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futureplayboibunnie · 9 months

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Aphrodesiacs

Miguel O’Hara x fem! spidey! reader

yk that bit of spiderman lore between silk and peter where they were bitten by the same spider and can’t be near each other without feeling….

yeah this is that but with Miguel. SO NSFW. i love blue balling y’all. PART 2 IS UP NOW!

There were certain things that were absolutely not up for discussion when it came to Miguel: his leadership skills, his authority, his ability to lead this society, his daughter and…you.

There were too many issues to discuss about your strange…he didn’t even know what to call it at this point. See, you were both bitten by the same spider which everyone deemed highly impossible, but it happened. What came with being bit by the same spider were chemically and biologically bound side effects no one knew the first thing about. You and Miguel were more enhanced than the others, in many ways, many uncomfortable and impossibly distracting ways. You were physically drawn to each other, unable to physically feel anything but an intense primal, primitive and animalistic sexual attraction to one another. Neither of you could be in the same room without wanting to fuck like bunnies. The chemical compounds in your brains were the same, and it made you both become aphrodesiacs for each other. No one knew about it other than Lyla and Jess.

This was a problem, he was your boss and you couldn’t actually look at him without feeling hot and wet, you had fangs the same way he did but no one knew about it, Lyla made sure of it. Miguel on the other hand was a wreck because of it, his blood would burn at the mere thought of you. He worked his body out to the bone, he would work out and sweat the thoughts and desires away from him. It never worked. But he needed to pretend it did. Neither of you would anticipate how drastic it could be. You knew it was the genetics and the chemicals from the same spider that bit you which made you weary of ever getting close to one another but Lord, the desires were still there. It felt like you were muzzled and on a leash, hindered by moral righteousness. You both knew you couldn’t give in but that was rather difficult when you actually needed to see one another.

You ripped a hole in your suit, where your waist was and only Miguel seemed to have the supplies to fix it. A massive horizontal gash that exposed your skin. Your brain was dreading to see him, your heart said otherwise and your pussy throbbed at the mere idea. It was like you were magnets, constantly avoiding due to the the impossibility to be pulled apart. Taking a deep breath to keep a cool calm head seemed to work momentarily and then you walked into his lair.

Miguel could smell you from here. His skin tightened and his muscles tensed when he felt your scent wrap around him, like a warm golden glow. He would taint you in red. He would break you. He knew this. That’s why he could never….

“You know you can’t be here.” He sighed, ignoring your presence as he was staring blankly at his screens. “You know I can’t concentrate.” He added quietly.

You swallowed thickly and closed your eyes, wincing slightly. “I know we’re not- Look, I just need you to fix my suit and Lyla told me I had to fix it immediately or the wiring would go to shit. You know I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t need to.”

Miguel paused and blinked slightly at the last thing you said. You did need to see him. You did need to be here but neither of you wanted to talk about the true reason. He turned his head to face you. He wanted to groan at the sight of you.

Miguel had to force himself not to stare at your body and the way your suit clung to it, there was a massive gash in it that exposed the skin of your waist. Why did God always have to test his patience? Lord above give him strength. Even with his impeccable self control and strength, it took everything in his power to resist the urge to throw you against the floor and...Miguel groaned softly and rolled his eyes. “If that's what it takes...”

“I know you want to get rid of me quickly. I promise it won’t take long.” You say hurriedly as you hop onto his platform. You were really close to each other now, You swallowed and your breathing became slightly more shallow. Please let this be quick. Please. You begged silently. “I just need you too stitch my suit on my waist for me.” You say. “Quickly…” You added breathily. You had to get closer for him to actually help you and as he sat in his chair and pulled out his supplies, he raised an eyebrow to lure you closer. He felt his body tighten as you breathed so near him. The electricity was sizzling between you. Your heart beats synchronized and your minds only on one thing.

You got closer and you were practically standing inbetween his legs, you saw his breath hitch slightly but Miguel was a master at not letting his mask slip. He was good at pretending. His brow furrowed slightly, making a fruitless effort of avoiding that fucking look in your eyes. That face. Fuck.

This was bad, this was so dangerous. Being this close could end in a catastrophe for the both of you.

He paused before he put his fingers on your suit, a spark of electricity caused your body to still. He just closed his eyes and breahed out hurridly. He bit the bullet and grabbed your waist for you to stumble closer.

He needed to get this over and done with. No matter what it took, he needed to get you away from him. You gasped a little when he did that and he could feel that sound travel all the way to his dick. He tried to ignore it by getting to work and scanning your suit and then stitching up. His fingers worked at the speed of light. Your eyes just widened, continuing your mindless gawk as hazy thoughts of grabbing his hair and lowering his head further down between your thighs clouded your head. You tried to shake the sensation of his hands gripping your waist but it felt impossible, part of you genuinely wanted to grit your teeth until they shattered- the tension hurt.

Miguel always seemed to be perfectly fine on the outside, he had masked emotions other than anger or annoyance very well but this was causing that picture of himself to falter at the seams. Internally, he was breaking apart. Weakened by desperation. Lord, you were his weakness.

Images of you flashed through his head as he stitched, he wanted you tied up. Yes. With your own webs. Letting him have his way with you, pounding you until you cried and begged him to stop. He would fill you up, make you guzzle his cum as you pleaded for more. He let out a soft grunt at the sheer idea.

His fingers moved quickly as he sewed your torn suit together. “Why are you always getting hurt?” Miguel's voice was raspy, and he was unable to control his breathing. Miguel did his best to look away, but the smell of your exposed your skin was making it hard for him to think clearly. Your body was perfect. Jesus, it was like it was made for him.

You swallowed hard, your thoughts became hazy as he was this close. His hands were brushing on you and you tensed slightly at his fleeting barely there touchs. “Mm- I’m not always getting hurt.” You say softly, if you said it any louder you were sure you would moan.

“Right,” Miguel mumbled softly, his words catching in his throat. “I'm sure you were just passing by when you ran into trouble.” Miguel kept his eyes down to avoid meeting your gaze. All you could do was scowl at him. He finished his work and immediatly grabbed your waist and pushed you away as he got up from his chair to stare at his screens again as a means to avoid looking at you. “Don’t come back here.” He muttered at you seriously.

“I won’t.” You glowered at his broad and muscular back. You lied though, you were sure you’d be back. “But…I can’t keep going on like this.”

His ears pricked up at your admission and he felt the exact same way. Miguel's body was on fire. He wanted you. Right now. He didn't know what would happen if he gave into his urges. His body was shaking, and he had to make a conscious effort to keep his hands to himself. He was trying not to touch you, but every move you made, every tiny shift, only made your body more desirable. “Please, go.” Miguel choked, his voice harsh and strained.

You did as you were told and you hurriedly left. Praying that this would naturally wear off as long as you stayed away from him.

It had been a few days since your interaction and you had both successfully avoided each other since then but he could still feel your presence whenever you were at HQ. He could still feel the air in his office carrying your scent.

Now it was 2AM and he was still in his office. He was banging another hookup over his desk, she was bent over just so he couldn’t look at her. She was pretty but she wasn’t you. As his dick slid in and out, her moans fell flat to him, he only wanted to hear you. He was praying that this one would be the one that made him forget about you, that this one would tamper down his sexual anger and frustration but no. He got angrier. Animalistic. All he could think about was you. He was pretty sure he was hurting her when he was like this. His mood soured when he wondered what he would do to you if he finally gave in. Would he hurt you? God, what if he did….

He never wanted to hurt you.

He knew you would never be able to take it, to take all of it.

You on the other hand were in your apartment, also fucking a random hookup. You were hoping it would help your predicament but if anything it was making you more frustrated. He wasn’t fucking big enough. Yeah, his dick was better than average but it didn’t have the girth that Miguel would- You shook your head out of any thoughts of him and decided to be in the moment. You decided that it was a terrible moment. There were much more irritating things than faking an orgasm like your incessant need for Miguel.

Even though you were being fucked by another guy all you could thing about was: Miguel, Miguel, Miguel.

Nothing was working, for either of you.

Your mind wandered towards another way to fix this. Maybe there was a suppressant or an antidote to help keep down these primal urges and desires. These thoughts were keeping you from doing any sort of work, you couldn’t concentrate properly. Your mind was burned alive by constant thoughts of him in so many different situations. So you decided to talk to him about it. He’d probably end up killing you for even thinking about it but you were way passed that.

You sighed deeply before thrumming up the guts to see him again. Entering his lair was never a welcome idea to anyone but you and him were struggling and he was lying to himself. Miguel felt your presence again, your scent, your skin. He tampered down the jumping urge to drag you by your ankles and-

“I know you didn’t want me here again but we need to talk.” You crossed your arms but it further accentuated your chest, his stare lingered for a moment and he looked blank. Then he looked back down at a new suit he was fixing up and seemed unamused. That look just made you even more wet and desperate for his attention.

“No… we don’t.” He said thickly and your knees started buckling under the pressure. You swallowed.

“Uhm…there has to be an antidote for this or a suppressant for whatever…this is.” You said hurriedly. “Maybe I can manufacture one, I think I might be able to if I could genetically scan the spider and take it’s DNA and change its raw qualities…” Miguel watched you pace desperately as you rambled on, not even looking at him, you were pleading for a solution to this and he was getting more and more annoyed.

He stared at your lips as you spoke. Flashes of you on your knees, drooling and gagging on his cock pierced the forefront of his mind, causing his legs to feel nothing but limp. The things he wanted to do to you. He was an addict because of you.

“There is no cure for it!” He grunted loudly, cutting you off. “Hell, I’ve tried to make one since the first day I met you and all you’ve done is make me lose my fucking self control. You just standing there is enough to make me go crazy for you and I. Can’t. Help. It. I can smell you, I know you want me too but we have to fight it. We have to manage this because if you let me get close to you, I know I’ll hurt you and I won’t let that opportunity arise.” He admitted in a frenzy, his teeth almost shattering against each other, jaw clenching and unclenching. He ran a hand through his dishevelled hair as his eyes bore a ruby hue and his breathing became uneven and heavy.

You bit your lip at his angry outburst, not being able to deny how turned on you were by his rage and lack of self control. Part of you thought your mind was playing tricks on your or that you were hullicinating all of this as you were dulled by a cloud of lust, but no. You were very aware now that it was real. You were both feral for each other. You just glowered him.

“I have denied every single impulse I have ever had for you.” You grit out. “Maybe I want you to make it hurt, because any other kind of hurt right now is better than the pure need for you to fuck me right here, right now. You are not the only one who is capable of making another person hurt. Maybe I blame you. Maybe I can’t get you out of my head. Maybe I need your cock in me. Whatever….I just need to do something about it or else I’ll go fucking insane.” Miguel watched your brows furrow and your lips loosen as you uttered those fated words. His eyes glazed over twice and widened, your words were sharp and unfeeling. He believed that if you weren’t this way you wouldn’t find a need to be cruel and direct, the way your eyes glimmered yet darkened with need and passion caused him to halt in his tracks, now you were inching closer to him and he didn’t know what to do.

“It's impossible to create an antidote,it genetically and chemically changed our code.” Miguel mumbled, his voice husky and strained. “We're stuck like this...” He sighed, trying to collect himself. “Look, we just have to learn how to handle this," Miguel muttered, trying to convince himself more than you. “We'll learn to control ourselves. This...this is manageable.”

He didn’t believe any of the lies he spewed. There’s no way this was managable.

“Why do I get the feeling that that is not true.” You say softly, biting your lip and blinking up at him. Neither of you knew how you got this close now, it was like you were drawn to each other.

“Stop giving me that look. I-I can’t-“ He breathed heavily, trying to rescue himself or beg for your mercy. He didn’t know which one. Miguel hung his head and quickly turned his head as to not face you. “I’ll hurt you.” He added stoically.

“I. Don’t. Care ”

#spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o’hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara

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mondaymelon · 6 months

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₊˚ෆ 𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇 !! | sagau xiao, childe, zhongli x gn!reader

ˋ°•*⁀➷ cw: uhm. obsessiveness? yandere if you blink a couple times? cult themes... the usual deal with this au

⤷ [ you, the benevolent and kind overseer and creator of teyvat, has descended upon this world in mortal flesh, with a presence that is overpowering, omniscient, and so impossibly pure. ෆ yet, one day, you come into the cathedral with a gash on your arm, dripping with shimmering golden ichor that spilled from your veins. there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring. ]

— sagau!xiao noticed you immediately. it would be hard not to. since the beginning, he had always heard it.

your sound. a beautiful one, a heavenly one. a chord struck him, somewhere in his chest, and he found himself panting on the ground, clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

like a electric charge - one that leaves you startled, tentative, with the tips of your fingers still tingling from what happened moments prior. a buzz in your veins that thrums along with your heartbeat.

he didn't deserve to see you. not with what sins he had committed. but xiao was selfish. he wanted to, with his tainted body, he wanted to praise you, scrape his throat raw with his voice.

and so he did.

his face brightens as you step into the cathedral, dressed in ceremonial robes as per usual. you look ethereal, why would you not? your eyes are warm as they fixate on him, and he can feel his heart skip a beat and words die in his throat. he kneels before you orderly, readying to lift his head when something catches his attention - that is, the coppery scent of blood.

blood?

a droplet splatters onto the dustless floor. melted gold.

xiao's already stood up before he realizes it. his eyes are blown wide, his shrunken pupils sharp, like a cat's. "who. who did this to you?" those words take all the willpower in him to speak. his mind is swirling, racing, thinking up of every single possibility, vision scattered and blurry as unbridled fury teems within him.

"it's nothing. some civilians have begun rioting in the city, saying that i'm an imposter. all i did was show them a little bit of my blood and they all started singing praises, so the issue has been resolved." you shake your head with a soft smile, like this matter isn't anything to concern himself over.

it is.

he hates it. how he feels so fucking powerless, how he couldn't even stop this simple event from occurring in the first place. it's his fault. it's his and everyone else who dared not believe your words. your word is the truth. it is the undeniable laws of the world, what maps the stars and what lays the land.

he'll have time to ingrain that within everyone's minds. even if it means time away from you. but that's not the issue at the moment. he turns to search for bandages, but sees the already-healing wound slowly closing up as your skin mends together.

there's a knife at your side, coated in something that shimmers in the rays of light coming from the high, color-tainted windows.

something in his heart decides, seeing your reserved smile.

there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring.

very well.

then he'll just have to eradicate every last one of them. ₊˚ෆ

— sagau!childe had, to be honest, never cared all that much. why would he, to the person who had abandoned him into the cold, dark, abyss? yet, the smile on your face. it's bright. so bright it burns him. was there a day where he could smile like that?

no, no. he couldn't. that's an expression only reserved for someone as beautiful as you. as pure as you, like a blank, unblemished canvas, with the world as its paint. it's a level of resplendency that no one on this cursed universe could ever hope to accomplish.

a god in flesh, living in a tainted world. a walking contradiction that he had grown to call the thing that allowed him to keep living. something that spurred irony, you who broke all forms of the logic he had made to keep himself sane. perhaps that was why the heart he'd locked away has suddenly begun aching again? is that why he feels so warm from your divine prescence?

"childe?" you call out his name into the vast, empty hallways, glancing around for the familiar sight of a tuft of ginger hair. he hears you at once, rushing to your side with a grin on his face.

"your grace??" he bows at the sight of you, unable -to contain his excitement as he quivers in place, the smile on his lips tugging upwards even more than its current extent. "yes, what's-"

he stops abruptly, his voice faltering as he catches the scent of something iron. one familiar on the battlefield, a liquid that'd paint the surroundings a beautiful red.

his heart pounds. the thrill of a battle? no, that can't be it. if that was the case, how come it felt like he was slowly suffocating on his unspoken words?

that's when he catches the sight of the poorly wrapped bandages encasing your forearms. and the shimmering ichor that's soaked through the hastily wrapped cloth.

he moves to grab your arm, but curses himself out as he quickly changes direction and tightly holds your wrist, his expression more pained than yours, despite you being the one suffering with the injury. "what... your grace, what is this?"

he hates your knowing smile. he hates it. (oh, but does he? could he hate anything that is of you?) it just reminds him how you're all too far for him to reach, a purity that he does nothing to maintain. "there was a riot in the city against the church. luckily, they all quieted down after i gave them a glimpse of..." you trail off, ending your incomplete sentence with a sheepish smile. the rest is self-explanatory, anyway.

his vision trembles as his pupils shake. "haha, you...?" fuck. fuck fuck fuck, just whose idea was it to allow you near a knife? how did you get your hands on that?? which stupid fucking bumbling idiot allowed for this to happen?

it's his fault. he should've been by your side. curse the fatui, curse them all, how could they possibly dare keep him away from your holy being? the guilt that churns within him, is that why he remains mute as you step away, gracefully walking to meet with the other retainers?

there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring.

no, it's fine.

it will all be fine.

cutting off their tongues won't be enough. cutting them up until they're a dismembered, bloody mess isn't even close to what you've suffered for the sake of humanity.

yes, he'll make them realize that. they'll pay with their blood a thousand times over. ₊˚ෆ

— sagau!zhongli had his breath taken away by you before he even saw you, before the two of you had even exchanged words. your presence - it was so simply alluring, a saccharide charm that just drew him closer and closer.

sweet. yes, it was a familiar flavor upon the tongue that had long since tasted the many marvels the world had to offer. like a warm cup of tea, made from the sugary extract of flowers, how the sensation of it seemed to bloom upon your mouth.

ah, how should he put this. perhaps you had procured the blossom in his heart instead? stems, leaves, buds, a floret that'd only appear when you were in his gaze. a steady thrum that ran throughout his body with every stolen glimpse he took from your attention expertly.

perhaps, was this what he felt all those years ago?

did it matter? his soul was resolute, now, and it glowed gold, just like the blessed blood that flowed through every vein and lay in every vessel within that beautiful, beautiful you.

yes, ichor... just like the splatter of it on the ground...? a pang of fear strikes him - has something happened to you while he was away? he should've none better than to trust those good-for-nothing other cultists, who spend all their time babbling about your gloriousness yet turn a blind eye to whenever you require assistance!

no, he had to calm himself down. this wasn't the moment where he should grow frustrated. first, he must confirm the situation... he's planned this out to the every plan b, c, d, e, and so on, so how come he's still feeling so anxious?

there you are, upon your throne, busy conversing with a fellow archon, the one as free as the wind. funnily enough, you were the one that tied him down like a shackle.

