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messysketchyobeyme · 4 months

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Not a Nightmare

Lucifer/Reader

Summary:

Lucifer doesn't get nightmares, nor does he need comfort for one.

A/N:

Lucifer does pin MC down at one point, so keep that in mind!

Word Count: 1,578

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The door to your bedroom creaked open. A sliver of light from the hallway shone against your face. You opened your eyes to see a tall figure standing in the doorframe. His fingers clung to the edge of the door, as his face peered inside your bedroom. His eyebrows perked up when he saw you staring back at him.

"I apologize," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I didn't mean to wake you."

You rubbed your right eye with the back of your wrist. "That's okay, Lucifer. I wasn't sleeping anyway." You sat up, ignoring the way his fingers twitched. "What are you doing here anyway? Did you throw up?"

Lucifer's nose wrinkled in disgust. "No," he said, "I check up on everyone before I go to bed. It's grown into a habit of mine." There was a quick beat before he continued. "Since I have done what I set out to do, I suppose this is goodnight."

He moved to close the door but stopped. You wouldn't say he was hesitating per se, but it did seem like he was waiting for something. You stared at Lucifer, already dressed in his blue silk pajamas. His hair was combed through, but a couple of unruly strands stuck up in the back of his head. You grinned.

"Aw, did poor wittle Lucifer have a bad dream?" You teased him. The end of your sentence was punctuated with a short chuckle.

Lucifer groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. He muttered something under his breath that sounded vaguely like a swear. "I refuse to dignify that with a response."

"So, that's a yes."

"No. It's a no. I don't have nightmares."

You scoot over to the side of your bed. "Everyone has nightmares, silly. I mean, just last week Mammon told me about how he dreamt about a haunted peanut butter sandwich." You pulled down the blanket so that the spot next to you was uncovered. "Trust me. It was scarier than it sounds."

Lucifer scoffed. "Are you trying to compare me to Mammon?"

You fluffed up the pillow to your side. "I'm just saying that having nightmares is a perfectly normal part of growing up."

"Don't talk to me like I'm some child."

You smiled at him and tilted your head toward the space next to you. When he didn't budge, you said, "So…"

Lucifer's eyebrows furrowed together. It looked like he was about to pop a blood vessel. "So what?"

"So, are you going to get into bed with me or not?"

Lucifer's lips pressed into a thin line. He opened the door wider. "Like I said, I only came here to check up on you. I'm not staying the night."

"Most people like to be comforted after having a nightmare."

"I did not have a nightmare."

You settled back into bed, pulling the blanket up to your chin. "Alright, fine. I get it. You didn't have a bad dream or whatever," you said. You tilted your head so that the hallway light was no longer hitting your face. "Well, I'm going to sleep. 'Night."

You closed your eyes and waited to hear the familiar click of your door. When that didn't happen, you cracked open one eye. Lucifer was lingering in the doorway. He was giving you a long, hard stare like he was analyzing you under a microscope.

"I could spare a few minutes," Lucifer said quietly.

"Then, what are you waiting for?" You looked expectantly at him, as he stepped inside your bedroom and closed the door behind him. He shuffled over to your bed. Without making a sound, he lifted the blanket and lay beside you.

Your bed wasn't small by any means, but it wasn't made to hold two people. Even with the vines along the wall pressing against your back, Lucifer's shoulder was still touching you. You didn't mind. Lucifer's body warmth was a welcome comfort, especially when a certain someone turned off the heat at night to save electricity, despite being rich enough not to need to do that.

Lucifer's scent took over your senses. He smelled a little like hell coffee. You wondered if he downed a cup before heading over here. You wouldn't be surprised considering the proximity of the kitchen to your room.

As he was getting comfortable, you asked, "Do you really check up on your brothers every night before bed?"

He nodded. "I do. I mainly do it to make sure Mammon isn't sneaking out to gamble all of our life savings at the casino, again."

"Is there another reason?”

Lucifer shot you an annoyed look before sighing. He turned away from you, focusing his attention on the ceiling.

"You're right." Lucifer's voice was so quiet that you strained to hear him properly. "It's odd, but I can't seem to relax if I don't know where they are at night." He glanced over in your direction. "That includes you."

You let out an endeared huff of air. "You really care about them, huh?" It was sweet knowing how much he loved his brothers…and you, you guessed. You reached over and placed your hand on his chest. You felt the hammering of his heartbeat and sighed.

Lucifer laid his calloused hand on top of yours. You don’t think you’ve ever felt his bare hands before. It was rare to see him gloveless. For some inexplicable reason, your cheeks grew warm.

“I care about you, too.”

“I know.”

You lifted your hand out from under his hand. He flashed you a confused look before you started to squeeze his cheek between your thumb and forefinger.

He huffed, “Stop that.” Lucifer shoved your hand away.

“Aw, but your cheeks are so soft and puffy.” You reached over to poke his cheek, but Lucifer was quick to stop you. “It’s fun.”

“They’re not puffy.” He smacked your arm aside. “I will leave if you don’t stop irritating me.”

“No, you won’t.” Before you could poke him again, Lucifer grabbed your wrist and pinned your arm to the bed. “Hey!” you protested, ready to fend him off with your other hand. He caught that one, too, and pinned it down next to your head for good measure.

Now, Lucifer was leaning over you. He was scowling, but you were hoping that there was at least some level of enjoyment hidden underneath his annoyed gaze. “I hope you’re ready for your punishment.”

“Punishment?” You swallowed anxiously. Being Lucifer’s soft spot, you were rarely the subject of any of his punishments, no matter how defiant and rude you were. (You suspected that he liked it when you did those things, but you never commented on it.)

You weren’t sure what Lucifer could be planning, but if it was anything similar to the stuff he forced onto his brothers, you have the right to be at least worried.

Lucifer moved so that he was holding both of your wrists in one hand over your head. “Be prepared to face my wrath.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. Your mind reeled with all of the possible things Lucifer could do to you. He could…could…okay, you actually had no idea but there was no way it would be good.

Something pinched your cheek. You opened an eye to see Lucifer grinning at you. “What?” you said, your voice slightly muffled by Lucifer dragging your cheek out to the side.

He began poking at your cheek repeatedly. “You’re right. This is fun.” Lucifer chuckled. “You should have seen the look on your face.” When you stuck out your tongue, he said, “Now, now, there’s no need to resort to such childish methods.” He squeezed the sides of your lips, forcing you to make kissy faces at him.

Lucifer started to give you a dreamy, far-off look. It wasn’t the type of expression you were used to seeing on a usually stoic demon. You had no idea what he was thinking about, and you weren’t keen on finding out.

While Lucifer was distracted, you wiggled out of his grip. Before he could open his mouth to protest, you shoved him to the side and pinned him down on his back. “Got you,” you said.

You expected Lucifer to go back to being annoyed, but he started laughing, instead. It made you falter for a second. “S-sorry,” he managed to stutter out through his laughter. Lucifer tried speaking again once he began to calm down. “It’s just that…you’re…you are quite endearing.”

“Gee, thanks,” you said.

Lucifer glanced at the clock at the far side of your wall. “It’s getting late. Why don’t you settle down and get some sleep? We both have to be up early tomorrow.”

“Excuse me? Why don’t I settle down? You’re the one who started this!” Despite your words, you moved to get off of Lucifer and laid back down in bed. You pulled the covers over yourself, and Lucifer did the same.

“I disagree,” Lucifer said, taking the time to tuck your comforter up to your chin. You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you said.

“Good night.”

You closed your eyes. After a second or two, you called out into the dark, “Hey, Lucifer?”

“Yes?”

“Do you feel better? After your nightmare?”

There was a long period of silence. You wondered if Lucifer was going to start arguing with you again, but a low laugh stopped that line of thinking.

“Yes,” he muttered, “Yes, I do feel better.”

#obey me #obey me mc #obey me lucifer #fanfic #lucifer/reader

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disasterofastory · 7 months

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Temptation (Tommy Shelby x Reader)

Temptation devil!Tommy Shelby x nun!Reader Warnings: smut, dubious consent, mention of death, mention of cruelty with kids (just a few words and nothing specific)

Summary: The devil is here to tempt you.

A tired sigh leaves your lips as you stop at the door. Your eyes scan the small bodies under the thick, warm blankets. A few of them are already asleep or halfway there while the others still fidget to find a comfortable position. "Okay, kids," you speak up. "Everyone is ready to sleep? Does nobody have to pee? Or need water?" When you only get a few hums in answer, you nod. "Then sweet dreams, my loves. I will see you tomorrow."

The door softly clicks as you pull it close, and you find yourself alone in the dimly lit hallway. The tall stonewalls radiate cold, making you shiver and hurry up your steps to your own room. Silvery hue filters through the windows, lighting your way among the rigid walls and closed doors. The quiet sound of your steps echoes in the silence.

You almost feel relaxed. Your shoulders fall as your posture eases. Everyone is asleep or at least back in their room for the night.

Well, almost everyone. The exception is you and…

Other steps join yours. They are not far, just a few meters behind you. They are slow and lazy. You can almost see his careless posture as he follows you. Hands in his pockets. A cigarette between his lips. Gray smoke swirls around him with every inhale and exhale. A smug curl at the corner of his lips.

"It was a long day," he states. Your heart jumps at the sudden sound. "You must be tired," he adds when you don't reply.

When you reach your room, you close the door behind you as if it could stop him. Your eyes are on the ground. Your lips are in a thin line. Your fingers linger around the key for a second, but in the end, you decide against it. You often have visitors in the middle of the night when one of the kids can't sleep or have a bad dream, and you don't want them to meet with a closed door when they need you. You can't stop the man with an old lock anyway.

When you turn around, he is already inside, lying on your bed. His ankles are crossed. His back is against the wooden headboard with one of his arms behind his head. Your eyes meet with his icy blue ones for a second. Amusement glints in his gaze.

