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1800-lemonadeg1rl · 5 months

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Sniffle any louder

Natasha Romanoff x reader

Minors dni!! Masterlist°•☆

Summary - when you show up to work il lit aggravates Natasha that is until she sees your dire state

Warnings - mention of illness, nonsexual nudity, hurt comfort, as usual not proofread

Word count - 2k

A/n - I started rushing at the end because I wanted to have it out by tonight so the ending might not be as good srry

Fractures of pain shot through your aching body like icicles as you left the team meeting. God how you wished you'd just admitted you were ill this morning instead of letting your pride get in the way and pretended to the team that you were right as rain. I guess that's what happens when your on a team with literal super soldiers, you too start believing your above any illness or injury. Oh, but how wrong you realised you were when this flu hit you like a ton of bricks. The combined migraine alongside with the distrsssing chill of your bones left little energy left for you to do anything except lie down and rest, which you hated to admit and wouldn't ever given the choice, despite how sickly you'd begun to look.

Your usual bright eyes full of life and wonder became dull and bloodshot from the lack of sleep your blocked nose had caused you the previous night when you chose to ignore it. The skin on your face that was often painted a rosy colour now paled almost deathly looking, comparable to that of a ghost. Your unshakable senses, often remarked as some of the best had become overworked and dulled from the sickness using up all your remaining energy causing you not to notice people around you until they had begun to speak. The gravelly gasping and choking noises that spluttered from your inflamed throat were foreign to your usual bubbly voice.

Despite these stark and clear changes in not only your physical appearance but also how you carried yourself around the compound you had tricked yourself, somehow, into the belief no one around you would notice. Obviously you were unwell anyone could see that from a mile off and if you didn't think out of a house full of spies, enhanced beings and military personnel that not one of them would pick up on something up with you then you must have been seriously down with something.

Unlucky for you someone did notice after your sniffling had interupted their train of thought for the seventh time, it didn't take a genuis but she'd been ignoring the signs since you arrived. Natasha Romanoff had been trying to reread and correct a badly written mission report written by an incompetent intern. This had already been stressful enough for her without the woman next to her trying to desperately through her blocked nose instead of just going home. The first time she actually noticed something was up was when you nearly walked into the door, stumbling around like bambi on ice. This was something someone with your spacial awareness and high senses would never manage to do if they were as okay as they were telling everyone they were. She spotted it again when you began to cough like a smoker and at that like someone who smoked at least five packs a day, a thing she knew you were not. You'd told her a while back that despite your bad habits which were endless and definitely on show today that you never wanted to smoke because it reminded you of your mother. So unless you'd switched up on that which she very much doubted and had taken up chain smoking the answer was clear; you were ill, very ill.

She also questioned why you were even here, how you were even here. Natasha would leap at the first chance to avoid these dull meetings even if it meant admitting illness to the rest of the group. She'd actually faked being ill before to skip debriefs and instead head to the gym. At one point she had no clue how you were even still able to be alive and functioning with how shallow your breaths were. Everytime your mouth opened a disgusting noise alike to the disgust she felt at nails on a chalk board rung from deep in your throat. Aswell your ever scratcher voice that was beginning to drive her insane. It was one thing to come in sick, it was another to make yourself more ill by working harder than usual.

This had made her angry more than anything, angry at your selflessness. Angry no one else would ever do this, including herself. Angry you put working above your own physical health. Angry that you'd risk everyone else getting ill instead of taking a sick day. Angry you couldnt just admit your illness and leave.

Your eighth sniffle really sent Natasha over the edge as she turned to look dead at you and gave you a menacingly dirty look. A scowl that could kill glowering into your soul. Yet in feverly state you could hardly even register the spy looking in your direction as you still tried to process something said in conversation several minutes ago. Throughout the rest of the meeting she sideyed, scowled, gritted teeth, frowned, muttered under breath and cursed in your direction much to you ignorance. On an average day you could recognise what emotion someone was going through just by being in the same room as them and the tone of their breath but right now even with Natasha directly next you, practically right in your face you couldn't pick up a single negative emotion.

After the meeting you quickly stumbled in the direction of your room, hoping to avoid anyone on the way there, which you managed with much ease despite your worsening condition. Once you reached your room you shut the door without bothering with the lock. Stripped to your underwear and crawled back into bed without a sound. Curling up under your soft thick duvets you shivered and slowly cried yourself into a feverish slumber.

Natasha stayed behind to finish her reports, which she easily could have done hours ago without your incessant coughing and sniffling and all round ill noises. It only infuriated her more as she worked quickly, alone and welcoming the silence since the end of the meeting. When she finished up the work she was just about ready to give you a piece of her mind. And thats what she was gonna do. She had strong feelings about you prioritisation of work over wellness and she was gonna share them with you whether you wanted to hear or not.

Easily, she threw open your door and it hit the wall with a bang, enraged she didnt notice your crumpled whimpering figure writhing under the duvet.

"Sniffle a little louder next meeting." She comments loudly and sarcastically before instantly wincing at the sight of you in the bed.

Instantly her whole demeanour changes into one of care and pure unhidden worry. Natasha crouched over your trembling figure on the bed. Quickly she removed the pile of blankets from overtop and pressed a palm to your forhead before just as swiftly pulling it away with a frown. You were boiling 38°c at the very least and yet your body was still shivering. Without thinking twice Natasha knew the best thing for you was a cold, very cold shower.

She carried your somehow still sleeping figure easily into the bathroom as if you were no more than a light weight to her, which you probably were considering her max dead lift. Gently and ever so carefully she sat you down in the bath before turning the cool shower on next to you. Adjusting it so the water pressure was lower than usual so that it maybe less of a shock for when you fully woke.

Soon after the water began to flow your eyes opened to the hazy view before you. Natasha knelt over the bath making sure you were just alright. When you noticed the water and the bath, definitely not where you fall asleep you began to panic. Quickly flailing much like a fish out of water. Thrashing to get out the bath and attempting to scrabble to your feet. Natasha noticed your sudden frenzy and much quicker than you could, grabbed a hold of your hands halting your movements while whispering affirming words to you.

"Shh sh its okay. Your just in the bath, don't worry were just trying to soothe your fever." She begins to rub your palms slowly in a way which soothes you and instantly slows your panic as you go to rest your head on the bathroom wall.

"Hm don't do that darling. Try and stay awake while your in the bath, just for now." She's says quietly afraid to worsen the headache you already had as she coaxes your head off the wall. "That's it good girl. You can do this."

Her small praises would have usually annoyed you and felt almost condescending but right now they were almost enough to make you smile. She was making you feel as if your feeble attempts to stay conscious were really doing anything.

"M' so tired." You mumbled out a response that slumped together into your mouth so it was barely understandable to Natasha yet she still smiled and nodded at you, not wanting you to feel any worse than you already did.

"That's okay sweet girl, the sooner we get you out the bath and some medicine down you the sooner you can sleep." All the while she kept rubbing at your hands and fingers to keep you grounded in the moment. "I'm going to find you some fresh clothes just stay here."

You nodded but the minute Natasha left your head flopped back against the wall as if magnetised towards it. Upon her return with fresh clothes Natasha tutted.

"You really aren't well, are you?" A small attempt at a nod on your part did not surprise her one bit. "See if you told someone earlier we wouldn't be here right now. You have to ask for help when you need it." She knew her words meant little to you in your current state but she wanted to start bedding them in now nonetheless.

"Now, do you need help getting dressed? There's no shame in needing the help."

"Uhm.. I think a bit." Your response was croaky and your voice was beginning to sound worse by the second.

"That's okay, I'll help you then." She gives you a hand getting out the bath and holds you upright as she helps fully undress you. In her panic to get you in the bath she hadn't thought to remove what you were wearing.

You weren't insecure about your body but something like this would usually not be on with you. But right now you knew you couldn't refuse the help Natasha was offering as you could barely even stand still yourself. So begrudgingly you allowed her to undo your bra and slip off your underwear before tossing them in the bath saying something about getting them to the wash later. Putting on the fresh clothes was easier than either of you anticipated as you didn't resist and her strength helped you from falling against the cold tile floor.

Natasha helped you hobble back towards your bed which you instantly fell against ready to embrace sleep again.

"Ah. Not so quick, first the medicine then sleep." She said softly handing you first a couple pills and some water. "For your headache." Begrudgingly you took them and Natasha smiled as she saw the look of grimace on your face finding it both amusing and adorable. "Okay sweet girl just the syrup left, this will help for your throat." You stared at the syrup in your hand with a frown. Just the smell of its contents was enough to make you dry heave and its colour wasn't tempting either. After two minutes of more convincing and praise you managed to stomach it, not all of it but enough so Natasha was happy enough to stop bothering you.

You knew after that you could finally emmerse yourself in a blissful slumber and with little care curled up, face pressing into Natasha who watched over you as you slept making sure nothing interupted your much needed rest.

Tags: @wandasfifthwife @yanaromanov @idkwhatever580 @stayevildarling

#natasha x reader #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x you #natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #hurt/comfort natasha romanoff #sickfic #fanfic #natasha Romanoff sickfic #marvel natasha #natasha mcu #natasha avengers

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giamee · 1 month

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🌺 ᯓ★୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐘!

STARRING. ノ dan heng

request. ノ anon: helloo if it's right up your alley, could you do a danheng x reader hanahaki au? one where the reader thinks he and someone else have something going on given how caring danheng is through that stoic face of his! but really, danheng is just too kind and you're much too caught up with your own feelings

word count. ノ 3.4k

contains. ノ hanahaki!reader, u and dan heng r both kinda dumb, angst pertaining to the hanahaki trope, you can tell how old this fic is because it's set during the jarilo-vi story quest, some unfounded jealousy of march 7th?, mentions of death and injury and some graphic descriptions of blood and illness

gia's notes. ノ this was the very first request that i ever received on this blog. over a year ago. i drafted this fic and wrote out about 70% of it then let it rot at the bottom of my drafts. anon, you have the patience of a saint if you're still here.

THE MOMENT THAT YOU STEPPED FOOT ONTO THE ASTRAL EXPRESS, you had the sneaking suspicion that you were doomed. Your fate was set in stone as soon as you felt the hard encasing of a seed clutch the walls of your heart in a vice grip when you first laid eyes upon him.

Dan Heng was elusive. The others had been warm in their welcome, but it took the combined efforts of yourself and March 7th to find him hidden in the recesses of the train’s records room. His greeting was a mere nod in your direction before Welt required your presence again, but that’s all you needed.

His eyes were cool, practically piercing through your skin as March 7th ushered you pack to the parlour car, and you felt yourself shiver as his intense stare burned itself into the back of your head.

And while he’s intimidating, sure, that’s not why you stayed away from Dan Heng. He had a cold and callous exterior that you had never seen crack, yet all the same you had felt the start of a crush start to take root.

And this may not have been a problem at all if it weren’t for two details that were like a slap to the face for you.

One, you were fairly certain that Dan Heng had his eyes for March 7th.

And two, if your crush didn’t return your feelings, you would die.

It wasn’t a case of exaggeration, either. You had been aware of the fact that to develop feelings for someone was dangerous, as it had been drilled into you from a young age by your parents. They had gripped your hands, steering you away from other children with little more explanation than that, always chastised you for wanting to forge a human connection, keeping you isolated from the world around you, better safe than sorry.

And you had felt so alone.

Being forced to live a life in confinement was not an easy one, and despite your parents’ wishes, you had told them of your plan to to finally go out into the world, to live a life from experience and not watching it unfold as an impassive reader of a book or on your phone screen, danger be damned.

So it wasn’t really your fault that you had been so quick to develop those feelings that had been so often described in the books you read, as an explosion of butterflies erupted within you upon meeting someone else, another person for the first time.

And yet you found yourself in the same predicament- a watcher from afar. The heart wants what it wants was a bitter mantra that seemed to enjoy your misery as you watched March 7th excitedly chatter with Dan Heng, and you could have sworn the man even cracked the smallest of smiles at whatever she was saying. And really, could you blame him for it? March was kind, bubbly, outgoing- a perfect match for the stoic and seeming immovable Dan Heng.

It was more common sense than pessimism that had you concluding that you didn’t really stand a chance for his affections against someone like her. You doubt that Dan Heng even looked at you more than he had to. You, so secretive and elusive that you gave him a run for his money; and two similar poles never attracted each other. It was a funny hand that fate had dealt you, but you had to play with those cards regardless.

As if to mock you, you ducked away from the outskirts of the room, feeling a coughing fit coming. You had barely made it to your room before you doubled over, feeling your insides run ragged by the prickly thorns of the rose bush that grew inside you.

A single bloodstained petal fell into your palm.

Besides the quickly growing issue that you refused to acknowledge, life on the Astral Express wasn’t awful. You hadn’t yet confided in anyone about your condition, so to speak, and not entirely because you didn’t want to. To be completely honest with yourself, there was much that you didn’t know about it.

And so you timed it well- you waited for the subject of your affliction- for Dan Heng to leave his unofficial bedroom before you slipped through the door into the records room, desperate to find any sort of information that might help you find some sort of cure.

There was a small computer in the corner that you quickly typed your symptoms into- flower. unrequited love. coughing fits. You didn’t know if the single digit of entries was a cause for concern or not, but your brows furrowed as you began to scan through them. The number of obituary entries that were listed on this one document alone was making you shiver. You clicked out of it, about to open the next one before the door sliding open had you starting like a frightened animal.

Dan Heng strolled in, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline as he registered that you were in the room, in his room. He spoke your name, softly, as if trying not to scare you further. You would have said something, honestly, if it weren’t for the sudden explosive coughing fit that came on a lot quicker than usual.

You could barely get a word out before you were bent over from the force of your coughs, tears pricking your eyes from the newfound intensity of the pain coming from inside you. Despite your hands clasped over your mouth, a couple of petals escaped and fluttered down to the floor, some distance between you and the horrified Dan Heng.

He was frozen in place, fingers itching to reach out to you and comfort you, but with the way you practically flinched away from him, he wasn’t sure if his presence was wanted. He barely caught a glimpse of your pained face before you darted around him and back to your own room on the train.

Dan Heng scrubbed a hand over his face in frustration at his inability to act, before his attention diverted once again to the bloody petals on the floor, and the files on the record searcher that you hadn’t completely closed. He cast one last guilty glance back in your direction before heading closer to the screen and beginning to read.

The Trailblazers’ journey must progress, and your heart hammered for another reason other than a sighting of the raven-haired male who you still harboured feelings for. You had ultimately left your home to explore the world, and with the Express finally stopping at the planet Belobog- your promise to yourself was a step closer to being fulfilled. You disembarked alongside Stelle and March, doing your best to avoid Dan Heng like the plague ever since that fated day. You didn’t know how much he exactly knew, but you had no intentions of finding out.

Your plans of peaceful exploration, however, were short lived with the arrival of Silvermane guards to greet you. In the chaos of the smoke, it was not lost on you that Dan Heng had instinctively protected March, practically shielding her with his body. As Stelle dragged you along some backway path in pursuit of some mystery saviour, you felt the excruciating addition of a new thorn in your heart.

