I will ever have the pleasure of seeing!” Isaac argued with a laugh.

So as much as his words didn’t seem like they should have caused any other emotion apart from humour it had changed your opinion of yourself quite drastically.

His hand flexed around your throat again causing you to snap out of your memory. His eyes were hooded with lust as he stared down at you as if waiting for any sign that you wanted him to stop. Instead of giving him an honest answer you let your usual lie slip out once again.

“I. Hate. You.” You punched out viciously.

He snarled angrily before bringing his lips down to yours once again. It was just as rough and hate-filled as the last one but that didn’t stop you from returning it. You knew if you told him to stop he would. But right now the man you love is kissing you and even though you know it’s hate he feels you couldn’t bring yourself to care because having his hand and lips on your is much more satisfying than you ever thought it would or could be.

“That just what I was about to say, Princess.” Isaac growled in annoyance as he pulled away from your lips.

As soon as his hand moved from your neck you rolled over so you were straddling him once again. You smirked down at him as his hand gripped your hips tightly, his claws scratching again your red leather pencil skirt this had risen up to your mid-thighs just enough so you could straddle Isaac but not enough for it to be comfortable.

“What you gonna do, Isaac? Hmm? You gonna hate fuck me?” You laughed as you leant down brushing your lips against his ear.

“You gonna rip my clothes off, pin me to the floor and fuck into my tight lit-”

Before you could finish your taunting he sat up and gripped your hair tugging it so your eyes were now on the ceiling. His actions caused a dirty, dark yet seductive giggle to leave your mouth. He let out and growl as he began biting your neck harshly.

“Come on, Isaac, you can do better than that.” You teased seductively. He let out a feral growl before you felt claws ripping through your blouse. You would be pissed off, but honestly, your only concern was having his skin on yours as he fills you up.

Without another word he stood up, wrapping your legs firmly around his waist before moving to the bed and throwing you down. Once there he ripped away the remanence of your top before flipping you over and unzipping your skirt. After he unzipped it he flipped you back over before pulling it off your body.

“Why not just rip the skirt?” You snorted, rolling your eyes to add effect.

“Because you spent three months trying to find the perfect red leather skirt and I’m not that cruel.” Isaac huffed but before you could register his words he ripped away your shoes and underwear, leaving you completely naked except for your jewellery.

You weren’t ashamed of your body but that didn’t mean you didn’t feel slightly uncomfortable with your naked and Isaac still very much dressed. Choosing to strip him down rather than cover yourself, you began taking off his cardigan before ripping off his top leaving him shirtless.

He knelt up before awkwardly shedding his jeans and boxers leaving you to stare at his now naked self. His abs weren’t as defined as some of the other members of the pack but that didn’t bother you because in your eyes he was perfect despite the fact you would likely never tell him that.

You flicked your claws back out before raking them down his chest enough to leave red marks but not enough to draw blood. He shivered against your touch before he leant down and began pressing kisses and bites down your body. Once he reached his destination he didn’t ease into it choosing instead the viciously assault your clit sucking and biting at it mercilessly.

Your back arched at the sudden pleasure, gripping his hair firmly as you thrust upwards chasing your own pleasure. To your shock he didn’t make a move to stop you, instead, he stuck out his tongue and let you grind against it.

After letting you grind on his tongue for a few seconds he gripped your hips to stop you moving again, causing you to let out a whine of annoyance. You heard him chuckle slightly before you felt two very long fingers enter you, as his mouth went back to roughly sucking on your clit.

“F-Fuck!” You cursed loudly as you felt your stomach tighten at the intensity. You knew you were close and at any other time you’d welcome this however as much as you wouldn’t say it, you wanted to cum with him.

“Are you go-going to play with me all day or are you going to fuck me!?” You panted, as you tried to stop yourself from reacting the amazing pleasure he was giving you.

He let out a growl before taking out his fingers and kneeling up to look at you with a glare. He gave you smirk that honestly sent shivers down your spine, but before you could ask he thrust three fingers into you roughly.

The slight burn didn’t last long because he suddenly started pushing and rubbing against your special spot. You knew what it was, you’d played with yourself enough times to know how to have a g-spot orgasm, however, none of your partners knew how to find it if they even knew it existed.

“Carry on taunting me and I’ll make you cum so many times, you’ll beg me to stop.” Isaac growled lowly causing you to let out a filthy moan in response.

He pulled out his fingers before lifting up your legs and pushing them back as far as your flexibility would allow. He lined himself up before glancing down at you with an unreadable expression you’d never seen on his face, but before you could figure it out. It was gone.

He pushed into you roughly earning a gasp from you as your eyes widened at how big he felt inside of you. You could tell he was big but now he was inside of you, you could feel just how big he really was.

You had never fucked anyone without a condom. Not because you’d get pregnant, since you were on the contraceptive pill, but mostly because of diseases. However, with werewolves, you knew you never had to worry about that.

The feelings of his bare cock inside was almost enough to have you cumming right then and there. You clung to his arms tightly as he paused, allowing you to adjust to him. After a minute you thrust upwards to test it out, letting out a loud whining sound as you did. He shot you a smirk before gripping the back of your thighs and changing the angle until he seemed satisfied.

He began thrusting into with firm yet slow thrusts, his cock brushing your g-spot with every thrust he gave. When your moans got higher pitched and slightly louder he began pounding into you, abusing the special spot as he did.

The more he brushed across that spot, the higher you would moan. Right now you were in the palm of his hands, leaving you open and vulnerable to him finding out your true feelings. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop as you threw your arms around his neck pulling him down so your lips were against his ear.

“Please Isaac…” You moaned into his ear before you could stop yourself.