"ah, zhongli. are you alright? you're breathing quite hard." you tilt your head, averting your gaze from venti's sparkling eyes and instead fixing them on the usually stoic man's jumbled expression. his shoulder's heave as he resists the urge to collapse at your feet.

"what... what are you... you're hurt?" stained bandages peek out from just below your silk sleeve, a sight that cannot possibly be missed from his attentive gilded eyes. "why didn't you tell me? i-i'll call one of the healers so they can-"

"zhongli, there's no need for that." with a hand, you gently signal venti to leave the scene, which he does, with obvious reluctance. a silence gesture that resonates with appreciation deeply within him. "this was of my own accord."

"your own accord?"

"unbelievers decided to throw a riot, and there wasn't much i could do except...well, don't they say that seeing is believing?" how come you don't look the slightest bit pain? where is your self-pity? your frustration? "anyhow, i'm not in a good state. please leave me for the time being, i don't plan on receiving any more audiences tonight."

he bows hastily, yet each movement is still finely crafted with minuscule adjustments that have taken him thousands of tries to master. he does as you say, and his strides are quick and long. it won't take a genius to see that his facade has crumpled, with the clear agitation that's spreading across his features like a wildfire that devours all in its path.

there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring.

he'll change that. every thrum of the golden markings running up and down his body seem to pulse in unison with his heartbeat, which is raring like he's recently returned from the battlefield.

who would've thought he'd so quickly return.

this time, of his own will. he'd be sure that these fools of this world would learn the truth of your paragon. ₊˚ෆ

(a/n) please save me the delulu has returned and iTS NOT LETTING GO

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123

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queenendless · 5 months

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❤️‍🩹Tough Love (Adult!SatoSugu x Adult!Fem!Reader)❤️‍🩹

A/N: This is a paid commission I wrote, requested by @anime-lover1234

Content warning: JJK AU with lots of angst, hurt/comfort, short injured teacher/sorcerer reader with lots of boo boos, overprotective!upset!SatoSugu hubbies yall.

Haibara alive in this AU, Nanako and Mimiko are first years here with Yuji Megumi and Nobara and they're your students too. Plus Gojo can heal others in this AU.

AND NEARLY 7K LONG SO THERE!

*Please DON'T plagarize, translate, or repost my FANFIC content. Reblog, like and follow instead.

You wanted to impress them.

You wanted to prove your worth in battle.

But things went far off the deep end.

It all began that one sunset evening.

As a Grade 1 Jujutsu Sorcerer, you were a perfect match for the Grade 1 curse spirit lurking in the forest near an abandoned school rumored to be haunted after closing down due to allegations of murderous cover ups.

As you pulled down the Curtain, the cool winds blew at your hair, swaying along with your black attire, as the sun was setting for you exorcized the curse at last.

You were turning, ready to return to Haibara-kun who was waiting by the car parked out front, when you felt a stir in the air.

You sensed it further deep in the thicket.

Another cursed spirit.

Small … but on the highest level.

Curiosity and cockiness came in, seeping into your being, compulsively drawn towards your next – spontaneous – assignment.

It was a tall skinny humanoid one, blood painting its skin, eating one of the few mangled teen corpses strewn about the splattered wrecked tents of the makeshift campsite.

"Forgive me. I couldn't save you all." You muttered, cursed energy pulsing through your legs. “I'll avenge you by exorcizing that curse.”

Then you chanted quietly.

“Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure."

With the barrier now placed; this one designed to keep curses in, you moved in.

With its eyes slowly turning to spot you bouncing off the branches, a swift blur dashing through the air, you warped right behind it, readying a blow right to its head.

But going toe to toe with a special grade cursed spirit on your own �� you know it's not the same as it was before. But you were willing to take this golden opportunity.

Your fist blazing with cursed energy, ready to strike, even as —

The spike in its cursed energy went through the roof in that split second.

The atmosphere now pricked with that rotten flesh smog coming off its figure.

One that sprouted up to 10 ft tall.

Your cursed punch missed its mark.

Its sharpened hand going right into your side.

It was all a trap.

And you fell for it.

Hook line and sinker.

Your banshee cry startled the birds as you warped out of its grip, blood spraying out from the forced movement, skidding back on shaky limbs, its toxic touch seeping into your gash wound.

Flashes of white exploded in your mind.

The screams of your two mighty husband sorcerers were blowing out your eardrums.

Your vision was spotty but you felt the shift in its cursed presence spring forward through the air, barely dodging its swipe but feeling the tips of its claws scrape your stomach.

Deciding to draw it away, you became the injured bait, running for your life, warping out of its grab, ready to slam a kick down from above —

The sight of Satoru and Suguru bleeding and crumpled before you took its place. A twinge of fear stabbed your nerves — you were socked hard from the side, paralyzing your cranium, warping in your dazed state right before slamming into a tree.

Covering your ears in futility at the intrusive fake voices invading your eardrums, you squeezed your eyes over your unwillingness to see their gutted crimson painted selves.

"Don't leave us here!"

Toru.

"How could you leave us behind!?"

Sugu.

"It's not real. They're not here. They can hold their own. Even against bastards like you." You growled under your breath, keeping your eyes shut. "Don't see. Don't hear. Just feel."

Sniffing the air as cursed energy heightened your nostrils, you followed its putrid stench and nothing else. Trusting your sense of smell by amplifying it to near max — your limit.

Yet the debilitating toxins were slowing you down. You were getting lightheaded as blood trailed down your side and leg from that open wound. The punches and kicks you managed to land on it were barely making a dent on this creep.

This curse was sapping you of your strength, your swiftness, and your stability at an alarming rate. All you could do was dodge and weave. But didn't stop the onslaught of punches, kicks and slashes littering your body.

Those normal – now dead – teens were just fodder to it.

Now that you; a sorcerer, was in its domain, you became its toy. It would kill you. But first, it would take its time and play with you, prolonging its enjoyment as long as possible, wearing you down until you broke …

Down at the nearby rural town, outside a combini, a bespectacled man just stepped out, throwing away the wrappings of his just finished sandwich, turning to where the foul energies were resonating, seeing the barrier among the thicket of trees …

Curled into the ground, gashes, bruises and blood painted your now immobile body, keeping your head to the ground when you suddenly sensed a trusting presence slipping inside the veil, looming above you, followed by the anguished roars of the special grade collapsing.

"Don't let it hit you … its toxins can make you hallucinate … and can mimic voices." You rasped out the warnings, coughing out blood in the process, when his folded work jacket was pressed into your hands then against your crimson dripping side.

"Understood. Keep pressure on that wound. You've lost enough blood already." You choked out a sob of relief at that low rumbling voice.

Kento Nanami.

A fellow Grade 1 sorcerer. A dependable comrade and a close friend. One of incredible proficiency. Extremely precise aim. Evades with clever maneuvers. Reinforced body with cursed energy.

Tying his spotted tie around his fist, he went into Overtime. With his now stained clothed blunted sword in hand, Nanami struck in as many weak spots as he could create on that titan.

The red and black sparks of Black Flash streaking right off him to chop off its enormous arm.

His words were ringing in your ears as he revealed his hand intentionally to raise his power levels.

Slashing weak points in the surrounding pine trees, he follows it off with diving in to cleave off its legs by the knee.

Bringing it face down to ground level just to cleave its head in two horizontally.

Releasing both his binding vows to enact that single blow, Nanami's extension technique Collapse activated, causing those pine trees to come tumbling down to bury it for good measure.

Scooping you up at breakneck speed, you two got clear of the fallen debris, slipped through the decaying barrier.

Neither of you sensed it any more.

Nanami's eyes bore great disappointment down upon you from on high. "And here I thought you were better than to emulate those two's recklessness."

You felt your pride crack, your ego bruise, and your shame boosted over Nanami-san's disapproval when you felt yourself blacking out and your form became limp too quick for his liking.

Nanami's exasperated, panicking face getting all up in yours, his shouting going mute in your ringing ears, occurred before it all went dark.

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

Hastily calling Nitta-san to send the proper authorities to handle post cleanup in those woods, Nanami kept pressure on your wound in your stead as he situated you two carefully in the backseat as Haibara stepped on it; his wary eyes peeking in the rearview mirror now and then just so he wouldn't crash the car.

Watching in dismay as the only signs of you still alive was your little shifts of discomfort paired with frail mumbling, calling out for your loves, as fear worked its way to the front of your mind.

Hurriedly calling Shoko immediately after to meet them at the foothills of Mount Mushiro where the screeching halts of the car's tires skidded to an almost collision at the first torii gate.

The backseat was tainted red as Nanami tossed his stained business jacket aside then undid the buttons of your uniform jacket then tugged up your undershirt enough to show your biggest wound, allowing Shoko to lean over and work.

“What a way to spend my night." She huffed, concentrating as pure white light emanated off her hands and over your wound.

"She's lost a lot of blood already on top of fractured broken bones. And hallucinogenic, auditory ailments are still in effect even when curse has been exorcized." Nanami added, brooding from the added severity of the situation.

"What the hell, L/n?” Shoko heaved heavily, shedding sweat. "That curse's toxins are still in her system. It's making it difficult to fully heal her.” She was able to seal up your side wound though. “That will have to do for now. We need to move her."

"I'll join you all once I park the car." Haibara informed them, quickly leaning over from the driver's seat to kiss Nanami.

Nanami's tender gaze came Haibara's way before he got out of the car, carrying you, carefully treading up the steps, Shoko shutting the car door and hurrying behind him, with Haibara driving off and Nanami's bloody business jacket left discarded on the back seat.

Shoko spent the late night hours repairing your damaged self, collapsing over the metal surgical table from the overtime stress, panting from her energy spent. Blood pumped into a vein on your arm via the cannula connected to the drip. And your shallow breathing toppled with a cold sweat only made her push herself further as she squeezed your hand to keep you as grounded as possible and you continued murmuring the guys names in raspy, pleading whispers.

A harried Nanami patted Shoko's forehead with a clean spare rag lying on a counter while Haibara gave her a water bottle to hydrate.

Coming in and out of consciousness, tugged between horrish illusions and bleak reality, your once weakened pulse grew stronger as Shoko's RCT filled you, pushing the toxins out of your system.

So when you finally awoke, faded scars and bruises dotted your skin, front and back, leaving you groaning weakly as you clutched your pounding head. You felt like a truck had run you over.

"About time you woke up. Those fear toxins should be leaving your system now. But it did make healing you quite taxing for me. We can continue your checkup in the afternoon when we've both rested. But I could really use a drink right now.” Shoko apathetically griped as she carefully pulled the IV out of your arm just to place a cotton ball sticking to a bandage over the small leaking prick.

“Sorry about that, Shoko.” Feeling her gloved hand holding your still sore one, you barely squeezed back. "I failed to exorcize that special grade … I'm sorry I made you all overwork because of my screw-up." Your guilt stricken face struck their hearts.

"Nitta-san made sure the bodies were collected … what was left of them. Just count yourself fortunate that the curse was just dragging it out when I arrived. Never underestimate them." Nanami chastised you at the end, his goggles currently off, sternness laced in his eyes.

"Please … don't tell the guys. It's bad enough I couldn't exorcize it by myself. If they find out, they'll never let me live this down. Satoru especially." You weakly pleaded, struggling to sit up but able to get up on your bum as Haibara pulled you up.

"They'll find out sooner or later. And there'll be hell to pay if you choose to omit it from them. I will not partake in that sort of nonsense." Nanami griped, dreading the world flipped on its axis once your husbands found out.

"They'll never want to leave my side after this! They're already dealing with workloads of missions as is! Adding this to their pillars of stressful shit … I just need to be right as rain ASAP."

"No such thing as stress free in our line of work." Shoko bluntly stated.

"Gojo-san and Geto-san would be heartbroken if you kept this from them." Haibara frowned, personally wounded.

"They'd be even more wrecked that this happened and they weren't there to stop it …" Anxious guilt raked your bones.

A hand plopped into your hair, brushing it gingerly. “Your foolish pride as a sorcerer better be worth it if you're prepared for what will come of this endeavor." Nanami's foreboding didn't stop you from embracing him around his waist, pressing your face in his stomach, humming as Haibara gently hugged you from behind, and Shoko smiled nonetheless at the cute scene, especially at Nanami's sternness lessening and patting your head some more.

Still too out of it to walk on your own, you were pushed out in a wheelchair by Haibara, straight back to the dorms, stating he would stay in the room beside yours in case you needed any aid for the night, needing to head out in the morning alongside Nanami.

Carrying your ruined uniform clothes in the recyclable bag Shoko kept them in, you set them aside as you limped about to change into familiar comfier PJs you kept on hand in your old dorm room closet whenever you had to crash at the school grounds.

Pulling your phone out of the zip lock bag it was kept in thanks to Shoko too, you had seen it was still on.

They had been messaging you all night. Notifications of your group chat popping up on your lock screen.

But you just … felt too ashamed and embarrassed to reply back.

So you turned it off.

Without them smushing you between them tonight, there was no comforting warmth keeping you safe and sound.

And the aftermath of those horrific illusions and their copycats speaking during and post battle still lingered in your memory. Tittering between life and death, you were trapped within your worst nightmare yet.

Their disapproving glares.

Their cold voices.

Turning their backs on you as they walked into the foggy embrace of bloodshed against your voiceless cries and your wavering hand fruitlessly reached out into nothingness.

So going back to sleep was the last thing you wanted.

But even so, being in your old single dorm bed, your quiet sobs swarmed the room, your pent up agony painting your pillow in tears, stewing internally over wanting to suffer your follies alone versus wishing more than anything to have Toru and Sugu embracing you to chase all those bad dreams and fears away like they have always done.

Your phone stayed isolated on the small wooden bedside table, plugged in and charging. In silence.

Meanwhile, in a hotel, nestled in the Saitama prefecture that lies above Tokyo…

"Well, the twins are sleeping. Their mission definitely exhausted them both." Suguru softly informed, returning to his partner's side after checking on the girls in the room across from theirs.

A pouty Satoru groaned miserably, splayed out like a moody pancake across the bed, puppy eyes trained on his phone. "Suguru~! She's not answering me~!”

Now splayed out beside him on their shared hotel bed, Suguru ruffled Satoru's poofy hair. "Perhaps she's sleeping."

"She always answers me though! She didn't even send me a cute kitty gif~! The injustice!" Satoru cried, shoving his phone screen right in his best friend's face.

Suguru pushed Satoru's phone aside, pulled out his own from his sweatpants and sent a heart your way. And yet, it was not even read on your end. His forehead creased with worry. "No response for me either … I do hope nothing bad has happened.”

Satoru slung an arm around Suguru's neck, pulling himself snug against him, frowning vividly. "I miss her."

Suguru plopped his cheek atop Satoru's noggin. "So do I. The sooner we finish here with our own cases, the sooner we can have her in our arms again. Until then," Suguru brushed aside Satoru's snowy bangs to smooch his velvety forehead, tenderly grinning. "We'll just have to keep each other company~"

Now that piqued Satoru's intrigue, cheekily giggling as he rolled them over so the raven head could straddle him. “Nothing wrong with that~”

Suguru quickly turned the side table lamp off before engaging in a long, sensual make out with his smirking mate, whisking the night away.

Your new strategy going forward?

Keep your phone off.

Give off the illusion of still being out in the field, doing assignments far off in the distance.

Stay locked up in your old room except for Shoko's treatments and bathroom breaks.

Until you were all patched up; no visually alarming marks blemishing your skin, you wouldn't let any aside from those that already knew find out.

Not your students.

NOT your men.

By the time you had awoken, Haibara had already left as informed. His sticky note he left on your bedside table with morning greetings and hopes to see you soon followed by a scribbled smiley face did turn your frown upside down.

But it meant you were the only one left in the dorm as your throbbing self painstakingly grabbed some long sleeved apparel outta the closet and changed before putting on some slippers. It was fall now, slowly transitioning to winter, so it was the perfect cover up to be snugly dressed.

You had just gotten outside when you noticed the trio heading to the torii gate exit.

Yuji sniffing the air was what alerted you; skidding to a halt as he was literally across from you on the other side of the long stone pathway, turning to eye you with an unpleasant awkwardness. Running over, his nose dove in closer to get a deep long whiff of you to your jitteriness.

He was your best student in terms of enhancing his senses to their peak with cursed energy. And one you cherished like your own pride and joy. Your pure son.

“L/n-sensei … you're injured. And you look restless. Did something happen?” His eyes became glassy saucers.

Your game plan was on the rocks now. Super human senses at work!

“Hey! The sooner we finish our mission from that blindfolded madman, the sooner I can get to shopping! So move it! No offense, sensei!” Nobara snapped out loud, waiting by the gate, curious what was occurring but impatient to wrap things up for her own reasons.

“Cone on Itadori! We're burning daylight!” Megumi coaxed.

“Alright alright, I'm coming!” Yuji's voice then softened for just you two to hear. “Sensei, whatever’s going on, just … take it easy, okay?”

Your heart swelled at his considerate caring nature like the precious boy he is, smiling thankfully. “I will. Thanks.”

“Welcome back.” That genuine smile of relief and joy of Yuji's almost made you tear up; your swelling up heart touched by his words, doing your best to smile through the soreness as you waved at the boy, saluting back to you, joining his friends, and heading off.

You started uncomfortably limping on your way the moment you students were out of eyesight. Shoko met you halfway, presenting a new wheelchair for you to make traversing more easier. “Sorry but Nanami-kun wanted me to remind you to work on your report about last night. We can head to the faculty office first. Besides, you look ready to topple over.”

You internally groaned at the stingy procedures, expected to recount your near death experience down to the last detail; literally occurring just last night, sending a grateful look her way. “What would I do without you, Shoko?”