"Would you leave?" You ask, pointing at your door. "I want to sleep." He hums, standing up. "I could help you relax," he offers. "I don't need your help!" You reply. "I just want to be alone." "And what do you do alone, hm?" He asks. His voice is much closer now. "What a little nun like you do alone in her room?" "She sleeps!" His laughs fill the small room, jumping back from the walls to shake up your insides. It's deep and rumbling. "You forget something," he says, pushing the veil out of your face. "I've been here for a while now." Your cheeks heat up at his words. Keeping your eyes on the ground, you try to tune him out. "I saw you in the privacy of your room," he continues, taking off your veil and the coif you wear. His long fingers brush through your hair. "I saw you lying on your bed." Shame and embarrassment boil in your veins. "What did you think about?" He asks, smirking. "Hm? You naughty girl." "Stop," you whisper, stepping away from him, but it's useless. His presence still hovers around you. You are barely able to breathe because of it. "Just stop it!" "Why would I?" He asks. "You want it too. I see it. Who did you imagine when you played with your pretty cunt, hm? What did you think when you cum around your fingers?" "Stopstopstop!" "Whatever you imagined, I can do it better," he continues. You want to stop him as he takes off your clothes, but you can't find the strength to move your arm.

Before you know it, you are in your underclothes. Your black dress with the cross you usually wear around your neck is on the floor. You feel exposed and shy. Quiet prayers leave your lips as you close your eyes, but the man just laughs. His hand cups your face, lifting it up so he can look at you. "I can do anything you want," he says. His breath fans over your heated skin. "I can make you scream with my fingers. I can make you cum around my cock as many times as you want." "Oh my god," you breathe out, still frozen. "Not god," he chuckles. "You know my name. Tell me! Say my name."

The man appeared a few weeks ago after the abbess fell off the stairs and died. You can't say you were sorry for her. She was mean to the other nuns and cruel to the kids. You don't even dare to guess how many children died because she made a game out of tormenting them. Yeah, you were happy when you found out she was dead.

But the devil stayed.

"Tommy." "That's right," he grins.

You don't know why he chose you. At first, you thought he came after you to punish you for something. Maybe because you couldn't protect the children from the old hag. The guilt still eats at you to this day.

But no.

Tommy did nothing to hurt you or cause you pain. He… played. Teased. Tempted.

"Just relax," he says, pulling on the white underdress that still hides your body until it pools around your legs, too. "Let me reward you for being so good." Mockery drips from his words. Your nipples harden because of the cold and because of his words. "You take such good care of everyone. You deserve a break after following the rules so much. I can help you. Let me help you." A croaked moan leaves your lips when his thumb brushes over your nipple. The soft pull on the hard bud goes straight between your legs, and the clench of your thighs doesn't go unnoticed by Tommy. "Good girl," he hums. "You are such a good girl." "Stop it," you groan, still keeping your eyes closed. Your back arches as you push your breast against his palm. His touch is warm and possessive. He gropes your flesh like you are his favorite toy. "You can say it all you want, Y/N," he says, his lips ghosting over the sensitive part under your ear. "But I know you want it." "Tom-" The air gets stuck in your lungs when he grabs your hips and tugs you against himself. You can feel him grinding his erection to your lower belly. Your pussy squeezes around nothing. "Tell me," he says impatiently. "Tell me you want it. Tell me you want to be my perfect little toy, and I will give you everything. I will devour you until you know nothing but my name. Ask for it!"

You shouldn't. You should be strong enough to say no. You should…

He pulls on your nipple again.

A sharp gasp leaves your lips at the sensation. It's pleasurable and painful at the same time. And your body begs for more.

"Please," you cry out. "Look at me and say it," he commands. "Say it!" You have to force yourself to look him in the eye. You can see the desire and impatience in them. As if he is afraid you will change your mind any moment. "Please, Tommy," you say. Your lips tremble with each word you say. "Fuck me." His smile is everything. It's beautiful and dangerous at the same time. Your blood starts to boil in your veins even more at the sight of it.

"Lay down on the bed," he says, letting you go so you can do as he says. The moment his arms are not around you anymore, you can feel the cold of your room. Your nipples harden even more. It almost hurts. When you look at him after lying down, he is already naked. Your eyes widen, and your breath pauses at the view of him. His skin seems even paler under the moonlight, and his eyes are almost white. You can see the lean muscles working as he moves, and soon, you gaze from his pecks lower down between his thighs. His cock is hard and bobs in sync with his steps. The head is light pink, and his balls are tight under his shaft. "Did you see cock before?" Tommy grins, curling his long fingers around his shaft. He pumps himself lazily, enjoying the way your breath stops for long seconds at the sight. "And you know I will know if you lie to me." "Yes," you croak. You were young and stupid way before you offered your life to God. He smirks. "Naughty girl." He strokes himself from the base to the tip. Pre-cum drips down his cock, following a thick line of a vein on the underside of his erection. You feel ashamed and mesmerized as you stare at him, barely blinking. Your body burns with desire and opposition. Your thighs clench, and your nipples are hard peaks on your breasts. "Naughty girl," Tommy says again. "You can't even look me in the eye." At his words, your gaze moves up to his eyes automatically. White-hot lust shimmers in his bright blue eyes. There is something primal and eternal in his aura. He dominates everything in the room without even trying. A smug smirk tugs on his lips. "There is my good girl," he praises. "So easy to command. Spread your legs." Your lips press into a thin line. Your legs move on their own accord. His heavy gaze from your face goes down your chest and stomach and stops between your thighs. He squeezes the base of his cock. The short curls between your legs glint with your wetness. "I can smell you, you know?" Tommy says, grinning when he notices your frustration only grows. "I smelled you the moment you knew I was behind you." "You didn't," you argue weakly. He laughs. It's deep and dangerous. "Are you saying I'm lying?" You shrug. "You are the devil." "And you are lying on the bed, ready to get fucked by the devil." His words are crude and cut deep into you, but he is right. Your pussy aches for any friction you can get from the man in front of you, still jerking himself off. "Open that pussy for me," Tommy says, letting his eyes drop to your wet center. "Let me see how you play with yourself when you think nobody watches." Your fingers tremble as you reach down between your thighs. Your touch is cold compared to the heat of your pussy. Your finger slides over your slit, testing. A shuddering moan leaves your lips as you do as Tommy says. You let him see your pink flesh as you dig your heels onto the blanket under you. Your hips buck at the feeling. "Such a good nun," he groans, watching you playing with yourself. You are unsure and careful. Your fingers get soaked as you make an even bigger mess. The room is filled with your scent. "Spank your pussy," he says suddenly, and you freeze. What? "You heard me," he grins. The man can see it in your eyes. Beneath the confusion, desire lashes up in you. "Spank that hot cunt for me, Y/N." Your heart pounds in your throat as your lips fall open. Your pussy clenches with anticipation.

The wet, smacking sound is loud in the otherwise quiet room. It's followed by your sharp gasp. It's not nearly enough to cause pain, but your reaction is the same.

Tommy laughs. "Harder, Y/N. You didn't even feel it."

He is wrong. You felt it in your whole body.

Lifting up your hand, you slap your own pussy again. Harder this time. A startled cry escapes your lips, and your back arches into an elegant curve. Your hips buck for more. The pain sears through your veins, making your limbs tingle. "Fuck," Tommy groans at the sight. You are so beautiful. Your pussy lips are already swollen. "Again." And you do it again. You do it as many times as he says. By the time he has enough, tears wet your face, and your hand is soaked with your juices. Until now, you didn't know you could feel that way. Every nerve in your body is on edge, begging for more. "Now," he breaks the silence. "Use your fingers, Y/N. Make your pretty pussy ready for my cock." Impatience pulls on your chest at his words. You want him. And you want him now. "Do it, good girl," he coos, smirking. He is a mess, too. His pre-cum glints on his cock. The head is red and swollen. "Obey me." Your hand moves again without your control. You push one finger into your aching hole without a problem. Your toes curl at the feeling. Your walls are slippery and hot. You start to finger yourself in front of him, letting the heel of your palm rub on your clit. "That's my good nun," he praises. "Add another one." He is impatient, too. It shimmers in his voice. The line of his jaw is hard as he clenches his teeth. His balls jerk with the need to cum. Tommy has to squeeze himself to stop his orgasm at the last moment. He wants to cum into your pussy. He wants to pump you full of his seed. You continue fuck yourself with two fingers while your gaze is on his cock. You watch him jerk himself off at the sight of you, imagining how he will feel in your pussy.

"Get on your hands and knees, love." Tommy finally has enough. He wants to fuck you.

You have to force your body to move, turn, and get up from the bed until you face the wall, and Tommy has a clear view of your bottom.

Your heart beats in your throat as you listen to his steps on the wooden ground. He is slow and quiet. His cock is still in his hand, smearing his pre-cum on himself some more. You are beautiful. Vulnerability and need shine in your hooded eyes. The gentle line of your back leads to the soft, full globes of your ass. Your thighs tremble under your weight, and your pussy is flushed and wet between them.

The bed dibs as he climbs up behind you. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, covering you into something that makes you crave more.

With his knees, he parts your legs even more. His hands rest on your ass, kneading and groping the flesh there. The length of his cock is on your pussy, sliding over your slit as he moves. Tommy grinds against your center, letting the head of his erection nudge your aching parts. He taps your clit a few times and coats his cock in your juices. By the time he is done with his teasing, you are shaking. "By the time I'm done with you, this hot cunt will be sore, and the only name you will remember is mine." "Fuck me," you breathe out, still watching him over your shoulder. Despite his lean figure, he feels huge behind you. His presence dominates your small room. A smirk tugs on his lips. His bright eyes move up from your pussy to your eyes. "That's what you want, eh? My cock in your tight pussy." "Yes," you reply. Your answer is barely louder than a whisper because of the tightness of your throat.

The moment he positions his cock to your entrance is long and tense with anticipation. Your breath gets stuck in your lungs at the feeling. He teases your hole, letting his pre-cum drip over your slit. Your eyes fall shut, and a loud moan breaks the silence when Tommy pushes into you. He is bigger than you thought. The sudden stretch of your pussy burns and hurts, but you find something comforting and arousing in the feeling. It's raw and primal.

After a few minutes of letting you get used to his size, Tommy starts to fuck you. The force of his push almost sends you spread over the bed before his hands tighten on your hips and yanks you back on his cock. His fingers dig into your skin. His cock fills you up. You sound like a wounded animal under his merciless thrusts. Your breath is ragged, mixing with his.

He pounds into you for long minutes, building up your orgasm and stopping at the last second. Your walls tighten around him automatically, begging for more. Your hips buck backward.