He pulled back enough to look at you, his eyes widened in shock as he took in your face. Your eyes were glazed with tears or pure pleasure, your face was flushed and your breath was heavy and broken with occasional moans escaping your lips. His eyes softened at you sight before his arms let your thighs go and wrapped your legs around his waist.

His arms moved to the side of your head, one forearm supporting him whilst the other curled around your head in what could only be described as an intimate action as his thumb caressed your cheek.

“Okay. Okay, baby, I got you.” Isaac whispered softly before he began thrusting into your with firm slow thrusts.

His forehead rest against yours, his lips occasionally brushing across your cheeks or your lips. His thrusts never faltering, even when you felt yourself begin to tighten around him. You arched against him, your chest pressing together as his thrusts sped up a little.

“Isaac…’M gonna…” You whined before letting out a loud keening sound.

“I know baby…Cum for me.” He whispered in your ear, his hand stroking your hair softly.

His words did everything to finally tip you over the edge, the orgasm was one of the most powerful you’d ever had. Your body was shaking as you clamped around his cock, the release itself was enough to soak his shaft and dampen the bed sheets.

“S-Shit Y/N!” He groaned huskily against your neck as his thrust finally lost their rhythm as he came inside of you earning a moan of approval from you. After a few more thrusts he stopped and looked up at you with tired yet satisfied eyes.

Silence fell over your both as you stared into each other’s eyes. Neither of you knew what to say. No one knew how to end this scene or how to start the much need conversation. You were both stuck but honestly, even if you tried to move you couldn’t because your body was still shaking and twitching from your orgasm.

Isaac noticed this and began caressing your left shoulder with his right hand. As if trying to calm your body down from its post-orgasmic bliss. He leant down, his eyes never leaving yours before pressing the softest most careful kiss you’d ever felt on your lips.

“I don’t hate you.” He muttered timidly against your lips.

You didn’t need to ask. You knew what he meant but right now saying it wouldn’t feel right so he kept it to himself but you heard it loud and clear. The truth.

‘I love you’

“I don’t hate you either.” You responded with a blush.

‘I love you too’

He stared into your eyes with a smile as he finally kissed you passionately as if he’d waited his entire life for this moment. And honestly…You could bring yourself to disagree with that unsaid statement.

#isaac #lahey #isaac lahey #isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey x you #teen wolf #tw #teen wolf imagine #imagine #reader #reader insert #werejaguar #werejaguar!reader #smut #hate sex

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

Text

CULT OF VAGABONDS: PROLOGUE

NAVIGATION || COV MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER I ||

PAIRING: Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: It all began with a white van, a gun to the spine, and five smooth words. It ended with death.

WORDCOUNT: 4.07k

WARNINGS: Abduction, blood and gore, high stress situations, angst, major character death, vomit, descriptions of wounds, canon typical

A/N: I apologize to the people who hate reading all italics - I had to do it for my own sanity since this is a flashback, lmao. I promise it’s not sticking around. Enjoy!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

OPERATION: KINGFISHER

OVERSIGHT: STATION CHIEF KATE LASWELL, TS/SCI

OPERATIVES: CLASSIFIED

STATUS: ACTIVE

MISSION REPORT: MONDAY, 0823, CHICAGO, USA: THREE YEARS PRIOR:

It would have been kinder to take the bullet.

Your mind runs as you’re placed into a wooden chair roughly, the bag over your head obstructing everything but the thin beams of light passing through the itchy ramie fabric. Bits are glimpsed—people moving, shifting large bodies; tapping feet, and muttering voices like a grim party of ghouls.

You’re going to hyperventilate, you admit with a startling calm that bleeds into induced shock. Under the binds, your hands shake so violently in your lap that you wonder if they’ll break apart like glass—the skin fragments shattering as bones turn to sharp dust. Air gets thin. Black dots start dancing.

“Sir,” a voice to your left speaks, American, and you’re flinching away before the word is fully out, head whipping to the side as if you could make out more than a blob of black and gray. A sob lays heavy in the bareness of your throat as sweat slicks your neck. What was going on? “I…I can’t—”

“You’re excused.”

The sound of receding footsteps and the slam of a door is scarcely heard above your own breathing, a deep inhale to help push back the void, and a wheezing exhale to welcome the next. Bare membranes of your throat reek of bile, and you think you threw up in the van that had driven you here, though you don’t remember much of that.

Just the gun in the base of your spine and a low, smooth, voice with a British accent into the shell of your ear.

“Head down and stay quiet.” Someone had said, sternly.

Oh, it would have been kinder to take the bullet. What was it that those shows always warned you about? Never let someone take you to a second location? Your eyes wrench closed as the muscles of your numb fingers tense and loosen in an anxious pattern.

Along the floor, your feet shimmy, not able to keep still despite your mind screaming at you to try—try and disappear into molecules of oxygen and carbon. Everything had a sheen of hypersensitivity. The lights buzzed in your ears like bombs, the rope peeled back atoms of your epidermis, and the tiny groans coming from the left of you were like screams as your senses burned with a thousand suns.

But the British man had said to stay quiet—so stay quiet you did. What other choice did you have? You knew they had weapons, you shouldn’t doubt that they would use them.

But you really wanted to start screaming your head off.

When the heavy hand landed on the top of your head, only a soundless sob fell from the strained noose of your esophagus. The bag was ripped from you with a flurry of hair and dribbling tears, sweat flying down your neck faster than Pegasus sprang from the Gorgon Medusa’s blood.