“Let's just say I'm better off with you in my life … and I know I'm not the only one.” Apathy gave way to relieving passion in her gaze that you looked away to brush your wet eyes. And you both left it at that as she wheeled you the rest of the way.

Flash forward to some time later …

“I can't believe you going gung ho back there cost me my chance to hit up that sale at my new favorite boutique, you boneheaded idiot!” Nobara bit out.

“Okay okay, I get it! Go easy on my shoulder, Kugisaki!” Yuji yelped in pain at how much she was fussing as she and Megumi helped him walk since he took the brunt of the hits in their latest mission.

“Always ready to put yourself on the line for us … we can handle ourselves, you know, doofus.” Megumi was less harsh, making sure not to hit his shin against Yuji's stabbed one; wrapped in the torn sleeve of Yuji's uniform to stop the bleeding.

Yuji noticed the tender gaze his spiky haired friend gave him, smiling in recognition, chuckling sheepishly. “Protective instincts, I guess.”

“Serves you right, idiot.” Though Nobara and Megumi spoke such mocking words, they were softly spoken, still irked but also grateful they're all still standing.

The moment the trio splurged through the morgue door, spotting your bare back littered with bumps and wide slash marks had them faltering as their short beloved teacher and practically mother figure was in this state.

“WHAT THE HELL?!”

Their unified exclaims startled Shoko enough to press too hard on a red welt on your forearm, causing your excruciating shout.

You slapped your palms over your mouth, mortified at legit blowing your cover out loud.

Due to the fact that Shoko at the moment got a sudden phone call while examining you.

From THEM.

“Shoko, what was that?” Suguru demanded.

“Sounds like a wounded animal!” Satoru exclaimed.

“Takes one to know one. I have work to get back to. Bye bye~” Shoko's false perky jab reverts back to her usual demeanor after hanging up on them. “I would say stay hidden until everything settles down but I'd be lying. I know 25 mins away means those two lunatics will floor it by the end of the day. I wish you the best of luck, my dear.” Her sympathetic pat on your shoulder did not calm down those anxious belly butterflies.

“I knew you were hurt but … OKASAN WHO DID THIS TO YOU!?” Yuji's own wounds were forgotten as he scrambled over to you, blubbering out waterfalls, throwing off everyone by legit calling you mom out loud but too overwhelmed to notice right away.

You pulled your shirt back down, flushed in shame. “Special grade got the upper hand on me. Nanami-san saved me. Sorry to have you three see me like this. So please … keep this between us? Please?” You literally prayed for it.

“For my favorite sensei, my lips are sealed.” Nobara assured.

“Geto-sensei may be less hysterical … Gojo-sensei not so much … but those two together … oh God.” Megumi paled up at the reality.

“The calm …” Nobara ominously started.

“Before the shit storm.” Megumi drearily ended.

“Uh, while I'm not a big fan of keeping things from Gojo-sensei, if it's what you want, then I'll do it.” Yuji, skeptical but willing to make you happy, blushed pink as you embraced him loosely due to you still not being at full strength yet.

“Thank you.” You weeped.

Megumi, Nobara and even Shoko joined in on that hug.

Meanwhile, back in Saitama, again, nestled outdoors in front of a patisserie.

“That was suss as hell.” Gojo lowly rumbled, sitting under the umbrella covered table on one end, stuffing his last – now smooshed – Maneki Usagi Manju from his hands straight to his mouth.

“We know that shout all too well …” Geto's eyes teemed with cynicism, sitting across from him, sipping Sayama tea in one hand, his phone in the other.

Their mentality synced, restlessness in their bones, their six senses flaring up with red alerts.

Something did happen to you.

Something big.

Something bad.

With their cases long since finished; not surprising, their leisure time was spent sightseeing, tasting the treats the places they visited had to offer. Meaning more sweets for Gojo to savor. However, his gut along with Geto's twisted at the thought of you in trouble.

“Girls, gather your things. We're heading back now.” Geto firmly spoke while speed dialing Ijichi-san to come pick them up.

The twins, sitting at the table beside theirs, stopped taking selfies of themselves with their cutely decorated drinks at his announcement. “Yes, Papa~!”

Throughout the ride back to the school; Ijichi-san fidgeting and sweating bullets at his seniors stewing in silence, panicked thoughts raced through the duo's minds.

The one constant that kept coming up?

Whatever was going on with you …

They were getting to the bottom of it.

The sky changed from blue and calm to orange and warm.

Getting healed by Shoko before being ushered out to continue healing you, the trio crashed in the common room slash longue when the sight of Nanako and Mimiko waving and smiling as they entered with bags of gifts and snacks to share and give had the trio beaming at the twins safe return.

However, the sight of their teachers coming round the corner into view, radiating such potent agitated auras, sent the trio's hearts racing in dread.

It spelled the first sign of doom.

Gojo zipped up right to them, a wide ass smile on his face, waving with bags of souvenirs on the other arm, cheerfully greeting them all.

“Oh my precious students~! Your esteemed adoring sensei has returned! And I come bearing gifts for you all! As thanks for a job well done! But on the condition that you answer me truthfully! Do you happen to know what our dear Y/n has been up to as of late~?”

“Nope.” Megumi kept a straight face.

“Nada.” Nobara is the same.

“We know nothing.” Yuji as well.

Their calm blunt responses had Geto narrow his eyes at their stoic behavior, the twins shuffling to him in nervousness at the tense situation, and Gojo's fake smile fell, becoming so straight faced. “Hmm … okay then. Hold these, please and thanks.”

Dropping their bagged gifts into their arms, Gojo warping away was the second sign.

Appearing again before them, with a squirming distressed you in his arms, was the final nail in the coffin.

Gojo hastily set you down, firmly grabbed your sweater sleeve covered hand, and tugged that sleeve up to your shoulder. Even with the blindfold on, you could picture his Six Eyes shrinking to dots at the colorful splotches and littering your once unblemished skin.

“What the hell?” Gojo's shaky raw voice had you gulping.

“How did … when did … Y/n explain yourself!” Geto's perturbed face turned to aggravation.

Keeping your head ducked, you could picture their eyes bearing those same cold, disappointing glazes those curse's nightmares forced you to bear. Your state of panic got triggered!

You wince in pain, trying in vain to tug your hand free of Gojo's iron hold. Warping into the morgue, literally sweeping you off your feet, greeting Shoko, then warping out of the morgue all meant your recovery got cut short.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going!?" Gojo jested, pulling your back against his front, caging you in his hold, knowing to restrain himself on the pressure, gritting his canines at seeing those same colorful marks on the back of your neck. “You better start talking.”

"You mustn't strain yourself any more, either! You can barely walk as is!" Geto irritatedly griped, wrapping his arms around your other one, leaving you wobbling, therefore needing either of them as counterbalance.

"I'll be fine! I'll get better! I'm innocent!" You babbled desperately, wiggling like a worm, to your utter dismay and their annoyance.

Geto narrowed his eyes, downtrodden. "Have you no shame, Y/n? And you three knew about this, didn't you?!” His eyes flared up with scorn as his face whipped to the trio, having all three flinch back at the irritated sight.

“And after all the trouble I went through to get you all gifts!” Gojo dramatically complained.

“Unnecessary to be honest.” Megumi dryly rebuttal.

“My tastes far exceed yours, anyway.” Nobara throwing shade.

“I'll take them all, thank you very much! I felt like telling you Gojo-sensei, I swear! But L/n-sensei was in pain and I just wanted to help her!” Yuji blabbed.

“Softie.” Mimiko and Nanako teased smugly.

“Yuji~!” Gojo weeped.

“I told them to keep quiet. Shoko and Haibara too. Nanami wanted no part in it. It was all my fault!”

Your pleas only riled them up more. Their eyes returned to you, burning intensely, straight into your soul as they cushioned you between their built bodies just like a mating press.

You gasped as Geto's hand slid under your top, his calloused touch sending anxious tingles through you, feeling that tender scar left on your side, lips trembling and eyes wavering. “Honestly believing you could pull the wool over our eyes, dearest? Ridiculous.” Geto belittled.

Gojo scoffed, suddenly frightening as he towered behind you, alarming everyone besides Geto as he pulled down his blindfold to stare down at you now with those glaring Six Eyes. "Screw that. This isn't panning out well for you, darling. Not at all.”

Your weak whines of protest made the teens cringe with pity. Your short self was literally trapped between giants. The atmosphere was so thick with tension that trying to cut it with a knife would mean getting obliterated. GoGe might as well be a bomb.

But to see tears swell up in your e/c eyes and trail down your cheeks, glistening from the guilt, embarrassment and pain, everyone in that room froze in paling realization.

You were the actual bomb.

And you just got set off.

"DON'T HATE ME!"

Your heartbroken scream had the strongest duo become the weakest. Their grips laxing, their tunnel vision eroding, their resolve dusting, as you pulled away freely, tugging your sleeve back down to cover the damage, sat down on the couch to your buckling knees relief, and cried in your tarnished hands, becoming a mess for them all to see.

"L/n-sensei no!!! Please don't cry!!!" Yuji went into a panicked frenzy, squatting down before you, frazzled as you bowed your head against his jacketed shoulder, rubbing your shoulders in an attempt to soothe you, sweating bullets at the sight of his once mighty teachers now becoming statues at this turn of events. "None of us hate you! It's okay! Everything's gonna be okay! R–Right guys?!”

"You two are the scum of the Earth, you are! Harassing an injured emotional woman!" Nobara yelled abhorrently in their stunned paled faces, pulling out tissues from her small flowered package she kept in her belt pack along with her cursed tools to offer you. “Here sensei. Take these.”

"I won't blame her if she files for divorce." Megumi gripes under his breath, sitting down beside you, timidly rubbing your back in comforting circles. "L/n-sensei, you need to calm down and rest."

“Geto-sama, do something about this! Mama is a wreck now!” Nanako was willing to put her foot down at this insolence.

“This is depressing.” Mimiko patted your head from behind the couch.

Your desperate need to melt into a puddle and just die from utter disgrace was dashed when you felt Gojo approaching.

His serious blazing eyes spoke for themselves to let him handle you himself, but those kids hesitated letting this slide when the gentle shushing of their usually obnoxious teacher threw them for a loop. Sitting down in the free space on your other side, gently brushing your hair, he leaned in to your ear to confess —

"I'm sorry." You stiffened at his words as they rumbled against your ear. While you were partly miffed and scared due to his attitude, his gentleness returning made you drawn to him all over again, recollecting how much you did miss him — miss them both actually cause OF COURSE YOU DO!!!

Weaving his hand through your hair, he carefully pulled your head to rest against his chest instead, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, a shaky vulnerability leaking into his voice. “I'm so sorry.” You dare set down your hands to see his eyes as glittery blue glass. "I shouldn't have snapped like that. I hate seeing you cry like this.” His wandering hand had his fingertips weave through yours to squeeze your hand benignly. “Especially when you're all banged up. I just …”

“I'm deeply sorry as well.” The moment Suguru sat down in Megumi's spot, the kids had already stood back and watched with anticipation as his arms gently hugged your waist from behind, kissing your blotchy cheek, regret radiating on his face. “We both shouldn't have approached you so harshly. We were out of line. We just …”

They were both at a loss for words.

Taking a chance, a risk, a leap of faith, you decide to tell them the truth, rather preferring for them to hear it from you than read it from a document.

“The other night … a special grade curse popped up just when I finished my case … I wanted to prove myself … I thought I could take it on … but Nanami saved me in the end. I was … ashamed … anxious … afraid. It showed me … illusions … nightmares … of you both suffering and abandoning me … and I panicked when you both got upset earlier … I just – !”

“You haven't properly rested at all.” Geto delicately gripped your chin and turned your face to see the dark circles under your now red eyes. “Beloved, you of all people should know that keeping your troubles bottled up inside does no one any good! Least of all hiding your pain from us when we can help!”

“You can't always be there for me … I can't keep weighing you down … but I can't hold my own when it really counts … I'm never gonna be at your level … even as a Grade 1 … by myself … I'm not good enough.” Your eyes squeezed shut, deep seated in this emotional turmoil.

“Yes you are!” The sharp conviction Satoru had made your eyes snap back open. It got your attention attentively. “We still think of them … Kuroi … Amanai … what we could have done differently or better … had we not failed them. If anything happened to you … and if we weren't there to stop it … and it already has … then what the hell’s the point in being the strongest when we can't protect those that matter to us the most?!” You shook as his tears hit your nose, rubbing his wet nose against yours with those beautiful blue eyes now red with compassion looking into yours, for even his watery smile is breathtaking. “You've never been weak. Not to any of us. You kept us together through all the shit thrown our way since that day. I don't need Six Eyes to tell me this truth … that you are the most beautiful, genuine, strongest soul I know you are inside and out.”

“You're the very reason I gathered the courage to reach out to everyone when my resolve wavered … when I lost my way … it's difficult to wear a heartfelt smile in this world …” Sugu's voice slipped for a moment, his almond eyes twinkling as his wet cheek nuzzled yours, pressing a timid kiss to the corner of your lips, another breathtaking smile amiss the waterfalls. “But you brought back my smile. You helped me find a better way … I'm no longer alone. So you don't get to be either. Not anymore.”

Unified, their cracked voices caved.

“We can't lose you too.”

You breathed in their natural scents, submerged in their warmth, coveted in their supportive treasuring embrace, their crying faces resting against either side of your neck, just to be as close to you as possible without hurting you more so than that curse and themselves already have.

In this moment of vulnerability, the strongest duo put down their guards just to show you how immensely you've always mattered to them. Your pain, your sadness, your doubts … they're theirs too.

Your hand that was still being held by Satoru weaved down to rub against Suguru's knuckles, drawing him in to lay his hand atop both yours. “I feel the same way.”

“But damn Y/n, you scared us shitless." Gojo sighed exasperated, now chewing and suckling hungrily on your red cheek just to hear your raspy squeals for their amusement.

"Immensely." Geto hummed conspiratory like, chewing and tugging on your other cheek for good measure, your squeaking making them smirk.

“I'm sorry!” You garbled out, mewling.

Suguru popped off your cheek, pecking it several times apologetically. “We're sorry too. We're just relieved that you're alive.”

Satoru popped off your cheek as well, smooching the welt left in his wake. “Still injured though, but I'll finish healing you myself.”

Catharsis finally came as your waterworks were one of relief. “I missed you both so much~!!!”

"Yosh, yosh~” Satoru doting on you, petting your head like the cutie you will always be in their eyes. “We missed our cutie patootie too~” Now that got you to smile at last, shedding tears of joy, as your chortled laughs made them smile as well.

The kids left you three a while ago when the mushiness kicked in. The twins giggled as Megumi summoned his wolf Shinigami for them to ride on so they could stop pestering him, right before he buried his bashfully blushing face in the crook of Yuji's neck who carried him and Nobara with ease from her own pestering, heading off to do whatever.

Now drained from the mental and emotional trip you went through, all you wanted now was sleep.

And to be honest?

So did the guys.

Your old dorm bed would make do just this once. For old times sake. Warping you three there was easier on an already wiped Gojo, anyway.

Their uniforms, boots, and socks along with your slippers littered the floor.

The AC hummed in the background.

And the drawls of moonlight slipped through the curtains.

Tepid flustered gasps left your parted lips as Satoru sensually trailed his smooth sly hand across every inch of your backside under your top, healing you from that point as you relaxed.

You smothered your face in Satoru's snug black tee covered pecs as he ran his fingers through your hair, languidly brushing it to further soothe you, pecking your forehead. “It wasn't the same without you.”

Suguru carefully splayed on top of you from behind, warmth seeping through his snug white tee and into your cloth covered back, heatedly breathing down your flushed nape as his veiny giant hand caressed your bare tummy underneath your top as well as stroking your thighs with his other hand. “Having you to cuddle again, all snug in between us, truly feels like heaven.”

“No angel to sleep with … oh how did we cope without you~?" Satoru ranted quietly as he could for your sleepy sake.

Suguru gave him a sly smirk. “Satoru~”

Satoru chuckled, ruffling Suguru's loosely free hair, before resting that hand on Suguru's lower back. “Okay, it wasn't bad at all. Even so… can I please just keep us in this moment and never let each other go ever again?” Satoru gently begged.

“As long as I can get some shut eye. And new uniform garbs.” Your cheek nuzzled his chest, consenting in a yawn.

“Deal.” With Six Eyes now switched off, Satoru became heavy-eyed at the sight of his two favorite people in bed with him. Back together again.

“No more bad thoughts for us tonight.” Suguru languorously rumbled in your ear.

“Plus those nightmares will get a kick in the balls if they come back.” Satoru grumbled drowsily.

“If it's a curse, sure. Dreams, not so much.” You mumbled softly.

Satoru could feel your body start to reach the end of its recovery from his healing touch, trailing his hand from your back to cover your hand that rested on the front of his shirt where his heart lay.

Suguru's own hand traversed, resting atop Satoru's, all three splayed on his chest in the same exact spot.

You sagged as you felt the weight of all that battle damage lift right off you, for all the pain got replaced with fuzzy tingling warmth.

Shivering with delight, you felt those two curling in on you from both sides, their legs tangling with yours, as you all smushed in the middle, with Suguru's face against your shoulder and Satoru's in your hair.

“Toru … Sugu … I love you guys.”

Satoru breathed in your scent, smiling drowsily. “We love you too … so damn much.”

"Truly. We'd be lost forever if we never knew you.” Suguru mused languidly.

A tiny smile formed as you succumbed to your long awaited dreamland. “I … feel … the same.”

And the kiddies, poking their heads through the crack in the slide doorway, eyed you snug between those two in just their tees and boxers, your entangled limbed cocoon, the bed comforter halfway touching the floor, as gentle snores and breathing made up your guys personal symphony.

Taking some snapshots for potential blackmail material; basically on Nobara and Megumi's part, they left you three to rest.

Of course, knowing you three, you'll stay in bed all day tomorrow. Whether to sleep, talk, cuddle, make out, do the devil's tango — nah it's all of the above! Meaning no classes.

The weekend is free.

To unwind and reflect.

Your old room feels more homely now that they're there with you.