"Do not worry, love," he says. "I'm not done with your sweet cunt yet." Tommy adjusts himself behind you. One of his knees stays on the bed while he moves the other one to brace himself on his foot. The new position reaches new parts in you that make you almost blind with pleasure. "That's right, little nun," he grunts. Your pussy is tight and warm around him. Your slick drips down on his shaft and balls. Your scent fills his senses. "Your cunt squeezes me so good, Y/N. Tommy leans over you, hovering above you as his hand from your hip slips into your hair. His long fingers grab a chunk of your curls, pushing your head down to the bed. Your back arches at the force. Your ass presses against him even more. "Oh, god," you groan under him. He snarls. "There is no god when the devil is inside you, little nun." He starts pounding into you like a madman while keeping you down by your hair. His pelvis slaps against your ass, and his cock pierces into your pussy. You can do nothing but cry and moan under his strength and weight.

Tommy uses you for his own pleasure while your orgasm builds in the pit of your stomach. Your muscles twitch and cramp until the burning coil snaps inside you. It flares through your body, making you see stars and cry for more. Your pussy flutters around his length, wanting everything he can give you.

"Good girl," he groans. "So good for me." He doesn't stop. He never wants to stop.

A sharp tug on your hair wakes you from your stupor. Saliva shines on your lips. "T-" You can't even say his name. "I'm here," he says. "And I want you to come again." You shake your head, dazed. "I can't…" "Of course, you can," he laughs breathlessly. "You will stay on my cock until you cum again." Salty tears run down your cheeks as you shake your head again. You feel sensitive and overwhelmed. Your back hits his chest as he sits you down on his lap. His cock is still in you. His arms are around you. One of them hugs your stomach, keeping you close, while the other is around your shoulder, letting his hand slip to your neck. His long fingers squeeze your throat. "Fuck," you groan. You can barely breathe. Your mind is empty and full at the same time. He bounces you on his cock, nudging your insides while he almost plays piano on the veins of your neck. You almost black out before he wakes you up with another hard thrust. "Cum for me, Y/N," he moans. "Let that cunt make a mess on my cock. If you will be a good girl, I will cum in you. I will let you have my seed in your womb." Somewhere deep down, there is a part of you that wants to fight. Your lips open to say no, but no sound comes out of your throat. And as if Tommy is reading your thoughts, he pushes two fingers into your mouth. He makes you gag and cry some more. Your body shakes and is ready to burst. "I want you to cum on my cock, Y/N," he growls into your ear. "Squeeze my cock and accept my seed, little nun. You know you want it." Despite your every attempt, your body only obeys his commands. One more hard thrust into your pussy and mouth, and you are over the edge. You shake and jerk against his body, cumming on his cock. Your eyes roll back into your skull while tears wet your face. You can taste them on the tip of your tongue. And you feel him in you. You feel him painting your walls with his cum. His chest rumbles on your back. His arms tighten around you even more. "Good girl," he whispers hoarsely. "You are my good little nun, Y/N."

When you wake up in the middle of the night, you are sore and tired, and Tommy is nowhere. The only thing that proves him he was there is his cum still dripping out from your used hole.

#tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine

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raccoonfallsharder · 2 months

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rocket raccoon prompt week ✷ day seven home ✷.⁺⋆˚₊

fluff | no use of yn | gn reader | drabble | word count: 661.

Home had been a shining city on the far horizon for most of Rocket’s formative years: distant and gleaming under an impossible blossom-blue dome. Unreachable. Untouchable. He’d left any hope of it behind, a dozen cannon-shots or more before he’d ever even stepped foot off the Arête. No. Rocket had gone straight from the cages and right into his escape pod, out into a sky that had suddenly seemed much less beautiful and much more forever.

And so home had always been a far-away thing, a thing he could never go back to, a thing that — like love, like peace, like a restful night’s sleep or body that didn’t hurt — Rocket could simply never have. A thing that hadn’t been meant for him. Like the screws slowly grinding away at his bones or the muscle contractures he’s always fighting in his hips and chest, home had just become another old ache that he’d grown to barely notice, except when he’s on a planet where the weather is bad.

And then, one shift — when it was just you and him — he’d been trying to work the knots out of his shoulders. You’d reached out with dancing fingers and a query on your lips — a gentle little sound of offering — and he’d gone as still as a moon pinned between two gravity wells. Your fingers had felt light as little birds, perched on his shoulders weightlessly, and you’d guided them into a rolling series of rotations. Then you’d tugged him between your knees, and kneaded every small stone you’d found lodged under his skin and fur.

When he’d finally gone as molten and buttery as a beeswax candle on a warm day, you’d murmured another little question. He’d blinked at you blankly — completely disconnected from anything but the feel of his body, pliant for the first time in possibly his entire life — so you’d pulled him onto your lap and continued your little ministry of touch until he’d fully curled up, his tail a wreath of feathery brushes around you both. His back had pressed itself into your hands as you’d worked your thumbs into the base of his spine: freeing the tension from his hips, beckoning it out of muscle and bone, letting it dissipate into the air between your fingertips. Your hands had been so warm that even all the metal plates and bolts deep inside had suddenly felt like a part of him — had suddenly matched his own body temperature — every piece slotting together inside him with a rightness he’d never known before. The air in his lungs had turned into little pearls and gemstones, spilling up into his throat like jeweled gravel. He’d made a noise — some kind of rumble — and it had startled him until your hands had soothed over him again and you’d whispered something that had sounded like you’re just purring.

He’d never say any of this in front of the others, never let them know about this: about how soft he is for this, for the warm quiet circle of space in your arms and on your thighs. He’d never climb into your lap like this if they could see it; never make a nest out of your body-heat and burrow into the loose thick folds of your sweatshirt. He only does it on the shifts when everyone else is asleep, or planetside, or away.

It’s not that he’s ashamed. It’s just — this is something special and precious and small, and if he looks at it too closely or acknowledges it exists, he may never have it back. But for now — for these moments that he can only measure in the soft wash of his breath or the thrum of his pulse in his wrists, the steady sound of your heartbeat holding him together like gravity — for now, it’s touchable, and attainable, and real —

Moreso than any shining city on the far horizon, glimmering against the sweep of a blossom-blue ocean and a forever sky.

i did it! i brought my wordcount down! this was just a fun little exercise in writing whatever weird shit came to my mind so sorry if it makes no sense but i figured i'd indulge my inclination toward purple prose (get rekt literary critics). anyway this was fun and i am very much in favor of many future rocket raccoon prompts & prompt weeks, and thank you for creating this and bringing it to my attention, @frostedwitch ♡♡♡

i will be putting out a masterlist for this set of prompts sometime next week probably. i really hope you enjoyed reading as much as i enjoyed writing! ♡

day six. bite rocket prompt week masterlist ✷ main masterlist rocket raccoon prompt week list

taglist ♡ @evolvingchaoswitch ♡ @glow-autumz ♡ @wren-phoenix ♡ @suicidalshitstick ♡ @pretty-chips

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eggyboyoart · 1 year

Text

Domestic Bliss

CW: Todoroki’s terrible cooking (I don’t care if he can cook in canon, this is MY WORLD and I’ll do whatever I want with him-), theres a lot of slang and meme talk, nose injury ig?? Todoroki wearing an apron and being domestic and cute :D, mentions of vomit, trying really heard not to gag or throw up, tears, being in mental/physical anguish bc of bad cooking.

WORD COUNT: approx. 1800 words, second person

Summary: You’re already having a shitty morning, what else could go wrong? ...Todoroki’s cooking, that’s what.

Good morning.

Well, considering that you fell face first out of bed, good morning is probably inaccurate.

Your stomach rumbles as you stumble out of your dorm room, your eyes bleary, mind still fuzzy with sleep. and nose aching painfully from its sudden meeting with the floor.

You curse to yourself as you make your way to the dorm's kitchen, hoping that a warm breakfast (hopefully made by Bakugou) will make your morning somewhat better.

Your hand comes up to rub your throbbing nose as you shuffle into the dining space, seeing your beloved classmates. They all greet you with various degrees of enthusiasm and sleepiness.

You feel your mood brighten slightly as you see Mina peak her head around the corner of the kitchen and look at you.

You feel your mood suddenly drop when you see how awkward and sort of filled with dread? she looks.

You stop in your tracks as your pink haired friend pulls her head back behind the wall of the kitchen and whisper something incoherent. Oh God, what is she doing? You're not in the mood for silly goofy shenanigans right now.

Your eyes narrow in suspicion when she comes back out and walks toward you, slinging her arm around your shoulders and stretches out her words with a sleezy tone.

"Heeyy, my awesome, epic slay bestie. How are youu? Have a good morning so far?" Mina averts her eyes suspiciously as you stare her down for her strange behaviour. You sigh as you pout and rub your nose.

"Shit. It was shit, Mina. I fell off the bed and smacked my nose into the ground. God, I'm surprised it’s not bleeding” Mina cringes for a moment, looking very sorry for you as she leans in closer to whisper to you.

"Well, your morning is about to get a whole lot worse" She grimaces before explaining further.

"A special someone who is near and dear to your heart is cooking you breakfast," Your eyes widen for a moment and your heart flutters, quickly looking around to see if anyone is listening in before whispering out the name.

"Todoroki? is cooking me breakfast?" You look at Mina in disbelief as your thoughts run wild and your heart beats heavily in your chest. Todoroki? The love of your life and your future husband? (He doesn’t know it yet, but he is). He’s making you breakfast?

“That- That’s great! OMG, he’s solidifying his role as my house husband. Why would that make my morning worse?” You smile brightly, with a mood lifted so high, your nose doesn’t even hurt anymore. Mina looks at you for a moment, an unreadable look on her face. She opens and closes her mouth a few times before whispering.

“…the food that he’s making, it-… it looks alive. Its like, burnt but also raw at the same time?” Mina looks at you with an unpleasant look on her face. You let out a nervous chuckle and ask cautiously, your eyes narrowing and smile fading slightly.

“Oh. come on. Surely It can’t be that bad, right?” You let out a small chuckle again as you keep looking at her. The smile fades off your face as her face does not change from its dread-filled cringe. Mina’s eyes flicker to the kitchen behind you both. She slowly turns her gaze back to you. She bites her lip and shakes her head gently. Your face drops into a deadpan stare and you point your finger at her weakly.

“Say sike right now. Say sike, right. Now” Mina shakes her head more firmly as you vehemently deny the truth.