The adrenaline of the escape had worn off by now, and you could feel your secret threatening to spill over any second now. You could barely warn Stelle to let you move off to the side before you were keeled over, closer to gagging than coughing as a large ball of petals and dark, dark blood forced its way through your throat. You felt faint, barely registering the panicked calls of your name as you felt your world turn sideways, Stelle’s face and voice being quickly replaced by another deeper one, with fear in their eyes and a certain desperate edge as you felt yourself slip into unconsciousness.

It's a dreamless sleep, yet it isn't restful, judging by how you feel like you've been hit by a bus when you sit up. Every fibre of your being aches, and there's a harsh overhead light that dazzles you as you blink awake.

As your eyes grow accustomed to it, there's a surge of panic as you don't recognise your surroundings. It looks like a clinic of some sorts- and there was the cloying smell of chemicals that invaded your nostrils. You struggled to sit up, until you felt a hand place itself gently against your chest.

A dark-haired woman with a doctor's coat smiles down at you warmly, and you eye her warily.

"Who are you?"

"My name's Natasha, I'm a doctor in the Underworld. Try not to move around too much, dear. You've been unconscious for quite some time and your condition is unstable, you still need rest."

"Where's the people that I was with?"

"They've all awoken a few hours before you." She casts a quick glance at the clipboard in her hands, as if to fact check herself, giving herself a quick satisfactory nod. "Don't worry, you haven't been abandoned. They should be just outside. The young man sat by your bedside while you were unconscious only left a few minutes ago- he got whisked away by one of my... colleagues."

Your mind's racing now, wondering who she could be talking about. Hoping that it was who you thought it was. But she reiterates her request to lie back down, and you comply begrudgingly. You start to settle down, until you catch a glimpse of the mess lying atop your blankets. A visceral combination of blood and crumpled petals rest upon the fabric, and you watch the doctor's expression become grave.

"That is the unstable part of your condition that I wanted to discuss." She pulls up a chair besides you, settling neatly, hands folded in her lap. "How long have these symptoms been ailing you?"

You furrow your brows, recalling how they started a mere month or two ago, after you joined the Astral Express. After you met him.

"A couple of months." Natasha nods, a frown forming on her face again.

"Considering how quickly it has developed, I imagine that your case is rather severe." You shrug, a humourless smile on your face.

"There's not much that I can do about it, Doc."

"I'm sure that you're aware of the risks that come with a confession, but as a bystander rather than a doctor, I think that you should talk to him."

"Who?"

"The man who refused to leave your side for all of these hours."

You hoped that Natasha was right. Deciding to ignore her advice of continued bed rest, you force yourself up, walking out of the clinic in search of him. Welt was no young man, and there wasn't anyone else that came to mind based off of Natasha's description. It couldn't be anyone else than him, right?

You stumble out onto the streets of the Underworld, garnering a few odd looks from passerbys as you wander around, looking for not just Dan Heng but anyone that you recognised.

You round a corner, seeing the back of a head and clothing that looks an awful lot like him. Who you're planning to confess to. You call his name, out loud, voice a little hoarse.

And he turns, beautiful crystalline eyes meeting yours. Call it a trick of the light, but you could have sworn that they shone a tad lighter when he saw you. But your gaze drifted past him, and all bubbling hope was quelled once again in your heart as you recognised the figure of March 7th stood with him.

Of course he would be with her.

If you looked closer at the pair of them, all signs indicated an intimacy to them that made you feel sick. There was a serious look on her face, one of her hands rested against his arm, but she soon recognised you too, her face instantly perking up as she began to ran towards you, calling your name.

"You're finally awake, you're OK!" she calls out in delight, her arms wrapping around you as she practically barrels into you, threatening to knock you off balance. You stumble, returning the hug, the nausea turning to guilt as you remember how the girl has been nothing but good to you. Of course Dan Heng would harbour feelings for her, not you.

The Doctor's order was wrong.

You sigh to yourself in defeat, unwinding your arms and shooting March 7th the best smile that you could muster in the moment.

"I feel better, but I'm still feeling weak so I might go back to the clinic."

March 7th frowns, eyes scanning your figure in concern.

"Are you OK, Y/N?"

"Do you want me to walk you back?" You twitched, not even realising that Dan Heng had caught up to the pair of you. He was also looking at you with concern, and you could feel an onslaught of petals coming.

"No, it's fine, I'll go back on my own." You don't really give either of them the chance to respond, spinning on your heel and trying not to run back from where you came.

You felt... worse. Before, you had at least been able to function, but now you felt so much limper, and weaker. You cursed at yourself for allowing false hope to be instilled, just as the coughing begins. It wracks through you, so hard that you almost dry heave as you keel over, and you watch in horror as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and see it come back crimson.

At least the clinic was around the corner.

You barely make it inside, unable to stand up straight by this point. Natasha springs to action, helping you back into a bed, helping you through the worst of the coughing. It's so much more draining than before, and you're quick to fall into a fitful sleep.

Even unconscious, you don't get a reprieve. Even in your dreams, he's all you can think of. There's a spitting image of him stood before you, eyes soft and voice like honey as he calls out to you, hands outstretched. And you try to join him, fingers straining to touch his before you watch them turn into branches and flower before your very eyes. You look down, and it hurts, with brambles wrapping themselves around your middle. And just as fast as they grow, your new floral appendages wilt before your very eyes. Branches drooping, flowers losing their hue, and you feel yourself start to fade, his name one last desperate cry from your lips.

You wake up, tears staining your cheeks and you trembling. For a few panicked seconds, you think you're still dreaming because he is here, sat by your bed, and as he stands up to wipe your tears you shrink back in fear of turning back to branches again.

But his warm palm cups your face, solid against your trembling state, deft thumbs wiping away your tears, an uncharacteristically soft hushing and cooing coming from Dan Heng as he promises you that everything is okay now.

It's easy to believe him, with the way he moves even closer to hold you, cradle your form against his warmth, patting your hair and letting you cry until you can't any more amidst the petals on your bedsheets.

You don't know how long the pair of you stay like this, your face pressed into his chest, his heartbeat leading yours back into the range of one at rest rather than its prior pounding against your ribcage. You would stay there for the rest of time, if you had a choice, but you had to admit that the oxidation of blood and its drying against your skin was making you feel ever so slightly uncomfortable.

You clear your throat, as best as you can in your hoarse state, and Dan Heng picks up on your withdrawal as he all but flinches away from you, returning the distance that usually lies between your two bodies. But his eyes still scour your figure, your face, for any and all signs of discomfort. Like a lover would. The thought melds with the already-bitter taste of blood residing against your tongue, and you frown down at your lap. At the petals. At your pathetic form lying beneath the blanket, obscured from view.

“How long has this been happening for?” Dan Heng sounds so timid, as if he were walking on glass sheets around you. Ever since that fateful day in the records room, it felt like he had done nothing but tiptoe and tread around you, a careful dance of avoidance that you were forced to be his partner in. You sigh deeply, a hand gingerly beginning to gather the gorey sight of such beautiful pink marred by the visceral crimson that remained, not yet dried.

“I’ve had it all my life, apparently, but it only started making itself known once I joined the Astral Express.” Once I met you.

“I, um- I looked into it more. In the records.” His admission made you snap your head up to face him, cautious of his next words, whatever they may be. He looked nervous himself, with eyes that refused to meet yours and fingers that twisted into his clothes, toying with the hem of his jacket.

“I read of many such cases where people were able to make a full recovery.” He sounds so hopeful, even daring to meet your eyes, that you almost feel bad for him. It was like looking back at a past version of yourself, so hopeful for a happy ending that once sparkled in your eyes, now a dull flicker you can see when the lighting is just right.

“It’s not that simple, Dan Heng.”

“What do you mean, it said that there weren’t any later cases of symptoms returning-”

“That’s because it’s not an illness from the body.” You’re snappier than you intend to be, you see it in the way his mouth snaps shut and his throat bobs against his collar, as he sits up straighter, waiting for you to continue. “The only cure is to confess to the person that I love.”

“And why haven’t you?” His voice is barely above a murmur, and even from his place in the seat next to our bed, you hear him just fine.

“Because I’m sure that he has eyes for another.” You’ve collected all the petals in your palm by now, observing them with a dry humour as you notice that they’ve begun to wither, much like yourself. You doubt that you could go on much longer after this conversation. Part of you urges to get it over with, to confess now and let yourself bloom with one last glance upon his face.

Dan Heng must have scoured each and every record, because you didn’t need to offer an explanation of what would happen with such unrequited feelings. He’s silent again, an awkward and palpable tension as you can feel his confliction from here.

He finally manages a lame “you never know” that has you laughing, a brief reprieve before you dissolve into another coughing fit. It’s hardly something to worry about, but Dan Heng is by your side again, palm smoothing over your shoulder blades as you are wracked with coughs. You appreciate it nonetheless.

“What would happen if someone else confesses to you?” You shoot him a sideways glance, confusion written all over your features, urging him to elaborate. “What if you held no feelings for them, but they confessed to you all the same. Would that cure you?” He’s earnest now, hands scooping up your dirtied ones, clasping them in his grasp as he looked at you with stars in his eyes.

Your shrivelled heart begins to beat again.

“What- what do you mean?” Play dumb. Don’t mistake curiosity for what you desire most.

“What if I told you right here and now that I love you?” His eyes are searching yours, pleading with you for an answer that you’ve been screaming at him for so long. One that he does not have to search for, because it’s been laid there at his feet this whole time.

“I would tell you, Dan Heng, that such a confession is not unrequited.” You’re grinning now, the smile on your face growing wider and wider as you watch recognition flood his features.

And then he’s smiling too, laughing, holding you ever closer to him before he pulls away again, just to cup your face now. It’s only natural to close the distance between the two of you, lips touching his for a kiss that quickly becomes searing, welcoming a new season of heat into your body.

The thorns in your heart reside. Spring begins to bloom.

➤ IF YOU LIKED THIS, TRY ... enjoy the silence

roommate!dan heng x reader

➤ alternatively, you can find my hsr masterlist here!

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jyoongim · 6 months

Note

I'm sorry to add to your likely ever growing list of requests but may I pitch an idea:

Alastor absolutely head over heals for a married reader, but since his mama raised him right he'd never make a real move. He's sure he can show you he's sooo much better anyway, and you'd leave your husband for him eventually.

BUT then his rut hits and the chivalry goes out the window no matter how hard he tries to stay sane and he just NEEDS reader right NOW, wedding ring be damned.

Title: UNWILLINGLY YOURS❤️‍🔥

Part 2!

warning: Reader is married! Non-con sex (I DIDNT EVEN KNOW I COULD WRITE THIS????) possessive, jealous, obsessive behaviors, one-sided pining, breeding kink/impregnantion, Al is a homewrecker!!!, husband is a sweet bean!, rough sex, creampie, marriage guilt

Let me know if I’m missing something!!

———————————————————————

You were a constant face in Cannibal Town. You often helped Rosie at her Emporium, helping her sell her goodies, have a good chat, and help those who come to see the female Overlord.

You could often be found in an apron splattered in blood with a sharp grin on your face.

Alastor found you adoring. He thought you were the sweetest thing that ever graced Hell.

So imagine the way his shadow simmered when he saw a wedding ring shining on your finger…

The Overlord’s eyes narrowed when he saw your husband would come in, greeting Rosie and before the sinner could locate you, you were chirping happily as you jumped into his arms, dragging the man to taste what you had been cooking.

He knew it wasn’t right.

To lust after a taken woman.

But seven hells were you beautiful.

You considered Alastor a friend. You were oblivious to his flirting and often thought he was just teasing.

He was a well-mannered demon and the two of you had a lot in common.

He deemed himself the better man.

Your husband was average. Alastor couldnt understand why you married him.

You needed someone strong and powerful.

Someone who would worship the ground you walked on.

Someone who would worship you like you deserved.

You deserved to be spoiled, having things at your disposal at just a glance.

Alastor could give you all of those things if you just said the word.

If you would just leave your husband…..the world could be yours.

But all the gifts, flowers, and dates didnt seem to get through your head.

You kindly reminded the deer that you were married and you adored your spouse, but you gave him your appreciation in his efforts.

So like a gentleman, Alastor backed down. If you truly loved your husband than who was he to mess up a happy home?

But that desire to have you all to himself never went away.

You suited Alastor.

Your manners,personality, interests…

You were his perfect standard.

But you were already someone else’s.

But Alastor could wait…

————————————————————————

“Rosie I haven’t seen Alastor around, he hasn’t fall ill has he?” You asked the tall woman worriedly.

Rosie waved a dismissive hand “Oh he’s fine dear. he always goes into hiding every now and again. Probably just busy at that hotel of his”

You tugged your lips, the treat you had been making was one of the red demon’s favorite.

Maybe you should go and check on him?

After all…He was your friend.

”Im gonna take him some treats. I just want to check up on him.”

You knocked on the double doors of the hotel and waited.

You knocked again.

You heard some shuffling and then the door opened.

”What are you doing this way darlin?”

You smiled softly seeing Alastor, holding up the goodies

”Hadn’t seen you in a while and was just worried that’s all. I was making these and know how much you love em”

The overlord let you in and you took in the hotel lobby.

It certainly had character.

You noticed Alastor hadn’t moved from the door and instead was staring at you. You tilted your head “You look like you wanna eat me Al” You wiggled your tail at him, smirking playfully

“But I doubt ill taste as good as these goodies I worked so hard on”

That seemed to snap him out of it as he cleared his throat, he escorted you to the radio tower.

Alastor was losing it.

His rut had came sooner than he anticipated and he has locked himself away until he had control over himself.

All he could think about was you.

And how you would look covered in his cum.

Covered? No that would be a waste…but if you were filled that was a different story.

Everyone had went out on some activity Charlie had planned so Alastor was holding the fort.

He had been stroking his cock, fisting the raging organ until it was pulsing and leaking. He had been thinking of you, the object of his affections and desires.

On your knees and begging to suck him.

He could feel an orgasm readying to erupt when a knock at the door interrupted his fantasy.

He growled and stomped to the front door when a familiar scent caught his nose.

You.

You were here.

Making sure he was okay.

You had been worried about him and even made him a snack.

Oh what a sweet thing you were.

If only you were his wife.

Alastor let you in, eyes raking over your figure as you looked around the hotel.

Eyes settling on the sway of your hips, before he heard your voice breakthrough the fog of desire.

”You look like you wanna eat me” you giggled.

You were being playful.

He knew that.

But when you wiggled your backside, flickering your tail that set him off.

He was on you faster than you could blink, hands settling on your plush hips. His lips skimmed your ear “You would be even sweeter than these treats you’ve made.”

You shivered, trying to shrug him off “You’re just saying that”

Alastor chuckled as he nuzzled you, teeth nipping at your shoulder

”Oh I’d never lie about you darlin”

Your cheeks flushed and you went to move away from him when he pressed his hips against yours.

”A-Al?”

He growled against your ear, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you into him.

”You dont understand the effect you have on me my dear. It is taking everything in me to not have my way with you”

You tried to jerk away from him, but he held fast, a soft frown showing on your face.

”Alastor… t-this i-is inappropriate Im..you know I’m married”

The second the word slipped from your lips Alastor let out a feral growl, twirling you around to face him.

His eyes were black and pupils narrowed as he bared his teeth at you.

”That is irrelevant to me dear. You think I care of your bond to that pathetic excuse of a man?”

You went to hiss at him.

Bared your fangs and defended your marriage.