Immediately wrenching your small-pupiled eyes closed with a whine, an invasive overhead light composed of knives stabs into your already blurry vision; your hands jerk upwards to attempt and cover the attack. Silence reigns above all, besides from the single source of that muffled groaning from beside you.

“Mhm…Erm…Hem,” it seemed like the sounds were gasping breaths of your name, hidden behind layers of gagged fabric, swathed in saliva and distress. But…how?

Who else was in this room with you and your kidnappers?

Blinking away the shock to your senses, your chin rises from your chest and your hands lower back down hesitantly. You’re ashamed to admit it, but the first thing you noticed was the state of the room.

Namely, how tiny it was.

Peeling blue paint hides a slideshow of broken drywall, a layer of indiscernible wallpaper hanging off like broken limbs that reach to the concrete floor. Although this might have been a beautiful basement in the past, now your flickering eyes lock onto the newer additions.

Swallowing saliva through a closed airway, the tray of silver metal doesn’t fully register with you, nor, then, does the revolver and the six bullets placed beside it. That dying innocent speck in your heart tries to persuade you to a state of fantasy.

‘If it’s not pointed at you, it can’t hurt you…If it’s not pointed at you, it can’t hurt you…If it’s not—’ The sentiment replays over and over in your head when you rapidly look away from the weapon like it was on fire and begin to notice the statue-like men instead.

This can’t be real…it has to be a joke. Some sick, twisted, joke.

Five of them, all dressed in black; balaclavas over slate faces tainted with grim determination. You glance over the lot of them and feel your intestines bunch, the beasts shuffling from one foot to another with a predatory gleam to the laced boots. Not one of them was lacking combat gear—vests, holstered weapons, and packs filled with God-knows-what—they looked like soldiers, but that wouldn’t make any sense.

Your hysterics only increase when one speaks, body flinching back.

“Let’s get this started, then, shall we?” You can’t even tell which began the uttering, but the accent is undeniably British. Gruff, tainted with sharp gravel; not to be ignored if that authoritative edge was anything to go by.

The individual with crossed arms takes a step forward, buff and taller than all of the others except for one. That gargantuan creature watches you with numb light-blue eyes and pale lashes from a place against the wall. A shiver travels up your spine, and your shirt sticks to you, but you can’t look away.

They are the eyes of the living dead.

“This can’t be happening…” Your lips twitch, but only you can hear your words.

The one who appears to be the leader—Buff—tilts his head, but the dark cerulean orbs don’t even look at you. They keep to your left, at the sounds of panicked scuffling and scraping wood. “Gaz.”

Another man advances, not as robust as the first, but nonetheless built with violence. Tall. Steady. He bleeds contained purpose in the sinuses of his long fingers.

Biting your lip, number two — “Gaz” — stops near the metal table, but he doesn't look at you when your tear-flooded eyes bore into him. Your tongue is lead.

Who are you? You want to scream. What do you want?!

From the side of your eye, you see a flash of a navy blue suit, and your vision snaps to it aggressively. The air gets heavy and a stone sits in your guts.

Gaping, a familiar visage stares right back at you, the build of the face and the structure of the bones reflected back onto you––slated in the very genetic makeup that builds your frame.

A nice suit. A hurried goodbye in the morning as the butler made breakfast in the kitchen—A kiss to your forehead. Your tears slap your clenched hands, and you think you’re digging your nails into your flesh, but the thing that hurts the most is the hopelessness in your chest.

“Dad?” You sob and stare at the ragged form as your father struggles to speak around a gag, eyes running from one scuff and cut to another as the lights suddenly get ten times brighter. Damn not speaking, this was your father!

But if he was here along with you…

At that moment, all you can describe is the way your own heart was going faster than it ever had, to a point that the world swirled around you in shades of blue and red. If there was a time reminiscent of events that had never happened to you, getting into a deadly car crash or hanging onto the edge of a cliff as torrent rains battered your head, this would be it.

The alarm in your still head was telling you that this is the end of the road.

Your father’s hands are tied behind the chair, and you can see the signs of crimson dotting the floor from the binds, skin torn and weeping. His eyes are bathed in fear, the fast rise and fall of his lungs telling you all that needs to be unsaid.

And his blatant fear only increases your own.

“Dad…what’s going on?” One of the men in the front shifts, standing beside the dead-eyed individual, looking away to glance in the corner with shades of blue in his orbs and a fixing of his stocky biceps. “What is all this? Where…where are we? I was just walking to school—p-passing through the old neighborhood—”

You’re rambling through panic, and everyone just watches. They watch and watch and watch. Was this a game? A sick, twisted prank? How could they do this and just watch you panic like a bear in a trap?

A hand snaps to your father’s gag and you yell when he rages, body shifting forward feebly before a shadow descends upon you. A swift force keeps you back, and your head snaps upwards.

You’d never thought that eyes could stay with you for all eternity—when you had a friend that moved away in sixth grade, the first thing you forgot about them was their eyes. The voice was much more important to remember; their gentle touch when they pulled you up at recess after an unfortunate collision when playing tag. But at that moment…

Never would the image of sepia-colored eyes like those leave you again. Inlaid in brown skin and below dark eyebrows. Like a meadow, brown was encircled by light—a ring of amber around the pupil and flecks of emerald, though most of that was lost by numbness.

The hand digs into your shoulder, forcing you to stay in your seat as your lips quiver. It’s not delicate, the hold, and when your eyes scrunch in pain, he somewhat lessons it though not enough to stop the sting. The man everyone called Gaz was incredibly strong.

Something swam in the recesses of his gaze, some hidden emotion of sorrow or pity that showed as hesitation. He clears his throat and takes a glance at your now-raging father. You shake more violently than a house in a tornado; frozen and unable to speak. What was he going to do to you?