“He can’t cook for shit- “

“You’re lying- “

“I’m sorry, babe. No bi-coloured house husband for you- “

“SAY SIKE- “

“[Name], you’re awake.” Both your and Mina’s heads whip around to face the new voice. Todoroki stands there in a navy-blue apron with a dirty, batter-covered whisk in hand. The apron is covered in flour and what you assume is eggs? (at least, you hope) and his hair is slicked back with one of Mina’s ‘self-care’ headbands. You feel the air briefly leave your lungs as you take in how domestic he looks, with his cute little apron and messy, pulled back hair, his heterochromatic eyes looking at you so eagerly-

You also feel the air actually leave your lungs when Mina jabs her elbow into your ribs. You keel over and clutch the abused spot on your torso as Mina greets Todoroki.

“Heyy, ‘roki. I got [Name], just like you wanted. Though, class starts soon. We might not have time for breakfast.” Mina chuckles nervously as you give a weak nod in agreement. If Mina is trying to save you from this fate, then its most likely for good reason.

“oh” Todoroki looks down for a moment before speaking softly, “...I was really looking forward to seeing you try it…”.

…

Fuck good reason and fuck Mina.

“I’ll try it!” You chirp out, much to the delight of Todoroki and the absolute, unfathomable horror of Mina. Todoroki looks at you with eager eyes.

“Really? You’ll try it?” Todoroki takes a half step forward, looking at you with gentle enthusiasm. (as enthusiastic as Todoroki can get). You nod fearlessly, pointedly avoiding Mina’s petrified stare into the side of your head.

“Yeah, I bumped my nose, so I’ll have to go see recovery girl- I’ll be late anyway so I’ll try it, yeah” Todoroki nods in response and takes a few steps back and begins to turn away, back to presumably get the food you will be consuming.

“Take a seat at the table, I’ll bring it out to you”. You let out a ‘mhm’ in agreement and unashamedly avoid Mina’s gaze as you plop down into an empty seat at the dining table. Mina stares a hole into your head as you stare into the table, sweating at the intensity of her glare.

Todoroki comes back quickly and places a plate down in front of you and for a second, you feel nothing. Your expression is blank as you observe what is there.

…oh.

…Mina was right

It…

It looks… alive??

There are no words to describe the amalgamation on the plate before you. You gape, slack jawed and eyes wide at this… thing?? as Todoroki presents it and places it on the table in front of you.

You observe it, terrified, for a moment (why is it purple?), trying to figure out the best way to approach such a beast (WHY IS IT MOVING??).

From your peripherals, you see Mina staring at it too with her face turning more and more horrified as the seconds tick past.

You slowly turn your head to look at Todoroki, eyes wide as you take in his expression.

He looks so… excited.

Well, as excited as his usually stoic and blank expression can look.

He looks so, so eager for you to try this.

For you to like it.

…

…for you to like him.

…

Damn it…

You take a deep breath in, then suddenly, faster than anyone in the room can follow with their eyes, you scoop some of the ooze onto your fork and shove it into your mouth.

…

…oh

…

Oh.

Oh No.

Oh God.

You have never been more grateful to be in the hero course because it takes every ounce of strength in your entire body to not immediately throw up.

How is it wet AND dry at the same time??

Its vile.

You don’t even have a chance to even try and chew before it completely dissolves into liquid in your mouth. There are dry lumps of something? In it.

Its rancid.

Your eyes start watering as you take in the taste.

There are no words to describe it other than,

disgusting.

Pure, foul, putrid-

You turn your watery gaze to Todoroki, and he looks back. His eyes are wide with anticipation, and you hear his breath hitch quietly.

You take a deep inhale in (bad choice, you smell it now),

…

You force your face to go completely blank as you weakly lift a hand up.

A weak thumbs up.

…

His smile is almost enough for you to forget the taste of death.

The smallest, proud little grin splits across Todoroki’s face as he lets out a relieved sigh. He looks beautiful. His expression goes blank again as he coughs into his hand and speaks, a small, barely noticeable blush on his cheeks. Oh, that blush-

“I’m glad that you like it” He looks at you, with the same small smile and you almost feel like it was worth it. You nod stiffly, feeling as if the second you open your mouth, you will begin to projectile vomit. Your mouth twists into a painful grimace smile as you nod.

Todoroki keeps looking at you for a moment before one of Todoroki’s friends- Midoriya or Iida, you assume, you can’t hear well over the ringing in your ears from the sheer force of trying not to gag-

Todoroki turns his gaze back to you as you attempt to swallow (unsuccessfully). He looks at you with those gentle, beautiful eyes and asks softly.

“I’ll see you for afternoon classes, right? Maybe we can sit next to each other?” You nod stiffly again, unable to do anything but sit there, lest you begin to violently throw up.

He turns away and leaves with his group of friends.

Your throat burns and your eyes follow Todoroki as he begins the walk to the school campus, friends in tow. Your eyes water as you just sit there, Mina standing over you with a horrified expression.

You think back to the smile Todoroki gave you. A delicate, kind thing for you and you alone.

Even though your nose still hurts like a bitch, and your taste buds are dying as we speak, your mood lightens ever so slightly and you don’t regret a thing.

Despite how the morning started (with a face full of wooden floor) and how its just now ended (a mouthful of burnt, yet still undercooked 'breakfast' and tears forming in your eyes), your lips still twitch into a smile against your agonised, pained will.

Mina comfortingly pats you on the shoulder as a single, pain-filled tear runs down your cheek.

God damn, the things you do for love.

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aplaceinthedark · 4 months

Text

AU interlude: MADE BREATH and SKIN

Noah Sebastian (The Watcher of the Woods) x onbc (Taylor)

Word Count: 2.7k+

Cw: language, supernatural themes, sexy stuff: oral (oc receiving), fingering, slight monster fucking (monster, demi-deity, whatev Fuckface McGee thinks he is), pet play if you squint, unwrapped p in v (be safe, kiddos), telepathic dirty-talk, overstimulation

“I don't need to be babysat. Like they're gonna try to break into my house and kidnap me,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Well, too bad. Like I have anything better to do than babysit you,” Noah said, shedding his leather jacket he had over his hoodie. I could hear the playful undertone in his voice, thankfully. And to be honest, I was kind of glad he was here.

“Need help?” I commented as he pulled his hoodie up.

“Nope,” he said, lifting it up above his head. I mainly watched just to see how he could manage to get it over the antlers that were sprouting from the sides of his head, but I would be lying if I said I didn't sneak a peek at the part of his stomach as his shirt rode up. “Jeez, do you have to keep this place like a sauna in here?”

“It's not even seventy degrees in here,” I said, trying to avoid staring too long after he managed to get the hoodie off, but I still couldn’t get over the fact that he was actually that… big under all that clothing. He was now down to just a cut-off tank, leaving all the binding sigils that ran up and down his arms and across his collarbones and shoulders on display. Honestly, combined with the muscles, it made me want to punch him.

But still, after a while, my eyes were drawn back up to the antlers. While not as wide and impressive as the last time I saw them, they still seemed to make him seem taller and bigger than he already was.

“My eyes are down here.”

His words snapped me out of my reverie before he flipped down onto the couch beside me. “What're we watching?” he asked. When I looked down into his eyes, with his face drawn up into a smirk, I was almost taken aback when I noticed the smattering of freckles under them. The Lost Boy Who Would Become King.

“Does it hurt?” I blurted out.

“Does what hurt?” Noah asked.

“The antlers… when they grow out. Do they hurt?” I clarified, curiosity getting the better of me.

He blinked. “N-no?” he replied awkwardly, like no one had bothered to ask that question of him before. “Mostly they’re just sensitive until they reach their full point. Kinda itchy, too.” His thigh bumped against mine.

“Has anyone touched them?” I asked.

“No, usually people are too busy screaming ‘Ah, don’t kill me’ if I get—“ I cut him off with a backhand to the chest. “What? It's true!”

“I meant like Nick and the others,” I huffed, leaning back.

“Nah, they're not stupid enough to–” Noah said, but then stopped dead when I pressed my thumb against one of the points.

“Shit, I’m sorry, did I hurt—“ I stammered, pulling my hand away until I noticed his eyes. They seemed to pin me to where I was sitting.

“No, you’re fine, it's just…” Noah swallowed thickly, “I didn’t expect it to feel like… that.”

“Like wha…?” I trailed off as I realized what he meant. Oh.

My hand, which was still hovering near his head, fell back down to his antlers. Curiosity getting the better of me, I traced a light line from where they met his skull up to one of the first points. He shuddered under my touch, a small moan slipping out.

“Stop that,” he gritted out.

“Stop what?” I asked. I meant for it to be an honest question, but I didn't think he took it to be like that. Especially when his hand shot up and snatched my wrist away from his head.

“Stop teasing,” he said with a low rumble, dipping his head down to where he was eye level with me. My heart stopped when I saw how dark his eyes were.

I felt his other hand snake around my waist, pulling me closer to him. As ironic as the comparison was, I felt like a deer caught in the headlights. “Is that why you asked about them? So you could see me like this?” he asked. I was practically on his lap at this point, my knees straddling his thighs. He dipped his head lower to nuzzle his lips against my jaw.

The movement snapped me out of my paralysis, and I finally found my voice. “Aww, is Bambi sensitive?” I cooed, reaching my free hand up to run a finger up his antlers again. He shuddered against me, breath panting and ragged, and I froze up again when I felt his dick begin to harden underneath my core.

“I said watch it,“ he growled, grabbing that hand as well. “Do you like being a tease? Touching me like that?” He pushed me onto my back, pinning my wrists to the armrest above my head. He easily was able to hold both of them with one hand, those long fingers wrapping around them as he freed a hand to roughly grab my jaw. “Touch me again, and I’ll build you up to just leave you here wet and needy.”

My eyes widened a little bit as I took in what he said. “No—“ He cut me off with a small squeeze. The little puffs of breath he let out ghosted over my ear, making me shudder in his hands. When he finally let go of my jaw, it was to only run it over the hollow of my throat and stop. He leaned down, his lips leaving light but wet kisses along my neck.

A soft whimper escaped my throat, and my legs squirmed under his. He chuckled, my only warning before he bit down on the sensitive flesh between my neck and shoulder. A sharp gasp left me, which turned into a moan when his teeth retracted to let his tongue sweep over the mark.

“I want everyone to know what’s mine, little rabbit,” he whispered. “I want them to know that you belong to the Watcher of the Woods.”

The possessive tone he used slightly pissed me off, but as he alternated between biting and soothing at my tender skin, I could barely care. That's when I realized that despite my fogged-up brain, my mouth was close to the base of his antlers. So, between keening, I let out a breathy moan that I knew would hit them.