But Alastor found your anger to be his tipping point as he slammed his lips onto yours, catching you off guard.

Your eyes widened and you gasped subconsciously, making the red demon lean into you, swallowing the soft protests and whines you let out.

”A-Alastor..N-No I can’t…” you pulled away pushing against him, but the male didnt let you get away.

He sought after your lips, wanting to have his tongue down your throat. Sweet poisoned words spilled from his lips as he pressed you into his chest.

“You’ll have to indulge me my dear. Youve been plaguing my mind for a while now and while I despise your husband, I respected you to give you space…”

A large hand wrapped around your neck, tightening. He tilted his head at you “However…you have approached me while I’m in season and reason have been slipping.”

In season? Your head was reeling. The fuck was he talking about… Oh!

Alastor had deer features… he…he was…

”What will your dear husband think when I send you back to him filled with my cum?” Alastor purred snapping you out of your thoughts.

You blinked, taking a step back, but he followed you.

You were pressed into a wall before you melted into the wall and found your back on a soft surface.

Alastor was on top of you, claws digging in your clothing; a rip met your ears and the cool air had you covering yourself.

“Alastor!” You yelped. The red demon grabbed at your hands, revealing your bare body to him.

Skin smooth like butter and free of marks. Your ample breasts were full and round, rising and falling with your rapid breathing.

His large hands kneaded the mounds, pinching and tweaking the soft peaks. His eyes roamed your soft stomach that was littered in stretch marks and slightly rounded, filtering into wide hips.

Satan you would look lovely carry his spawns.

“Al please! Let me go. I-Ill forget all about this incident and we can just pretend it never happened.” You placed your hands over his to slowly move them off your chest, he didnt protest.

You knew Alastor.

He wouldnt hurt you

His brain was just all twisted from hormones, he'll gain some sense.

Your breath caught when he pressed his nose against your heat.

Your thighs vibrated as a purr radiated through his chest.

”Such a sweet cunt” he mused, inhaling your scent.

“A-Al dont…i-I’m…I’m pregnant” you pleaded, trying to close your legs around his head and softly pushing him away from your intimate region.

Alastor stiffened at your words.

His eyes snapped to yours and then to your stomach.

Anger boiled inside him.

Pregnant? How dare someone-

“I-I wont tell my husband. We can just pretend this didnt happen. Just stop now and ill go” you tried to reason with the demon.

His eyes narrowed as a vicious growl ripped through his throat

Your husband…that’s right you weren’t his. You were married.

But he could fix that problem.

Alastor’s cock twitched at the thought.

”Oooh my dear that’s alright” he grinned up at you as he teased your slit. He lowered his head back between your legs

”Afterall…I would love to see you carrying my fawns”

Your eyes widened and before you could question him, Alastor sucked your clit into his mouth.

A ragged cry tore from your lips as the red demon lapped at your cunt. ”A-Al-lastor!”

Alastor swallowed the nectar that began to flow.

You tasted better than he imagined.

Sweeter than honey.

He groaned as he pushed his tongue into your velvet walls, twirling and swirling to lap every drop your cunt produced.

You were trying to wiggle your hips away from him, but Alastor held your hips steady, nipping at your clit in warning.

Oh your husband had no idea of the treasure he had Alastor thought flicking your clit with his tongue.

Such a perfect cunt.

Your soft groans of protests were music to his ears.

Suck. Lick. Flick. Repeat

Alastor tortured your poor puffy clit until your hips shuddered and rolling against his tongue. He moaned latching onto your cunt as you cried out, your nectar exploding into his mouth.

You panted as your heart thumped in your chest, feeling your body buzz as you floated.You took a deep breath maybe this was enough. Maybe he would let you go home.

You felt his kiss around your inner thighs and lick one final stripe up your slit, before moving his head from between your thighs.

Hes satisfied now…go-good…now to-

A heavy weight slapped against your thigh making you tense as you looked up at Alastor with horror in your eyes.

Tears welled in your eyes as a sob bubbled in your throat “N-no…no no no no no no!” Alastor’s hands cupped your cheeks as he tried to comfort your pleas, using his knees to widen your thighs.

”Its okay darling” he licked your wet cheek “You were such a good girl for me such a good girl” you felt him pepper your face in soft kisses. You pushed at his broad chest, hands pushing at anything you could shove, you shook your head in denial as he trapped you underneath him “Im pregnant! Y-You can’t! Please dont” You sobbed.

Alastor hissed, that jealous feeling rearing “yeesss pregnant your husband must be so happy” you gasped as he pushed both your thighs to your chest, keeping them spread to expose your cunt and no pressure on your soft bump.

His cock stroked your cunt, angry red tip leaking as he rubbed against you.

“Your husband dont deserve you. You should be with a man who is feared and respected. Will worship you and the ground you walk…” He purred when his mushroom tip caught your clit

“Who can bring you to the peak of pleasure easily”

Using his weight to hold your legs, he wiped the tears that streaked down your face, before slipping a hand between you.

“Al…N-no! AH!” The cry didnt even fully leave your lips when Alastor slotted his lips on yours as his hips slammed against yours, cock breaching your gummy walls, stretching.

Alastor’s antlers grew when he felt your cunt squeeze around him, he pulled his hips back and pushed back in, groaning into your mouth when your walls gave way to him.

He chuckled against your lips.

Oh you were divine…

No way was he letting you go…

————————————————————————

“Oh that’s my good girl yeeesss I knew you’ll be good for me”

Alastor rasped as he sucked a nipple into his mouth, hips ramming into yours.

You couldnt even acknowledge his praise as he fucked you.

You felt numb.

dirty.

You had broken your wedding vows to your husband.

”You take my cock so well, knew you would. Such a sweet cunt.”

Alastor fucked your pussy like it was his.

Your body covered in love bites, sweat, and cum.

so much cum.

Alastor had emptied rope after rope of creamy cum inside you, filling you up til it pooled under your ass.

“You’ll look so pretty carrying my spawns doll. You take my cum well…fuck! Baby that’s right milk this cock take my cum take it fuck!”

Your back arched and a soft mewl left your lips.

He let out a low hiss as he slotted his hips against yours, cock twitching as your cunt fluttered and clenched around him, releasing another load of cum inside your womb.

Your thighs shook as he thrusted against you softly.

Alastor whispered sweet praises and affections against your skin.

”you take me so well”

”sweet cunt and its all mine”

He pulled out of you with a wet pop and yours flopped, a steady stream of cream dripping from your abused hole.

He licked from your neck to your hair, purring

”that’s my girl”

Your body finally had enough and your vision went dark.

—————————————————————————————

“Honey you had me so worried! Thanks for bringing her home Alastor” your husband said appreciatively to the red demon, who smiled at the man. Your husband kissed your cheek as you walked through the door, he looked you over “Why dont you head to bed hmmm? You seem tired”

Alastor smiled wickedly “Yes do get your rest dear. Wouldnt want to faint again”

Your husband thanked the Overlord for bringing you home and as you turned to head upstairs, you heard him say to your husband

”Congratulations to you both by the way. Shell make a fine mother” you paused slightly before heading continuing up the stairs. Your husband laughed and thanked him again.

But before the door closed, Alastor watched as your husband ran behind you, you offered him a small smile that didnt meet your lips. As the man pulled you into a kiss, not seeing the tear that ran down your cheek. Your husband tried to palm your ass, but you quickly grabbed his hand.

His eyes followed the two of you going upstairs.

Alastor smirked watching a stream of cum run down your leg.

Yes congratulations indeed.

——————————————————————————

Part 2 is linked and posted!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x reader #jyoongim #alastor the radio demon #alastor x y/n #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor smut #Alastor smut #yandere smut #soft yandere

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stolasdearest · 8 months

Note

hey!! it's me again, the same anon requested a Reader with anger issues :3

could u do platonic headcanons with Alastor and Rosie x Male Overlord! Reader who is the opposite of them? the three of them are best Friends but Reader is like the opposite of them? He rarely smiles, isn't chatty and is rough? and maybe, since alastor and Rosie LOVE singing and dancing, the Reader is kinda shy about it cause he doesn't like the way he dances/sings?

hope I'm not bothering! i just really like your writing :)

Rosie & Alastor x Reader (Platonic) ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

AAAAA HII welcome back!! thank you <3 youre never bothering me dear I always love seeing you! I made a banner for this (and incase I get Combined Rosie n Alastor stuff again

Not Proofread!

Male!Overlord! Reader

Song listened to while writing this!

↓

♪ These two will have energy you "lack' these two are always bouncing around you and talking, to each other and you; impatiently awaiting an answer from you

♪ Rosie often coos at how rough and violent you are, saying you need to add 'sparkle' it at which you just shrug; nothing changes

♪ Alastor thinks your nature is— intriguing; you're very intimidating.. Not to him hells no! Everyone else; but he thinks you should do something special instead of just, mauling everyone who crosses you, not that he minds how you currently behave, it's very fun to watch

♪ Anytime you go out together Rosie is trying to convince you to join her and Alastor, you just wave her off, a polite "no thank you." And you sit on a couch alone. And watch them, if you're feeling generous you'll tap your foot to the songs while standing near them.

♪ Alastor is the one to try and usher you to sing with him; he says your voices "would sound delightful together" and jokingly pities you when you say you feel uncomfortable singing; doubting your own ability but he quickly assured you that you're gonna do great. He'll silently go off the walls if you agree.

♪ these two are almost constantly smiling, Alastor specifically.. Anyway— so whenever you crack even a small smile these two are looking at each other like "did you just catch that??" Often they'll even tease you on it.

♪ will verbally (and physically) defend you with their lives, in front of you and when you're not there. Anyone who dares speak ill of you in ear shot of them is gonna never hear the end of it or hear ever again at all! Depends what type of day they've had!

♪ walk with you in the middle of them, you have them both blabbering in your ears constantly, not that you mind; they wouldn't be seen with you constantly if you did.

♪ ask for your input on things, especially Rosie she will ask you every time "I did my hair differently, what do you think?". Alastor is the kinda guy to say "notice something?" Only for him to have his shoes polished and nothing else while you stand there quietly tweaking.

♪ Rosie always has her arm hooked with yours, like teenage girls in the city while she looks past you at Alastor and talking about their hottest new news.

♪ Alastor usually scans you to see how you're feeling, you're very stoic and hard to read..Rosie doesn't care she's smothering you even if you're about to punch the next sinner you see.

AAAAAAAA I hope this is what you hoped it'd be!!! LOVE U POOOKIEEE

#hazbin x reader #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel x reader #rosie x reader #hazbin hotel rosie #alastor x reader #alastor imagine

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hells-wasabii · 8 months

Note

So I came down with Covid yesterday :(

I was seeing if you were open to do one with Alastor and a sick reader? I don’t do requests often, this is so new to me💕❤️

Hi! I hope you’re feeling better by the time you read this! Covid isn’t fun at ALL, but I hope you enjoy the read!

Character: Alastor

Type: Headcanons+Drabble (Alastor x sick!reader, Fluff)

Alastor as a caretaker would honestly be a sight to behold. And he’s surprisingly good at it? Then again whenever his mother would fall ill he was right there to nurse her back to health, so he’s got a little bit of experience in that department.

Speaking of his mother, he would go out of his way to cook something for you, more specifically soups and the like that she would make for him when he was sick. Something full of nutrients to help you get back on your feet. When he would get sick as a child he had his mother to rely on, and now, you would have him. You were his partner after all. He couldn’t just leave you in such a state.

He would personally oversee that you’re well taken care of. Whether it be fresh linens for your bed or water to drink should you wake up thirsty. Whatever you needed, he would have it to you just as quickly as he could. It was odd seeing him so… nurturing, but then again the radio demon did have a habit of showing you sides of him that the rest of hell would never see.

You were sick, there was no doubt about that. You had been for nearly two days now. The first day hadn’t been that bad, at least at first. You didn’t even know it was possible to get sick in hell, and yet here you were, laid up in bed recovering from one of the worst fevers you’d ever experienced. It made you wonder if hell had some sort of super-flu or something of the like

It had quickly escalated to the point that it felt as if you could feel your bones. The second day you had spent much of asleep, a fact that had been a small relief on your aching body. That is until the fitful fever dreams came along. Oddly enough you found yourself trying to solve puzzles as a means to break the fever. It never worked.

The only thing that really kept you grounded when you were conscious had been the chills that left your muscles aching. Of course, you knew that sickness couldn’t kill you in hell, especially not a sinner, but by god did it feel like you were dying.

Everything had been a haze up until a couple of hours ago.

You had already decided by that point that the only thing worse than actually being in hell was being sick as hell in hell. But you did count yourself lucky, you did have one hell of a caretaker, after all. Groggily you opened your eyes to look over at the demon reading in the plush armchair in the corner of your room. You’re not sure how exactly he knew that you were awake, but the radio demon lifted his gaze to meet yours not even moments later. You noticed his smile softened just a bit before he spoke.

“Glad to see you’re awake, darling.” The radio demon said gently, sliding a bookmark between the pages of his book and setting it down on the seat of the chair as he got up. “Give me a moment to fetch you something to eat, I imagine you’re quite famished. I’ve prepared a soup I know you’re just going to love, my mother's recipe!”

The soft lull of a radio playing music from your bedside table met your ears. You thought you could recognize that song, you were sure it was one you had heard Alastor humming before. It brought a smile to your lips. You decided that you quite liked that song, as well.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin imagine #hazbin headcanons #alastor x reader #alastor headcanons #alastor imagine #alastor

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jadegmfu · 8 months

Text

Your Journal.

Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader

summary;reader has a journal she didn't want to show anakin, but one night.. she forgot to hide it from him, and now he's reading the things she wrote first pages were about her everyday life in the order and about her tactics in the field. but the more he dug in, the more he saw a lot of your filthy thoughts. now he can't get enough, he wants you to write more of your thoughts..

TW!: Dirty Thoughts, MINORS DNI

He was in your apartment room, you were having a shower while he was outside the bathroom you're in.

he was at your bed, looking up the ceiling. bored most likely. he got up with a groan, looking around her room, there it is. the journal you didn't let him touch or anythin' at all. you forgot to hide it,

he picked it up, looking at the journal's red leathercover, it was filled with little cute symbols and then a cute picture of you in the middle.

It was locked. He didn’t even really want to read it, it was your privacy, but his curiosity got the better of him. He found a pen on the dresser table and picked the lock on the journal. Anakin had learnt the hard way about the importance of not getting caught, and he could easily break into any lock. He didn’t use this power often. Anakin then opened the journal and began to read.

just things written about her everyday life, and some really impressive tactics.. of how to overthrow the separatists, the connections of the separatists, her software projects(engineering stuff), and some.. poems for him?

Anakin was shocked. This wasn’t what he expected. The tactics to overthrow the separatists was normal, she was a general after all, but poetry? For him? He was taken aback. He continued skimming and scanning the pages. He couldn’t believe it.

'eyes are alike of an angel, every gazes is like watching the ocean waves

hair soft as silk, personality is as gentle and sweet, physique is of a strong big man, lightsaber form is reckless and menacing, voice smooth like honey. smile is as bright as the two suns of tatooine'

His heart fluttered. These were the most beautiful words he had ever read. Maybe her journal wasn’t just her private thoughts about her work. Maybe she felt something for him too. He continued reading more of the poetry, looking for more of a hint. Just a little bit more that could confirm his doubts. He was blushing and was completely lost in the poetry. He hadn’t noticed the journal was shaking from his excitement. He was really beginning to hope she felt the same way.

next page.