That night, you’re gifted with cathartic, stress relieving dreams where those two awaited you with smothering embraces and enriching laughter.

Through their tough, imposing, and fierce exteriors …

There lay the true blessings that are their empathy, passion and humanity.

Your chaotically lovestruck sorcerers.

And you, their heaven sent wife, will feel their love till the very end.

And even beyond.

For Infinity.

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justporo · 3 months

Text

Giving up the sun for Astarion. You were fully prepared to do that and you don't regret it. Not losing him is way more important. And so you go willingly into the night with him.

But you're still a creature of the day and denying the very nature of your being will bring you to your limits at some point. If you're honest with yourself: some days you miss the sunlight, some days you crave it desperately, feeling how the self-imposed loss weighs heavy on your mind.. It gives you if only a fraction of understanding what it must be like for Astarion. And of course you would still have the option to experience it.

But you're determined to share Astarion's burden. You feel like this is the one thing you can do for him as long as you don't have a cure.

But Astarion sees how the loss of sunlight impacts you. Like a flower slowly wilting away - in front of his eyes. And while he appreciates your effort it pains him to see you like this. You're probably the only person in the world where he wouldn't want to see the same pain inflicted that he had to suffer for more than 200 years now. Others can rot, but you're different. You don't deserve that.

And so he suggests that you find ways to get your fair share of sun. It takes some convincing but you agree - and you agree to somehow make the best out of it, together.

So in a big window alcove you close half of the thick curtains and you sit there comfortably, practically bathing in the sunlight. An almost desperate moan leaving your lips when the first rays hit you - as if you were coming up for air as someone drowning who'd barely made it. Astarion is sitting at your feet in the safety of the shadows, observing all of this. Every tiny detail burning into his mind painfully: filling him with guilt for feeling he's responsible for putting you through this, filling him with jealousy because you get what he cannot have, filling him with just a tinge of regret because if only...

You stretch your hand out to him to where he sits safely to hold his. He grabs your hand and smiles at you but you see it doesn't reach his eyes.

And he hurts because he's so close and yet so far from the thing he craves so much. But at least he can enjoy his favourite person in this world blooming again in some bright rays of sunshine, right? He can live a bit through you, right?

The way you look with the golden light illuminating your beautiful smiling face rectifies some of the loss he's feeling. But it's merely a drop in the ocean.

But it's bittersweet for him - always showing him what he can never have again. As ethereal and breathtaking as you look basking in the daylight and as much as his love for you knows no bounds, ever growing... His chest will always clench like a hand grasping and squeezing his undead heart. And a tiny voice will always tell him that there would have been a way, if only...

It's like the blade piercing his heart has been removed, the wound able to close, slowly. But shreds, sharp ones, still remain - and they will forever sting: re-opening what had delicately formed again out of the void left behind when rattled too much. Never fully allowing the gashes to heal completely.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #astarion x tav #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate #astarion x mc #astarion x oc #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion angst #bg3 #poro headcanons #drabble

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ameliathornromance · 2 months

Text

“What happened to you?!”

Your Orc Boyfriend sat by the tribe healer. Gashes that started at his forehead and go across his face. Blood dripped down and onto his chest, which was bruised and transitioning into a purple hue in certain areas.

You went to rush over, to cup his face, examine him from head to toe, but the healer held a hand out to you. “I know it looks serious,” he said, “but they’re surface level.”

As you opened your mouth to protest, your Orc Boyfriend grunted, “I’ll be fine, love.” He gave you a pained smile. Even as his face oozed with blood, he still tried to reassure you. “I’ll come see you in a minute.”

He loved this about you. Everything was so different now that you were around. Before you and your Orc got together, when Orcs returned injured, they were told to endure it from their others. No sympathy given. Healers would provide Orcs with a pack of ice in a leather sack and send them on their way.

It started when one day, your Orc came back to camp with a bloody nose. You had instantly run over, "Oh my God, are you okay?!" Everyone had stared, startled by your reaction. But when you started tending to your partner's wounds, the camp seemed to follow your lead.

Orcs were now afforded more luxuries than before, being fed soup if they were immobilised temporarily or being washed by someone they were close to when they couldn't reach certain areas.

But your Orc Boyfriend, always did his best to come back intact. Despite the sweetness of your concern, he couldn't bear witnessing your distress over his injuries.

This time, he was too careless.

At that sight of your reluctant scowl, your Orc Boyfriend’s heart ached. He wished he had been more careful.

But you turned away and went back to your shared tent.

He came in later, his face lined with stitches and his chest wrapped up with cloth. Your Orc groaned as he laid in bed beside you, scrunching his face up in pain.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you looked him over. “What happened?” Your voice was muted, small.

“Highway men.” He said.

They had jumped him while he was trying to find his hunting party. Your Orc had got separated when he’d tried to go after a stag. He emerged out onto a popular path taken by humans, looking around for his prey.

But a second was all it took for the humans to attack him.

The men were more vicious that most humans he’d fought, with weapons imbued with some kind of magical properties. One human delivered such a powerful blow to his chest that he thought his ribs had broken.

Your Orc got out by the skin of his tusks, and that was only thanks to another Orc finding him and helping him beat the snot out of the Highwaymen.

You bit your lip at that and cast a look down at his chest. It had turned black now.

“It’ll heal.” He assured you. “It’ll take more than a few humans to kill me. Don’t worry.” Your Orc shifted and pulled something out from his belt pocket. “Here, for you.”

You gasped. Clutched between your Orc’s meaty green fingers was a small, golden band. A red ruby sat on top of the gold, catching in the dim candlelight. “We took their plunders, this was among it… And I thought of you.”

At your hesitation, your Orc offered it, “I promise I’ll be more careful when I go out in the next few weeks. See this as a pledge of that.”

Biting your lip, you sighed. Your eyes traced the stitches on his face. You wanted to run your fingers across them, hoping that your touch could heal them.

Taking the ring, you kissed the ruby. “You promise?” holding the ring to his lips.

Your Orc smiled and kissed it. “I swear on my life.”

#orc fiction #orc x reader #orc boyfriend #monster romance #monster x you #monster x human #monster x female #monster lover #orc romance #monster x reader #mdni

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writing-fanics · 3 months

Text

You promised

Lucifer Morningstar x F!Reader

[warning: major angst: blood: death]

Lucifer held her in his arms, as tears brimmed his eyes, he couldn’t breathe everything was spinning. He should’ve made sure she hadn’t followed him, of course she would she’d always been stubborn. That’s what he loved about her, she was so stubborn at times it irritated him.

But he knew she meant well and wanted, to make sure he was safe that the others were safe. But even though, he can handle himself she still didn’t take no for an answer.

He carefully held her in his arms, watching as her chest rose and fell slowly. A deep gash across her stomach, golden ichor seeping through her clothes. “S-Sorry,” stammered [Y/n], as she curled up into his chest.

He cradled her in his arms; shaking his head in response. “N-no, you did so good darling.” He whispered, kissing her forehead causing her to smile weakly. Her face covered in cuts and bruises, “No, for not listening.” She said weakly, looking up at him. He looked at her in shock, “N-Now, I’m going to leave you.” She said, and he pressed his forehead against hers.

“Don’t talk like that you’re going to be perfectly fine,” He stammered, nervously. His eyes drifting between her wound and her eyes. “Okay, and when you’re all healed up. We’ll celebrate by going to Lu Lu World?” He said, his voice breaking and she smiled she hadn’t been to the park yet. Both of them being busy. A day in his park sounds fun.

“Try caramel apples,” he whispered, rocking her back and forth his fingers intertwined with hers. He whispered, sweet nothings into her ear, as he listed off things they could do when she’s all healed up.

She nuzzled her head into his chest, as she felt the need to close her eyes and rest for a bit. “Whoa, h-hey keep those beautiful eyes open for me.” He sniffled, she looked up at him and saw tears in his eyes. He frantically, looked down at her as his heart rapidly beats against his chest he couldn’t lost her not like this not now.

She reached up and wiped away his tears, with her thumb. Smiling weakly, he pressed his lips against the palm of her hand. “That sounds like so much fun,” she said,’rubbing his cheek with her thumb. Her breathing slowing and she stared at him for a moment, a smile growing across her cheeks. Her hand going limp and falling to her side. As her eyes closed.

“Y/n?”

“Darling?”

“B-Baby?” *voice cracks*

Charlie and the others found him, cradling her lifeless in his arms. His head nuzzled into her chest, mumbling. “You promised,” over and over again. Hoping, that she’ll open her eyes again and everything will be okay, that the child she was carrying in her stomach would be okay….

“You promised,” he whimpered. Choking back a sob as he cried into his chest.

#lucifer morningstar x reader #Lucifer Morningstar x you #Lucifer Morningstar x y/n #Lucifer Morningstar #Lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader

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dabisbratz · 1 year

Text

PENITENCE — leon s. kennedy x male reader

w.c: ~5.3k

warning: sub bottom reader, thigh fucking, spit, standing doggy style, dirty talk, leon’s weak pullout game x2, mixed praise/degradation, oral, choking, sexualizing las plagas, breeding mentions, sir kink, finger hooking, drool, infected leon is a lil mean, dumbification, accidental creampie

a/n: got a loooot of requests for a sequel to this!! so here it is! i hope you enjoy! ૮꒰ ´͈ ˙̫ `͈ Ꮚ꒱ა this fic had a mind of its own!! didn get to write leon as feral as i wanted to but… that’s okay!

You’ve never been shot before. Punched, sure, clean in the jaw in the midst of a training session. It caught you so off guard you nearly swallowed your teeth, and the blood gushing from your nose and coating the pearls tasted like rusty gunmetal. But it really didn’t hurt that bad, you felt more congested than anything.

You've never been shot before. Stabbed, sure, right through the hand until thick blood poured straight out your palm like nature’s greatest waterfall. It wasn’t as sharp as you’d think, not some sort of pinch akin to getting a piercing. No, it was panic first, your eyes trailed down to meet the handle of a hunting knife that cut clean through your palm. Then came the realization, Scorching heat beaming through your hand until it began to tremble. But hand wounds heal fast, you barely remember it.

You’ve never been shot before. Grazed, sure, blasted with the shells of a silver shotgun bullet so hard it seared your skin and left an open-mouthed gash. Your bullet ricocheted off an unknown surface, all because you’d taken it upon yourself to practice your aim alone. But it was just a graze, and so long ago the scar had begun to fade.

So the first time it happens, you’re taken for a loop.

Your legs burn, aching as you trudge beside Leon in his hasty motion up a particularly slippery hill. It’s like you’ve been walking in circles, deeper and deeper into the village but somehow passing the same bloodstained tree. For a man who was over a hundred fifty pounds of sheer force and willpower, he sure was light on his toes. Had there not been moisture from previous nights’ rain still lingering in the air you're sure it’d be easier— no mud to slip on, no pockets of rainwater that looked much more shallow than they actually were— but it lingers.

And it’s not just that, there’s an everlasting tremor in your thighs as you walk, you can barely take a few steps without your movements stuttering. You can’t excuse it as a pulled muscle, not when Leon’s been forcing you to sit back and observe. Though it’s partially his fault, you deduce, because you can see the growing pride in his stride as he listens to your trip over your own feet. Almost like it was a mission, fuck the rookie until he cries and let him walk for himself.

Asshole.

You can’t stop talking, not when your brain is working overtime and you have so many questions. Though it’s not entirely clear if he’s listening, Leon’s body subconsciously teeters in your direction, almost like he’s trying to collect your body heat. He’s certainly done that, that and much more. He’s stolen the air from your lungs with a heavy kiss, he’s collected the sounds of your moans and sealed them in a jar.

You spare him a heavy glance, watching the muscles in his back ripple as he marches through the thickening mud. You wish you’d gotten the chance to see him without it, to card your fingers through the strong fabric as he pulls his shirt over his head and balls it up in his veiny fists. To watch his hair fall, golden bundles framing his face and falling back into place like magic, nearly swept over his eye and so unabashedly Leon.

“Would you stop staring at me?” There’s a playful edge to his voice, teetering around the edges as he blows a bullet straight through the frail neck of an infected resident. You’re too focused on the nape of his neck to watch it explode, an amalgamation of blood and arteries and fat splattering onto the ground and surrounding houses. “I mean, if you want a picture all you have to do is ask.”

You can tell he’s somehow watching you through the corner of his gunmetal gray eyes, with your blatant staring, but he doesn’t seem to have much on the tip of his tongue besides a few smartmouthed remarks. Maybe he has eyes behind his full head of hair.

“Ha-ha, very funny.” You purse your lips, tightening your grip around the flashlight paving the way forward.

Truthfully, you’d underestimated just how much cardio and legwork it took to navigate this village— sure, the implication of missing hikers in the area meant there’d be a trail to hike, but in your head it was much more akin to training. Controlled, steep hills that didn’t continue on as far as the eye can see, an obstacle course that had an obtainable goal— it feels like you’re wandering aimlessly.

But Leon’s with you, so surely that can’t be right.

You wonder how much preparation and time he took into this, how many nights of sparring turned into considering your presence under the same blanket of stars, how often he made things with you in mind. Even if it’s just for a mission.

Quite frankly, it was all the time. Thinking of you put an indescribable amount of weight on his chest, it capsized his shoulders, so feathery light, and yet somehow still managed to put strain on his posture. He was always so laid back, cracking jokes and likable by definition. Yet there he stood, second guessing his abilities in protecting you, having you, wooing you. Ashley is his priority. . . but you’re his partner.

And he wants more.

“Leon?” Apprehension builds in your voice, Leon’s steady stride suddenly broken as he looks down at his hands. You bump right into him, colliding face-first into his body. His back is just as sturdy as it looks, barely jolting as you peek around to look at his handsome face.

His veins are turning black, coiling up his wrists from his hands, inky black streaks that branch off up his forearm and disappear under his shirt. Even the thicker veins decorating his bicep— they’ve become an ugly charcoal that looks entirely too unnatural. Painful. As if leeches have burrowed themselves under his skin, the intrusion crawls further into his bloodstream as small, deep grunts escape from his lips.

You still have yet to ask what happened during your separation— after you ran. But, in a way, you’ve got your answer.

“You with me, Lee?” You search his face for something, anything, under the furrowed brows and clenched teeth. His jaw sets, characteristically rigid, which is a generous start. Somewhere beneath the icy blue of his eyes you see recognition, like he’s not exactly looking at you, but he knows you’re there. Lucid enough. Good.

But without Leon leaving a path of bodies for you to walk over, you have to take over and pave the way.

“I’m gonna take your gun, okay?” It’s rhetorical, whether he likes it or not, because he took your gun away before you truly had the chance to use it— and it’s not entirely like he’s in the position to be making demands. You wish you could laugh about it, let a boyish smile wiggle its way across your face, but without Leon there to laugh with you… there’s no point.

And, like most instances, you find yourself jumping into action before you can think, dragging every pound of steel Leon has to offer through the village until you can find somewhere safe. It happens all too fast. One moment, you’re holding onto the pistol while wrapping an arm around Leon’s waist, blowing holes through the infected like you were made for it, watching their bodies topple to the ground in a lifeless display. Then. . .

“Fuck, oh fuck, fuckfuckfuck,” Your heart plummets into your stomach, you can’t help but think you’ve swallowed a bomb. Your blood is cold on your slick skin, flowing down your bicep like sort of fucked up waterfall. It’s thick and sticky, a rich shade of red that only seems to get darker and darker as it pours from your arm. You can’t help but call for your partner, tightening your grip on his waist. “Leon…”

Getting grazed is not the same.

There’s a similar burn, but this time it’s from the outside-in and back out again. Like you’ve been stung by a swarm bees, all at the same time, and in the same exact spot.

It happened so fast, threw you for a loop, the metal of an axe bounced your bullet right back at you, and landed right through your arm.

Your eyes widen, jittery as Leon parts his legs, planting his boots into the mud in a futile attempt at staying upright. Selfless as ever, the blond just can’t seem to sit still when he knows someone he cares about is in danger.

His dusty pink lips are curled into a snarl, one of his veiny hands clasped over your own; fisting at the bunched up fabric by his waist. His eyes, previously clenched shut, are no longer a brilliant shade of blue— they’ve turned yellow, bright like a citrusy candy. His face, still as handsome as before, is adorned with streaky, black veins that cluster near his left cheekbone and disappear into his cheeks. Instinctively, you raise your arm to swipe away his hair in a half-assed attempt at consolation, but the movement burns before you can put away your pistol.

Leon’s eyes flicker to your bicep, watching the red ooze from the inflamed bullet-shaped hole. His gaze darkens, something you can’t quite grasp flashing in his eyes as he takes the gun from your hand and pushes you behind him.

“Leon—”

“Move! Now!” His voice is much deeper than before— still buttery smooth, just dropping in octaves as he yells into the night air. You don’t have to be told twice, stumbling in the mud as he pushes you in the general direction of an abandoned house. In a perfect world you’d use your knife to help, but something tells you sticking around would just worsen the situation for everyone.

So you rush into the house, bursting through the creaky door as gunshots ring behind you. Almost as loud as the static in your ears, buzzing as you search for a closed off room.

The house is empty, fairly sized— equipped with a staircase that leads upstairs. Bedrooms, you presume, since there are only bathrooms and living spaces on the first floor. The floorboards whine and groan under your weight, tracking mud as you keep your hand clasped over your bicep. It probably won’t make much of a difference now, but the bleeding has subsided into thick clots, which momentarily lightens your mood.

You don’t have much on you, it’s best to travel light when you have places to be— heavy backpacks can weigh you down. But you do have a few bandages and travel-sized disinfectant wipes. You can only help Leon effectively if you help yourself first— you’re dead weight if you go back out there dipped in blood— so you get to work.

It’s hasty, messy, and unorganized, but you get it done. Your bicep is wrapped snug, with enough pressure to support your arm without cutting off any circulation. It’s the best you can do for now, with the panic and anxiety blooming in your throat. It burns like bile, attacking your senses until all you can think of is Leon. The look on his face, the sounds of his pained grunts, the veins darkening beneath his skin.