His reaction was instantaneous. He let out a loud moan against my wet skin, hips involuntarily shunting forward against mine. The straining in his jeans pressed against my covered core, earning a sharp inhale from me. I didn't know how dizzier I could get.

Noah pulled away to look me in the eyes. “Seriously, Taylor, if you want–”

“Noah, I want you, monster or not,” I panted.

For once, Noah was stunned into silence. He hovered over me, jaw slightly dropped as he took in my words. He then brought his lips down to lock with mine in a messy, heated kiss.

There was no gentleness in this kiss, and I didn't expect any. This was a man starved. He finally let go of my wrists and trailed his hands down my chest, my waist, to my hips, then trailed them back up, under my shirt this time.

His thumbs ran small, feather-light circles around my nipples. “No bra?” he asked, smirking against my lips.

“Never wear one,” I admitted.

“Good,” he commanded. “I wanna look at you.” He pulled away to give me space.

Somehow, I knew what he was talking about through the sex-addled white noise, and I lifted my shirt up and over my head. I flushed under his gaze that slowly raked over my body.

“I could absolutely devour you,” he admitted, leaning back down, lower this time. He ran his tongue up my sternum, up the small slope of one breast, and closed his mouth around my nipple. I keened and squirmed as he flicked the tip of his tongue over the hard peak, feeling helpless as he teased the other between his thumb and fingers.

Eventually, after both tits were given enough attention, he pulled off with a soft pop, biting into what flesh there was. He left little nips as he trailed down my tummy until he finally reached the waistband of my jeans.

“N-Noah…” I whimpered, trying to get his attention.

“Yeah…?” His eyes flicked up to mine as I gazed down my body at him.

“Please… not here,” I pleaded.

He blinked, his dark brown eyes darkening further. “You don't want me to fuck you on the couch?” he asked.

“P-please n-no.”

Suddenly, with supernatural strength, he hitched my waist over his shoulder, pulling up and taking me with him. I let out a small yelp of surprise, but soon he was taking me back to my bedroom. My world was just an upside- down view of the back of his top and ass. If I could just manage to get my arm up, I could just–

Before I could smack anything, he roughly tossed me onto the bed. He crawled up between my legs, undoing the button and zipper of my jeans. I wriggled my hips as he pulled my jeans and underwear down in one fast motion. With a groan, and without tearing his gaze from between my legs, he carelessly tossed the garments somewhere on the floor. “Fucking hell, you've been dripping this whole time, haven't you?” he asked, leaning down.

“Noah–”

“Are you okay with this?” Noah asked. I stared at him in surprise, and he rolled his eyes. “I might be a monster, but I'm not that kind of a monster.”

“Fuck, of course Noah. Just fucking–” My tirade was cut off as he dove down like it was his last meal. My hips lifted off the bed in surprise, and he lifted my legs over his shoulders, wrapping his hands around my thighs and pulling them down against him.

I couldn't think of anything past the feeling of his tongue flicking over and around my clit, spearing into me and then flattening as he licked long stripes up and down my arousal. All I could do was grab the top of his head, tangling my fingers in his long tresses as I tried to keep myself grounded.

“Oh, God, No… ah–” was all I could manage to get out as I shook like someone possessed. His fingers dug into my thighs, the pain of his nails pressing in only adding to the pleasure. It felt like the more I reacted to him like this, the harder he worked to make me feel good.

I looked down at him to see that he was already intently staring at me. Somehow, his dark eyes seemed to be bright when they met mine. I felt him smirk against my lower lips, and then I heard,

YOU TASTE SO FUCKING GOOD.

Speaking into my head, hearing that praise, sent a bolt of pleasure through me that had me arching, releasing onto his tongue as I swore up to the ceiling. He lapped it up, not relaxing his movements one bit, and the overstimulation carried me into my second orgasm, my scream tearing through my throat.

THERE IT IS. THAT’S IT, GIVE IT TO ME.

He slowed down, kitten-licking me through my aftershocks, and then finally pulled away, settling me back down onto my bed. “You good?” He asked, like he didn't just completely shatter me.

Through ragged breaths that hurt my throat and my swimming vision, I nodded. Dear God, that was–

“He's not here, and by the end of tonight, I'll have you screaming my name like you worship me.” His growl sent ripples throughout my body. Noah crawled up on top of me, caging my face between his hands, and kissed me roughly. I could smell and taste myself on his lips.

“Noah, please, I need you,” I managed to say between fervent kisses.

“Say my name then,” he demanded.

“Noah.”

“Louder.”

“Noah–”

“Plead louder for me.”

“Please, oh god, Noah.”

When I opened my eyes again, it was to see him shove his jeans off, but what made me gasp was the sight of his antlers, now the crown of bone that I remembered. With his hair wild and tangled from my fingers, and the tattoos spread all across his now naked body, he truly looked like the forest god he was.

He perched over me, leaning down to kiss me hard enough to stoke the fire in my belly again, and trailed fingers up and down my still-slick center. He slowly pushed two of them into my hole, alternating between curling, scissoring, and pulling them out before repeating the cycle. I was a moaning, whimpering mess that could barely talk when I realized that he was lining himself up.

“N-Noah, f-fuck… please,” I near sobbed.

“Shhh, I've got you,” he said quietly, gently brushing some damp hairs off my forehead. He then slowly, tortuously, pushed in, making me cry out in pain and pleasure.

“Ohh god, Noah, a-ah!” I said. “'s n-not gonna f-fit.”

“Yes it will,” he rasped. I was so glad that he, too, was having a rough time handling me like I was handling him. “I know you can do it.” He then pulled my legs up and hitched them around his waist, nearly folding me in half. With a few more shallow thrusts, he finally bottomed out, hitting a spot in me that turned my moans to something primal.

“There we go, good job. I told you you could do it,” he muttered, kissing the bridge of my nose. The feeling of me clenching on his cock had him groan, a sound that seemed like it came from somewhere deep inside him. “You ready?”

“Y-yes, Noah.”

His pace was steady at first, torturously slow. I rolled my hips to meet his, and his hands flew down to them to encourage the movement. “Go on… Take what you need,” he said, voice hitching at the end. I reached up to wrap my arms around his wide back, feeling the muscles flexing underneath my hands. His forehead dropped to mine, and our lips brushed together in unison.

FUCK, IT’S LIKE YOU WERE MADE FOR ME,

he said, a hand reaching up to cup my cheek, tilting my face so our lips could finally press against each others,

MY LITTLE RABBIT.

Noah, I’m gonna - I’m gonna… I was desperately close, and his pace just kept getting hastier. I knew I was about to topple over the edge, and Noah was going to push me over with no remorse.

LET GO,

he said,

I’M RIGHT BEHIND YOU.

When I opened my eyes, I saw his big doe eyes focused on me. I couldn’t hold it anymore, and I screamed his name as my head rolled back against my pillow. I swore I nearly blacked out, or at least the edges of my vision turned black, as my vision blurred. I felt my sweat-slick skin press against his as my back arched completely off the bed.

Noah chased his own release a little bit later, thrusting into me while growling something that might’ve been words in the other tongue or just gibberish. Soon after, his hips stilled, and his body sagged onto me, the weight and warmth being welcome.

We lied there, chests heaving as we tried to catch our breath, and I found myself gently scratching at his scalp. My fingers gently brushed against the base of his antlers, and I stilled.

“You’re fine, I can’t feel anything when they’re fully grown,” Noah muttered against the skin of my neck.

“You know that, but not when they’re forming?” I asked.

“Like I said earlier, it never came up.” He chuckled airily.

We stayed like that for a while, his body like an anxiety blanket, until my body decided I needed to get up. Noah thought otherwise as he wrapped his arms around my midsection and pulled me back against him every time I tried to leave the bed.

“Lemme up, I have to go to the bathroom and take a shower.”

“Only if I get to join you,” he said with a sly grin.

“Those things aren’t gonna fit in the shower,” I said with a momentary glance up at the antlers.

“Oh, I’ll make them fit.”

“…Gross.”

#noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian x onbc #cw: language #cw: supernatural themes #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens rpf #bad omens au #paranormal au #series: lost in the labyrinth

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spahhzy · 9 months

Text

Obligation.

Jaune makes his way through the kitchen to see a big metal door with a simple but effective locking mechanism.

The door had read 'Authorized Personnel Only'.

Jaune: We'll this must be the backroom Gepetto was talking about.

Jaune knocks on the door, only to receive no answer.

Jaune waits a few seconds before knocking again.

Nothing.

Jaune sighs a bit in frustration, this time deciding to open the door the large metal door.

The door was heavy, massively heavy.

Jaune: What the hell are we keeping in here to warrant this?

Jaune pulled at the door as it slowly opened up until finally he was able to get inside, making sure the heavy door didn't fully close behind him.

All Jaune was greeted with was a dimly lit room, and in the center of it was a chair, table and a small tablet.

Jaune: Gepetto, you in here?

Jaune slowly walked up to the table as a light on the tablet blinked.

Jaune lifted the tablet.

'Pree play and sit' said a pop-up text.

Jaune,not seeing any alternative,sat down and pressed play.

Gepetto: Begin playback... leaving deadspace in 3...2...1.

Jaune: Gepetto?

Gepetto: Mr. Knight, the purpose of this tape is to inform you of your obligations come closing time starting tomorrow night.

Jaune: okay...?

Gepetto: Every night, once tasks are finished and the pizza place is secure, you will look in the back alley for anything that meets the criteria of paragraph four.

Jaune: What was paragraph four again?

Gepetto: If you don't remember the criteria, then I will remind you: Should you come across a Maiden-Matronic that meets our standards, those standard being...

1. Does it look fun?

2. Does it look safe?

3. Does it look cheap to fix?

Jaune: I'm not sure the maiden-matronics I'm after are categorized as such...

Gepetto: If these vintage attractions meet those criteria, then you will carry them into the backroom and perform the maintenance checklist, which I have provided a copy for you below.

Jaune looked at the sample checklist.

Gepetto: The purpose of the checklist is to test automated response times and reactions from these vintage maiden-matronics following audio stimuli.

Jaune looked over his checklist, noting 5 different times the test had to be done, with only three choices to select.

Yes. No. Unsure.

Gepetto: I will fill you in more come tomorrow night, but once you are done and the checklist is complete, you are to clear the space and seal up the room. Do not return until the end of the shift the next day. End recording.

Jaune: Okay, but that leaves me so many questions...who'se dropping off things in the back alley!

Silence.

Jaune just sighed. Maybe reading contracts would have been helpful...he wished Ren were here. He would have found any small nitpicks.