Gaz turns back to you and whispers, blinking through long eyelashes as the fabric of his face covering slightly moves, “It’ll be over soon.” British as well, but a tone smoother than the previous. The hand squeezes your flesh, and you flinch as far back as the seat allows.

He was the one that grabbed you this morning; your legs seize up like a dead deer at the familiar speech pattern.

The man moves back without uttering another word on sure feet, and you stare after. The sentence Gaz had given you was anything but reassuring, and with your state, it was more of a threat.

“Get your fucking hand off of her! What the hell is going on? Why is my daughter here?!” Your father’s voice fractures your gaze away from the menagerie of masked abductors, and you turn to watch him growl out in hatred; shell-shocked. “Are you after money? Ransom…? Answer me!”

“I’d think this would work better,” Buff grunted out, dropping the gag to the floor carelessly, “if you answered me, instead, eh?... Now, where’s the shipment?”

“Sweetheart,” your father turns to you, but your eyes always filter back to the gun—the men. The last out of the five strangers was one that you hadn’t seen move from the far corner yet. His hands were constantly readjusting over the black metal of a large assault-style rifle that you had only seen in movies. “—Sweetheart! Hey!”

Snapping to the feral expression of your father, you suck down air you’d been taking for granted and push away the dark spots. You’d forgotten how to breathe properly. Staring into his burning eyes, a plea is stuck to your tongue and a hunched build of your spine. But making yourself smaller wouldn’t help you like it would a rabbit hiding from a circling hawk.

“What’s going on? Please, Dad, what’s happening?” The world is swirling with technicolored lights.

“It’s all going to be alright, okay?” He gasps at you, head swiveling to all parties faster than a racehorse. Buff seems to listen intently, arms loose over his chest and huffing under his breath. His deep blue eyes swivel to you, glinting darkly. “Everything is going to be alright—”

“Pick it up, Sergeant.” The command is cold, numb, and the clinking of a silver barrel connecting to a tray as it was grasped was enough to set your atoms on fire.

The gun lays loose in Gaz’s hand, hanging at his hip as Buff moves closer to your father and bends down to look into his eyes.

“The shipment. Tell me. I don’t make a habit of repeating myself.” In the corner, the isolated man hunches his shoulders, eyes darting from you back to your dad—but your own stare stays stuck to the gun. Ears twitch at the loud conversation as the black wave of overwhelming delirium gets larger.

Shipments? Your fast mind runs as your eyes dart from the weapon to your father, your wrists now raw and skinned from the constant movement.

Your dad grunts and his desperate eyes look at you, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“I–I don’t know what you’re talking about, what shipments? Who are you?! If you’re after ransom money just call my wife—she’ll get you what you need.” The leader chuckles lowly while shaking his head in exasperation, pulling back as his gaze goes hard. Your father strains forward after him and repeats the same sentence as before. “What is my daughter doing here you son of a Bitch? You don’t need her.”

He turns to you, his nice suit ruined with sweat. You’d never seen your father scared—not when you’d broken your arm when you were younger or any moment later. Not until now. His pupils are small; pinched in and glossy. Like a fearful animal trapped in a corner.

You doubted you looked any better as you blink back with a thousand-yard stare, choking back gasps and biting a cut into your lip. Constantly thinking that if you speak your head will get blown off in a shower of crimson.

“Sweetheart, this is all some big misunderstanding, alright? Don’t worry, we’ll be back home soon and this’ll all go away.”

“Yeah, you’d like that then wouldn’t you?” Buff growls, “Go back to a cush life while your weapons and drugs fund terrorists, eh?”

Terrorists?! Your eyes widen, turning back to the men with horror. So this wasn’t about your family's money?

“What the hell are you talking about?” Your lips move, mouth parted and eyebrows tight as your very blood seems to cool over. Everyone looks at you and the one second of courage vanishes. “‘D-dad?”

“Ignore them,” the patriarch hisses, trying to get your attention back on him, “They don’t know what they’re talking about. They—You’ve got the wrong people!”

“I…I don’t understand why–”

“Sergeant.” Dread seeps like poison one drop at a time to corrupt you. There was never a moment in your life where you had ever felt like you were going to die before—an innocent sentiment of invincible youth.

But the gun being loaded puts the sense of watching a train crash right into the forefront of your mind; a sudden knowledge of your own morality. Your jaw goes slack as you hold back a scream. Steady, gloved, fingers pick up bullet after bullet and place the copper metal into a steel chamber, brown eyes hard as the stunned silence from your father physically hurts.

Clink-shunk, chink-shunk.

“What are you—?!”

“Last chance to change your mind.” The leader interjects, sighing, and you wonder as you hunch into yourself just how cruel this man really is. “Best pull the memory to you quick.”

“What?” Your father laughs in pain, throat getting choked up as he looks to every person, “Are you going to shoot me? In front of my kid?”

At this point it would be more accurate to call you ‘checked out’ if the blank look on your face was anything to go by; tears were falling and mixing with sweat, but your eyes were far away. As if about to fall asleep as you watch the world pass you by from the car window.

The leader shakes his head as Gaz finishes loading the revolver, flicking the barrel back with a deft movement of his wrist. Those brown eyes stay firmly stuck to the back wall.

Dead Eyes sends a long look to your father, and the wide-gazed form beside him tightens his grip over his biceps, shifting large hips. The man in the corner only snaps his head down and tries to disappear.

Electricity sizzles the air.

“No,” Buff answers casually, “we’re not…We’re going to shoot your daughter.”