'the things you make me feel.. im in agony. this is torture. why do you make me feel like i desire you so much? this is wrong.. but i love you, i cant help what i feel, but it's very wrong to lust over you..'

Now Anakin was stunned. Had he just read what he thought he had? This was definitely new information. His emotions were getting increasingly mixed up. There was no use reading more…But he was tempted. He continued skimming. he was thinking, maybe he should take the journal with him after he goes back to his chambers back at the temple.

He stopped for a moment. He shouldn’t take this… But he couldn’t deny it had been something special… and tempting. He put the notebook in the pocket of his robes. Then he heard you leave the bathroom.

her body covered in a towel, hair dried out with a towel, "oh hey ani" she said noticing him on her bed.

He tried not to let his surprise show. He didn’t think you would see him. But at least he had had time to compose himself and clear his mind of the contents of the journal.

Anakin responded to you with a smile. “Hi there…” she chuckled, "hi, are you gonna go soon?" asking if he's gonna go back to the temple now. Anakin gave you a small nod. “I have to get back for morning meditation.” He didn’t add the fact that he had been occupied reading your journal.

"i see, ill see you back at the temple tomorrow morning then?"

*He gave you a little nod again.* “Yes, you will.” *He gave you a last smile, before getting up from the bed. It was difficult to look at you like this, after reading those poems, imagining that you felt that way about him.*

back at the temple, he was at his chambers, reading her journal.

*It seemed that the journal had somehow been calling him back. It had been intriguing and tempting to see this hidden side of her. Was these really her true feelings? Was she in love with him?

As he read it, he found himself imagining the scenes in his head. If these words were really how she felt then there was something deeper between the two of them than either had realised. It was both exciting and terrifying.

the current page he's reading.

'i was fantasizing about him again, my fingers dont even satisfy me anymore.. i want more. i want a man to make me feel good, sadly i cant find one.'

Anakin was surprised and even a little shocked at what he was reading. He was definitely intrigued. He couldn’t believe you felt this way about him. These words he was reading were something he had never considered, until now. And he liked it. A lot. He found himself getting increasingly attracted to you. He kept on reading.

next page,

'ani held my waist today, those big callousedd hands are really starting to get to me.. i wonder just how good this man will make me feel if he bedded me.'

You were really good with words. These kind of thoughts had never occurred to him before. The words you were writing were making Anakin’s heart beat faster and faster. Was this really how you felt? Was he really the one person making you feel this way? He needed to know more. He tried not to get too ahead of his self, but he couldn’t help it. He kept on turning the pages…

next page,

'him cuddling me last night was cute. he really trapped me in his arms.. god he makes me feel so helpless.. i just wish it was sex that occured instead of cuddles because i already get alot of cuddles from himmm;(('

The way you wrote this was…arousing. Anakin hadn’t felt this way about anyone in a long time, not like he felt now. As he continued to skim through your journal, he couldn’t help but get excited at everything that he was reading. It felt like he was getting to know a whole new part of you. He needed to find out more…

next page,

'shit, maker, his voice is so.. low and calm, just imagine him whispering praises and degrading words to me, ugh, the things skywalker makes me feel and think of, im beyond redemption..'

Anakin was breathless by this point. Just reading this was making him want to take you in his arms. He kept on reading, finding himself more and more enthralled by what you had written. It was making him think very intimate thoughts about you. He tried to focus but it was difficult…

he turned to the next page.

'ah.. ani, tugging my loose hair earlier? imagine him doing that to me while we're having sex even tho its never gonna happen;(, holding my hair while he takes me from behind aaa, i want him to do that to meee..'

The description was so...intimate. It made his breath catch in his throat, his palms sweat. The way you wrote about these things was...enticing. It was exactly what Anakin wanted right now. He wanted those moments with you. He wanted those...desires to come true. He wanted them all. He had such pure desire for you... He tried to keep it under control as he kept on reading, his heart pounding fast and hard.

he turned the next page.

'poor baby was sad earlier, had to held him in my arms to comfort him, he wasnt even that afraid to nuzzle his face on the crook of my neck.. it made me shiver in a good way, he was lucky i didnt get down on my knees to worship him and give him the most sloppiest head to cheer him up<3'

The images in his mind were making him feel so...hot. That was exactly how he wanted you to treat him, even though he would probably deny it. Those desires you described....he wanted more. More than anything else. He wanted to be treated that way by you. He kept on reading, turning the pages, wanting more of your detailed descriptions.

next page,

'i came back from a mission and boy.. a sight to behold. i saw anakin in my apartment room, shirtless, sleeping. shit, maker, i wanted to give him a kiss and tell him 'good afternoon, youre so sleepy huh?' but i didnt anyway, i wanted him to get some rest<3, but seeing him there, i wanted to ride him. hump on him soo baaaddd, but i wanna be a good girl so i didnt act on it<3'

Anakin’s imagination went wild at your words. You making him wake up to that...it might be too much for him and he wanted to have those words become a reality. The feelings you expressed went to his head. He wanted that so bad… He kept reading on, desperate to see what other things you had written.

next page,

'ani told me im so pretty, but what about me being a pretty crier while he's fucking me? i want him to whisper praises to me while he fucks me, why must god not make this man my lover?:<'

He couldn’t deny what you had written. Those words made him very aroused. He could imagine these exact situations playing out. It was a feeling like he had never before experienced. It was...enticing.

He kept reading...seeing what other desires you had written about. You were very talented with words. These thoughts were starting to take over his mind...

next page,

'even my fingers wont satisfy me anymore, but i did came at the thought of him inserting his big cock in me<3'

Anakin’s breath caught in his throat as he read this part. You were starting to become rather… explicit with your desires. These visions of yours were making him feel things he never had before. He was finding these words...quite enticing. He turned the page to read more..

next page,

'i want ani to grope my boobies and my ass, i wonder if he'd like that? hmm..' You were clearly on a roll with these fantasies of yours. You were getting more and more into detail and Anakin couldn’t help but be completely enthralled. He would give anything to fulfil these desires. Your words made him so...aroused. He could only hope he would get to experience these feelings with you. He kept on reading, flipping the pages.

next page,

'ani let me sit on his lap yesterday night while we were watching, i felt his dick hard and bulgy beneath me, made me wanna hump on him<3' Anakin felt his stomach flip over at your words. Your fantasies were getting less and less like fantasies and more and more like things that were going to happen. These fantasies of yours were having an effect on him…and he liked it. You had so much desire for him. He could only hope he could make your dreams come true eventually. He kept on reading...desperately wanting to know more of your fantasies…

next page,

'ani patted me on the head but i wanted his fingers in my mouth, while he tell me ive been a filthy little girl who needs her punishment;(' Once again, your details made this so…enticing…You made Anakin feel so aroused. Your fantasies were becoming explicit now and these words were playing all over his mind. These desires were having a big effect on him, and he didn’t mind it. He wanted you more and more as he continued to read…

next page,

'i think i made ani uncomfortable, i wore my shorts and tank top earlier, is it just me or he kept staring at my cleavage? he even swat my ass earlier, i really am confused with his mixed signals' Once again, you were getting more and more detailed. You made Anakin’s heart beat faster and his blood surge. These fantasies of yours were very...inviting.

He thought about what you wrote. You were right. Anakin did stare at you, more than he would admit. He was so drawn to you. You felt so close to him. He was always trying to hide his feelings for you and he was scared that you would get the wrong impression. He kept on reading.

next page,

'i have a matching bracelet set, im wondering if i should give it to him<3.'

'though, i had been fantasizing of him having me in chokehold while having sex with him, hihi;)'

Anakin found himself grinning like a fool as he read on and on. You had made him feel so many emotions…this is what he wanted...he wanted you to be by his side for all of eternity. To feel this close. Your fantasies were making him think of doing everything you wrote. He wanted to make them a reality. It was as though you were writing his exact thoughts and desires! He kept flipping the pages...desperately wanting to read more and more...

next page,

'aww.. ani's face was buried on my cleavage earlier, but only bc he's sad, but i wonder what hea really felt when he buried his face on my cleavage?'

The idea of Anakin burying his face into your cleavage and nuzzling it made Anakin feel the need to pull you closer. He craved to make you his own. To have you all to himself. These thoughts you were expressing in the journal were making him want to have you in his arms, close to him always.

He flipped the page, still wanting to read more. What else did you have written?

next page,

'he said i got a pretty kitty.. why do i feel like he meant my pussy???' Your assumption was right. With every sentence you wrote, his heart was soaring and he struggled to keep himself calm. How was he supposed to act normal after reading these words? You made Anakin feel so damn excited, he wanted you right now. He needed to keep reading more. but that was the last page you written on and that one was very recent..

he finished reading, tomorrow he'd place her journal somewhere in her apartment, he'd really love to see her write more of that.

maybe, just maybe, he'd get a chance to confess and fuck that little head of yours and your hole all rough until you get all cock drunk. but until then, he's gonna keep on reading your journal everytime you write your filthy thoughts about him, adios.

a/n: no reposting please, reblogs and likes are deeply appreciated! also tell me if u liked this cuz, it's my first time writing out whatever i had in my mind;(

#anakin skywalker #sw anakin #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin smut #anakin skywalker x reader smut #star wars anakin #anakin skywalker thoughts #hayden christensen #anakin thoughts #anakin x y/n #star wars #star wars darth vader #star wars anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x you

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unclewaynemunson · 1 year

Text

Thanks to a conversation I had with @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe and @stevesbipanic about this post by @piratefishmama about Scott Clarke helping middle schoolers with sexuality crises I wrote a lil something :)

Scott Clarke has been worrying about Eddie Munson ever since the boy first set foot into his classroom. He was tiny for his age and thin on the verge of being scrawny, with big, scared eyes in a pale face. With his long, dark curls he was the kind of boy who would unavoidably be called names for being too much like a girl, and Scott wasn't surprised that it only took one week before the boy came in with his hair all buzzed off, pulling even more attention to his expressive eyes instead.

Scott was known for worrying about the nerdy kids, and even though it wouldn't be obvious to everyone right away, he immediately noticed that Eddie was one of those. He wasn't the kind of nerdy kid who would sit in the front of the classroom, hanging onto Scott's every word while avidly scribbling down the secrets of the universe that Scott liked to share. No, Eddie was the other kind of nerdy kid: the kind who would often be called dreamy, or imaginative, or quiet, or lazy. The kind who would retreat to the back of the class and get low scores on their tests because they were spending their time sneakily reading comic books underneath the table or staring out of the window with their mind completely elsewhere for hours on end.

Middle school wasn't an easy place for kids like Eddie, as Scott knew all too well. The only thing he could do, as a teacher, was try to make it a little bit more bearable for him. He was glad when the boy took him up on his offer to spend his lunch breaks in the science classroom instead of the cafeteria or the playground. Soon, it became a habit that Eddie would be on the other side of Scott's desk reading his way through some big book while Scott was grading papers or preparing his next lesson.

Scott knew that with patience and kindness, all kids like Eddie would eventually come out of their shell and start trusting him. So he asked about the books Eddie brought first, proceeded to topics like music and games he liked to play later, and eventually could ask him about his home life.

Whenever he'd talk about his books or his music, Eddie's eyes lit up and his smile widened. Scott soon found out that, when Eddie was at ease, he could talk a mile a minute and bounce around the classroom, caught up in his stories with all kinds of excited hand gestures. At those moments, he was nothing like the quiet boy with the haunted look in his eyes who Scott met two months ago.

But Eddie never disclosed much about his personal life. He didn't mention his mother even once and he didn't tell Scott much more than that he was living with his uncle in Forest Hills because his dad was “unavailable” to take care of him.

Scott doubted whether Eddie was much better off living with his uncle than with his father. Judging from the meager lunches he brought with him, the shabby and ill-fitting clothes he wore, and the fact that the man never once came to drop Eddie off or pick him up at school, Scott was skeptical, to say the least.

He started worrying even more when one day, Eddie lingered in the classroom after the last lesson of the day, saying he wanted to ask him a “science question” with a certain dread in his eyes that Scott had never seen there before.

“There's nothing I love more than a good science question,” Scott quickly reassured him. “Tell me, what is it?”

“The other kids,” said Eddie, “Brendon and Mark and, you know... They call me names.” His voice was soft and his eyes were aimed towards the ground as he spoke. “Queer. And fag. And...” He shrugged. “Y'know.” He raised his head up again, big scared eyes meeting Scott's.

“I – I think they're right,” he said, almost in a whisper. “How can you stop being gay?”

And oh, this was a conversation Scott had experience with. He had been a teacher at Hawkins Middle School for almost two decades and there had always been kids he worried about, who would open up to him about this exact topic.

So he sat Eddie down at his desk and patiently talked him through everything the boy needed to know; God knows his trailer park uncle most certainly wouldn't. He told him all about science and nature and feelings and, most importantly, being perfect the way you are, no matter who you love.

More than two hours later, Eddie finally left the classroom with relief in his eyes instead of dread. But Scott kept worrying: Eddie's uncle hadn't so much as called the school to inform where Eddie was. Who was looking out for him after the last school bell rang and the kid rode his bike out of Scott's sight?

Not long after that conversation, Scott finally got to meet Mr. Munson for the first time. He was one of Scott's last appointments of the yearly parent-teacher evening, and Scott half expected him not to show up. But he was right on time, even though he looked almost comically out of place when he walked into the science classroom.

He was exactly what Scott would've imagined of a man living in Forest Hills: washed-up jeans and a worn-down flannel, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, and a gruff frown hidden underneath a faded gray trucker's hat. He walked up to where Scott was seated behind his desk in a few big strides, and Scott couldn't help but think that there was something almost intimidating in merely the way he carried himself. Not exactly the kind of man who radiated safety for a boy like Eddie.

They shook hands and Scott felt rough callouses press against his own chalk-stained fingers.

While Scott talked Mr. Munson through Eddie's grade list – a list that at this point was barely enough to get him into the next grade – Mr. Munson didn't say anything. Only when Scott asked him if he had any questions, he opened his mouth.

“How're the other kids treatin' him?” the man asked him in a thick southern accent.

“It's not easy for him,” Scott answered in all honesty. He wondered how much Eddie told his uncle about what his days at school usually looked like.

Mr. Munson bowed his head. “I know,” he mumbled.

“Eddie is a sensitive kid, he –”

“I know what kinda kid he is,” Mr. Munson interrupted him immediately. It sounded sharp and Scott wondered if he should be worried about Mr. Munson having a temper.

“Of course,” he cautiously retreated. “I just assumed, since I've never seen you at the school before, sir, that you might not be aware of what exactly he has to deal with in here.”

“Maybe you should do less assuming, then,” Mr. Munson answered bluntly. “You think I should be at the school more? Drop Eddie here in the mornin', come pick him up in the afternoon, all that?”

Scott wondered if Mr. Munson was mocking him.

“Well, I think it might be good for Eddie if –”

“You know why I ain't never at the school? 'Cause I'm tryin' my damned best to keep that boy's stomach filled. When should I be at the school, exactly, between my day shift at the quarry and my night shift at the plant?”