Ren.

Ren, Nora, and Pyrrha are all going to be here tomorrow.

Jaune: Don't worry guys, like I promised it's all coming together, I freed team RWBY, and I'll free you guys too.

Jaune got up from his seat and left the small chamber, sealing the deadbolt shut on the door.

Jaune checked the pizza place over one more time before closing up.

Tomorrow was the grand opening.

*Rumble rumble*

A truck carrying three maiden matronics drove into the inky black darkness as it made it journey to its destination.

It was dark.

She hated darkness.

So much.

???: Ren.

Ren: Yes, Nora.

Nora: Do you think Jaune will save us?

Ren: I believe so, Nora.

Nora: ...Ren are we bad people?

Ren: No, Nora we aren't? Why do you ask?

Nora: Is this hell?

Ren could say nothing, not sure if he could believe whatever answer he told her.

Meanwhile, silenty the red-headed amazon spartan maiden-matronic could only weep silently at her teammates' question.

#jaune arc #nora valkyrie #lie ren #pyrrha nikos

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broflovski-brah · 3 months

Text

I remembered a while ago @butters-flower-mom asked for a sickfic with Butters? I wasn’t sure who to make the caretaker so I went for Kenny.

“Comfort”

Tw: Sickness, throwing up

(I’m so sorry this is so late, I also think I deleted the req by accident because I was clearing my inbox and must’ve done so by accident I’m sorry 😭 also this can be whatever age you interpret it to be)

Butters had awoken that morning feeling a bit sick. Nothing too out of the ordinary. Mainly just a sniffly nose and scratchy throat, but it was winter time. The air tended to get pretty dry, so he assumed it wasn’t anything a nice glass of fresh orange juice couldn’t fix.

He got up, and as soon as the warm blankets left his body, Jack Frost might as well have given him a big old hug, because the sudden chills were no joke. He groaned a bit.

“Man…does this room hafta be so chilly..?” he murmured to himself as he got his clothes. The blonde boy felt a small scratch in his throat as he talked, which caused him to rub at his vocal cords. He left the bedroom and was immediately bombarded by his father.

“Butters?! Butters! Are you seriously just getting up?!”

Normally he would’ve answered right away. Spine straight, constant eye contact (even though that proved to be uncomfortable for him, his parents didn’t care. They demanded respect.) and with his chin up. But he was a bit bleary this morning.

“Yes sir…” he mumbled.

“You’re gonna be late for school now! Go hurry up and get ready. If you’re not out in ten minutes, you’ll be grounded, mister!”

Butters sighed. Sometimes he hated the way his parents were. He figured he deserved it; why else would they treat him so bad? He needed to pull himself together. It was just a little cold. He was tougher than this! He wasn’t a baby!

So with a subdued, “Yes, sir…” he walked off to the bathroom. He got ready for the school day, brushed his teeth (while trying to ignore how awful the toothbrush felt in his mouth) and put on his clothes. He had gone so fast that his head was spinning. Literally. He couldn’t see straight.

“Jeepers…”

He rubbed his eyes, his fingers digging into his tufty, blonde hair. He felt his stomach rumble a little. And it definitely wasn’t hunger. He could feel a small headache coming on. The lights suddenly seemed too bright. The sound of the fan in the bathroom penetrated his skull. The inside of his mouth was suddenly filmy and slick as he tried to keep himself calm. His hands were shaky and sweaty.

This episode was cut short by a loud bang on the door. His mother’s voice sounded on the other end.

“Butters! Get out of the bathroom! We need to go!”

Butters but his lip. He really wasn’t in the mood. He knew if he snapped back at his mom it would be an immediate grounding, and he couldn’t risk that. So he just shook his head and ignored the sudden feeling of the thick, acidic-tasting substance that was slowly creeping up his throat.

…

Butters honestly didn’t know what was worse. Being at home with his psycho parents, or being at school with a raging headache and an even worse stomachache. He was sitting in class, listening to the teacher drone on about something or other. Probably his relationship issues. Butters wasn’t paying attention though. To be fair, nobody was. When the teacher got into talks like that everyone seemed to drone off. The only thing Butters could pay attention to was the growing nausea in his belly. He hadn’t eaten anything that morning, but he had managed to guzzle down a glass of orange juice, which temporarily chased away the throat pains. He felt a sharp pain in his stomach and moved his hand to his stomach with a quiet whimper of pain. The people around him noticed.

“Butters, you sick or something? You look like shit.”Cartman glanced over, a small smirk playing on his face. He was obviously being sarcastic, but it wasn’t the worst Butters had heard. He knew how mean Cartman could be to other people, mainly Kyle and the girls, but with Butters he seemed at least a little bit nicer. Just a little bit. He was still an asshole though.

Butters didn’t respond right away. He swallowed down the sudden lump in his throat.

“Fuck off, Cartman.” he heard Kyle mutter. Him and Kyle weren’t the greatest of friends, but Kyle tended to stick up for him more than anyone else, other than Kenny.

“I’m doin’ fine.” Butters muttered, putting his head down on the desk. He shut his eyes, trying to drown out the sound of his heartbeat and the feeling of his stomach trying to rip itself out. Suddenly, he felt a poke on his arm.

He shot up, his gaze glossy and unfocused. He looked over at the person who poked him. Kenny was beside him, the butt of his pen facing Butters.

“Dude, are you okay?” Kenny asked, muffled by his parka. “Do you want to go to the nurse?”

Butters would’ve said yes. He wanted nothing more than to just go back to sleep in a pile of warm blankets and be fed chicken soup. But that’s not what would’ve happened. What probably would’ve happened if he went to the nurse was, his parents would be called and either one of two things would happen.

Either A. His parents refused to get him and he was doomed to stay in school or with the nurse all day, or B. His parents would’ve gotten him but they would’ve taken turns yelling at him for making them get him, and he would be grounded. So he lied.

“I’m fine.” He mumbled. Kenny raised an eyebrow but shrugged it off. He put his head down as he felt something jab his arm. He shit up, sending his belly into an uproar. He swallowed down a gag and looked over at the culprit. It was Heidi.

“Butters, are you sure you’re okay?”

Butters was on the verge of snapping. He just wanted to be left alone. He knew he wasn’t being fair. People were concerned for him and he was getting angry. But he couldn’t help it. Anyone would be a bit cranky if they were trying to rest off a sickness. He just nodded.

“Are you sure?”

Kenny had turned around again.

“Gosh darn it, I said I’m fine! Wouldja quit botherin’ me?!”

Kenny held his hands up and Heidi’s eyes went wide as she pursed her lips. Suddenly, Mr. Garrison turned around.

“Boys, is there a problem?” he asked, folding his arms. Kenny shook his head, and Buters followed suit.

“Okay then. Butters. Answer the question I just asked.”

“Oh, biscuits.” he uttered. He hadn’t been paying attention!

“Well?”

He tried to rack his brain for anything-anything he could use for context of what was being asked of him. His stomach decided to pick that moment to squeeze inside him. He groaned and curled into himself.

Mr. Harrison didn’t seem to notice. He raised an eyebrow.

As soon as Butters opened his mouth, a rush of air surged up his throat. A warning. He burped loudly, covering his mouth with his hand. “O-oh…”

Suddenly, all eyes were on him. A few people were snickering. Some seemed genuinely concerned. The only one who seemed to have enough sense to do anything was Kenny. Kenny immediately know what to do as Butters’ stomach gurgled inside him.Kenny immediately ran to the garbage can but was too late. Butters tried to talk again, but his shoulders heaved with a hefty gag. He covered his mouth with his hand before a surge of vomit escaped his mouth, and got all over the ground.

There was a collective silence as everyone stared, wide eyed. Butters felt his cheeks redden. Oh, hamburgers…he hadn’t meant to do that…

Kenny snapped him out of his daze by putting a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re going to the nurse.” he said.

And with that, they were in the nurse’s office. A janitor had been called to clean up the mess Butters made in the classroom. The nurse approached him with a thermometer.

“102.3. I’m gonna call your parents.”

Butters’ eyes went wide. He immediately went to shake his head. He didn’t want to go back to his place, especially if his parents were gonna be called…

Kenny lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He acted quickly. When the nurse’s back was turned, he quickly stuffed his fingers down his throat, causing him to throw up a bit. Butters stared at him.

“Kenny?! You can’t do that!” he hissed. Kenny just shook his head.

“I’m not lettin’ you go back to your place like this. Especially with your parents.”

Well damn. Butters wasn’t expecting that. He had always considered Kenny a best friend but he didn’t think he would do anything like this…he honestly felt like he could cry.

Before he could say anything, the nurse turned around. She saw the puddle of vomit beneath Kenny and immediately looked at him.

“Are you sick too, young man?”

Kenny put a hand to his stomach. He whined a bit to make it sound more convincing. The nurse nodded.

“Okay. Let me check your temperature.”

Kenny pulled his hood down. He hoped the heat inside his parka would grant him temperature that was “leading to a fever.” Which surprisingly, it had.

“99.5. You’re technically fine…but would you like to go home?”

Kenny nodded.

“Okay. What are your names?”

Butters was about to answer before Kenny answered for him.

“Kenny and Leo McCormick.”

Butters nearly felt his jaw drop. He was lying to cover for him? Butters felt flattered, but also bad. What if Kenny was caught? He couldn’t bear. But he also didn’t really want to go home with his parents. They would ground him for sure. Sometimes, he considered jail to be an upgrade from his own home.

In the end, Kenny had helped Butters home. He had give n the poor, shivering boy his parka while insisting he ‘never got cold’, but Butters could see the clear goosebumps on his friend’s skin. So he opened up the hoodie before the purple-eyed boy snuggled in beside him, providing warmth for the both of them.

When he got to his house, Kenny sat Butters down. He knew his home wasn’t much, but it was hopefully better than going to the hellhole Butters called his home. He just had to make sure that he got home before the end of the school day so his parents didn’t suspect anything. Butters’ cheeks were red with fever, his skin was waxy and his eyes were glassy. But he glanced at Kennybthrough half lidded eyes.

“I’m sorry for hollerin’ at you in class.” he said, clenching and unclenching his fist in his lap. Kenny waved him off with a shrug and a wave of his hand.

“It’s alright. I don’t blame you.” Kenny told him. Butters still felt bad, but he didn’t really feel well enough to argue.