Bile hits the floor as it rockets from your mouth; hissing through the lines between your teeth and splattering to the concrete in a sound of viscous liquid. Breakfast from this morning was unrecognizable as you blink down at it.

Someone’s shouting pleas—you’re sure it’s your father, because who else—and while you stay half-bent over the chair as your side leans on the arm, everything starts to ring. Feet struggle to stay steady on the ground below you, shoes stained with stomach acid and saliva as it drips from your chin. Over the rageful screams from your dad, the leader continues and you sputter.

“Gaz, it’s all you.”

“Yes, Sir.” The gun raises to your head, and your face tightens as you spy it from the corner of your eye, not registering beyond words and colors fading out before wafting back in.

Were you going to die in this basement? It seemed your body knew the answer even as your brain tried to disagree. There was no running or escaping, not a chance with all of these people. Even if you did manage it, how far would you get before a bullet was in your neck?

“Hey!” Your father yells, voice fracturing; arms twisting and feet splaying. The hammer of the revolver is clicked back and your pulse mirrors. “Hey, no, no, no. That’s not—She…She has nothing to do with this!” Your eyes slowly widen, face tilting as you still try to break through your dizziness. “I swear, she doesn’t know anything!” His face peels back, yet his eyes seem to focus on nothing as his attention hops from one person to another in distress. “Let her go and I’ll tell you all of it, okay? I’ll tell you whatever you want.”

Tell you all of it? What does that mean? You want to ask, but the knowledge that your body had chosen neither fight nor flight but freeze was heavy in your heated and pounding brain as it pulses against your skull.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

You count the flood of blood that spreads through your body as the taste of vomit sticks to the back of your throat. Rats squeak from behind ventilation grates but wait eagerly for a meal as particles of dust fly past your wide vision.

Your father doesn’t look at you as you gape, and you’re not sure what to think.

Shipments? Terrorists? What could your Museum Director dad have anything to do with that? He had to be lying to save your skin—giving these people a false reality. Yes, yes, that was it. He was trying to save both of you, you just had to trust him.

Your chest rises and falls swiftly.

“I–I swear! I promise, let my little girl go and I won’t—!”

“I think she’ll stay right here.” The leader grunted, hooking his arms into his vest collar, pale eyelids half-closed. “Speak. Quickly”

“Okay! Just put the gun down—please!” The gun is lowered immediately, but it doesn’t make you feel any more present. Brown eyes surrounded by dark lashes meet yours for a few seconds before blinking away to the wall behind you; eyebrows minutely pulling tight.

You’d never hated a look of shielded pity more.

“They come in at night and stay by the dry docks—I don’t know how they get here so fast,” your father speaks as a man possessed, and, strangely, the individual in the corner starts to hang onto every word. Sending your form quick glances with rapidly moving eyes. Not that you noticed. “The products all just sit there until I can come by and take inventory! Two fifteen in the morning! It’s all under my name, I pay off the inspectors every month. Check dock number seven-one-three and the blue cargo containers.”

“What?” You mutter, trying not to gag and shake as if pushing away the instinctual actions would help you focus on the bitter revelation. “What are you…”

This is more than a lie—these are details. In-depth.

No, your mind tells you, no he’s just lying. Everything’s a lie.

“I swear it’s only me, no one else knows about it.” The man in the corner’s feet are shifting, leg muscles testing and relaxing as his fingers twitch over the metal of his gun. Your dad looks at you from the side of his eye, guilt in his bones. “God…I–I sell everything over the auctions held at—”

A gunshot pierces the air.

Liquid splatters your face, warm and heavy, and before you even know what’s happening you’re releasing a scream so loud it echoes off the walls. Snapping your chin down to your chest and bound hands over your head, a great yell erupts from the men, and a clamber of skin on gear follows the dragging of feet. Grunted breath and calls of alarm. All the noise scares off the scavengers in the vents with shrieks.

“What in the fucking hell are you thinking, Private?!” The leader's voice yowls and grunts as you slowly open your eyelids, lashes fluttering over your cheeks. “We needed him alive, you Muppet!”

You find a slumped figure in the chair your father had just been in with a shuttering inhale. Slack-jawed, you look over the crater that was left of his face numbly; lips and teeth ripped apart and a caved-in skull. His hair was strewn about, and without a cohesive thought, your fingers itched to smooth it down.

He hated when his hair was unruly.

A navy suit you’d seen at breakfast was stained—irreparable—with brain matter and blood that cascaded down a massacred face with a head tilted forward. His nerves jump with activity, spurring fluid to the ground until a puddle forms.

Your father was a good man. You—your father was a…good man.

The rest of the men continue to scuffle, barking orders as more feet suddenly race from the other side of the door. Your ears tune it out. You can’t look away, not even when a hand is placed on your shoulder and you’re suddenly being forcefully turned in the opposite direction of the corpse.

Unresponsive, your far-away look meets creased amber and dark lashes—eyes you had decided you’d never forget and now that sentiment was forged with steel and tempered to perfection. Just like you’d never forget that your father’s body was just a reach away, and it was never supposed to happen. His blood was staining your clothes; your face and hair. A bath of gore.

Dead…? No, he was just alive a second ago. He—he can’t be. How? I just saw him this morning. We were going to go into the museum tomorrow to help set up a new section.

Your mouth moves, but no words escape.

A smooth voice tries to speak to you, but all you do is watch the fabric of a black balaclava shift and strain as the noise sounds like car sirens. Gaz is attempting to shake you, lightly, and when it doesn’t help he looks around stiffly, pausing on the body before looking away to the ground in search.

Without much thought behind the action, your loose lips pull back and utter only one word. Weak. Fractured and horribly hoarse.

“Oh.”