As if he’s heard you, your silent prayers for his presence in its entirety, he crashes through the door. It squeals on its hinges, slamming shut behind him as his heavy boots collide with the wooden floorboards. You can’t quite make out anything else, just the sound of his shoes as he walks through the hall, and into the bathroom.

Maybe it’s just a hunch, an inference, but there’s irritation floating between his steps. You can feel it radiating off him despite not exactly being near him. The sound of poorly running water emits from the small room, muffled through the door, along with a steadier stream of swears.

“Leon?” You ask, pushing yourself off the wooden diningroom chair with the support of your unwounded arm. Would it be best to give him some space? But that’s not really an option, not with what you witnessed. Not with that intrusion trying to take over his body. “I’m coming in.”

Nearly tripping over the red rug decorating the hallway between the bathroom and living spaces, you clumsily open the bathroom door. Just Leon— sitting on the wide ledge of the bathroom’s squat toilet, his gun discarded on the opposing mantel. You can’t see his face, not with his hair casting silky shadows along the expanse of it, but you can picture his tight lipped expression just fine.

The thought makes heat burst through your skin. Nowhere near as painful as a gunshot wound. This time it’s comforting and sweet, it makes your legs feel like jelly and your heart like jam.

“Ocupado,” He sounds rather proud of himself for that one, readjusting his spot on the ledge. The blond lifts his gaze, shades of blue overcasting the previous yellow hues that once clouded his vision. “How do you feel..Your arm..?”

You should be asking him that.

“I’m good,” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, the strain of your shoulders dissipating into the air the longer you look at him. “You know me. Are you…okay?”

Perhaps ‘okay’ isn’t the word for it. You want to ask if he feels weird, if the deepening of his veins bothers him. What it felt like when he was rendered unconscious. When you felt it— tied to that damned cross— it wasn’t nearly as bad as Leon. In fact, it didn't hurt you at all. You didn’t even notice until the entirety of your arms were decorated in pure, black branches.

“Yeah,” He blinks, not once removing his gaze from the curl of your lips. Still so shiny and wet, soft as they curl with every vowel and syllable that leaves them. He swallows hard, audible as his adam’s apple bobs in his throat. Your eyes trace the small mole just below it, the way his throat bulges. “I’m okay. For the most part.”

He doesn’t seem entirely there, lifting himself up wordlessly until he’s crashing into you, his large, gloved hand finding a place around your neck as he pulls you into a kiss.

The bathroom isn’t an ideal place to do it, though you suppose you two don’t have a clean track record of kissing in the best places. He swallows the air from your lungs, deep and gentle as his lips melt into yours. He tastes just like he did a few hours, just slightly saltier. He tastes like you, you’re still heavy on his tongue and it seems he’s hooked on your flavor.

His tongue is silky, messy in your mouth as you try your hardest to absorb his heat. His mouth is so warm, so wet, and you can’t help but whimper when he pulls away. You want to chase it, that heat, so you can’t help yourself when you follow after his lips.

Oh.

Leon’s eyes— they’re red, and the impossibly dark streaks under his skin are somehow darker.

“Your—”

“I wanna fuck you so bad,” It leaves his lips before the both of you have time to process it. He’s much more surprised than you, pink roses blooming on the apples of his cheeks despite the clear obstruction of his body. You appreciate the honesty, clearing your throat to mask the laugh bubbling in your chest. Leon’s okay, and he’s not just saying it. “…Sorry.”

Leon’s red-eyed gaze is casted to the side, but even in his efforts to avoid looking at you, he can’t help himself. It’s cute, really, charming enough to have your heart doing somersaults in your chest.

“Then do it.”

Blue embers sparkle in his eyes, and suddenly you’re being pulled out the cramped bathroom. Whatever he’s infected with, it’s heightened his abilities, because his grip on your wrist feels just as strong as the rusty chains in the cathedral. He’s holding onto you like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t, an iron grip that feels more comfortable than painful. And through it all, he’s cautious of your injury.

It doesn’t stop him from slapping you against the wall, your back colliding with the old, peeling wallpaper with a loud thud.

“You’re sure—” You start, the words catching in your throat when Leon’s strong hands tear your shirt apart, straight through the middle. The cold air hits you instantly, sending shivers up your spine as you whine in protest. “I only have one shirt!”

“I have a jacket.” His answer is barely audible, as he’s too busy watching the rise and fall of your chest with hungry, predatory eyes. You’re looking at Leon, who has every feature of the man. . . But he feels different. He feels bigger, in every sense of the word, towering over you as his red eyes study you like a bloodthirsty shark.

Next are your pants, you take the liberty of unbuckling your utility belt, keeping your gaze on Leon as he watches your hands pull them down. A considerate patch of sticky wetness decorates the front of your boxers, darkening and dampening the fabric. Leon’s pink tongue slides over his equally pink lips, whatever restraint he’s using slowly slipping away. You expect him to follow suit, but his hands are on you and he’s guiding you down to your knees.

Your face nuzzles against the fabric of his pants, thick but nowhere near as thick as his cock, which has a prominent, twitching outline.Your mouth waters, saliva pooling between your lips as your eyes flutter shut and he presses your cheek against his dick, firm and rough. His hands are so big, cupping the back of your head as he releases a small, hushed groan.

Leon watches you unzip his pants with parted lips and a baited breath. You look so damn pretty, eyes glazed over within the matter of a few seconds and a stupid look in your eye the second you see his dick again. Like you’ve missed it, when it was only just a few hours ago when he was buried deep inside you. He lets you push his pants down to his ankles, your eyes roaming along the skin of his toned thighs, which black vines slowly creep down.

You press a pretty, openmouthed kiss against the head of his cock, watching precum bead at the tip and smear across your lips. Such a sweet boy, kissing his cock as a greeting.

“Goddamn, you’re so cute,” His grip travels down your face to the top of your neck, where your throat meets your jaw. Your gaze is forced upward, straight into Leon’s vermillion irises as he offers a small squeeze. “Just a little slut. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Mhm, yeah,” You pant against his skin, shimmying forward to grind your front against the leather of his boot. “For you— just for you, Sir.”

Yeah, you could get used to this. The girth of his cock, the vein that disappears beneath the pretty head of his dick, the way his balls weigh heavily against your chin. His pubes are a deeper shade of brown, slightly curly and enough that makes you want to bury your nose in it. He’s so sticky, slick and wet like he’s been thinking about this for a while. The thought of Leon gripping himself through his pants is just so hot, the way he’d buck up into his fist and imagine it’s you instead. The way he’d groan and moan into the air, chasing after some artificial tightness that could only simulate you. Your mouth, your hole.

“Think you can be a good boy for me?” You chase after his cock as he pulls it away, gripping it by the base with a gloved hand. You can only imagine how good the leather of his fingerless gloves feel against it. He coos at your attempts to follow along, meanly slapping the weight of his dick against your cheek until you’re messy with precum. “Hm? Yeah?”

You nod frantically, opening your mouth and covering your bottom row of teeth with your tongue. You can be good, you can be good for Leon.

Tears spring in your eyes the second he’s pushing into your mouth, groaning at the sound of your gags as his cock slides in and out, deeper and deeper without warning. He can’t help it, not when you’re drooling all over his pants and whining for it. Not when you’d look so cute hazy eyed and stained with tears as he fucks your throat. Not when your throat bulges around his cock, letting out wet squelches as you struggle to keep your eyes open and watch his hips snap against you.

“That’s it,” Leon sighs, shaky and content as he holds you in place. His good boy. “Just like that, you take it so—f-hucking—good.”

You lurch back, tears blurry in your eyes as you sputter and gag. His precum is salty and warm, coating your throat as you flutter your eyes and hold onto the swell of Leon’s strong, thick thighs. Heat ripples through your body in waves as a low growl rumbles in his throat, bouncing into your ears.

“Shh, I know, I know. Don’t run from me, let me in,” He coos, sliding his long cock from your mouth to watch a long trail of your spit thin out the further he pulls away. “It’s just too big for you, is that right? Hard to focus on anything when all you can think of is dick.”

You’re breathing heavily, panting loud as you slowly register the mess on your face, your chin. Your lips feel swollen, but your mouth feels empty. You must have a particularly dumb look on your face because it pulls a laugh out of the man in front of you, rich and hearty as he lifts you up with an authoritative hand around your throat.

“C’mere.” He mumbles, pulling you in to pepper messy kisses along your jaw. He’s more impulsive, you gather, with whatever’s coursing through his veins. Rougher too, with the way his hand tightens around your throat when he’s throwing commands at you. You don’t mind it, not at all. In fact, it’s made you all hazy, you feel like you’re traveling through a thick layer of fog as you nod along. You want to be good, to earn his praise.

Leon’s hands travel to your waist, dipping into the plush skin until your thighs are spread just far enough for his cock to fit between them. You’ve never felt so exposed, whining high in your throat no matter how pathetic it sounds, and pressing your body against his firm chest.

His cock feels as big as it looks, long and curved as he slides it between your thighs. You can feel every twitch and pulse, you’re sure he can feel you too— with how he’s grunting and groaning against your neck. He fucks into your thighs like he’s chasing after something, trying to satiate it. His grip is punishing, the pads of his fingertips digging into your skin until it hurts.

“I can’t,” You whine, shaking your head as you watch his cock disappear between your thighs. “S’not— I wanna—”

“You can,” Leon growls, making a low warning of a noise in his throat as he tuts in disapproval. It goes straight to your stomach, tingles shocking your body as you clench around nothing. “And you will.”

Instead of keeping you upright by the throat, Leon’s hands leave you to fend for yourself as he slides them down your supple skin, down every dip and curve and slope, until he’s playing with the leftover stickiness of your hole.

You’re certain there’s nowhere near as comfortable as Leon’s arms. They’re big and strong, plush and warm against your skin, and firm in your hand when he’s flexing. They keep you secure and safe, protected from whatever monstrosities are in this godforsaken place, you’re sure he’d hold you till you both fell asleep, and you’d be enveloped in his warmth.

He smells just as warm too, faintly of vanilla underneath all that sex and remnants of polluted air.

“Christ, you’re so… Warm around my fingers. Give it to me, baby, let me fuck you with my fingers.”

You love his warmth, it spreads across your body and travels down your chest, your stomach, your thighs, until he’s taking you apart with it. His fingers are so warm, so thick and perfect as they fuck into you. Even when you’re sloppy like this, sucking his fingers back in like you’d never wanted to be left empty again in the first place, working your hips back to chase after his knuckles. The warmth of his arms as he flips you around, pushes your weight into his own by the base of your neck, maneuvers you just right, keeps you open and vulnerable for him. All for him.

Yeah, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

“Hey, you with me?” It’s his turn to ask, and you wonder if he felt the same butterflies you did.

“Yeah, I’m,” You’re breathlessly spreading your legs and pulling yourself apart with the warmth of your palms to reveal the puffiness of your hole, fucked out and shiny from earlier’s abuse. Leon wonders how easy it’d be to slip back in, to inch his cock deeper and deeper inside as you flutter around him and keen with oversensitivity. “M’with you, Sir.”

“Atta boy,” The smile he flashes is all teeth, dangerous and sharp as his canines glint in the dim lighting. You have half the heart to be a bit scared, but it doesn’t mean much when he’s working you open when you’re already so sensitive. Your hips jitter, twitching both toward and away from his fingers as he presses against that same bundle of nerves from earlier— it’s too much. This time you really mean it, because the second he hits it, tears spring in your eyes and you’re fisting remnants of the peeling wallpaper like a lifeline. “Greedy little hole. Didn’t you just take me?”

“Ohh, oh, God! Leon,” He hums in acknowledgement, as if he’s actually listening to your mindless babbling, nodding with lidded eyes as he uses your hips to pull you down onto his fingers. He’s using you like some kind of toy, moving you with one hand as you sit there and take it. You’re melting into the wall, drool slipping through the seam of your lips and trailing down your exposed chest. “You— your fingers, feel so good.”

“I know, baby.”

The way you’re convulsing around his fingers is telling, crying and sobbing and squealing into the wallpaper while he angles your back down. His large palm presses into the small of your back, strong and firm as he pushes and pushes until you’re arching just right and exposed.

“Let me fuck you till I cum, be my toy,” You can barely hear him over your own sobs, shifting your weight between legs as you steady yourself. His cock slips in easy, smooth and wet and perfect. You missed this feeling the second it left, the fullness of his dick inside you. The curve of his long cock as it inches inside, the feeling of that one particular vein pulsing deep inside. “Gonna fuck you over and over. Yeah? Got that? Because you’re all mine.”

“Uh-huh, mhm,” You gasp, every inhale making you sputter and choke on your tears. “Yes, Sir.”

If you weren’t crying before you surely are now, with the sharp thrusts Leon’s pistoning into your hole, loud and sloppy and squelching as he backs you up on his cock. It’s like he’s mounted you, shoving your face into the wall as he slams into you. In and out, in and out, in and out…With every slap of his balls against your thighs you whine, small pitiful sounds escaping your lips until your voice goes hoarse and all you can do is weakly claw at the wall.

But you’ve been good, save for a few whiny noises and indiscreet pouting, you’ve been so good. So Leon lets your uninjured hand wander, even guides it down to your front as he fucks you from behind so hard it feels like you’re going stupid. You can’t see him like this, but you’d bet there’s a feral look on his face. Pupils blown wide as his red eyes focus on the view of his cock disappearing inside you, his brain short circuiting as it repeats the same code over and over.

Breed, breed, breed.

“Wanna breed you,” He rasps, strong arms pulling you the second he’s pulling out. No matter what, you’re full of him. You’re full of him even as his cock slides away, a trail of precum connecting the two of you as it froths between your thighs and his balls. “Can I fuck my cum into your sloppy little hole? Hm?”

“Course, f’course,” It’s all out the window, every possible thought you’d ever had about how uncomfortable it could be to be…preoccupied while on a mission. Because you want it, you want to be full. You want him to give it to you, deeper and harder and messier and… More. “..Please..”

“Nice of you to say, but,” He groans high in his throat, voice tight and heavy as his hips grow sloppy and weak. Yet, his cock still feels so heavy in your hole, makes you feel like you’re ready to burst apart at the seams. Leon’s fingers pull at your cheeks, slipping in your mouth and pulling at the skin until your mouth is forced wide, your tongue slipping from your mouth as you drool and cry. “I wasn’t really asking. You’d let me cum wherever I wanted, wouldn’t you? It’s okay, sweetheart, you’re cute when you go dumb on my dick.”

You can’t do this.

You tried, really. You tried your hardest, held it for as long as you could. But you’re already there, almost screaming on his dick as you flutter and clamp down on it, light beaming in your stomach as your body grows sensitive and weak. You’re cumming. And Leon’s hand around your throat doesn’t do anything besides aid it, the way you gush and whine around his cock despite his insistent thrusts. You can’t think, you can’t breathe, and it feels so fucking good.

“Jesus fuck, you take that cock so well. Such a good boy, my pretty slut,” Leon pulls you into him, pressing his chest against your back as he sinks his teeth into the base of your neck. Not enough to draw blood, no, just enough to leave a Leon S. Kennedy sized bite mark along your skin. “Tell me you love this cock, pretty baby. I know you can.”

“I love— ohhh — love your cock, Sir. M’so full.” Your twitching doesn’t cease, instead egging him on as your pretty little hole sucks him in deeper, holding him like a vice. Warm and slick, he can’t help but moan into your neck as his balls tighten and he cums.

“That’s it,” You watch him pant through the corner of your eyes, weighed down by fatigue, sex, and the entirety of today's ordeals. But at least the richness of his veins are beginning to clear up, and his pretty, arctic blue eyes are starting to resurface. You smile around a hearty moan, feeling your insides flood with warmth as his eyes flutter shut and his body shudders. “I could really get used to this.”

It’s hard and fast, much too fast for him to have pulled out to shoot across your back— no, he’s partially shot a thick, creamy rope inside you. His veins pulse at the thought, satiated with the sight of your fucked-out hole drooling with his cum.

“Oh… Fuck.”

He’s hard again.

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miffysrambles · 7 months

Text

Wukong and Macaque with an injured S/O

Wukong:

You were groaning from the pain on your face as you walked through the door of the small house you two now shared at Flower Fruit Mountain, wondering if your boyfriend was home.

You hoped he wouldn’t see you injured like this, talk about embarrassing!

Scratches and cuts decorated your cheeks as you had gotten in a fight with a demon trying to rob you in an alleyway, you managed to scare them off but didn’t come out unscathed.

You made your way to the bathroom cabinet, stepping over clothes and towels strewn across the tile floor.

You two really need to clean up more.

You were in the middle of soaking a cotton ball with alcohol when you felt arms wrap around your waist.

Wukong nuzzled his face into your shoulder as you felt his lips graze your skin, “Welcome home peaches, whatcha’ doing in here?”

You winced as you brought the soaked cotton to the deep wound on your cheek, making him step back as he opened his golden eyes.

“(Name), you ok?”

You sighed, you had to show him now.

You slowly turned around, his eyes widening as he saw the fresh scars.

He raised his hand to your face as his thumb slowly caressed your cheek, making sure he didn’t touch your wounds, “Oh peaches, what happened to you?”

Was it really that bad?

He gently tilted your head as he examined your injuries with care, his brows furrowing as he frowned, “Did anyone do this to you?”

“Y-Yeah, but they got worse than I did! Don’t worry, I took care of it!” You smiled as you leaned your cheek into his hand.

He smiled, laughing softly as he brought your face closer and kissed your temple, “Of course you did sunbeam, I had no doubts.”

He helped clean up the rest of your wounds, applying bandages to the ones that needed to be covered as he gave small pecks over the white strips in his words “to help them heal faster”.

“W-Wukong stop it!” You laughed as he kept kissing your face even after you playfully protested, wrapping your arms around each other as you both fell to the bathroom floor in a smooching frenzy, his tail making a heart shape.

“Never peaches, I’ll keep kissing your gorgeous face fooreverr!”

Macaque:

Oh, when you came home with an injured arm, this man was fuming.

You walked through the dojo’s door as he was training, his six ears flickered hearing your staggered breaths as he whipped his head around to see you holding your bleeding arm as you held back pained groans.