“I – I'm sorry,” Scott backpedaled. Suddenly, the frown lines in the tired face of the man in front of him had gotten a different meaning. “I didn't know. You're right, I shouldn't have made assumptions.”

“Look, I dunno how much he shared with you, Mr. Clarke, but I know he looks up to you. So I think you should know that he's the kinda kid who got in trouble at home for bein' “too sensitive.”” He shot Scott a meaningful glance. “Boy was cryin' to me on the phone, 'cause of what his daddy did to him, so I picked him up and drove him here and I made it my mission, as his uncle, to protect him, to shield him, and to take care of him as best as I possibly can.”

Scott had always prided himself on being a good judge of character. He wondered if he had ever been more wrong about somebody before in his life.

“I know he thinks highly of you, Sir,” Mr. Munson continued. “And I'm very grateful that you're keepin' an eye on him when I can't. But at some point, he may trust you with some very personal information about himself, and you better have his back when he does.”

He knows, Scott realized with a shock. He tried to give Mr. Munson a reassuring smile, but his heart was beating in his throat with what he was about to tell him.

“I was a sensitive kid, myself, Sir. I promise you Eddie is in good hands with me.”

Scott wondered whether Mr. Munson caught the message in those words while a long silence stretched out. Their gazes were locked: Mr. Munson's eyes were bright blue, completely different from Eddie's but just as expressive. His gaze softened while the seconds passed and underneath his graying beard, his mouth twitched.

“I was a sensitive kid, too,” he eventually said.

And Scott's jaw nearly dropped to the floor. This man, with his big calloused hands and his trucker's hat and his undeniably manly demeanor?

His feelings of astonishment must have been visible on his face, because Mr. Munson chortled softly.

“Didn't see that one coming, did ya?”

Scott laughed, too, making the last bit of residual tension between them disappear. “I'm sorry, Mr. Munson. I had no idea.”

“'S okay,” Mr. Munson said. “'s good to know that Eddie has someone lookin' out for him here. Um –” He scraped his throat. “I um...” He abruptly averted his gaze back to his lap again, where his fingers were nervously fumbling with the cap he was holding between his hands.

“I always make Eddie dinner,” he finally said. “'S one of the few things I can do for him, y'know. It'd probably be better for me if I took a quick nap 'tween my jobs, but it's the only time of the day we got together. I'm not much of a cook, but I try to get him to eat somethin' healthy and warm, and we talk about stuff, whatever it is he wants to talk about. So um... If you ever wanna join us – that is, if you don't mind comin' to the trailer park... We don't have much, but I'm sure we can fit another chair 'round the table. I think it could be good for Eddie.”

Scott could barely believe what was happening. To think that only a few minutes ago, he had been worried about this man having a temper or being neglectful towards his nephew...

Wayne Munson was shy and soft-spoken and he loved Eddie with a passion that sparked a fierce protectiveness. And after having Scott judge him based on the way he looked and a bunch of false assumptions, he showed him nothing but genuine goodness.

He felt his lips bend into a smile more authentic than he'd been able to give in a while.

“I'd love to join you sometime,” he told Mr. Munson. “For Eddie – but I also wouldn't mind getting to know you better,” he added in a sudden spur or braveness.

And he could swear that something suspiciously like a smile matching his own was hiding beneath Mr. Munson's beard.

#thank you noelle for providing the worms #and thank you b for telling me that clarkson should always be brought up <3 #it's past 1am so idk if this is any good but here ya go #yeah i stole that speech from the joel stoffer interview about wayne #i love him #don't mind me rambling about stranger things #scott clarke #wayne munson #stranger things #scott clarke x wayne munson #clarkson my beloved #fruity ficlet #bluffing my way through that southern accent again 🙃

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eloquentlytired · 23 days

Text

consolation.

pairing: august walker x reader

summary: your former boyfriend is a useless gambler with no care for you or your life and that much is proven when he unfortunately involves you with his debt. your fear your life might be threatened but there's more to august walker than what meets the eye.

warnings and tags: hurt to comfort — brief mention of blood — gentle august walker — some sexual tension — large age gap— questionable morals.

agony fills every inch of your body as you’re pushed into an empty room of a hotel you've never been in. it wasn't like you could ever afford such luxury— or maybe you would've been able to during vacation if your useless boyfriend ( well former boyfriend ) hadn't snatched away all your savings and used them on gambling. you were so devastated once you found out that night but all you could do was cry and cry.

you searched for a bathroom inside the expensive hotel room and when you finally found it, you wanted to sob again. this time out of relief. you didn't bother removing your clothes and pushed the glass door of the shower aside to enter it. your hands shook as you twisted the handle and once the cold water was soaking every inch of you, you felt at peace.

a silent minute passed as you sat underneath the running shower, pulling your knees to your chest like a hurt child. it was a position that would help you calm down instantly and you did it more often now that you were in university. the sound of a door opening and closing as well as approaching footsteps didn't ease the horror you felt. you squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face against your knees as new tears slid down your pale cheeks. the footsteps kept approaching and sounding closer than ever.

nothing could put an end in your miserable cries, not even the unknown figure that pushed the bathroom door open and walked to you. the running water was drowning most sounds around you but nothing could drown out your loud heartbeat which had become a burden to your poor body. an arm moved past you and twisted the handle behind you, shutting off the running water although you were already soaked to the core. the quietness was almost overwhelming but curiosity aside you didn't dare lift your head to see who was before you.

but then he spoke, his gruff voice taking you by surprise.

“that’s a stupid way to wash off blood.” august said while his green eyes examined your bloodstained clothes. you immediately recognized that voice of his — the same voice that had given orders for men to invade your house and kill the loser you once called a partner. you carefully raised your head and looked at him, giving him a generous view of your puffy eyes and trembling lips. you were certainly a sight.

“will you kill me?” was the first thing you asked as august allowed a faint smirk to ghost over his lips. the older man remained silent as he raised one of his hands to wipe a stray tear away from your cheek. and then he replied, “your boyfriend paid off his debt with his life. why would I take yours?” he isn't my boyfriend you wanted to say but you doubted if august gave a fuck about that. your eyes were weirdly calm for a young girl that was forced into such a brutal situation. august’s hand remained hovering over your cheek as he kept brushing off your falling tears each time. “are you scared?”

your reply to his question was a gentle nod and he found himself quickly amused by you. august carefully sat by your side in the shower and without a warning slipped an arm around your waist, pulling you on his lap. you didn't fight him nor spoke ill against him — whether it was out of fear or not, he enjoyed it. “he offered me your life, you know.” his words shocked you and you were left looking at him with your head tilting slightly backwards. he was larger and quite taller than you and his moustache made him seem all more imposing. but august was way too gentle with you in that moment. “but you didn't take it.” you whispered as august practically cradled you into his arms, grazing your cold cheek with his knuckles. his hand was warm and you unconsciously leaned into his touch, chasing after any heat you could get. he seemed to understand as he squeezed his arm tighter around your waist, pulling you closer against his chest. “no I didn't.” august replied and slid his fingers at the back of your neck, guiding your head on his shoulder. you said nothing as you laid your cheek there, your curious eyes still gazing at him. august simply laughed.

“why?” you asked.

“why what?” august quipped back although he knew very well what you were asking him. “why didn't you accept what he offered you? why didn't you kill me instead?” there were many emotions swirling within those eyes of yours and august was intrigued to know every single one of them. he leaned his head against the shower wall, the same stupid grin gracing his lips. “I’m a businessman, not a monster.” it was almost funny coming from him and if you weren't severely traumatized by the images of august shooting your ex before your eyes, perhaps you would have laughed.

as if sensing the storm brewing inside your mind, august tapped your bottom lip with his middle and pointer digit. you parted your lips on reflex and august pushed his fingers past them, sliding them over your tongue with deliberate gentleness. your immediate reaction was to widen your eyes and shift on his lap but august was cradling your nape immediately with his unoccupied hand while softly shushing you. as if you were a little girl. “easy there. I won't hurt you.” he muttered and only then did your jaw relax around his fingers, your wide eyes flickering to each corner of his face. “shh. shh, sweetheart.” august muttered again upon seeing your panicked expression and tapped your tongue with his fingers as if to remind you they're there. you stared at him confused, unable to understand what he meant. “suck.”

the order was firm but spoken kindly in a sense. your eyes stared at august’s helplessly for a mere moment before you complied with his words. you wrapped your lips properly around his two fingers and began suckling on them as august’s eyes burned into you. with your head laying comfortably across his chest, he resumed massaging your nape with his other hand and keeping you somewhat grounded in reality despite how exhausted you appeared to be. “that’s it. good girl.” the touches on your nape were like gentle waves while the fingers in your mouth allowed you to have some sense of control. a control that august willingly offered to you. your shaky fingers grabbed on his wrist as you suckled on his thick digits greedily and although one might argue how immoral your behavior was, you did not care at that moment.

you needed his consolation and august let you take it.

“just like that.” he rasped as your tired mouth suckled a little more lazily than before. you found your eyes quickly closing as august tightened his grip around your nape and pressed a reassuring kiss on your forehead. it was a mere kiss yet it made you whimper because of the intensity of the situation. “you can sleep. I'll be here.” your eyes were already shut and your heartbeat had begun to slow down as august held you against him, your wet form shivering. your passing stunt with the shower had done a number on you and he could tell by your lips which were starting to bruise.

“silly girl. so stupid.” you could barely register his words, let alone his movements. all you felt was something — someone — lifting you up and carrying you.

once sleep overtook you, the vision of a man with broad shoulders and a thick moustache danced beneath your eyelids. and a comforting weight upon your tongue lulled you to sleep entirely.

author's note: I wrote this rlly fast bc the idea of one sucking august’s fingers wouldn't leave my mind. it's very sloppy and I apologize 😂

#august walker #henry cavill #august walker x reader #august walker x you #comfort #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x reader #mission impossible

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xoxoavenger · 9 months

Text

Try Me

pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

summary: Y/N has powers that can heal any illness or wound through her cooking, which comes in handy when Matt gets hurt.

word count: 2279

warnings: small mention of wounds but not graphic

part 2

12 Days of Christmas masterlist main masterlist

"Matt, oh my God." Y/N said as she walked into the office to see Matt all bruised, a cut above his eye. "What happened?" She asked, walking closer to see it closer. He looked away, but she was already sitting on his desk, moving his glasses away.

"I, uh, I fell down the stairs." He told her, but she just shook her head and clucked her tongue. She reached into her bag to grab the pastry she packed that day. She always packed one everyday just in case, but she didn't think she would have to use it this early.

"Did you eat breakfast?" She asked, trying to keep herself from running a hand through his hair. Because of course she had to fall for him, her coworker.

"No, but I-"

"Come on, Matt." She smiled as she got off the desk, pulling her skirt down. "I can practically hear your stomach growling from here." With that she walked to her own front desk, Karen's old one. Y/N had taken over the blonde's position of secretary, and she was good at it.

"Good morning you beautiful people!" Foggy practically yelled as he walked through the door. The man had way too much energy for eight thirty in the morning. "Y/N, here's your coffee." He grabbed a cup out of the cup holder and placed it on her desk before winking at her.

"And here's your breakfast." She handed him a pastry, because she always gave one to him even though she knew it wouldn't do anything.

The truth was, Y/N had a power. It wasn't one she flaunted, hell, she hardly ever used it, but she practiced it just incase. She could heal people with her food; how, she wasn't sure, and she had only found it out ten years prior, when she made food for her friend. A couple minutes later, the small cat scratch on her friend's cheek was miraculously gone. After that, she continued to test her theory until there was no doubt in her mind that she had powers.

Just like the Avengers.

But she didn't want fame. She didn't want to be in an elite team of super heroes. She wanted the life she had, working with Foggy and Matt and Karen when she was in the office. It was a fine life.

Plus, she was totally in love with Matt Murdock.

"You're telling me I'm not the only one you make breakfast for?" Matt asked, causing Y/N to smile. She looked over to see Matt eating, which made her happy. She was glad he would be healing, and her heart was hurting slightly at the fact that Matt had to live all alone. Obviously he could take care of himself, but she wanted to be able to take care of him, to heal him when he did things like fall down the stairs.

"Fine, from now on, I'll make breakfast for both of you." She smiled as she looked between the two boys.

"That isn't fair! I bring you coffee, which means Matt has to bring you something too. You cannot just give your baking talents out like that!" Foggy complained, making Y/N roll her eyes.

"I'm sure I'll think of something. Until I do, just keep track." Matt smiled at her before going to his work, grabbing his glasses and putting them back on. Y/N stared for a few seconds before going to work filing and sorting.

"Matt," Y/N said in surprise when she walked in the next day. It wasn't surprise of his presence, he had often been in the office first now. Foggy told Y/N that he used to never come in, that Nelson and Murdock had once been done for because Matt never showed up, but he was obviously over it now. No, she was gasping because she was so in shock at his state. He didn't look any better from her pastry - in fact, he almost looked like he'd fallen again.

"Y/N," Matt smiled, but she could tell it was strained.

"Matthew, what did you do this time?" She sat on his desk once more, giving him the pastry. She took his glasses off before he could protest, and looked at his wounds.

"What do you mean?" He chuckled, shying slightly away from her. "I fell down the stairs."

"Twice?" She wiped her finger over some of the dried blood off his face.

"No, I fell the night before yesterday." He told her, wincing as she touched a fresh cut.

"No," She fought back, frowning. "That's fresh blood." She wanted to say that she knew it was new because the pastry should have accelerated his healing enough that he shouldn't be bruising this bad.

"Must've reopened a cut." Matt shrugged, but he made no move to move her hand. She rubbed her fingers over his bruises, hoping the pastry she brought today was enough to help him.

"I'm fine, Y/N. Don't worry about me." He waved her off and she stood, not wanting to annoy him.

"Have you figured out a way to repay me for the pastries every morning?" She asked, trying to find a topic he'd be comfortable talking about.

"Not yet. But, I promise I will." He looked in her general direction, eyes unfocused. She stared, not out of confusion or disgust, but out of wonder. Why would he hide his eyes? They expressed so much emotion, and they were beautiful. He must have sensed her staring, because he quickly felt around for glasses before putting them back on.

"Well, keep me updated." She said as she went to her desk.

"Morning!" Foggy was opening the door a couple seconds later, which put Y/N back in a good mood.

"Good morning, you beautiful person!" She said, referring to his greeting the day before.

"The usual, my fair lady." He said in a strange accent, and she tipped her imaginary hat to him.

"Thank you, kind sir. Whatever would I do without you?" She smiled as he went to his own desk.

"So, Matt figure out what to pay you with?" Foggy asked, bringing out his computer out of his bag.

"Not yet." Y/N shook her head, looking through the company emails.

"I know what he could pay you with." Foggy looked up and smirked at Matt, who began to talk at the same time of Y/N.

"What?"

"Shut it, Fog." Matt had temporarily paused his work, but he got back to it when the conversation dropped. Y/N looked between the two, but Foggy only smirked at her before going to do his own thing.

"Did you forget my pastry?" He asked, making her eyes widen. She had forgotten, and she felt slightly guilty. She reached into her bag to get Foggy's pastry, standing and bringing it to his desk.

"So sorry, sir." She joked, bowing and going back to her work. She couldn't help but sneak glances at Matt all day however, watching his bruise start to fade.

She smiled to herself when she left and his cut was almost fully healed.