It was somewhat of a mercy when the itchy ramie fabric of the previous bag was refitted in one swift motion. And all the while you sit there, shaking, a hand never leaves the top of your head, holding it down.

TAGS:

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(sorry if some of these don’t work)

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luvhotchner · 5 months

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yall im going insane i need emily prentiss. like im biting my nails off, ripping my hair out, screaming, crying, throwing up, tearing my bedroom apart, projectile vomiting. IM GOING CRAZY SHE IS SO HOT I WANT TO TAKE HER OUT ON A RESPECTFUL DATE.

#emily prentiss #criminal minds #paget brewster #mamacita #pls pls pls #i’m gonna go fucking insane #i

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sweatytimetravelearthquake · 5 months

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How to kill your husband

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Warning: there are scenes of domestic violence, murder scenes, blood. 18+

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It was a very sweet relationship at first, but Sanzu started picking on you and your surroundings. He started forbidding you to communicate with other guys. You violated the ban by going with your best friend from university when Haruchiye saw this. He roughly dragged you into the car, drove off a long time ago, picking up speed. When he brought you home, he beat you, not being shy in his expressions, showing his disgust. After several such cases, you decided to break up with him, but he only got even more angry. A strong slap in the face made you fall, and then he grabbed your silky hair, it seemed that he would pull it out.

"You'll find out how to want to break up with me, bitch!"

"But for what? .. You stopped loving me yourself! Let go!" — The neighbors don't care. Everyone knew the pink-haired man's connections, no one could dare to help you with this relationship. The guy got angry and hit the corner of the table, which could have ended in death, but he knew how to count the force. Your blood was running down your temple, and your whole body was buzzing. He pushes you, and then comes closer, putting his hands, which breathed tobacco on your neck. Haruchie squeezes them on your throat, the smell of alcohol comes from him, and you were sure that in addition to alcohol, he sniffed out two tracks.

"You have no right not to love me.. If you don't like it, I'll make you start."

"I hate you..."

"Don't you dare talk to me like that!" — Pushes you away, and then squeezes your hands, trying to twist them behind your back. Your resistance irritates Sanza, and he hits you with his hand in a rage: you fall to the floor and remain lying there, cowering in pain and horror. He's standing on top of you, looking at you with disdain. All you can do is keep quiet, feeling like you're about to lose consciousness. — "I'll go, don't fucking enter my office" — you clearly knew that another prostitute would come to him soon, he would cheat right in front of your eyes.

Sanzu has never loved you. Taking his loyalty to Manjiro, it was fashionable to conclude that he was very loyal only to someone he truly loved. And I only kept you around out of a sense of possessiveness. You feel sick. Your whole body hurts and your limbs are shaking. The moans of that dyed blonde are heard, all the hatred for both people is felt, but that girl is not to blame. But you didn't give a damn about her, you have the right to hate everyone, hate Sanza, hate all his whores, hate Sano, who founded this Bonten, hate the damn Haitani, Haruchiyo's friends. You get up on shaky legs and take a knife from the bedside table. It's time to end this all. The door to his office opens, you see how he pushes a girl you don't know into the table with sharp thrusts. He doesn't hear you coming at him, stops only when you stick a knife in his back. A man's blood drips onto the prostitute's stomach, causing her to scream. With sharp movements, you make the wound deeper, long and pulls out the blade. He can barely stand on his feet, turns around, and for the first time fear and pain are visible in his face. This is the first time you've seen them. It's like being on powerful drugs. You push him and stick the knife in again and again, piercing his stomach and chest. Hot scarlet liquid stains the table, you, the girl whose throat you cut, that scum screamed painfully. Sanzu is still living out his last seconds. Your hand slides right into the wound on his stomach, rips off his kidney and puts it in his mouth. There is a stench of various liquids, and the painting makes you want to vomit. Your boyfriend is already dead, lying on the floor, naked, laid out girl on the table.

#tokyo revengers × reader #tokrev #tokyo revengers #sanzu haruchiyo #tokyo revengers sanzu #sanzu x reader #akashi haruchiyo #tokyo revengers haruchiyo sanzu #haruchiyo sanzu x reader

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the-fiction-witch · 4 months

Text

Council Hall

Media The Maze Runner

Character Newt

Couple Newt X Reader

Rating Flirty

Y/n lays in her hammock her blanket over her head trying to block the sun that had already peaked over the top of the walls of the maze, but she refuses to get up, far too snuggled in her hammock with her shoes and clothes in a pile below the hammock, left wearing only her oversized boy's hoodie and her cotton panties, only the top of her hair sticking out the top of her blanket, Y/n is the only girl in the glade and has been here a year and a half fairly comfortable and use to the way the glade operated,

Newt Approached the homestead and Y/n's hammock, a smile escaped his lips as he looked over her, He walked over to her hammock, and his footsteps made a soft thud on the soft earth. He took the blanket in his hand and pulled it down letting the morning light illuminate her face.

She groans and grumbles turning her body away from him and the sunlight,

Newt chuckles and looks at her with a smirk. His voice is low and affectionate. "Wake up, sleepy head."

"Noooo," She whined,

Newt chuckled again, "Come on, lazy bones, you know we gotta get to the meeting soon."

"The meeting can happen without me not like Alby lets me say anything..." She whined tucking the blanket up and back over her face,

"I’m sure you’ll say something if you want to. Alby is a pretty understanding guy, and you should come, it’s almost time, and we can’t be late…" Newt smiled softly,

"Noooo," She whined,

"Aww come on, we gotta be there. It’s an important meeting, and don’t worry, this time I’m sure you’ll get to say something, I’ll even make sure that Alby hears ya!" He cooed,

"No." She pouts childishly,

"Come on please, for me?" He pouted,

"You can't just say that every time you want something Newt,"

" I can and will." he smirked, "And I’m telling you right now that I want you to be at the meeting."