He dropped his staff and walked up to you, gently taking your arm in his hands as he examined your scrapes and wounds.

These were demon marks alright.

He saw red for a split second, someone laid their hands on you.

Someone hurt you.

“Who did it (Name)?” His voice softly spoke as he still held your arm.

You looked away for a split second as you thought carefully about what you would say next as you were well aware your boyfriend would tear this demon apart if you gave away their identity.

“I-It’s ok, I put up a fight. I scared them off.”

He sighed as he summoned a shadow portal below you, holding onto you as he fell down onto your bed.

He pulled a first aid kit from the dresser next to the mattress as he bandaged your injured arm, his teeth gritting as the gashes on your arms were fresh with blood.

“If I ever find this guy, I’ll fucking make sure they take their last breath.”

After he finished, you both lay on your bed in his arms.

He just needed a minute with you.

His fingers gently caressed your arm with care, his tail wrapping around your leg as he kept your body close to his.

He planted kisses on the bandages on your arm, trailing up your forearm from your neck to your mouth, smiling as he finally got a soft laugh to escape your lips.

He knew you were in a good amount of pain so he wanted to be physically and emotionally close to you as much as possible.

#not an #ask #lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk x reader #lego monkie kid x reader #lmk sun wukong #lmk sun wukong x reader #sun wukong x reader #lmk macaque #lmk macaque x reader #macaque x reader

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cowyolks · 6 months

Text

FORBIDDEN FRUIT

Chapter Eight. The Hymn of Nectar

Pairing: God!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Female Reader

Prompt: A prophecy written long ago stated of a human that would become the God’s wife and live in his domain for the rest of eternity.

Words: 2.3 K

Warnings: None? As of now ;)

Previous Chapter Masterlist

It was nice to finally receive some freedom once Simon was back. While you weren’t left completely alone for longer than a couple hours, you could finally have some moments of solitude away from prying eyes.

You had slept well the last couple nights, likely from the promise of Simon personally checking on you every couple hours into your slumber. You’d sometimes feel the fluttering touch of his fingertips against your cheeks—never anything more than that fleeting touch before it disappeared behind your shut door.

You’d wake up to petals of daffodils upon your nightstand near your water basin. He’d put them there, that much was obvious when he stiffened lightly as you walked to the kitchens with the flower tucked beyond your ear.

It was quite humorous to reduce such a powerful God to a blushing boy.

Now, as you finished your morning routine, you’d decided to settle against an old Cyprus tree in the courtyard, just a few yards away from Simon and Keegan, who had started their morning sparring match.

Usually, you’d be irritated at the grunts and clang of iron while you attempted to read a book, but the day was just too perfect to stay cooped in the library.

A low hiss broke your concentration away from the thick journal you were reading. Adverting your eyes upwards, settling on the hunched form of Simon. Keegan stood above him, looking on with only a slight hint of worry behind his usually stoic expression.

Your betrothed was obviously straining too hard. You’d warned him earlier this week to take it easy, but it seemed Simon was a stubborn man. Even though his wounds now resembled fading red marks instead of open gashes, he was still sore. He’d spoke earlier of his wounds, how high-beings couldn’t be physically hurt for long, but evil seeped out of the scars and took long to heal. You’d gulped hesitantly at his words, but settled with knowing that you were safest here, under his protection.

“I say we are done for the day.” Keegan’s voice smoothed over like ice, a chilly reprimand to his ever stubborn boss.

Simon pursed his lips, but reluctantly agreed. His hand clasped around Keegan’s forearm as the shorter God pulled him up to his feet. Keegan whispered something low under his breath, and subtly Simon glanced to your sitting frame before his eyes soften reluctantly.

Before he made his way towards you, Keegan shoved a leather canteen into the God’s hand, before he disappeared with a wink and flutter of his wings.

You’d bookmarked your page as Simon approached you, a small limp in his gait.

“May I sit?” He asked. You nearly chortled at his request. He owned this entire kingdom, and you had just recently pledged yourself to him. Still, he asked to acquire your company.

“You may.” You airily spoke, watching his body slide down the smooth bark of the cypress. His shoulder grazed against your own as his feet kicked out in front of him. Dark eyes fluttered shut beyond his mask, illustrating his relaxing exhaustion.

Your eyes settled upon the canteen, a teasing quirk of a smile trailing amongst your lips. “Drinking this early?”

Simon popped one eye open, a soft grunt escaping his lips as he uncapped the canteen and held it out to you. You rose your eyebrows, but took it anyways. Your eye peered carefully down the neck, finding an odd glowing liquid the color of gold. Similar to the golden ichor that had bled from your betrothed’s wounds.

You mistakenly caught a whiff of the drink, eyes nearly bugging out of your head when such an overwhelmingly sweet scent flooded your nostrils. You resisted the urge to gag, already feeling the thick film of sugar coating your teeth without even taking a sip.

“What is that stuff?” You asked in disbelief as you passed it back to Simon with a wrinkled nose. His eyes twinkled with amusement, just as his hand reached up to lift his helm slightly.

“Nectar, is what it is.” His pink lips wrapped around the lid, just as he took a draggingly long swig. You found yourself flicking your tongue over your teeth, already feeling sorry for him gums and molars.

“Nectar?” You hummed in question, watching before your eyes as the God seemed to glow under the sunny rays. Instantly the knots in his muscles lessened but perhaps it was a trick of the light.

“The drink of the Gods. It has healing properties to a limit.” He offered, just before his eyes flickered observingly to the book you had perched upon your lap.

“That is a good one.” He voiced, gesturing to the leather bound spine folded in one of your hands. You perked, a slight dust of heat rising to your face. The text didn’t have an author, but it was heavily romantic and poetic. A strangled noise fell from your lips as you didn’t bother to hide your surprise.

“You’ve read it?”

Simon’s eyelashes fluttered in amusement, as if the whole situation was quite comical. “Read it to me?” He requested, a slight twinge upon his request had your eyes narrowing in suspicion. Regardless, your nimble fingers found the page you marked and flashed over the next text.

“I found myself trapped against my will. Her hands were the prison, a clasp holding my mind in her unnoticed will. I was disgusted, yet enthralled. I’d never seen such painful beauty. Such as a proud bird with broken wings, this feminine creature was caged in what they had called a Garden. Her eyes— stardrops. Her lips— the sweetest petals. I decided there, in the dark shadows that hid me, she would be mine.” You paused with a breath, a soft smile upon your lips as you began again.

“I would vow–” you started, but were surprised by the gentle voice that was so hushed you hardly heard.

“To adore her for Eternity. To take her as a bride, to make her a Queen.” Simon finished. You bit back your shock at his perfected recitation. His hand flickered to the soft flesh of your cheekbone, warm and calloused. “My mind has been clouded since I have written those pages, it’s as if I’m hearing it again.”

You choked a gasp, realizing then, that the handwritten golden text had belonged to Simon, and you were essentially reading his thoughts, his thoughts about you.

You sat yourself back against the bark of the tree, pushing the book away from your hands as if it had scorched you.

“Simon… I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize I was reading your personal thoughts. It was on the shelves in the library.” You stopped your rambling when an amused chuckle musically entered your ears.

“I don’t mind. I’ve made it clear just how much I adore you, darling.”

You opened your mouth to answer, but quickly you shut it again. You didn’t trust yourself to say anything, especially with your short-circuiting brain. Instead you settled on letting out a deep inhale, attempting to subdue your fluttering heart that was entirely Simon’s fault.

He took notice to your flustered body language, instead of ridiculing, he pushed himself off the trunk and stood tall. His large palm extended to you in invitation, it was near embarrassing how quickly your fingers danced across his skin as he heaved you gently off the ground.

The pale lilac of your summer dress fluttered slightly in the calming breeze. Kleo had once mentioned that the weather changed based on Hades’ behavior. It made your heart leap at the brightening of sun and soothing breeze, wondering if perhaps, you helped him cause it. The sundrops danced in his eyes as you looked to him questionably. Crow feet wrinkled, but he gave nothing away, you couldn’t help the soft smile that brushed across your lips as you observed.

Then he maneuvered around you, his form shadowing yours for a moment just so you could vaguely make out the extended muscles of his back and the elegant twist of his abdomen as he sidestepped. The whiff of rich smoke and sweetly scented musk invaded your nostrils, and it took a near Herculean effort not to draw into him like a fish on a hook.

He’d noticed, obviously he had. How could someone so perceptive not? Yet all he did was close his long and calloused fingers upon your wrist and palm tighter, steering you and leading anywhere he wanted. You were far too bewitched to care.

The lack of communication wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything you took more time to focus on the steady patter of his near silent footfalls, the croaking of bullfrogs, and the gentle breeze that brushed against your skin and the Cyprus.

Finally, your ears picked up on a smooth trickling.

While your eyes were settling on unfamiliar territory, Simon had come to an ease. His ever tense shoulders slackening and his body thawing from previous turmoil.

This ground was sacred to him, as personal as his very own skin. While the gardens were not technically forbidden, he was cautious on who entered the space. Only his trusted companions, such as Keegan and the Furies entered there. Here, however—with the soft babbling of a creek and whispering leaves of fig trees, was a secrecy he had not shared.

Until you.

“It’s beautiful…” you’d whispered, almost petrified to use your own voice.

His hand dropped your own, though the warmth of his palm still floated upon your skin. Instead, your head swiveled to follow his movement, just as he reached upon the tips of his toes. Shade settled across his helm, encasing him in more shadow– yet as he plucked the ripest fig he could find, you found him to never look so full of light.

“Simon’s Elysium. He often dreamt of this spot as a mortal. A place pleasant and secluded.” Hades spoke up, all while his fingers pulled upon the soft flesh of the fig, splitting it open and offering a half to you.

A different fruit than a pomegranate. With no promise of devotion or servitude. This fruit was offered as courtship. A way to say “here, take my love as sweet as this fruit.”

You took it from his hands as if it was a newborn, this fruit being so delicate and precise that you didn’t want to bite into it. Not only was it an extension of his love, but it was a part of Simon’s safe haven, and while you were invited, it simply felt wrong to trespass.

As if Hades could sense your inner turmoil, he spoke softly, “Simon still voices his thoughts, he wants you to eat it, to share his paradise that he never fully experienced.”

Sadness ripped at your lungs like scorching wildfire. How could you be so selfish? Simon had given everything to protect his family, and here you stand simply running away because you didn’t want to marry a clansman your mother had picked out.

He was a hero. Regardless of his cold appearance, Hades was selfless—You, you were selfish, selfish enough to eat the flesh of the fig and feel the gentle pressure of Simon’s calloused hands upon your flushed cheeks. The seedy ripeness was overpowering, coating your teeth and tongue and soul.

“Simon calls you beautiful in a mantra. Just as I-” amusement crossed over his features as his eyes rolled. “We—hope to hold your devotion without burden.”

His thumb swiped your lips, collecting the juices of the fruit stained to your flesh. You looked down for a moment, knowing desperately that this was what you wanted. What your beating organ needed.

“I am yours.” You muttered, buzzing from the intensity Simon always managed to carry. You swore you heard him purr as fingertips once more caressed your skin, angling your chin upwards so you looked to him doe eyed.

“May I kiss you?” He asked with such confidence you couldn’t help but nod, knowing words would not escape you. He reached upwards to push his helm off of his head to the soft grass below with a gentle clunk.

You were met with his features once again, all the godly details shining through to display just how effortlessly beautiful he was. A hand fluttered to your waist, so soft and gentle it made you feel like glass. He caressed you softly, keeping one hand enclosed while the other soothed. Fingernails fell heavenly against your scalp, palm wide to caress the whole side of your face. A thumb had your lips parted, just as you looked to him through your eyelashes.

He swayed closer, eyes so intense you felt your heart near palpating out of your chest. He leant over you, so tall he nearly encased you like a shield.

Then came a simple brush of his lips against yours, an experiment.

He was warm, yet cold at the same time. Hades was a wild flame that burned frostbite, it should have made you shiver. But—all you felt was scorching fire licking at your heartstrings.

His forearms circled your hips, keeping you locked to him as he kissed more surely, making you lose your breath as his tongue licked softly against your bottom lip. He tasted of sweetness, likely from the leftover Nectar he had drank before.

You decided then, it was the best thing you had ever felt and tasted. Down to your toes you felt the true passion put off from your souls.

He pulled away, leaving you with the biggest smile that spilt radiantly across your face. His own eyes danced with mirth and joy, the expression making him look younger than he was.

“I’ve waited long for this, my bride. Despite my many millennia that I have expirenced, little days will outshine this one.”

You couldn’t help the warm flush that fluttered across your cheeks at such elaborate words. It was the best day of your little years of life as well. With the day full of laughter and joy in Simon’s piece of Elysium— Eating figs, listening to the trickles of water, and soaking in the warmth of your God.

It was a shame the two of you missed the eyes that watched.

A/N: It’s been a while hasn’t it? This was a short chapter because I wanted this sucker out of my drafts. I’ve been holding onto it and chipping away since FEBRUARY!!! Anyways please enjoy and tell me what you think. Next chapter should be getting into the wedding!!

Tags: @soapyghost @queenqu33f @blueoorchid @lethalchiralium @eclipse-darling @galagcica @dead-noodles @agspgrwasb @toobessed @mooniesyubi @cookielovesbook-akie @vile-villain6661 @peachlcve @ghostslittlegf @erintaro @ghost-with-a-teacup @fante-di-denari @sollucifer @embers-of-alluring @icepancakes @queen-ilmaree @msecho19 @the-abyss-of-fandoms @angstyjellybean @multitargaryen @montenegroisr @lilacsourgirl @thisperspective @pasta-m1lk @badpvn @stupendoustyrantstranger @brainstormbby @lilpothoscuttings @lycheedr3ams

#cod #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #modern warfare #call of duty #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #Simon riley

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vilhelios · 2 months

Text

— SWIM WITH ME / I THINK I CAN SEE THE BEACH;

( i need you here with me / but we're out in the open. ) ; romantic headcanons for abysswalker!rafayel ♡ more under the cut!

CW: spoilers for rafayel's "sea of golden sand" myth + general abysswalker rafayel lore ; fluff ; angst ; hurt/comfort ; mentions of blood, injury, and self-harm (rafayel plucks off his scales) : might feel a little ooc because it is abysswalker and not main story rafayel ; quite the word dump (bc i rattle my cage for him)

— as the morning light of the desert creeps into the dim of a tent, two bodies lay tangled in the warmth of each other. RAFAYEL sleeps light and wakes early—hours before the sun peeks over the golden dunes—and although the habit irks him, it does offer him a wonderful sight as compensation: the sight of you, bathed in the soft, rose-gold light of morning, hair a mess, marks littering your skin from where the sheets pressed up against you.

overcome with a love that warms him like molten gold, the young god cannot help but litter your face in butterfly kisses. two to the apples of your cheeks, one on the tip of your nose, the corners of your lips, the middle of your temple. when you shift in your sleep, groan at his ministrations, rafayel can only chuckle, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. he thinks he can hear amund yell for his presence. he couldn't care less.

— RAFAYEL sees himself as the sword at the hilt of your belt, the dagger in your hands that you should use as you see fit, the steady hand guiding your own, drawing your bowstring. he is your ever faithful shadow, always at your side, a watchful gaze always on you. it is only natural for one to protect the keeper of their heart... which is why you and the medical kit from the nurse's tent have gotten well acquainted with each other.

"one of these days, you're going to listen to me." you sigh, gently peeling aside the torn leather of his garb. rafayel does not wince; you don't think you've ever seen him do so, not when he ripped that arrow from his shoulder, or when he stumbles back to your tent with a bloody gash on his chest, or when he's brandishing new bruises on his knuckles. the royal guards seem intent on tracking you down, crossing all of philos's 30,000 zetameters of sand to lock you up in your gilded cage again.

rafayel seems equally intent to ensure that doesn't happen, even if it means throwing himself into their line of fire.

"if i listen to you," the lemurian starts, violet gaze trained on the gentle workings of your fingers, "they'll take you from me again, back to the palace." his breath hitches the slightest—at the thought of you leaving him again, or at the too-harsh tug of the bandage, you're not sure.

— some nights, RAFAYEL is awoken by dreams—horrible, lifelike nightmares. it's sudden, a jolt that has him taking in rapid breaths, a tremor in his hands. "a nightmare", he tells you, when you stir awake and ask him what's wrong in a groggy voice that makes his heart ache, "just a nightmare, sweetheart. nothing to worry about." he waits until he hears your breathing slow once more, pressing kisses to your temple all the while, before slinking out of the tent and into the cold desert air. he'll return to your side before the sun rises, but for now, with still-stuttering breaths, he just needs some time to clear his head.

in his nightmares, a butterfly flaps its wings just the wrong way and rafayel is landed in a world where he is as cold-blooded as amund wished he was. he is back in the ruins of the isle of songs, your hand guiding his own (white-knuckled, dagger brandished) to the place where your heart thrums beneath. and unlike himself, rafayel takes the chance: takes back what is his, what was never yours to keep. the god of the sea was a foolish, lovesick man. he would not make the same mistake.

the dagger sinks into your flesh, the ease of it wrong. your blood flows onto his palms, gets into all the creases of his gloves, spills onto the barren earth and dyes the returning sea red. it is so, so warm against his skin, warms the fire in him that threatened to fizzle out. (he has always been a selfish man, he knows. it is only right that he is no better than bloodthristy philos.) the look dream-you gives him, before he awakes from this cruel world, sears itself into the back of his eyelids. he can see it still, when he looks at the dark of the night sky: reverent, loving. (how could you not, when he has freed you yet again?)

— often, you ask RAFAYEL to tell you tales of the ocean; more specifically, its creatures! what were those rays he spoke of, or the sharks, or those star-shaped things? do the lemurians actually eat them? your lover finds your boundless curiousity incredibly endearing, chuckling whenever your eyes seem to light up at the mention of some new deep-sea fish.