She still made Matt pastries every morning, however he hadn't come in with any injuries that she could see.

Until he didn't come in a week later.

The door wasn't open, and even after she tried knocking she didn't hear any movement. So she tried calling him.

No answer.

"Hey Matt, I'm at the office and apparently you're not here, because you didn't answer the door, so if you could just let me know if this is a holiday or something?" She chuckled at the end, but her heart was beginning to pound. She called Foggy next.

"The time hasn't magically warped forward, has it?" He joked as he answered the phone.

"Where's Matt?" She felt bad but she needed to get down to business.

"He's not there?" Foggy began to get worried now as well.

"No, and he's not answering his phone." She told Foggy quickly. "Ya know what, I'm just going to check on him." She said, walking back out of the hallway and going down the stairs.

"Don't worry about it! I'm almost there anyway." He rushed out, but Y/N shook her head.

"I'm coming too." She wanted to help if she could, wanted to be there incase he happened to be injured. Foggy was quiet for a moment.

"Fine. I'll meet you there. He may be sick."

"He's not sick." She said. He had been eating her pastries every day, and she knew that was all someone needed of her cooking and baking to keep away from the common cold or viruses.

"He could be." Foggy pointed out, but Y/N shook her head as she walked down the street. Matt didn't live super far away, so it didn't take long for her to make it. Luckily, Foggy was also pretty close.

"I'll be there soon. Wait outside - the doorman is a stickler. He won't let you in alone." He told her, so Y/N confirmed and hung up. Foggy was there a minute later, and the two walked into the building together, hearts racing.

"He does this all the time." Foggy assured her, but she could tell he was freaking out, even if it was slightly less than her. "He probably just overslept." His voice seemed to give away more than his actual words.

"Right." She nodded as they began to climb the stairs. They got to Matt's floor and walked quickly to his apartment, Y/N banging on the door as soon as she could.

"Matt?" Foggy called out from her side, both of them going quiet to try and listen to what was going on.

"Matt, are you okay?" Y/N yelled, heart getting lodged in her throat as she couldn't hear anything.

"That's it," Foggy reached into his pocket to grab his keys, picking through them to find a key that Y/N assumed was Matt's. She stood back to let him open the door, and the two walked in, their worries for their friend outweighing the fact that they had just actually broken into Matt's apartment.

"Matt? Matt are you alright?" Y/N yelled, following Foggy in. She heard a groan from the living room and rushed with Foggy through the small hallway to see Matt on the couch, only in his underwear. She was about to look away when she noticed that he was covered in cuts and bruises, the blood wet around the cuts but drying down his body. There were at least four thick, deep cuts and dark, almost black bruises.

"Shit," Foggy muttered. He thought that Matt would be bruised from his after work activities, but he was hoping it wasn't this bad. He didn't want Y/N to come with him, but he couldn't exactly tell her no.

"Oh my God," Y/N made her way to his side, assessing the damage.

"I was hoping you'd find me." He muttered as he opened his eyes slightly. "I need your help." He grabbed her hand, shifting with a groan.

"With what? I can't stitch you up! I don't know the first thing about medical aid." She muttered, instinctively reaching up to push his hair out of his face.

"Maybe not," Matt chuckled but then ended up coughing, causing Y/N and Foggy to wince. "But you do know a thing or two about healing." Y/N froze, her heart stuttering. How did he know?

"What?" She whispered, but Matt squeezed her hand. "How did this happen? This is worse than falling down the stairs." She tried to change the subject, but Matt moved in pain again.

"I notice things." He said, as if that would explain everything. Before Y/N could answer, he was speaking again. "Could you make something while Foggy helps me clean up?" All she could do was nod and look in her bag, taking the two pastries she always brought for the boys out.

"If you can get these down, it'll help, but I'll make some soup." She smiled at him and got up, squeezing his hand before letting it go.

"What is going on?" Foggy whispered to Matt, making him chuckle slightly.

"Let's just say Y/N's soup is special." Matt closes his eyes and tries to ignore the pain while Y/N works. Foggy looks between them quickly.

"What the fuck does that mean?" He cries, making Y/N chuckle.

"It's alright, Foggy." Matt has a tired smile, one that worries his friend.

"You need medical attention." Foggy tries to convince Matt, who just shakes his head.

"Try to eat the pastries!" Y/N calls from the kitchen.

"What the fuck are pastries gonna do?" Foggy screams, wanting to rip out his own hair.

"Foggy, how many times have you gotten sick in the past six months?" Matt asks softly.

"That has absolutely nothing to do with you dying on the couch." Foggy gets up to grab a cloth to wipe at the blood on his face.

"I am not dying." Matt mutters with the roll of his eyes. Foggy returns and gets him to shut up by wiping at his mouth.

"The soup just has to heat up." Y/N comes out of the kitchen and kneels next to Matt. "Foggy, can you run to the store to grab some bandages?" She asks, taking the cloth.

"When I get back, you guys are telling me what I'm missing." He says very seriously before he walks out the door.

"How did you figure it out?" Y/N whispers, wiping his blood away with one hand and his hair out of his face with the other. "How did this happen?" She changes her question while shaking her head.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." He muttered, causing Y/N to scoff.

"The food I make can heal people. Try me." She smiles.

"Well, you know Daredevil?"

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @one-sweet-gubler @thefandomplace @punzoquack @mcueveryday @icequeen1371

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #daredevil x reader #daredevil imagine

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just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace · 13 days

Text

Annatar/Sauron x Elf!smith!reader

-> in which you and Annatar share a moment alone in the forge

Warnings: implied mind control, implied smut

The hour is late, and the forge is empty. It was restlessness that brought you here, a need for silence away from your own sheets, where sleep has too long eluded you. As for Annatar, you could not guess his reasons for being here. You doubt it was you he sought out in the dead of night. But it is you he finds nonetheless.

“Be at ease,” he soothes you when you first catch sight of him and rush to your feet, suddenly feeling as though it was unlawful to be sitting on the edge of the forge, lost in thought as you were. His words, however, coupled with the gentle smile you have come to know on his lips, banish the thought. How silly of you, to feel ill at ease in your own home. In the presence of a friend.

Then again, you feel many things in the presence of Annatar, Lord of Gifts. Most do, and with good reason. Each word that leaves his mouth feels imbued with ancient wisdom, even in idle conversation. In fact, he hardly ever makes idle conversation, ever so focused on the work at hand. Yet he commands respect without instilling fear, and somehow seems both leader and companion. To this extent, your fellow smiths feel as you do.

You are not sure they would feel as you do, however, if they were to be standing in your place right now. If they would be so keenly aware that this is the first time you are speaking to him without the work serving as an excuse, and without other eyes to see you. You doubt they would find it so difficult to listen to his words and conjure their own in response, or fear that the silence that sometimes settles between you might betray the stutter in your breath when your gaze lingers on his ethereal face, or hands. You find it difficult... yet there is a sweetness to the strain. Now that you have his presence, you cannot wish it away. You would never.

Stay, you cry out within yourself—not a thought, but a plea which resonates within every inch of your flesh, deafening you to all else. Even to his voice.

It must have blinded you as well—for a few moments, at least—because you find, all of a sudden, that he is close. So very close. And so very tall, compared to you. Looking up into his eyes feels like staring downward into an abyss, stomach plummeting as the pitch-black depths dare you to do the same. But his eyes are not dark, not in color at least. They are blue as the sky, blue as the rivers, blue as some of the precious gems you handle with nimble fingers day after day, creating beauty and striving for perfection, futile though as you know the effort may be. Perfection can only be found in Valinor, wiser Elves than you often say. Yet here it is, looking back at you. Studying you, it seems.

In all your years of life, rarely has a thought rendered you as breathless as this. What does he find, you wonder, when he looks at you—this Elf of uncommon beauty and knowledge, even for one of your kind? The talent of your hands as you work on the Rings? The disquiet in your eyes when he stands close, hand brushing yours as some tool or gem passes between them? The yearning surging within you, growing stronger with each moment the distance between you does not grow greater, but instead, you think—you hope, oh, now you’ve gone on to hope—has been diminishing in increments so small you’ve hardly noticed, not until his breath begins to caress your heated cheek?

“Your talent, I have admired for weeks,” he begins to speak, the rumble of his soft voice joined with a finger beneath your chin stealing your ability to do anything but tremble under his gaze. “Of your disquiet, I am well aware,” he says, and you feel he is pleased. “As for your yearning...”

It should frighten you—it does frighten you, how he has plucked each thought within your mind as easily as strings on a harp. But the iciness of dread is no match for the heat that engulfs your skin as his lips descend upon yours. You grasp at thoughts, at reason, but they slip from your reach as easily as his hand does into your hair. He tugs at the roots so much less gently than his mouth moves against yours, and a small, helpless whimper escapes your throat as he tilts your head further back. The strain on your neck is barely felt, and long forgotten as the kiss you had never dared imagine deepens. He tastes like flames, you think deliriously. Like the blackest hour of the night and the deepest-buried desires of the heart. It is sweet oblivion that plunders your mouth. Unquenchable greed that digs its fingertips into your hips. Inescapable ruin that lifts you up onto the forge and lays you down, hovering over your body like a storm ready to wreak havoc upon the land.

You are not sure, when his lips leave yours and you open your eyes, if all the lights in the forge have been blown out, or if he is simply all that is left in the world. All that is left of the world, once he is done swallowing it whole.

Because he will. Somehow, you know he will. He lets you.

And you let him begin with you.

#sauron x reader #annatar x reader #the rings of power

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dokoni-mo · 2 years

Text

Crave: Part Three || William Afton x GN! Reader

summary: Your first time with him.

NSFW // smut

word count: 8,088

warnings: age gap relationship (reader is 20 while William is pushing 40), allusions to mental illness, allusions to dysfunctional parent-child relationships, talks of divorce and custody battles, smoking, will is a bit delusional, will has scars, corruption kink, usage of pet names, Will is a bit of a creep, obsessive behavior like REALLY obsessive, and possessive, sensual touching, swearing, Michael is briefly in this too, kissing, brief and faint sir kink, breeding kink, aftercare, also yandere vibes for a very little tiny bit, praise, body worship, fingering, virginity loss, premature ejaculation, dom/sub undertones, general smut lol

minors dni // please read warnings!!

a/n: omg omg my first fic back!! I had to polish off the rust (esp with writing smut) but i got so many requests for part three of this I just had to!! anyways I hope yall enjoy!! Ive tagged a few people whom I thought would like to read this, but if you'd like me to not tag you pls let me know! enjoy! (also just a little disclaimer, i do NOT condone this type of relationship irl!! this is just my take on being with Willy)

part one // part two // part four

William could remember the first time he ever laid eyes on you. He remembered it as plain as day and recounted it often.

In fact, it was probably one of the most solidified memories in his mind. Even more so than the birth of his children, or even the day he married his ex-wife. He could recall every single little detail; what clothes you and him wore, what you smelled like that day, how you styled your hair. Every last little bit, he remembered. The first meeting is always important, yes. But this one was much more important to William. In a way in which he doubted anyone but you would understand.

For it was the first time in nearly all his life that William wasn't faking.

From very early on, William knew he wasn't normal. Or, at the very least, what everyone else deemed as normal. Even as a boy, William was hard to excite, or even get some sort of reaction out of. Toys, games, new friends, holidays; none of it was ever appealing to him. He found it all boring. It caused his mother great worry too. William could see the way she looked at him. Even as a boy, he knew what that look meant.

Perhaps that's why he began to lash out in his early years. That's why he was labeled a "problem child".

William had thought that if conventional means of joy and excitement couldn't elicit a response out of him, perhaps other means would. Lying, cheating, getting into trouble. It had some effect, he had to admit. The thrill of it all. He had gotten pretty good at not being caught, too. But, of course he would slip up some times. That's when the trouble arose. William was emotive, at last, sure. But no one liked it. At least, no one liked how it came about. His mother often scolded him. Teachers too. And, if William had a father that gave two shits, he was sure he would've received punishment from the man as well.

It was confusing. Terribly, terribly confusing. Couldn't he finally be happy doing what he loved? That's all his mother wanted, wasn't it? What everyone else wanted, too? For William to find himself, and be emotive?

Then why were they mad at him. Every. Single. Time.

It was frustrating. And, the more frustrated William grew, the more he acted out.

It was a balancing match made in hell. And William grew tired of it all. William accepted that in order for him to have peace, he must comply. Mr. Afton would have to wear a mask of his own face, and be what everyone wanted him to be.

Charming. Handsome. Intelligent. Charismatic. Great husband. Better father. Businessman. Inventor. Successful. Approachable.

William played these charades for nearly 40 years now. Enough to where the lines on his face grew deeper, and the roots of his hair turned grey. He played it through the unpleasant surprise that was his eldest, Michael. Then again at his wedding to that bitch Clara. Again though Elizabeth and Evan's births. Then continued after the divorce. And on through the custody battle. And on and on all the way to now.

Every. Single. Day. For 40 years.

William was tired of it but found no avenue to stop. If he dropped the act now, he couldn't even imagine the headache that would be the fallout of it all.

He had to keep it up. He had to. This was the life he made for himself. He made his bed long ago, and now he had to sleep in it. William was in a prison of his own making. That no one even knew was constructed. He hated that he got Michael out of all of his kids. He hated his business. He hated his neighbors. He hated his friends that weren't Henry. He hated his fancy house, expensive car, and clothes.

This life was his fate, and how unfortunate he was.

Or so he thought.

He didn't want to pay for Michael's college. William would never admit it out loud, but he thought that boy trying to make something of himself other than a minimum-wage employee was a joke. That's why he forced Michael to pay his own way. In reality, he told Michael it was to "make him more of a man", but William knew his son saw right through it. Michael could be smart, sometimes.

Sometimes.

Because Michael was, in fact, a minimum-wage employee at his father's diner, the young man couldn't afford much else than the local community college. Not that that was a bad thing to the young man; Michael didn't care that much. William wouldn't have cared either way, but Michael's compliance made things easier. And, being around other people his age, Michael was out of the house more often. This meant less fights that William would have to deal with weekly. It was a win-win all around.

And, when Michael was home, he would often be accompanied by one or two of his friends. William didn't mind, as long as his house was kept tidy, and no one made too much noise. Any distraction that would take his idiot of a son away from him was welcome.

If William was around when Michael showed up with a friend, William was polite enough to them. A smile and a how are you, perhaps even a question or two. Just small talk, enough to keep up his façade of good dad, better person.

That was until, years into his university, Michael brought you over.

William was in his house that day, doing paperwork at the kitchen table with a cigarette pluming smoke in the ashtray nearby. The Diner was closed whilst the state was doing their bi-annual health inspection. While Mr. Afton preferred to keep himself occupied to his workshop in the basement, he thought that perhaps a change of scenery could do him some good. Smoking in the basement made it stuffy down there, anyway.

He would later be so, so grateful for this decision.

From the opposite end of the house, William heard Michael's keys in the door, twisting the lock to let the young man in. Listening a second longer, William could discern two sets of feet walking along the wooden lining of his foyer, along with two hushed whispers bantering amongst themselves.

Mr. Afton breathed a quiet sigh through his nose.

Great. Michael was home. And dragged some other runt along the way.

William knew that in order to reach Michael's room, his son and his friend would have to go upstairs. And, much to William's dismay, the entrance to the stairs was positioned in such a way that his son and his friend would have to go through the kitchen.