"... but my tummy hurts,"

"Does it now? why does your tummy hurt?"

"The moon and my womb have cursed me,"

"Oh please, your period isn’t that bad to complain about."

"You shank! My whole body is ripping itself to shreds right now! I have every right to complain," She complained,

" Yeah, right. You’re just being dramatic." He laughed crossing his arms over his chest,

"dramatic! I'd like to see you when your body floods with hormones that make you wanna cry one minute and scream with rage the next when you have boobs that have doubled in size and are now so sore you don't dare touch them when your body decides to rip out your flesh crush it up and them cramp your whole lower body to force it out of you though a hole so small you can't even fit your hand."

Newt's expression goes serious and soft. He feels sorry for her "… I take it back" he gulped, He then softly took her by the hand even if she was still under her blanket "I am sorry I shouldn’t have poked fun at you like that. I didn’t think it was that bad."

"yeah, and that's not even adding headaches, backache, vomiting, loss of appetite and the inability to klunk,"

Newt is speechless. He doesn’t know what to say. He is looking into her eyes, seeing her in a whole different light now, after thinking about everything she’s going through every month, he feels so bad for her. "...Bloody Hell,"

"so yeah. I'm not exactly in the mood to hear Alby yell at the runners for wanking in the showers again. I'd rather just lay and die until it's over,"

" So, every month, this happens? And how long does it usually last?"

"four to seven days,"

"And it’s every month right?"

"Every 28 days."

His face is filled with concern, he feels so bad for her now. He just stares at her for a moment, letting the thought soak in. "And you have been here for how long?"

"a year and a half and yes. It does this every. single. month."

"Ohh my god... that's actually insane. I am so so sorry y/n."

"It's fine," She sighed, "such is the life of a woman,"

"Ohh shut up y/n," he joked,

"don't tell me to shut up... Seems unwise when I could very easily throw up in you right now. Or bleed on you. Whichever you'd find more frightening,"

Newt laughs A genuine laugh, "His voice is slightly amused when he says I think I’d rather you throw up on me, blood just scares the hell out of me."

"Then I'll bleed on you,"

"oh really? Is that your best threat?"

"It's all I have... Newt do I have to go to the stupid meeting? Can't I just go and lay in a hot bath for like... A week?"

"No, you gotta go to the meeting. I am not letting you miss out on the meeting, if you wanna lay in a hot bath for the whole time after the meeting then fine, but you’re going to that damn meeting."

"Fine..." she whined as she pulled the blanket off her and climbed out of her hammock, she grabbed her bra slipped it on under her hoodie and slipped up her denim shorts slipping on her shoes, "do I have to?" She whined holding her stomach,

"Yes, you have to. Just try and keep your cool for the meeting, and I know it’s gonna be tough for you but I'll help as much as I can love,"

"newt?" she whined,

"Yeah, Y/n?"

"Would you carry me?" She whined opening her arms,

"You want me to carry you?" He smirked,

"Mhm,"

"...C'mere," He rolled his eyes he grabbed her softly and lifted her in his arms carrying her like his own personal princess, The feeling of holding her close made his heartbeat speed up. he carries her in his arms, holding her close as he makes his way to the meeting. she nuzzles into his hoodie slipping her hands in his pockets and almost falling asleep in his arms The sensation of her brings comfort and peace to his mind and he is reluctant to put her down and break this wonderful moment of closeness they are sharing.

Once arriving at the council hall he tries to set her down but she won't let go of him she clings to him so he simply rolls his eyes and sits down keeping her with him she moves slightly to sit on his thigh her head on his chest struggling to keep her eyes open, Newts hands wrap around her as he notices how much pain she is in, as well as trying to comfort her. His heart begins to beat faster and his breath grows shallow as he lets her snuggle her head against his neck, her nuzzling just making him want to pull her even closer. Their bodies almost fit perfectly together and the feeling of her laying her head against him brings an urge to run his hands through her hair, but he resists.

Alby coughs getting everyone's attention and starting on the meeting, Newt's body goes into autopilot as his attention is divided by Y/n clinging to him and Alby starting the meeting. He is looking at Y/n, concerned about her and trying not to think about how much pain she is in. His whole world suddenly seems to narrow down to only Y/n and nothing else. Alby is talking about the food supply and how the crops this month have been lacking and how they are going to have to stretch their rations a little longer. Newt's eyes are only half listening, half watching Y/n. She is almost asleep again from the pain she's in but she nuzzles closer to Newt finding comfort in his grass-like scent and dirty skin, in the middle of the meeting she moves and pressed a kiss into his jaw before she burrowed her nose into the crook of his neck luckily everyone was listening to Alby so didn't notice

Newt's heart rate suddenly speeds up and his body freezes as his cheeks turn a bright red, but he forces himself to stay calm and remain stoic. The sensation of her lips brushing against his skin and her nuzzling into his neck sends an overwhelming surge of desire through him. He struggles to keep the urge away and not lean down or pull her closer. The feeling to kiss her and running his hands through her hair was so strong, but he still resisted. Newt's breath grows shallow and he feels his heartbeat racing.

Newts hands tightly hold Y/n’s back and his thumb massages her back while he thinks about her lips brushing against his skin. He cannot stop his desire from wanting to kiss her and pull her closer but he still resists and forces the urge away. He tries not to think about it but his heart is pounding with desire and the feeling that he wants more only grows the longer he thinks about it. However he forces himself to remain stoic, with his head still up and listening to what Alby is saying. The whole time his heart is beating like never before.