"this is a whale shark." rafayel says, and you watch as the scale in his hands transforms into a small purple apparition. it's as long as his pointer finger, heteroceral tail flicking as it swims in the flame currents, light purple spots patterning its black back. "they are gentle things, despite their size. they only ever eat plankton. i used to have one as a pet, long ago."

"how cute!" you laugh, waggling your finger in front of the shark and watching it follow. "did you have other pets?" and at that, he procures another silver scale, places it into your palms and covers it with his own. a barreleye manifests, and you grin when it's luminous purple eyes stare up at you.

(rafayel ignores the sting in his arm, pinpricks of blood soaking his garb from where he'd plucked some scales off. the wonder in your eyes is more than worth it.)

— helping the LEMURIANS with their daily chores within the camp comes like second nature to you. there is always so much to do: collect jars upon jars of water from the nearby oasis, prepare food, feed the camels, record the state of the camp's supplies... all the while, you feel RAFAYEL'S eyes on your form, your ever cautious vassal. with a little smile, you pretend you don't notice his lavender gaze, if only to spare him from the flushed ears.

it's surprisingly simple, making that lemurian cake: tapioca flour, camel's milk, a healthy dash of sugar, and citrus rind... when the sweet old woman you've spent the afternoon baking with feeds you a slice, you think you've simply ascended. back then, rafayel had fed you one that was cold and a little stale—probably as it was a part of his rations for long journeys. perhaps he'd like one that was far fresher, and baked with love?

... which is how rafayel found himself with a wicker basket full of cake shoved into his hands, and an awaiting you in front of him. "you've been training a while, haven't you?" you smile, taking one of the soft slices and bringing it up to his lips; "try it for me, please!"

and as obedient as ever, rafayel takes a bite, sweetness and citrus on his tongue. "it's good," he hums, kisses your fingertips, "tell me when you're making it next time, love. i'd love to help."

— the LEMURIANS, you remember, were masters of the arts: singing, painting, poetry... so it's no surprise, then, that they celebrate their craft almost every night: children crowd around a charming poet, hooked on every word of their newest bedtime story—his newest fable, that is (something about a fish and a bird, who wished to visit a bakery); the musicians have already begun their newest improvised song, a lively version of an old elegy, it seems; the bonfire in the centre burns high into the night sky like it was trying to reach the stars itself, and when the lemurians dance around it their shadows are long against the sands. you don't know how, but you're eventually dragged into the dance yourself. the glee is infectious, and you find yourself instinctively looking for your beloved.

RAFAYEL doesn't indulge in dancing often, as fun as it may be. he knows the steps, his feet still tapping to the rhythm of the tambourines even as he nonchalantly leans against the tent pole in the distance. it is second nature, now, but his eyes always find you, even in the crowd of people—you, laughing and twirling around without a care in the world. it makes his heart race, a smile creeping onto his own features. he watches you dance with his people, linking arms and being spun around; for a moment he wonders if he should join just to be your one and only dance partner.

... he doesn't notice when you've escaped his gaze, but before he knows it, you've snuck up on him and wrapped a shawl around his neck, dragging him towards the crowd; "dance with me, rafa!"

and how can he refuse a shared moment that transcends lifetimes—across shimmering oceans, and marble floor ballrooms, and golden sands? rafayel's stumbling forward into you until his arms take their rightful place around your form. his hands find the small of your back and yours hold onto his shoulders, shawl long abandoned on his neck. this is second nature, galaxies colliding, two souls becoming one.

— after all of the night's festivities are said and done—the musicians pack up their flutes, lyres, and tambourines; the children cover up their yawns with still-red palms from clapping to tonight's tunes; the remaining food is safely packed away for tomorrow—it's just you, RAFAYEL, and the dwindling embers of the fire he'd just stomped out. "i do believe even your highness is not exempt from curfew," he hums, takes your hand in his, and presses his lips to the knuckles.

and in the silence of your tent, coveted in the silver hues of moonlight, rafayel sits you down before him, your back leaning against his chest. his arms wrap around your frame, his chin resting on the crook of your neck. this is your ritual, on too-cold nights: rafayel lights a flickering flame in his palms, the black and violet embers cold as ever. you both stare into this dying fire—you both know what is to come.

sometimes, when the ugly concoction of guilt and sorrow prick at your very soul, your hand reaches up to entwine with his own, just as they did to guide his dagger to your heart. "i won't." rafayel says, and you know what he means. "i will never hurt you." he doesn't complete the sentence, the words dying on his tongue, but you know the rest (there is no other end to this story): i would rather die.

a/n : i need abysswalker carnally it's not even funny anymore 🤩 these were. not supposed to be this long (they are like little fics in themselves omg). but i love this rafa so much i think he deserves it. thank you for the love on the previous rafa content <3 it makes me so happy seeing people who also love this lil guy. the dancing with rafa hc is very much so inspired by "through heaven's eyes" from the prince of egypt! <3333

#love and deepspace x reader #rafayel x reader #rafayel fluff #rafayel headcanons #love and deepspace headcanons #qi yu headcanons #love and deepspace fluff #qi yu x reader #abysswalker rafayel

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thisisourlovestory · 3 months

Text

Everything Has Changed

part 1- the chronicles of a stargirl and her sun masterlist

Luke Castellan x reader

Summary- you travel to camp and end up meeting a certain someone for a brief moment but it's enough.

Word count- 5k

Notes- my first Luke fanfic! It's going to be a series of sorts with each part based vaguely off a different Taylor Swift song. I was not planning on it being this long, I thought it'd be max 3k but no the gods of creativity struck. Thanks to @imaginingmoonlight for the beautiful vibe up top and also to @fangirlfreak08 for helping me choose the song. I love you both mwah

“Run!” A voice yelled from behind you, a hand placed on your back to push you forwards even as your legs started to give out beneath you. Rain poured down around you, soaking through your clothes and making the muddy ground harder to run on. Your hair fell in a limp curtain around your face, raindrops catching on your lashes and obscuring your vision. The sun had set and you had only the pale light of the moon to guide you up the hill and towards the pine tree at the top of it. A roar echoed from in the trees and you whipped your head around in a panic. The trees were falling, hitting the ground hard, the thundering noises rippling through the air. That was your mistake. Within a second you tripped on a tree root protruding from the soil, tumbling to the sodden grass, scraping your knees on the rocks hidden underneath moss. Then you heard the roars again. Closer this time. The trees continued falling, crashing down with louds boom, and with them fell your hopes of survival. your scrambled to your feet and started to run. But they were faster. So much faster. The loud thudding as they lumbered after us made your heart race. You looked to the side to see Ash limping beside you, his hooves sinking into the hillside and a gash on his leg leaking blood. He was pulling along Maisie, her green eyes wide with fear as her little legs struggled to keep up with him. you stopped in your tracks. Ash turned to you quickly.

“What are you doing? We have to run.” You shook your head, shoulders slumping as you whispered.

“We won't make it,” You gestured to the falling trees, the monsters coming closer with each second, ”Go Ash, you'll be fine.” Your voice was small and unsure, barely a whisper but you smiled and looked him in the eye. “You'll be fine. Get her to safety.” He opened his mouth to speak but the last tree snapped and they stood there, waiting.

There were more than you had thought there was. Or maybe they had just collected some more along the way you thought. They stood tall, ugly hulking builds covered with thin scraps of cloth, they locked on you and sped up, practically leaping closer. You pushed Ash forward and he started running again, looking back at you for a moment and you smiled at him before you ran sideways. They took the bait and chased after you, swinging clubs in the air and slamming them down so the ground shook. you dodged their blows that they rained down on you, darting over tree stumps lining the hillside. Your breath came fast and heavy, blood rushing in your ears, heart feeling as if it would burst out of your chest as you ran. Legs taking long strides like a gazelle, flying over the earthen ground.

Suddenly a club whizzed down past your ear and you let out a cry, slipping and tumbling to the ground. They surrounded you as you stumbled back up, slipping your hand into your pocket to grab your pocket knife.

“Well, well, well if it isn't a little demigod.” One of them sneered, their big round eye focused on you. “Unlucky for you we're hungry.” Your eyes flicked around taking note of the monsters, a few cyclops, some weird giant things that were just as disgusting but had two eyes, and a hellhound. All looking to eat you. One of the cyclops reached out to you eagerly. your slashed down on its wrist, drawing golden blood and it let out a howl of pain. Its face contorted and for a moment the rest of them took their gaze off you to focus on their injured friend. You took your chance and jumped to your feet, shooting into the woods. Branches scraped your skin and dirt stuck to your clothes, your felt warm blood dripping from a cut on your forehead and wiped it away with the palm of your hand. A large hand gripped onto your shoulder and lifted you into the air, dangling you like a ragdoll, shaking you viciously and sneering in your face. A sharp blade plunged into their arm and they disintegrated into dust, leaving the rest to gape at you first in shock then anger as they resumed the chase through the undergrowth. Lightning split through the air and thunder rumbled as you ran, it seemed never ending. Were you to be stuck in this circle until they finally caught you and ended your life?

One by one the monsters lunged at you, and one by one you swung your blade and they became dust. They apparently didn't learn that the knife was bad for them and they should avoid it. Eventually there was only one left but you were tired. So, so tired. You had been running for what felt like days and you wanted to give up. Your footsteps slowed down and came to a stop. In a flash the last cyclops standing snatched you up and began gloating. You tuned it out. Eyes barely staying open and brain fuzzy. You were bruised all over and your body was weeping red. This wasn't important anymore. It was done, your death warrant signed. You were done.

All of a sudden you were dropping to the floor, landing on your back and gazing up at the sky full of stars, your vision darkened blotting out the moon. A face appeared above you. Dark brown eyes and curly hair barely distinguishable in the dark, but the light grew. Closer and closer, brighter and brighter.

“-Hear me.” You made out as the buzzing in your ears grew louder. You turned your head to the side and reached out a hand to grab your knife laying just inches away. The cool metal was a comforting presence. In that moment you clasped it in your grip and looked up into the eyes above, a small smile on your face as you drifted into darkness, the boy's lips moving, yelling things you couldn’t hear.

You wake up with a start, laying on the floor, head resting on a mossy log. You pull yourself off the ground, looking around quickly. You stood in a clearing, bright green grass dotted with flowers of every colour, tall trees lining the outside, separating it from the dark forest beyond. Water rushes behind you, clear blue falling and gathering in a pool surrounded by rocks. You climb up and stare down at your reflection, a look of confusion paints itself on your face. You're wearing a cream dress with flowers intricately woven into the fabric and somehow the same flowers are twined into your hair, almost as if they were a crown. You reach down into the water as if to check it was really you and it ripples out from where your finger touched, the reflection changed to the hillside.

You hear the monsters again. They chase after you, teeth bared, eyes glowing red as they taunt you.

“You couldn't save them.”

“We ate them both.”

“The girl was especially tasty.”

You scream and they surround you. There is no end to the torment as the wind bites your skin and rain soothes the burn. They do not stop. Their growling voices stamped into memory as their claws start to tear into your skin. You scream and shout, arms waving around but this time there is no knife to help you. Blood gushes out of your body in waterfalls, staining the grass and mixing with muddy puddles that start to form. The pain starts to fade as you let go and a figure hovers over you.

Your eyes blink open, vision blurry and body aching. You turn your head and the boy is standing next to you.

“Go back to sleep.” He says. “You're safe.” You listen and slip back into dreamland.

This time you're at home. Your bedroom is cluttered with clothes and school supplies. Not a single part of the floor is visible. It's dark outside, snow falling, flakes spinning in the gentle breeze. You remember this night, the night you found out the truth. But nothing changed, you continued to live normally. Until now that is. You creep down the stairs and hear voices. Your parents, arguing over you. Their words are indistinguishable, muffled by a buzzing sound that covers your ears almost like a blanket. You sit halfway down on the steps, the wooden panels cold to touch as you tap your fingers on them. Your mum appears at the bottom of the steps and smiles, her brown hair tied loosely in a ponytail. She was at work all day and her eyes are tired but she holds her arms out.

“C'mere.” She says simply and you crash into her as she strokes your hair, whispering softly and planting gentle kisses on your hair. Soon your dad joins the hug, his large body smelling of chocolate and cinnamon as he encases you and your mum. You feel safe like this. As if nothing could ever hurt you and you sit on the couch in between them laughing at the TV as you sip on hot chocolate-your dads specialty-topped with whipped cream and marshmallows that melt into a gooey mess in the mug. And in that moment all is right in the world. But the universe is cruel and wicked and loves us just that little bit too much that it can never let something else have that which is theirs. Because that, that is the exact moment when you wake up.

Your eyes opened slowly and you stared up, nests perched on the wooden beams across the roof home to tiny baby birds that chirped demandingly for their parents to feed them. You groaned and sat up, the covers slipping off the bed, exposing your bare legs to the cold air that swept through the room. You shivered, pulling on the orange top with black lettering and a pegasus on the front that was definitely not yours and was way too big so it hung loosely on your body, a pair of black leggings-the only thing that fit right-and a hoodie next to your bed, again not yours, in fact the hoodie was so big on you that you had to roll the sleeves up three times, on the upside it was incredibly comfortable and it smelled nice, like freshly picked mint and lemon. Your clothes had been pretty ruined, you thought, it was nice of them to give you some new ones. You tugged on your pair of trainers that had been laid on the floor, the only things that belonged to you. No longer pure white, instead pretty much black. Standing up unsteadily you breathed deeply, fighting off the feeling of nausea and grabbed the glass of water on the side table, downing it in one, gasping at the coldness as it slid down your throat. You stared at yourself in the mirror. You looked horrible, pale with dark circles under your eyes accentuated by the shadow of a bruise on your cheekbone and a plaster stuck to your forehead. Your arms were covered in tiny scratches and plasters that had little pink hearts drawn on them with a shaky hand.

You walked over to the door and opened it, carefully stepping out and closing it behind you. You turned and took in the sight in front of you. It was a summer camp, kids roaming about in bright orange shirts, all laughing and joking together. Not one of them noticed you. You made your way to a conservatory type place and stopped dead in your tracks as you noticed a man sitting in a chair, his eyes closed as if he were sleeping, greying hair and beard looking as if he had been electrified. And he was wearing a leopard print shirt, bold choice but okay.

However he wasn't what stopped you. Not at all. That would have been the centaur, standing there dealing cards to the other man and Ash. Your eyes widened, that was an actual centaur, he was literally half horse, like in the myths. A quiet snort of disbelief escaped your lips, a hand flying to cover the noise. Ash turned around and saw you standing there like a bloody lemon. He stood up hastily, his hooves, his bloody hooves, clicking against the stones.

“You're awake.” He patted the chair next to him and you sat down hesitantly.

“What's going on here exactly? Is Maisie safe? What is this place?”

The centaur sent a stern look to Ash.

“You didn't tell her.” Ash smiled weakly.

“I didn't have much of a chance to. What with all the cyclops, hellhounds and gods knows what else that were on our tail.” The centaur sighed deeply, his bushy grey eyebrows drawing closer together as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“No matter. I suppose I will just have to do the explaining now.” He smiled at me. “Welcome to Camp-Half Blood.” You nodded slightly and Ash caught the look of confusion that crossed your face. He pointed to the centaur and then the man.

“Chiron, activities director. Mr D camp director.” Chiron bowed his head slightly in greeting while the other guy sipped on a can of diet coke.

“Hi,” You muttered, “But I was serious, who's going to tell me what's going on here, and is Maisie okay? And when you say Chiron do you mean Chiron or Chiron?” You questioned, looking around, Chiron opened his mouth but Ash beat him to it.

“Maisie is fine. She's settled in pretty well here, everyone loves her so don't worry about her. I do mean Chiron Chiron, as in immortal trainer of heroes. As for the other question, that might take a bit longer to explain but I'll give it a shot.” Ash always was the confident one you thought as he stood up and went over to Chiron, always better than you in these types of situations. Ash clapped his hands together and took a deep breath before allowing everything to spill out in a jumble.

“So you know how you could see those monsters and they wanted to kill you?” You shivered and nodded. “Well the reason you could see them is because you're a half-blood. Half god half human, also known as demigods.”

“God? As in the Bible, Christianity and the Garden of Eden. That God.”

“Not quite.” Chiron answered. “Not God, the gods, the Ancient Greek Gods, the Olympians if you will, and one of them is your mother or father.” You stared at him blankly.

“What? But they aren't real, they were just stories.” The diet coke man sat up with a jolt and eyed me.

“The gods are very real and this one is trying to sleep.” You gaped at him, eyebrows furrowed as your mind worked.

“Mr D,” You muttered, “You're Dionysus, the god of wine and madness. And you're just here. At a summer camp?” The man grumbled under his breath.

“This is where chasing after one of dear old dads nymphs lands you. Looking after a bunch of teenage half-wit half-bloods. As if not being able to drink properly wasn't enough.” He lamented. You frowned and were about to ask before Chiron beat you to it.

“Lord Dionysus has been forbidden by his father, Lord Zeus, to consume alcohol as a punishment. His presence here is also part of the punishment. He must be camp director for 100 years before the ban is lifted and he can return to Olympus full time.” You nodded, not quite understanding but choosing to leave the subject at hand.

“So I'm a half-blood?” Ash shoved a metal can in his face and nodded.

“Yep, you wouldn't have been able to get past the boundary line if you weren't one, you wouldn't have been able to see the monsters and they definitely wouldn't have been trying to eat you.”

“How do they know?” You asked softly.

“Know…”

“How do they recognise half-bloods?” He shrugged.

“There have been lots of theories but the one that has been proven is that demigods have a certain smell, it's kinda in their blood. Obviously mixed in with the human there's a bit of godly ichor, only the tiniest of bits but it's enough, and when that kind of blood mixes with the human blood in demigods bodies from the mortal side, it creates a smell that only monsters can notice.”

“So like a chemical reaction.” You said quietly to yourself. Somehow the others all heard, Chiron chuckled and Mr D sent you a look of disdain while Ash contemplated the thought.

“That's not a bad way to describe it actually, I'll have to use that next time. But back to the monsters. Naturally they can smell demigods from miles away so they have a better shot at killing them and they always follow the smell because they know that at the other end of it is usually a snack for them, if not two. Of course some kids smell stronger, usually those ones are more powerful, so more monsters will go after them. And usually those kids die pretty quickly unless a satyr brings them here.” You glance down at Ashs hooves.