“You’re a good friend Kenny.” Butters told him sleepily. He yawned. Kenny smiled a bit and stood up, grabbing a blanket. It was dirty and had some holes, but it was still warm. He put it over Butters’ shoulders. He sat beside his friend as he fell asleep next to Kenny, feeling safe and loved for the first time in nine years.

…

I know the ending was kinda rushed but I wanted to get this out for you guys-working on the CAH and other fic yall wanted but this one was almost done, anyway, hope you enjoyed!! feel free to leave reqs in my inbox ^^

#south park #butters stotch #kenny mccormick #sickfic #don’t have time for tags #imma be gone all day so feel free to spam me in my inbox

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crowzwrites · 6 months

Text

Day 4 - Hands

Ao3

Content warning: bit of discussion of sex kinda?

@mcspirkevents

Small continuation from the last prompt.

—

After Spock's hormone levels had returned to normal, as Jim and Spock fucked it out. McCoy went to check on the two of them. He found them both laying in each other's arms, Jims completely naked and sleeping peacefully. His blonde hair even messier than usual though for once he looks more peaceful in his sleep, Spock is snuggled into Jim's side. Then the half-vulcan starts to stur, he sighs softly which makes Leonards constrict.

"Leonard?" he says softly as to not wake Jim.

"Ah Spock, I just wanted to make sure yall are okay… I'll uh leave you too it"

"No," Spock says simply.

"Well I don't wanna disturb…" he trails off, Spock is glaring at him as if to say 'get over here'.

So he does, thankfully this biobed is a little bigger then the rest of them. Maybe they had all curled up next to one another before. So he rolls his eyes and huffs but scans both of them before joining. At least he had finished his shift so Chapel couldn't get mad at him this time.

McCoy cuddles up on Jim's right side whilst Spock is on his left. He pulls a soft blanket over them all and for a moment it's peaceful, Jim shifts but continues to sleep blissfully. McCoy reaches for Spock's hand and intertwines them, he hears Spock gasp. So he squeezes it again and rubs his thumb over the half-vulcans. Then he starts to hear a soft purr coming from Spock, in the dim light he can see the blush on his face - he burrows deeper into Jim's shoulder. Through their connected hands, Leonard can feel Spock's embarrassment which makes him want to pull the vulcan into his arms and reassure him that there's nothing to be shameful over as it's only a biological response to feeling safe and content. But he only sends reassurance through their connection and that he quite enjoys the soft rumbling sound. They don't say anything else. Instead joining Jim in sleep.

McCoy woke up to Spock trying to escape sickbay, he’s trying to be as quiet as possible. So he gets up and wrangles him back into the bed, Jim had long since left to start his shift.

“Spock, get back into bed or else I’ll have you relieved of duty, damnit!” he yells.

“I assure you Doctor I am fine.”

“The hell you are!”

He decides to use an unorthodox approach when Spock tries to side step him, he grabs Spock's hand and squeezes it tightly. That makes Spock freeze and then blush deeply, he smirks.

“D-Doctor!” Spock flustered and tries to back away.

“Promise to stay in sickbay another day?” he grasps Spock’s other hand.

“Yes!”

“Good.”

Then he lets go, Spock trudges back to the bio-bed. Leonard feels bad for doing that but he’s worse then Jim when it comes to staying in sickbay or attending physicals. Though he had become better at doing physicals on time because of their relationship. He knows that touch is a hard thing for Spock. McCoy sighs and sits on the edge of the bed.

“What’s the deal with your hands anyway? I promise I won’t do that again if you just-“

He’s cut off when Spock brings him into a kiss, his slender fingers caress his cheeks gently. He enjoys kissing Spock. As they are soft and sweet compared to Jim who's passionate and needy most of the time. They break apart to look into each other's eyes, Spock raises an eyebrow.

“Vulcan hands are sensitive as you know.” he glares at him. “And among Vulcans, holding hands is seen as an indecent gesture in public, it is often only done in private.”

“Oh. Shit well you could’ve told me earlier that holding your hand is like fucking you or whatever the hell!”

“Perhaps I should have, it is not as obscene as having sex but merely a more sexual gesture. I suppose I do not really experience arousal when we are holding hands. I am not used to it, that's all.” Spock holds his hand again, rubbing his slender fingers over McCoys more calloused hands.

“Alright, so we’re good?” McCoy smiles more softly at their intertwined hands.

“Yes, I shall stay here for another day if it pleases you, ashalik”

“Damn right it will, honestly you’re worse then Jim sometimes.” he laughs and gives Spock another scan-over before leaving to finally start his day's work.

#star trek #mcspirk fic #mcspirk week 2023 #mcspirk #spones #ace spock #aos #spock x kirk x mccoy #star trek aos

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betterillusionist · 4 months

Text

Professor Wu's Baking Bash

Emerging from the dimness of the library, Duncan raises a hand to shield his eyes from the bright outside light. The air is alive with the sound of enthusiasm and smells of freshly baked goods. The warmth of steaming cookies paired with the crispness of cupcake icing makes his mouth water in an instant.

A mix of conflicting emotions swirls in his gut.

"I forgot today was the Baking Bash," Malorn comments beside him with a smile. "Want to take a look around?"

Duncan pulls a long frown. He probably should; 50% of all profits are going to be donated in honor of Malistaire's wife. He'd feel bad for not supporting the effort. Yet, on the other hand, the event is organized by Professor Moolinda Wu...

His stomach rumbles. "Fine," he sighs.

Laughing, Malorn leads the way over the little bridge, bringing the two into the Commons proper. Streamers hang on large posts. Below them, small stalls are decorated with table cloths and banners. Price sheets stuck to poster boards stand near each stall, listing the gold amounts for each baked good on sale.

Despite his distaste for the event, Duncan can't stop his mouth from watering even further upon viewing all the decorated confectioneries that could be eaten.

The two Necromancers join the crowd of other students browsing and buying goods. Looking around, Duncan notes a few familiar faces; students he used to see in his classroom, now dressed in in different colors. Some of them even notice the Necromancer pair and quickly avert their eyes, shuffling away if they ever get too close. They think they're being subtle about it, but he notices. He notices all of it.

Traitors, Duncan can't help but think with a small sneer.

He turns to Malorn, wanting to take his attention off the crowd. "Did you bring any gold?"

"I have a bit," Malorn answers, his eyes bouncing from price sheet to price sheet. His brow is knit with worry. "I don't think it'll be enough for anything though. You?"

Duncan shakes his head. He never carries money with him. He has to save it for when he needs it. Having but a single coin in his pocket is enough to make him itch with the need to spend.

"Oh, hey Malorn! Duncan!" a voice suddenly calls out from the crowd, making the two stop and look around for whoever would be trying to get their attention. On their left, Ceren Nightchant is waving to them from his booth with a smile.

"Ceren!" Malorn shouts back. Not wanting to be left alone, Duncan drifts after him quietly, trying not to stare too menacingly at the Theurgist. Ceren is one of the only other wizards beyond the Death school that Duncan sort of likes, and that's certainly saying something.

"Didn't think I'd see you guys here," Ceren says as they approach. A sparkle of sympathy gleams in his eyes as he regards the Necromancers, a look that makes Duncan's heart burn with mild frustration. "Thought you'd be home or... something."

"We were studying in the library," Malorn informs him. His gaze drops to the baked goods between the two, and so does Duncan. Cupcakes are decorated with bright green swirls and white chocolate leaves. Cookies cut into the shape of the symbol of the Life school, lined with carefully piped frosting. He's even selling bags of peppermint bark!

"Oh, wow," Duncan mutters through his salivation.

Malorn can't seem to help but laugh. "It all smells so good."

"Thanks," Ceren replies somewhat sheepishly. "I spent all morning trying to get it all ready."

"All morning?"

"Yeah. It was pretty stressful."

Malorn raises an eyebrow questioningly, but the Theurgist doesn't elaborate further.

"Anyway," he says, pushing past the awkwardness. He gestures to each item on the table and rattles off their prices, "one bag is fifteen gold. Cookies and cupcakes are ten a piece; seven if you get two of one or one of each."

This makes Malorn finally rummage around in his pockets for whatever change he brought with him. Duncan's hunger grows by the second with the hope that Malorn will be kind enough, and have enough money, to buy literally anything and split it with him. He'd prefer the peppermint bark, but if he got a cookie he'd be happy with that, too.

Malorn counts his coins in his cupped hand silently, sliding them around with a thoughtful frown. His eyes stray back to the table for a moment, then he turns to Duncan.

"I've got twelve," he says.

A sad sigh escapes Duncan's mouth as his shoulders slump. "Alright..." He turns to the table to survey is remaining two options. The Life iconography would bother him more if his stomach wasn't demanding to be filled. But would he want a cookie, or would he rather take one of the fluffy cupcakes?

"Hey," Malorn says, slapping Duncan sharply on the back of his head, "I never said I was going to buy for you."

"What?!" Duncan exclaims.

"If you want something, you buy it yourself," his friend replies firmly. He sets seven coins down onto the table and selects two of the finest cookies from Ceren's booth. Then, to Duncan's surprise, he holds one of the cookies out to him and says, "You owe me seven gold tomorrow. Your lunch is collateral."

Duncan doesn't know if he should be upset or overjoyed, but he accepts the cookie nonetheless and begins to nibble on it. Seven gold shouldn't be much of an issue... so long as he doesn't forget to bring it.

"Thanks, Ceren," Malorn says, smiling once more.

"E-Enjoy the cookies," the Theurgist replies, bewildered. He takes Malorn's payment and drops the coins one by one into a glass jar hidden off to the side. Duncan does his best to ignore their soft plinks.

Walking off, Duncan lowers his cookie just long enough to mutter, "Thanks, Mal."

"Just want to remind you to bring your own funds next time," Malorn replies, now starting to dig into his own treat.

"Right..." Duncan returns to his nibbling, savoring each sugary crumb as much as he can. It reminds him so much of his mother, how sweet the house would smell each time she was able to bake something nice. And they'd sit around the fireplace, nibbling away at the treats and snuggling under the single blanket they owned, taken from the bed upstairs. And for that moment in time he could forget all the worries that plagued him, just like he is able to do now, able to enjoy a very simple thing to its fullest extent.

"Duncan?" Malorn asks, his voice cutting through his thoughts. Duncan's gaze returns to reality. His friend has finished his cookie, whereas he's only managed to get a quarter of the way through. They're standing near the entrance to the Shopping District, but Malorn's stopped walking. "I'm... going to go back to my dorm now."