Newts mind was on a completely different track than the meeting. All he could think about was Y/n pressed up against him, and how he wanted to drag his fingers through her hair. A sensation of warmth grows in his stomach and his heartbeat begins to speed up more and more. He wants this meeting to end so he can take her back to the dormitory and lay down with her and maybe kiss her. But he snaps his head back up as he hears the silence and Alby asking if anyone has anything else to add. Newts attention is back on the meeting.

Once the meeting is done everyone heads out leaving only Newt and Y/n, as he sits there he is filled with the desire, he wants to kiss her so damn much but he doesn't move even if he has the urge too,

Y/n has her head buried into his neck and she clings to his body desperately like her life depends on it. Her body is so small in his arms that he feels like he could pick her up and throw her over his shoulder if he really wanted to. The fact that he could have easily man-handled her, and he feels this urge grow inside him to just pick her up and hold her more tightly. Even if it was just for a moment it would feel so good to pick her up and just have her body pressed against him, she nuzzles even closer stroking his hoodie like a blanket giving his neck small nibbles.

The feeling of her nibbling at his neck makes his breath catch and he can feel his heart skipping a beat. Newts breath is shallow and he can feel his heartbeat racing. He is trying to hold back his desire to pull her close and kiss her. He wants to run his hands in her hair and feel her body pressed against him but he won’t do it. His hands are tight and locked around her. He is starting to sweat in his hoodie as he is heating up from the intensity of the urge.

He feels her soft breath on his neck as she is nuzzled up close against him. The urge inside him is almost too much to bare. he thinks about how soft and tender she feels in his hands. Every part of him is wanting to take her head in his hands and just kiss her deeply. He notices her stroking his hoodie with her fingers. He is starting to want this moment to last just a bit longer.

He looks down at her, watching the way her hand strokes his hoodie softly and how she nuzzled her head even closer against his neck. The sensation of her soft body pressed against his is such a contrast to how hard and rough his body is. He feels his heartbeat pick up more and more and a heat is growing in his body that is slowly beginning to feel unbearable.

Suddenly she moves in her sleepy painfilled state and gives his cheek a kiss "thank you for taking care of me newt,"

her kiss on his cheek catches a surge of emotion in him and his body suddenly tightens and he feels his breath catch. His heart beats harder and faster as his body begins to feel all the desires growing inside him. He tries to contain the feeling but when she whispers thank you he can feel his eyes begin to grow moist. He looks down at her beautiful face and his eyes grow heavy and hot as the desire inside him grows.

He suddenly feels his body acting on its own accord, his body suddenly leans closer and he pulls her into a kiss, but at the last second, he pulls back.

His body heats up and he is filled with shame. He knows he has to resist. For a moment all the desire and urge inside him is just pure pleasure and bliss but when he pulls away he suddenly feels ashamed and disappointed with his actions. He looks away to avoid looking in her eyes and can’t bring himself to look at her.

"what did I miss?" She sits up and yawned

newt clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck feeling a little bit ashamed of himself. He smiles nervously as he looks away, not wanting to catch her eyes “uhm…” he stares down at his hands “What did you miss…?”

"mhm what did I miss? What did Alby have that was so important?"

Newt's face is flushed red now as he continues avoiding her eyes. “he was… talking about stuff…”

"stuff. You got me out of my cosy hammock... For stuff?" she asked and he nodded "fine... What are you so blushy about?"

he still looks away from her and takes a deep breath “I am not blushy.”

"you look like a strawberry newt. What's going on? Did you get a telling off or something?"

his face is still extremely red and he continues avoiding her eyes “no… it’s nothing.”

"newt. Tell me. Or I will throw up in you"

he lets out a sigh and looks back at her, he is still avoiding her eyes “I… well… I might of tried to kiss you…. At the meeting.”

"you... Did what now?" she glared,

he finally looks her in the eyes as he takes a deep breath “I tried to kiss you.”

"on the lips?'

his whole face lights up red when he thinks about the moment again and nods his head “on the lips.”

"and?"

his jaw clamps down and he starts to feel heat all over his body from the embarrassment “and I was gonna pull you even closer… but I pulled back.”

"I see..."

his words catch in his throat and he is feeling very uncomfortable looking at her, he takes a deep shaky breath and looks back at his hands “Im really sorry I don’t know what got into me, it was a moment of weakness and I -"

she moved and pressed a soft kiss to his lips stopping his words, he blinks in surprise as she suddenly gives his lips a little kiss. His body heats up again and this time he cannot stop himself from pulling her closely to him and kissing her again, this time with more force and passion than before. His body is feeling all the desire and urge growing inside him again and his hands are caressing her back and neck. Newt's heart is thumping loudly inside his chest and he is breathing heavily.

the feel of her kisses brings a tingling sensation to every place they have contact and is lighting up his body with desire. He can feel his pulse quicken and his breath grow shallow as he pulls her closer and continues the kiss. Newt's hands begin to roam the curves of her body and he is starting to feel like he is losing control. His tongue brushes against hers and he starts to feel an overwhelming urge to pull her closer and closer.

She happily separated her lips she happily separated her lips letting his tounge battle with her own her hands happily stroking his chest, playing with his hoodie even trailing as high as his neck and the bottom of his hair the feel of her lips and tongue against his ignites a fire all over his body and he feels his body heating up from the rising desire. His hands begin to roam down her legs and he is starting to lose himself in the kiss. The feeling inside him grows more and more overwhelming and the kissing becomes even more intense. Newt's mind blanks as his body is filled with lust.

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