Great.

Hearing the footsteps grow closer and the whispers louder, Mr. Afton leaned back in his chair, tamping out his cigarette in the process. Grey eyes situated on the paperwork in front of him, William put on his well-rehearsed soft, friendly smile, waiting for his son to show himself.

Michael was the first to round the corner, the care-free smile slowly fading off the young man's face as he saw his father sitting in the kitchen. Sensing Michael's presence in the doorway, William looked up from his work and to his son, his fake smile growing to make up for the disgust he felt.

"Dad..." Michael groaned, "What are you doing here? I thought you had work today..."

William chuckled, "Michael, I told you this morning. Inspection, remember?"

Michael rolled his eyes and sighed, looking around the corner of the door and saying a few more hushed words. Whoever his son's friend was, they must be shy. William couldn't blame them too much. Mr. Afton was probably the most popular guy in town these days, with the amount of business the Diner had brought in.

Michael turned his attention back to his father, "I have a friend over. Is that alright? Or are you gonna throw another fit?"

William clenched his jaw, "Of course, of course, it's no trouble at all! Just keep it quiet upstairs, yeah?"

Rolling his eyes again, Michael said a few more words around the corner before making his way to the stairs. William had dropped his gaze for a moment to fill in a few of his signatures. When he sensed that his son's friend had finally shown themselves around the corner, William looked up to give them a friendly smile.

Oh, and there you were.

Adorable, precious, beautiful, darling you.

The world around him seemed to fade away when William laid his pale grey eyes on you for the first time. Instantly, he knew you were the single most breathtaking creature he had ever had the pleasure of meeting. You put his ex-wife to shame ten times over. A hundred times, even. All of his past flings as well. They were nothing compared to you.

You were a timid little thing. William could tell by the pink on your cheeks and your hands clasped in front of you. You had a small, soft little smile; your lips so perfectly round and plump. The way your hair had framed your face made you look as if you were hung in the Louvre itself. Your eyes were kind, looking at the older man with a warmth William didn't know possible. Genuine warmth, too.

The way you looked at him. The way you carried yourself. The way you smelled, even halfway across the room. The way you smiled. The way those clothes hugged you in all the right places. The way your body curved and bent...

William swallowed the saliva building up the back of his throat. Without noticing, his lips had begun to part, but he was quick to fix it with a smile.

You gave Mr. Afton a tiny little wave as you shuffled awkwardly towards the stairs behind his son, your voice barely above a peep.

"Hi, Mr. Afton." You had said, "Sorry to interrupt you..."

Shit. Your little voice saying his name like that. It matched you so well.

William's smile grew as he leaned forward in his chair, setting his paperwork to the side.

"Oh, it's no trouble at all, love." He said in his thickly accented voice, "At least you're getting that one out of my hair for a while, yeah?"

William almost never made jokes at the expense of others. At least, not around everyone else. He kept his true feelings in his mind most of the time. He knew most folk wouldn't react too kindly to what he really thought of them. But you...

You didn't seem the type to need such filters. He could see it already. You were the type of person to tell it how it is, and not apologize for it. Just like how he wanted to be.

How interesting.

You let out a little giggle, covering your mouth with your hand. William could feel his jaw clench again. Why were you hiding yourself from him? He wanted to see your smile. Your laugh was so cute, surely your smile is too.

William felt himself still. William wanted to see it. Your smile. That was the first time he had ever wanted someone's smile. And the fact you laughed at his joke about his son...

"Yeah, well, it's not like I wanted to, but someone's gotta do it!" You responded with sarcasm, Michael's groan making you giggle to yourself again.

Without even having to force it, William felt a laugh bubble up from the bottom of his chest. He heard it reverberate off the walls of his shiny, sleek kitchen, and it surprised him greatly. Mr. Afton couldn't remember the last time he didn't have to force a laugh. Let alone a smile. All attempts from others just made him cringe on the inside.

Idiots.

Michael had dragged you up the stairs after your little joke, annoyed by the banter between you and his father. William's eyes were fixated on you as you disappeared from sight, watching as your cute little legs carried you up his staircase.

From your height compared to his kitchen counter, William could deduce that you were much shorter than him. If he had to guess, you'd probably only about come up to his shoulder. From the lingering smell in the air too, he could tell that you took good care of yourself. You were clean. Fresh. Supple. And, from the tiny bit of your personality he saw that afternoon, William already knew he liked you. In fact, it was from that moment on that William would think of you.

He encouraged Michael to bring over more friends in hopes that you'd come back. If you weren't in his house, William found himself wondering where you were. What you were up to. What your routine was. What he assumed to be an infatuation quickly grew. He begun to think of you more frequently. When sitting down for a meal, he would wonder if you would like what he had made. William wondered what such a cute little thing like you was doing in this nowhere town. Did you have dreams away from here? Is this were you wanted to be? He had never seen you in his diner before, he was sure of it. He would've surely remembered such a pretty little thing. Although, his diner was the talk of the town. For both adults like yourself and for children. So where were you?

You became illusive to him. You were full of mystery, and he had to know more. It would never be enough. He wanted more. William began drilling Michael about who you were. This was met by some animosity by the young man, but William didn't fucking care. Eventually, when Michael became obsolete of information, William took to other means. He would eavesdrop around the diner on the security cameras, hoping one of the other college kids in there would utter your name. It was slim pickings, but the thrill of it is what got to William.

Every single little thing he learned about you was priceless to him. He committed it all to memory, as if you would vanish if he had not. You were a plague to him. It was your name he thought of first thing in the morning, and it was the last thing he moaned quietly into the night. His fantasies grew dirtier by the day. He had imagined you in oh so many different scenarios. Different positions. Places. Outfits.

Everything about you was perfect to William. From the very top of your head to the very bottom of your feet. You were his soulmate. He just knew it. Every single little thing about you had been crafted just for him. Everything you did, said, perfection. He could be so, so good for you, just as you'd be so good for him. He made more than enough money to spoil you rotten. His house was big enough for you to move in. Not that you'd need the extra space. Of course you'd be sharing a bed with him. He wouldn't have it any other way.

Couldn't you see it? How you and him were meant to be? Couldn't you picture your budding life together with him? This is what all those years of suffering were for. To lead him to you. You were his everything. His sun, moon and stars. The oxygen he breathed. The food he ate. The ground he walked on. All of it.

You.

His precious, precious little bunny.

William already knew he loved you. He did, he really did. He didn't have to fake that part about him. Loving you came as naturally to him as breathing. And with you pinned underneath him, Mr. Afton felt as if he was on cloud 9.

Sure, this isn't exactly how he'd plan things to go. He didn't want to have his first time with you on his couch. You were better than that. You deserved all the nice things he had to offer. But William wasn't too sure he could contain himself long enough to carry you to his bedroom. He had already waited so long to have you. Surely you wouldn't mind, right?

You didn't seem to, at the very least. As the man continued to grope and squeeze at your chest, his other hand ripping his tie off, he studied your face carefully. His pale eyes never left your pretty little face, not even for a moment. Your cute little hands were gripping the fabric of his couch, and soft little moans escaped past your puffy lips every so often. Your eyes were focused on his arm rather than his face.

He found this to be a shame. He understood that you were probably embarrassed, perhaps even overwhelmed. This was your first time with him, after all. Oh, but it just wouldn't do, little bunny. He wanted your eyes on him.

Where they should be.

After finally getting his black tie off, William used his free hand to slip underneath your chin, using his pointer finger and thumb to tilt it up towards him. Your glossy doe eyes met his, and he could feel an uncontrollable grin creep across his handsome features.

Just look at you. Not even five minutes in, and already so eager to please him. William could see how much you were enjoying yourself already, the pleasure of it all making the ache in his pants all the more tighter.

Patience, William, patience. The night is still young.

You are something to be savored. Not just a quick fix.

"(Y/N), my darling," Mr. Afton said to you, feeling the heat radiating off your cheeks, "keep your eyes on me. I want to see you, love."

William leaned down to kiss you again, feeling how your hands gently found a spot on his chest before he could do so.

"W-wait..." you peeped out, making William still his movements. He pulled away from you for a moment, his smile falling as he looked into your worried eyes.

"What's wrong, my love?" He asked, "Please, tell me. Do you want to stop?"

You shook your head, "N-No! It's just-"

William removed his hands from you, clasping your little fingers around his own, "Please, my bunny. Whatever it is, I'll fix it immediately. Please tell me."

Mr. Afton watched you like a hawk a you looked over your shoulder towards his door, the heat on your cheeks creeping down your pretty little neck at his words.

"It's just..." you whispered to him, "What if Michael walks in on us? He should be back any minute, right?"

Oh, that. The lie he told you. He had forgotten all about that, actually. William was glad you reminded him.

Mr. Afton pressed a small kiss to your fingers to ease your worries.

"Don't worry about him, my love." He said, admiring your features as if they were fine art, "It's all taken care of, I promise. Keep your focus on me, darling. On us. You can do that for me, hm?"

After studying his face for a moment, William watched as you nodded in response, making his smile widen as he kissed your fingers once again.

"Can we maybe just move, erm... this, somewhere else then?" You asked, "Please?"

Oh. So you did mind. William mentally kicked himself. Stupid fool. Of course you would mind. How could he have overlooked that? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

William leaned in and kissed your sweet lips one more time.

"Of course, bunny." He whispered to you, finally letting go of your hands. William got off from on top of you and planted his feet on the ground. Once he was secure, he leaned down to you again and slipped you into his strong arms, holding you bridal-style close to his toned chest. He felt his heart swell inside of him as you wrapped your tiny arms around his neck, nuzzling your cute face into his neck. Gently, the older man carried you through his house and into his dark bedroom, using one of his legs to push the door open.

Once inside, William gently laid you down on top of his bed, giving you a kiss before leaving breifly to shut his door. After he was sure that it was shut tightly, William turned his attention back to you.

Heat creeped down his face and neck when he saw his precious bunny on top of his bed. Oh, little one. If only you knew how many times he had pictured you there. How many times your name was repeated over and over like a mantra within these very walls. Even with all the fantasies William had played over and over in his mind, none of them compared to the real thing. Just look at you. So so cute.

And just for him.

Walking back over to you, William was sure to drink in the sight of you on his bed, and commit it to memory. His hands on autopilot, William unbuttoned his purple dress-shirt as he neared closer, exposing his chest to you.

You must've felt awkward being the only one with all your clothes still on. He saw how you went to shrug off your jacket, but was quick to stop you as he took his place on top of you once again.

Silly bunny. That was his job.

"Ah, ah, my darling." He whispered to you, gently taking your hands away from yourself, "No need to worry about that. Just let me do all the work, yeah? Just relax, and let me take care of you."

Mr. Afton saw that his words seemed to go in one ear and out the other. Your eyes weren't on him. Instead, they were lain gently on the expanse of his chest, going up and down over and over. The dim lighting made it a little hard to see exactly, but William knew what you were doing. Ogling him.

William wasn't sure how much harder he could get. Look at you. Precious little you, drooling over his chest. What a good little bunny. That's exactly where your eyes should be, little one. On him. And only him. He only had eyes for you, so wouldn't you do the same for him? Of course you would, bunny, of course. By the end of the night, you will. Mr. Afton is gonna show you so many levels of burning hot pleasure you didn't even know existed. Why? Because you'll be his. His bunny. No one else's. And if anyone dared try take you away, then well-

"How did you get these?" William heard you peep out to him, snapping him out of his trance.

He felt one of your little hands pull out of his grip, and gently trace lines up and down his chest and stomach, earning a shudder out of him. Elation ran through his veins, knowing this was the first time you had ever touched him. Touched a man like that, too. Slowly, whilst coming down from his high, William could recognize the patterns you were tracing.

Ah, yes. Those. He had forgotten about those, too. His scars. He hadn't even remembered to warn you first. He knew that at first glance, they did look rather gnarly.

But, still. You didn't seem to mind. You were his good bunny, after all. Of course you'd be good for him. Love him no matter what he looked like. Just like how he loved you.

While you continued to feel up his chest, William shrugged off the remains of his dress shirt and tossed it to the floor. He subsequently leaned down close to you, capturing your lips in another kiss. The following ones trailed down the side of your face and to your exposed neck, earning another whimper of pleasure out of you.

"It's nothing to worry about, love." He whispered to you, pressing more kisses to your skin, "Let's just say the early designs of my spring-lock suits weren't without their... flaws."

"Do they hurt?" You asked him, your little fingers finding a place on his shoulders.

William's breath fanned across your heated skin as he chuckled, "You ask far too many questions, bunny."

William gently bit down against the swell of your neck, earning another gasp out of you.

"Just, relax, little one." He said, his hands slowly working your jacket off of you and discarding it to the floor, "Do you want to stop?"

"N-no! I just..." you trailed off, your voice fading to a whisper "I just want you to be okay."

Mr. Afton picked his gaze up from your neck to look into your eyes, committing to memory the pink on your cheeks. Oh, precious, darling little bunny. If only you knew just how much he loved you. If only you knew just how you made him feel; the gravity of your presence around him.

The older man leaned forward to kiss your neck again, his large hand gently slipping underneath your shirt.

"My darling bunny," William whispered, "you're far too kind. So, so good for me. My bunny. Mine."

The brit's movements begun to get more frantic and passionate as his hand crept up to your chest, groping and squeezing from under your shirt. Your moans became more frequent in conjunction, along with the sheer amount of bruises and marks he was sucking into your soft, warm skin. Your hands found their way across his bare shoulders, one eventually travelling up to tussle into his dark brown hair. William rumbled out a groan from the back of his throat as he continued attacking your neck.

Once he was certain that you'd have plenty of hickeys in the morning, William detached himself from you and sat back slightly. His hand ran further up your chest, pulling your shirt along with it. Once your garment was halfway up your torso, William brought his other large, calloused to the base.

"May I remove this for you, my sweet?" He asked through half-lidded eyes, the tent in his pants growing more and more uncomfortable by the second. His mind told him over and over to just cut to the chase and pound you into the mattress already, but he dismissed the thought. He needed patience. William had waited for this day far too long to piss it away. He wanted to savor it. Stretch it out as long as possible. Not only for his selfish reasons, but for your sake too. You were a virgin, after all. He didn't want to scare you away, oh no. Eventually you'll get the hang of it, anyway. Don't worry about that, little one. William promises to show you how all of it is done. Show you just how amazing he can make you feel, and spoil you rotten in the process. Give you the treatment that only his bunny gets to have.

But, for now, slow and steady it is.

You looked him in his eyes as you gave him a timid nod, making another grin stretch across his face.

"Let me hear your words, darling." He said.

"Y-yes, Mr. Afton. Please... take it off." you responded.

Fucking hell you were so goddamned cute. Sweet bunny if only you knew just how many times he imagined your cute little voice saying those exact words to him. How long he dreamt of it.

Another shudder ran through the man's veins as he pulled your shirt off of you, leaving you bare-chested in front of him.

"Please, love," he whispered, "Call me William."

The tips of his fingers ghosted over the expanse of your chest and stomach, earning a shudder of your own under his touch. Leaning down, the older man pressed more open-mouthed kisses to your collarbones and chest and his hands crept down further, stopping at the hem of your pants.