“You're a satyr.”

“Yes I am.”

“And your job was to get Maisie and I here.”

“It was. I'm your protector, my job was to watch you and see if you were a demigod then when I was sure I had to bring you here. I found Maisie as well by sheer luck, she probably wouldn't have lived much longer out there.” He picked up another can and bit into it.

“What do you mean?”

“Most monsters.” He started with his mouth full and you made a disgusted look. He grinned sheepishly then swallowed, “Sorry. Most monsters only start to really go after demigods when they're about the 5th or 6th grade. That's when the weird stuff starts to happen as they start to get more powerful.” I opened my mouth. “Before you ask no, I don't know why you've managed to last this long. There's only a few demigods who make it to your age without being found but they're typically the children of minor gods whereas you are definitely not.” You blinked.

“I'm half god, I'm constantly going to be running and trying to not die and you bring me to a summer camp.” You started, voice growing slightly louder with each point.

“When you say it like that it does sound a bit stupid.” Ash mumbled as Chiron clopped over and placed a hand on your back.

“Come child, take a walk with me.” You followed him out the doors, turning back to see Ash giving you an awkward smile and a thumbs up.

“Ash, get me another diet coke.” Mr D demanded and Ash jumped up, scuttling out of the room with the old can in his hand.

Soon enough you were out of sight, walking slowly through the camp.

“The life of a half-blood is never easy.” Chiron began. ”That is what this camp is for. It is a safe haven where you can live peacefully and make friends. We train you so that whenever you do go back into the mortal world you can protect yourself from monsters if they should choose to come after you. I have seen many a half-blood pass through here and each one has emerged with skills that help them survive. You may leave if you wish but you will always be welcome here.”

“What if I fail? What if I get someone killed? I almost got Maisie killed. ” Chiron smiled pityingly.

“You may fail over and over but you can only get better with time. The greatest heroes in the past never got it on the first try. They had to practise hard to get to the top, to be remembered. And so will you. You fought bravely out there, you have great potential to be a formidable hero and make your godly parent proud.” You stared at him.

“How will I know which god or goddess my parent is?” Chiron chuckled.

“They will send a sign and claim you if they wish.”

“You mean they might not even want me?”

“No but the gods are busy and they do not always have the time to claim all of their children.” His tail swished behind him and he led you over to a small girl, her long braids tied back in a ponytail. “This is Annabeth Chase. She will show you around and help you adjust, she was one of the campers who found you in the forest.” Annabeth scrutinised you, her large brown eyes locked on the way you twisted your fingers nervously. “She is one of our year round campers and has been here for almost a year now. I think despite her young age and apparent lack of experience you’ll find her very capable indeed.” With that he trotted away leaving you alone with Annabeth who merely remained staring at you. And more closely at the clothes you were wearing. You shifted uncomfortably at her unwavering gaze.

“So, Annabeth,” You began awkwardly, voice as quiet as possible, “Who’s your godly um relation?” She regarded you silently before sighing.

“My mother is Athena, goddess of wisdom. And I don't have to be a child of Athena to tell that you are very confused.”

“Is it that obvious?” You asked, she levelled a look at you that read really.

“Yes it is that obvious. Walk with me. I'll explain everything about camp that Chiron didn't.” She set off towards a lake, leaving you to trail behind her.

“You know we're demigods, half mortal half god, yes?” She nodded and continued. “And you know about monsters and all that? So you know when they're ready your mum or dad will claim you?” At your nod she continued. “While you're unclaimed you'll live in the Hermes cabin which I will show you later. It'll be our last stop so you can get settled in immediately and Chiron already had your stuff taken over so that'll be waiting.” She stopped in her tracks as we got to the beach. “This is the canoe lake. Watch out for the nymphs, they can get a bit violent sometimes but only if you do something stupid to provoke them.” She pointed to a wall dripping orange in the distance. “That's the climbing wall, the lava is an incentive to actually climb and not fall. But you'd be surprised at the amount of people who still end up getting sent to the infirmary to be treated for burns by the Apollo kids. Some of their stupidity astounds me, then again it is only ever the boys so maybe it's just that boys are stupid.” You smiled slightly at her logic, while not entirely true it showed a tiny crack in her otherwise unflappable exterior. She shook her head as if in disbelief of her own words. “Anyway, the amphitheatre is over there.” She gestured to a mass of stone and turned around, marching back up the sandy path. You both walked for about half an hour until she stopped. “Over there are the strawberry fields, that's what our cover is. Delphi Strawberries.” She grinned. “Can't have people knowing this is really a place where kids learn to kill stuff. Besides they can't see through the barrier so even if we did tell them the truth they'd just think we were lying.” Your face spoke for itself, yet another thing you didn't understand. “I'll explain another time.” She pointed to a huge stone structure that reminded you a little of the Colosseum, then two other much smaller shacks. “That's the arena, when you've learnt how, you can practise fighting with weapons there, that's the forge where the Hephaestus kids make the aforementioned weapons. Of course anyone can use it but they can get a bit territorial. And that there is the armoury where we store all the weapons and armour. We’ll probably take you there tomorrow and if not then it'll be sometime this week at least.”

“We?” You asked and she blinked.

“My brother and I. He's good with weapons so he’ll be able to help you find one that suits you. Better than I would be able to at least.” You nodded in understanding, looking up at the darkening sky and then the watch on your wrist, the strap barely held together. Annabeth followed your gaze. “It's getting pretty late. We've probably missed dinner but there'll be plenty of leftovers for us to just grab quickly from the Big House. But we should hurry up just in case.” She turned on her heel and started sprinting along the grass. You followed hurriedly, ignoring the pain that shot through your legs with every footstep. As you ran you looked around camp. Illuminated in the glow of the setting sun it was beautiful, the greenest grass you had ever seen and deep woodlands rich with vibrant wildlife. The strawberry fields seemed to be rolling and endless across the hills, pink dots seeming to engulf the green. Annabeth halted in front of the huge farmhouse you had come from earlier and brushed the dirt off her cargo pants and the same orange shirt as you before entering.

You both made your way to the conservatory area and as soon as Annabeth entered she piled up a plate with food. You followed suit, grabbing a few slices of pizza, some chips, cucumber and a chocolate cupcake. Your eyes followed Annabeth as she walked up to a bronze brazier and flicked in some food, Bowing her head and muttering something under her breath. She looked at you and tipped her head.

“Your turn. You just scoop in some food and say a quick prayer.” You raised an eyebrow and she sighed. “I'll…”

“Explain later, I know, I know.” You dropped a slice of pizza into the flame and mumbled.

“Whoever you are, accept this delicious slice of pizza and just yeah.” You finished lamely and stepped back, immediately biting into the pizza and marvelling at the taste. “No wonder they like burnt pizza, this pizza would be good even if it was charcoal.”

Chiron walked into the room unexpectedly.

“Ah, there you both are. I was wondering when I'd see you again. I trust Annabeth has given you a good enough tour.”

“She did.” You said in affirmation.

“Good. Well your belongings are all in the Hermes cabin waiting for you so off you go. And leave the rest of the pizza here. I haven't had it in months and I've missed it.” Annabeth dragged you out the door as you pulled down the sleeves of your new hoodie so they dangled down. She released your arm once you were outside and began to walk just across the path to a clearing full of cabins. You were startled as a blur collided with you, screeching with excitement. Maisie.

“You're alive!” She practically screamed in your ear and you laughed quietly.

“I am but if you keep being this loud I might not be for long.”

“I missed you. But I've made some new friends as well. Like Annabeth, we play hide and seek together and it's really fun!” You tapped her on the nose and crouched to look at her properly.

“Really now? What else has happened while I've been gone?” Maisie puffed out her chest proudly.

“I got claimed. By Dem-Dem-” She cut off unsurely.

“Demeter?” She nodded furiously.

“Yes! And big sister Rosie is teaching me to control plants.” She said the last part in a whisper. “I've got superpowers and it's awesome.” You smiled gently

“I'm sure it is and I can't wait to talk to you again Maisie but right now Annabeth and I are a bit busy.” You gave an exaggerated yawn and looked at your watch. “It is so late. Way past your bedtime missy so off you pop.” Maisie grinned toothily, planted a kiss on your cheek and sprinted off back to a cabin with a rooftop of grass. You looked over at Annabeth to see her smiling fondly before she shook herself out of it and stopped you in front of a different cabin.

“This is me. Cabin six.” She stepped into the doorway. “ Cabin eleven is over there.” She pointed across the clearing. “Since it's spring there's only two or three people staying there at the moment so you'll be able to grab a bed.” She hesitated for a second before giving you the briefest of hugs. “I think we’ll be good friends. You seem nice and Maisie has been singing your praises.” She flashed her white teeth at you in a small smile. “Night.” With that she disappeared from sight and you dawdled across the clearing, taking your time to get to the cabin and standing outside it for a good ten minutes.

Eventually you plucked up the courage and walked in. Immediately tripping on a loose floorboard and falling towards the floor, arms outstretched in front of you to try and break the fall when you hit the ground, bracing yourself for impact. But it never came.

Instead you felt a pair of warm hands wrapped around your waist, stopping you from falling. Pulling you away from the floor and turning you around as you tried to right your bearings.

“Hello.” A voice spoke, sounding amused.

Thank you.” You stammered, still slightly shocked as you stared down at the floor and shuffled your feet.

“Nothing to thank me for, I wasn't about to just let you faceplant. Funny as it might've been.” The person responded smoothly. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” You muttered, “Just a little embarrassed is all.” The boy laughed and you finally looked up. Your breath caught in your throat. It was the boy from that night. His curly hair messy and warm brown eyes sparkling as a small grin pulled at his lips.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about.” He responded. “You must be Y/N. I'm Luke. Luke Castellan, it's a pleasure to meet you.”

All I know is we said, "Hello" Your eyes look like comin' home All I know is a simple name And everything has changed

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan #percy jackson and the olympians #annabeth chase #young annabeth being cute #but I might be biased #taylor swift lyrics #luke castellan imagine #pjo tv show #pjotv x reader #pjo x reader

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asexual-radio-demon · 3 months

Text

Three hours, twenty minutes, thirty-four seconds

Vox x wife!reader (3rd POV) Words: Warnings: Threatening, crude language (a bit), suggestive themes however nothing nsfw, Vox is simping for his wife Summary: Galas were tedious and Vox wanted nothing more than to come home

The hall she was currently in was huge and had been spruced up to sparkle. Diamond-adorned chandeliers cast the huge space in a golden light, reflecting not only from the highly polished floor but also from the clothes and jewelry of the other guests.

They had put on their best attire and seemed to be doing their best to suffocate each other with superficial and false pleasantries.

She herself had fallen victim to this, having been in conversation with Mr. Hile for nearly half an hour, and wished nothing more than that she had stayed at home. Not only was his company incredibly tiresome, as was he himself, but he wasn't even interested in her company or her opinion on any subject. If he had been, she could have at least pulled herself together and feigned interest.

Instead, he seemed solely fixated on her husband's work, firing off one statistic after another, leaving her head spinning with numbers.

However, her wishes for rescue seemed to have been granted, because after another five minutes, during which she thought she was going mad, as if drowning in a sea of data, an arm suddenly wrapped around her and a hand settled on her hip. She didn't have to look up to know who was holding her.

"Mr. Hile, what a delightful surprise!" Vox businessman's voice oozed charm as he greeted the man in front of him, his smile polished and practiced, but she could hear the venom in which his words were drenched and felt the electric tension around him, making the hairs on her arms and neck stand on end.

"Mr...Mr. Vox." All of a sudden, Hile didn't seem nearly as confident and she had to pull herself together not to break into a wide grin at the sight. "I didn't know you were-" "-also attending the gala? Well, I'm here."

He laughed lightly, albeit forced, and pulled her a little closer as his claws pressed lightly into her skin. Not painfully, but strong enough so that she couldn't free herself from his grip. Certainly not that she wanted to.

"Tell me, Mr. Hile, haven't I already told you several times that I'm not interested in your offer?" His voice sounded more strained, but keeping the light tone, and she really didn't want to be in the man's shoes now. Hile blanched and swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously as he took a step back, but Vox's grip on his jacket tightened with a subtle click of his tongue. fumbling at his collar and taking a step back, but Vox grabbed him by the jacket with a slight click of his tongue.

"I asked you a question. It's only polite to answer it." His voice glitched slightly and she could feel the tension building in the air. "Yes! Yes you have," Hile squeaked, and if he hadn't bored her to death for the last thirty minutes she would have felt sorry for him.

"Good, so why do you think it would be appropriate to bother my wife about this?" Hile began to sweat and sheer panic was in his eyes as he tried to stammer his way out of it, which only angered Vox more. He sank his hand into his shirt and seemed to catch his body in the process, as Hile whimpered in pain.

"I should tear you bastard apart right here," he hissed, running one of his talons across his cheek and down to his throat, leaving a thin gash. "I should disembowel you and decorate this hall with your guts."

Sparks flew between his fingertips, burning into Hile's shirt and skin, and she knew Vox was really going to kill him, so she gingerly placed her hand on his arm.

"Let it be, Vox." His gaze shot over to her and softened instantly. " You sure, doll? He shouldn't have treated you like that." A slight smile crept onto her lips, however, she shook her head resolutely. "While you're right and I'd love nothing more than to be rid of that skank, I don't want any more attention on me. I'm not really in the mood for this drama."

Vox bowed his head slightly, bending to his wife's will, and wheeled around to Hile, a fake smile plastered on his face.

" Well, it seems luck's on your side today. For whatever reason my wife doesn't think you're worth the trouble of taking care of. I don't agree, but I'd be a bad husband if I didn't make her wishes my priority. If I had my way, you'd be wasting space and spending the next few hours in agonizing pain." She could see some energy enter Hile's body via Vox's fingertips, causing him to flinch and squeal softly before Vox dropped him to the ground, only to bend down to him. "And let me tell you, if I ever see you near me again, let alone my wife, I will run so many volts through your body that there will be nothing left of you but his fucking pile of ash, which will be as pathetic as you are. Understand?"

Hile nodded hurriedly before scrambling to his feet and rushing off to get as far as he could. Vox's disdainful stare lingered for a moment as his acquaintance departed, his expression softening as he turned towards his wife. She met his gaze with a gentle look of understanding, a subtle smile playing on her lips. "I have to admit, that was very sexy of you."

"Oh, really?" Vox's arm wrapped around her once more, pulling her close against his chest. He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear, eliciting a shiver that danced down her spine. "Perhaps I should threaten the filth of hell more often then, if it excites my dear wife so much."

She leaned her head back so that it rested on his shoulder and sighed softly. "At least it was entertaining, which is more than you can say for this event, if you can even call it that. I don't even know how much time we wasted here." It wasn't a question, but Vox answered nonetheless. "Three hours, twenty minutes and thirty-four seconds." She groaned and turned to face him so that they were face to face. "That long?"

Vox chuckled softly and for a few moments they just stood apart from everything, partly in the shadow of the massive pillars, simply enjoying each other's presence.

"Did I mention you look fantastic, love?" She looked up and noticed Vox's incessant sliding up and down her body and felt his hand settle on her hip again, only to slowly drift down to her pelvis. She smiled and placed a hand on his chest, "I think you did."

His grip on her tightened and he leaned forward to bury his head, screen, in her shoulder and she gasped softly as she felt his lips on her exposed neck. "You look stunning," he murmured against her skin, his words caressing her like a gentle breeze. His lips trailed to her shoulder, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake.

Her eyelids fluttered and she had to pull herself together not to give in to the urge to lean against the pillar. "The prettiest woman in all nine circles of hell. A temptation no man could ever resist and yet I am so fortunate to call you mine."

She blushed at his comment and the fact that her husband's mouth kept moving south, fully aware that they were surrounded by hundreds of people. "Vox," she gasped softly, clawing at his shoulder in an attempt to keep her voice down. Grinning cheekily, he raised his eyes and she noticed that there were once again two streaks of red below his mouth. "Yes, doll?"

She took a deep breath, hoping to regain her composure, which her husband had utterly destroyed in a matter of moments. "Three and a half hours should be long enough, don't you think?" As the air crackled with energy around her, she couldn't help but notice the sparks dancing from Vox's hands, yet he seemed intent on prolonging the tease. "But, doll. You're not suggesting what I think you're doing, are you?"

His voice held a playful tone, adding to the tension that already hung thick in the air.

He ran a single claw along her neck and the cold sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. "That's not proper for a good wife, is it?" Vox's words were laced with mischief, his touch electrifying her senses even further.

Her nerves were on edge by now. She hadn't spent hours in uncomfortable shoes listening to the ramblings of the old old people and pretending to be interested, only to be driven mad by her husband.

With a spontaneous burst of determination, she seized him by the bow tie, tugging him closer. A blush painted his screen, lending him an endearing quality that melted her heart. "Don't provoke me, my love. We both know I'm not that good, innocent housewife," she teased, mirroring his earlier playful tone. Her fingers trailed lightly over his exposed throat, feeling the subtle twitch of his frame beneath her touch.

His screen glitched momentarily in response to her boldness. "Of...course," he murmured and she let go of him, patting his screen. "Good boy. Now get us out of here. Quickly if it's possible."

Her hands slid from his neck to his chest, the urgency of her request evident in her touch. "I really need to let out some pent-up frustration."

She looked up at him and saw that the arrogant smile was back. "Of course," he replied softly, scooping her up in his arms with surprising ease, causing her to emit a startled yip. "Vox, what the... "It dawned on her what he was up to when she saw him step towards the camera. "No. Please don't."

Vox chuckled softly, his demeanor unwavering. "Don't worry, doll. It'll be quick." All at once, his voice dropped several pitches. "And afterwards, I'll apologize to you. Thoroughly." She exhaled and buried her face in his chest, bracing herself for the unsettling sensation of digital transport. "Only the best, for my queen."

#vox x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin vox x reader #hazbin vox #vox #hazbin hotel x reader

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