"Though, if you're up for it," he continued, "I'm quite fond of sir as well."

Before you could babble out any sort of response, William gave a few more open-mouthed kisses to the space right above your pants, your hands finding a home in his hair again. Your soft whimpers underneath the brit made his kisses all the more violent, and his hands all the more wandering. They traveled underneath you, coping a few feels at your butt before slowly trailing down your thighs.

It was getting harder by the second for the brit to control himself. He wanted to go slow, he really did, for you. But he wasn't too sure how much longer he could restrain himself from taking you as his. Here you were, right where he had wanted you for so long. Moaning and whimpering underneath him just like he wanted you to. You were already so good for him, even without him having to coach you on what to do. You truly were made for him.

So, perhaps you would forgive him for picking up the pace a little bit.

Could you do that for him, bunny?

"How about we remove these next, yeah?" He asked you through half-lidded, lust-filled eyes, his fingers picking at the hem of your pants.

You nodded in response again. Embarrassed and bashful.

Oh, naughty naughty bunny. Didn't he tell you to use your voice?

"Words, darling." He reminded you, his tone soft yet laced with firmness. He didn't want to punish you, no. Not yet, at the very least. It was your first time, and William was a generous man. He could let you off the hook this time, bunny.

This time.

"William, please..." you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mr. Afton had to take a long, deep breath through his nose to keep his eyes from rolling to the back of his head, a cold, sharp shudder running down his body. Begging him already? Oh, sweet little one, you were made for him. You were you were you were. You were what he was put on this earth for. Not his stupid fucking business, or being a father. No. Not at all. It was for you. He was put on this earth for you. To be your man. To give you every single little thing your precious heart desired. Money. Fame. Love. Pleasure. All of it. All of it for you. And oh did he have plenty to give you. You were his soulmate, he was sure of it. How else could you be here now? How else would he have happened to find you in this small, puny town? Amongst all these fucking idiots? You and him were meant to be, little bunny. Couldn't you see it too? Just look at you. William fits so perfectly on top of you, doesn't he? And you look so adorable underneath him with that blushy face of yours. His sweet little rabbit. His darling beloved. His sweet angel. His treasure. His love. His. His. HIS. HIS. HI-

...

Oh.

Oh shit.

Pressing a few more kisses to your belly, he snuck one of his hands down to feel around his crotch. The tips of his fingers were greeted by a small wet patch.

Damn. He really got carried away that time. First on his phone call with you, and again now? Could you notice? No, surely not. It was too dim in his room. His pants were dark too, so that made it all the more unlikely. You probably wouldn't care either way.

He was still plenty hard for you.

Composure, William, composure. Don't ruin all the fun before it even begins.

Making sure to settle down the many thoughts in his head, William gently lifted your legs and cute little butt off of his bed. Slowly, he was able to discard your pants off of you, giving your shins and thighs a few small kisses as his hands returned to the hem of your underwear.

"This too, love?" He asked.

Out of instinct, you nodded again, "Yes, but... what about you?"

William breathed out a chuckle. Silly bunny. Don't tell him you're becoming the impatient one now. As adorable as it was, William had to still go slow on you. Patience, little one.

"That'll be soon, rabbit." He told you, one of his fingers hooking underneath your underwear, "You are a virgin, yes?"

He already knew the answer to that. He just wanted to hear you say it.

"Yeah, I am... Is that a proble-"

"No, no, little bunny, no." He said in response, gently sliding your underwear down your legs and discarding it on the floor, "I just have to make sure you're prepared. Besides..."

William shifted his weight down so he was face-to-face with your lower half, guiding your thighs to rest on his shoulders. Looking up at you, he pressed his kisses into your soft flesh, throwing in a few bites for good measure as he cupped your heated sex in his palm.

"Your body is so beautiful, my love." He said, "I want to savor every part of you. My needs can come later."

William watched as your whined and squirmed underneath him as his hand made contact with your lower half, his cock aching inside of his pants yet again.

"I will warn you bunny," the brit said, "It may sting a little to start with, yeah? Are you okay with that?"

You swallowed the saliva that had been pooling in the back of your throat, "Y-Yes, that's okay. I trust you."

William let out a satisfied hum, "Good bunny."

Slowly, William trailed his hand downwards, the tip of his middle finger inching close to your hole. Mr. Afton had to swallow the saliva that invaded his mouth at the sight, worried about drooling on you and making a fool of himself. If he could focus, he would be able to tell that his hands were trembling with excitement. Oh if only you knew how long he had dreamed of this day. He was already halfway there. Halfway to making you his. He just had to make sure his precious bunny was ready first.

He didn't want you in any pain when he filled you up with his love.

William gave you a few seconds to get ready before he pushed his finger inside of you, immediately making your back arch and your hands find his shoulders and hair. The grip you had on his grey-brown locks was tight, but compared to the elation he felt while inside of you, it was nothing. A pitiful drop in the bucket of his ecstasy. You were so warm around him. So so warm and tight. A million times better than what his fantasies made him believe. And a trillion times better than those sex toys he bought.

Mr. Afton let his excitement get the better of him just a touch as he begun to pump his long, bony finger in and out of you. His other hand gripped as your thigh, squeezing it as his lips placing gentle kisses on the flesh of it as a form of silent praise.

The noises his finger made going in and out of you were sinful, and echoed off of the walls of his room. Or perhaps, his shared room now. It'd only be a matter of time now before he'd ask you to move in, if all went according to plan. He was pleased to see that you eventually loosened up around his digit and you started to become more comfortable, once all the residual pain had subsided. This is when you started to moan for him. Quiet at first, but gradually got louder and louder as he found the more tender parts of your insides.

William's eyes would often flutter shut as he heard his sweet bunny's sounds underneath him. He was elated that you were enjoying yourself. If William knew he did one thing right in his life, he knew he was pleasing you like you wanted. He could die happy knowing that. That he got one chance with you; got to hear his bunny's sweet songs just once.

But, no, no.

William was a greedy man.

He wanted more.

And he would get more.

"That's it, my beautiful little bunny," he praised you, his deep accented voiced husked with his lust, "Just like that. You're doing so amazing, my darling. So perfect for me..."

William forgot to give you a warning as he inserted another finger into you. But, with the moan that escaped your lips as he did so, he was pleased to see you didn't mind. And, he was even more pleased with the way you found your own rhythm with his fingers, helping him to finger-fuck you all the better.

"Ah- Ahh! Oh my god, Mr. A-Af- William..!" you cried out to him, your grip on his hair becoming tighter as he found the most tender part of your insides.

You were playing with fire, little one. Did you want him to have another accident?

"Oh, my sweet bunny," he groaned, trying to shift his weight to relieve some pressure off of his crotch, "yeah, that's it. Keep making those pretty sounds for me, love. Make them for me."

"W-William, I-I feel-"

"Shh, my darling, it's alright. Let it happen. Make a mess all over me, my love. I want you to. I want it, bunny. Cum all over my fingers, goregous. Don't dare hold back on me. So, so good... my precious bunny. My bunny."

The pace of William's fingers quickened the more he said, until he felt you spasm around you and a flurry of moans escaped your lips.

He did it.

He finally did it.

William has waited for so long, and he had finally done it.

Halfway there.

Halfway to go.

Mr. Afton helped you to ride out your orgasm by pressing his fingers into you a few more times. Once you had settled down, and your moans had turned into soft, breathy pants, William took his fingers out of you, pressing reassuring kisses into the plush of your thighs.

"So good, little one," he whispered to you, "You did so well, my love. Perfect, absolutely perfect."

After a few more kisses, to allow you to catch your breath, William sat up again on his knees, looking down at your sweat-gleamed, adorable little face. You were still breathing pretty hard as his hands found his belt buckle, the clink of the metal making you look up at him again.

"William... please, I need you so bad..." you breathed.

Mr. Afton's breath hitched in his throat, "I know, love, I know. And you'll have me. You've been such a good bunny for me... 'Gonna make you feel so good, my adorable little rabbit."

A rush of relief washed over William as his belt was shed to the floor, along with his sleek black trousers, making him groan. He watched as you little eyes kept flickering between his tented crotch and his face, not sure of where to look to be polite.

Silly bunny. You were allowed to look anywhere you wanted.

As William finally was able to pull off his boxers, he breathed a sigh of relief. His cock had been aching for what felt like hours now, and he was finally able to give it some relief. He could feel how he throbbed against the cold air of his room as he looked down at you once again, drinking in the sight and committing it to memory.

William knew he was a well-endowed man. Hell, that's probably why he was so popular to begin with, at least amongst the women. None of that ever mattered to him before. He didn't care. Yeah, he had a big dick. So what?

It never mattered to him, that is, until now. He could see how scared you were when you looked at him. See it in your eyes, how you worried how something like that would fit into you.

You needn't worry, sweet bunny. William would never try to hurt you. Not ever. It'll fit, sweet one, don't worry.

Don't you trust him?

Mr. Afton gave a few pumps to his length, coating it in the slick of his pre-cum as he lined up at your entrance. He could feel waves of excitement and need wash through him as the tip made contact with your flesh, making him let out another shaky breath. Though in the past the brit found missionary to be rather boring, he found himself to not mind it with you. It allowed him to be close to you. To see your face, and hear you well. All he ever wanted.

Besides, he could always try new positions next time. If you were ready.

"It might sting a little again, bunny." He warned you, "But it won't for long."

"O-Okay..." you said, "Just... Can you hold my hand? Please?"

William felt his lips part, "Yes, my love. Yes, of course."

Shifting his weight briefly onto one arm, William slipped one of his large hands into your own, interlocking his fingers with yours. His other hand was firmly situated next to your head, careful to avoid pulling on your hair.

"Good?" he asked.

You nodded, "Yes.. I'm ready now. Please, William..."

"As you wish, darling."

Excitement bubbling in his veins, William gently pushed his hips forwards, the tip of his cock entering inside of you. Along with your gasp, the man above you let out a low, breathy groan of pure, raw pleasure, a shudder making its way down his spine.

Holy fuck. It was so much better than he had imagined. You were so much better than he imagined. He was sure of it now, more than ever. You were made for him. You were pure perfection.

And all the more reason to make you his.

Get to work, William. His bunny is waiting for him.

Careful not to squeeze your hand too tightly, William let out another breathy groan as he slowly pushed the rest of his length into you. At the feeling of being fully sheathed inside of your hole, William felt his eyes roll to the back of his head, nuzzling into the crook of your neck to save-face. You were breathing rather hard underneath him, your other arm having come up to drape across his bare, scarred shoulders for extra support.

As you he felt you slowly start to relax around him, Mr. Afton pressed soft, loving kisses to your jaw and neck, the hand next to your hair stroking it softly.

"Th-That's it, love..." he whispered to you, "So good for me... My adorable bunny."

You whimpered underneath his touch, "William, I... i-it's okay to move now. Please..."

Pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, William gently pulled his hips back, then thrusted up into you. He watched as you bounced slightly underneath him, a low moan escaping your lips. With all the conformation he needed, William was quick to find a steady rhythm inside of you. He never found himself to be that vocal in the bedroom from past experiences, so the brit continued to surprise himself with every groan and sigh that escaped past his lips. But, then again, it was quite different now. This was you.

And damn did you make him feel amazing.

After finding a good pace, William was able to angle himself better, trying to find the most sensitive part inside you. With one lucky guess, he was able to see how you threw your head back in pleasure, your nails digging into the skin of his back as you moaned for him.

"Ohh goddd, William..! F-Fuck, right there!" you cried out for him, your encouragement making him pick up the pace.

"Yeah, bunny?" he goaded you, "Does that feel good? You're so fucking cute. You- hahh - you feel so fucking amazing, my love, fuck..."

The brit could feel your peak drawing nearer with every clench of your walls around him, his cock twitching back in response as it continued its barrage of your most sensitive parts. This only made him snap his hips into you all the more sharply.

"(Y/N)..." he cried out to you, "(Y/N), my love. So fucking good for me. So, so good... You're perfect, (Y/N). Perfect, my bunny. Perfect."

"W-William, I-I'm gonna-"

"Me too, bunny, me too. Please, bunny - fuck - please, together, my love. Let me fill you up, my darling. With my love. Let me show you how much I adore you. Will you, my love? Please, please."

"Yes, Will! Oh my god, yes please!"

With your sweet words ringing in his ears, William made one final push inside of you, sinking in as deep as possible. Mr. Afton groaned loudly as he could feel your orgasm around him, his following not long after. He was able to manage a few tiny, sloppy thrusts inside of you as you both rode out your high, feeling as how your insides became coated with his orgasm; no, with his love.

So, so much love.

And, you, finally

were now

his.

At long, long last. He finally had you.

Happy was an understatement. Overjoyed even more so. No, William was a new man. He was now yours. Your man to protect and take care of you. And no one else's. Just as you were his now, and no one else's.

His.

It took a good while for William to catch his breath again, as well as you. Once he did so, William found the strength to pull out of you, one last ripple of pleasure washing over him. You were looking up at him through your glossy eyes and heated face, a small, dumb smile on your face as you breathed heavily. He was able to get one more kiss on your lips before he shifted his weight off of you.

"Wait here, love." He said, "I'll get something to help you clean up."

As much as it pained him to leave you without him, William knew that aftercare was important. Especially to the inexperienced. In the past, he was never fond of doing too much of it, but with you, it came naturally to him. You were such a good bunny for him, it's the least he can do to show his appreciation.

The brit was quick to disappear into his bathroom and grab a towel, feeling the cold air around him in the dark. By the time he returned, he saw that you had already turned on your side, and had wrapped yourself in nearly all the covers on his bed. Creeping closer to you, William saw that your eyes were closed; soft, steady breaths escaping past your little lips.

Damn. You were asleep already. William knew tonight would wear you out, but damn.

Looks like he still has it.

And you were far too cute to wake up now. It would just be mean if he did so. Very well. You win, bunny.

Placing the towel on his nightstand, William peeled back the last little bit of blankets you allotted him and slipped into bed behind you. You being much shorter than him, he found it easy to meld his body against yours, wrapping his arms around your little waist and pulling you close to his chest. You were so warm, and he couldn't help but take a long inhale of your scent. He was hoping to talk to you a little more after, and tell you how amazing you did, but this was fine. He could do all the in the morning. You were too cozy for now.

But that couldn't stop him from giving you some praise.

"You are perfect, my darling." He whispered into your air, as soft as he could as not to wake you, "Just as I knew you would be. You're going to learn just how much better I can make you feel, sweet thing. This is only the beginning."

William pressed a few soft kisses to your hair.

"I'm sorry I had to lie to you to get you here. I just couldn't think of any other way to get us alone. But, you'll forgive me, right?"

You didn't answer, of course.

"Oh, I know you will. If you ever find out, that is, bunny."

There's some things you're better off not knowing, anyway.

"Get plenty of rest, love. I'll be right here, I promise. I promise."

How could he ever leave you now?

"I love you."

Goodnight, little bunny.

tags: @guinea-pig16 , @the-official-memester , @randomwriteralan , @mrsrogerwaters , @laylaaftonshit , @cherry-slushee , @insert-memical-username , @mrssafton , @horrorking2000

apologies to any blogs tumblr wont let me tag!!

#william afton x you #william afton smut #william afton x reader #william afton #fnaf x reader #fnaf smut #dave miller x reader #purple guy x reader

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