"Oh," Duncan mutters. "See you tomorrow."

"Yep."

With slight hesitation, Malorn starts to walk back in the direction of the Baking Bash, back to Ravenwood. Alone, Duncan goes back to his cookie and takes his own leave.

This is the only reason why he likes Ceren.

#writing #wizard101 #duncan grimwater #malorn ashthorn #death dudes (tm)#short story #fanfic #headcanon #ceren nightchant #professor wu's baking bash #cookies #treats #honestly makes me hungry just writing this #i want to go make cookies now

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starlitheaven · 2 years

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BUT AZ HOW DO WE FEEL BOUT TATTOOIST! GOJO. ik there's a lot of tattooist! Geto content but what if it's gojo this time (✿❛◡❛)

tattooist gojo, mmm. Satoru all tatted up.

edit: had Aneurysm by Nirvana on repeat for this.

⋆ I'd say he gets recommended by people because he's known for several things: his pure attention to detail, his versatility in tattoo styles, how light his hand is, and how comfortable he makes his clients feel. he can be a little overwhelming and intimidating, though.

⋆ unlike Geto who can be a bit pretentious and internally judgmental about tattoos, Gojo really doesn't care as long as it's not something offensive.

⋆ his tattoo room is full of movie & concert posters, as well as pictures he's taken with Suguru and Shoko or their other friends. he has this ugly clay coffee mug that Megumi made for him as a child and uses it to store his pens. it has a lot of personality and makes you feel at ease.

⋆ when you first meet him, he doesn't take much notice of you because he doesn't want you to feel leered at; it's such a thing for male tattooists to make others uncomfortable, and you're trusting him with such a vulnerable process, so he keeps his distance.

⋆ if it's your first time, he'll give you a rundown of the whole process and be honest (blunt as fuck) about how painful it'll be, but reassures you that you'll be okay. "you'll be good though," he'd grin, patting your head. "I'll take good care of you, leave it to me!" and he says it with such self assured confidence, that it completely eases your nerves.

⋆ texts you a checklist of things to do to prepare, what clothing is best, and asks what type of music you like.

⋆ whatever is your music type, you walk into his space on the day of your first session with it softly playing inside. he's a talkative guy, so he walks you through his entire sanitation process and all the tools he'll be using.

⋆ he's in an old washed out band shirt again. it's what he always wears, and most belong to Suguru.

⋆ he's just as talkative when he's finally putting ink on your skin, and it oddly helps you with the pain. sometimes you tune him out, but the rumble of his voice keeps you grounded from wincing. he'll talk about anything and everything. he tells you about his first tattoo, three eyes behind his ears on each side. six in total. he got them done at this small punk show when he was sixteen and egged on by his best friend.

⋆ he has all sorts of pieces all over his visible skin— arms, neck, you even catch a peek of more inked skin below the collar of his t-shirt when he leans down. what's cute is all the small doodles in the empty spaces between the bigger pieces, and he tells you he did most of them himself whenever he's bored. some are done by friends, like a small happy face near his knuckle that Haibara did.

⋆ as much as he tries to keep this professional though, Satoru starts becoming attracted to you as the session goes on. he rarely hits it off with someone so well and he listens intently to every piece of information you give him about yourself. it's tempting to run his big palm over your soft skin, and it's so exposed, but he holds back.

⋆ he can be a bit of an asshole sometimes, but you either call him out on it or bite back. he loves that.

⋆ is great at calling you to check up on your healing and gives you reminders on how to maintain it until the next session. he can't help but want to hear your voice, so he calls instead of texting or emailing like he usually does. you don't know any better, though. works in his favor.

⋆ on your last session, he's filled with the pride that never gets old at seeing the piece almost finished. what was once a mere idea is now brought to life and forever inked on your pretty skin. and you seem excited about it as well.

"see, not so bad now, was it?" he hums, wiping at the final touches. "told you I'm the best."

"hm, you're alright. I guess." you tease, chuckling when he immediately looks up at you looking like a kicked puppy. "I'm kidding. thank you, gojo. really. I'm already thinking of what to get next, actually."

"yeah? you sure you're not just saying that cause you'll miss seeing me?" he jokes, but deep down he's hoping you'll want him to remain as your future artist. even if that's the only way he'll keep seeing you, he'll take it. he's enjoyed far too much the way you make him feel wanted.

"maybe I am." you murmur. swallowing your pride, you let the words spill out of your mouth. "but what if I wanted to see you sooner? you said I should go to your friends show this weekend. it'll be my first time, it'd help to have you there."

as soon as the words come out of your mouth, you're already regretting being so bold. gojo is just a friendly guy, he obviously just wanted his friend to get support and probably says that to everyone.

so you backtrack immediately. "b-but if you can't or don't want to it's okay! sorry I just—"

"'course I want to, y/n. heh, I said I'll take good care of you, remember?" he laughs, looking down at your finished piece. he wipes at the clean skin, pretending like he's working but he's just hiding his reddened cheeks.

doesn't want you to see what a loser he is and how much you affect him.

#the end was rushed I'm so sorry fnjkasfa #I'm hungry and have to eat #anyway this wasn't how I thought this would go tbh #I just let the vibes take over #abby tag #gojo x reader #satoru.hc

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emwritesstuff · 3 years

Text

housesitting | bucky barnes x reader

summary: Housesitting for Steve Rogers has many perks. The man has the comfiest bed you’ve ever slept in; his coffee machine is top tier; and he also pays for every single streaming service you could think of, because he doesn’t wanna miss anything.

You can hardly see how Bucky Barnes stumbling into his apartment at 3 am with multiple wounds is one of them. But I guess it might be?

notes: this is my attempt at a more ~comedy centered one-shot, with some making out in the middle because uh, who doesn’t like that? In other news, reader is Chaotic. Canon mcu (Infinity War/Endgame) is non-existent in this. (word count: 3K)

warnings: language, mentions of blood, gunshot wounds, general patching up shenanigans, some making out/grinding but not quite third base

[PART 2: breaking and entering]

Housesitting for Steve Rogers has many perks. The man has the comfiest bed you’ve ever slept in; his coffee machine is top tier; and he also pays for every single streaming service you could think of, because he doesn’t wanna miss anything. An old popsicle thing, you assume.

It’s peaceful, too. The neighborhood is nice and quiet, the other tenants are either extremely polite or too scared of Captain America to make much noise. You’ve had very nice stay-cations at his place, where you were free to choose to binge The Office while eating an entire pizza in the spam of 2 episodes or taking advantage of the quiet to write your grad-school thesis.

So when a loud BANG almost makes you drop your coffee mug on the floor, your spidey senses are immediately on alert. You don’t care how many times Peter insisted that it wasn’t a thing, your arm hairs stood up and your heart started hammering on your chest all the same.

You contemplate squeezing under the bed, turning off the show that was long abandoned and hiding until whatever it is goes away, but before you can do any of that, a string of sharp cursing and soft thumps and thuds snaps you out of your fear.

Maybe it’s a burglar. You could take a clumsy burglar, easy.

Now feeling like Tony had just welcomed you into the Avengers, you hop off Steve’s bed and let your baby Yoda socked feet carry you stealthily into the living room, holding a table lamp as if it was a baseball bat.

Everything is quiet, with no signs of forced entry at the door (you remember someone on Law and Order using those words), and in the dark you don’t notice the bloody trail coming from the kitchen.

You’re imagining things, then. When was the last time you slept? You don’t even feel tired, but you know sleep deprivation always gets you all kinds of crazy.

It happens the second your arm falls to your side and your posture shows the slight of relaxation. A strong arm around your neck and a hand against your mouth to muffle the screaming.

In the quiet of Steve’s apartment building, there is only you shrieking and howling and thrashing against the hold of a stranger.

“Don’t fuckin’ move.” You still.

And then you bite into the hand that is muting you, immediately regretting it when your teeth sink into something hard. Metal? Concrete? Ouch. You resume your resistance, determined, and is shoved away.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Who the fuck are you.” His voice is gruff and dulled over the mask he is wearing, and as you’re taking this giant of a man in, you notice it.

The metal arm. The strapped leather jacket. The tortured blue eyes.

Winter Soldier.

The intruder is James “Bucky” Barnes, Steve’s best friend. That’s who the fuck it is.

“I’m Steve’s house sitter! I even have a key.” You say, with arms in front of you to signal no harm but inching closer to the table lamp with every step.

“House…sitter? Where’s Steve?”

“Who knows. Maybe a mission. He texts me, I come over.” You shrug, and put a chair back to where it was before it got knocked over.

“I don’t believe you. Where is Steve?”

“Listen, I don’t know, okay? I guess he’s just out for a few days. I don’t ask. He just lets me stay in here so I can water the plants and feed the Avengers.”

“The– the what?”

“The Avengers! The fish, see.” You point to the aquarium, where a handful of colorful fish swam peacefully in.

Peace. So much for your peace, because now what you have is a surly super soldier eyeing the fish tank like it was the most loathsome thing in the entire universe, except maybe for you.

“I hate this thing. Naming them makes it even worse.” He trudges back to the kitchen, stomping on the floor like he was on a parade.

So much for the other people’s peace, too.

“Hey! Sir. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s 3 in the fucking morning?” You sass, putting your hands on your hips when he retorts that yeah, he does know. “What are you even doing here?”

“Back from a mission.” He grumbles without looking at you, as if you’re the one who stumbled into his place in the middle of the night.

It wasn’t your place, but still.

“Don’t you have a house?” There’s a part of you that knows pushing the Winter Soldier’s buttons is asking for trouble, but your tired and confused brain decides to ignore it.

“You interrogating me? I need a motherfucking– ” He wheezes and nearly doubles over, holding on the door frame between the living room and the kitchen. You finally spot the blood, both on the tiles and seeping out of the Soldier’s jacket and pants.

He’s hurt. Shit.

“– first aid kit.”

“You need a motherfucking hospital!” You shrill, panic chilling your bones. You don’t do blood. Or any kind of wound, for that matter.

The man ignores you, opening up cabinets hastily. You huff, and walk past him to get to the actual home of the first aid kit. Steve’s oldest, closest friend and can’t even find a box with pharmaceutical supplies in his kitchen. You slam it on the counter next to him.

“You’re welcome.”

“Zip it.”

Just a look from him is enough to render you speechless, and not in the good, butterflies-in-your-stomach kind of way. You’re positive that one swat of that metal arm and you’ll be flying out of the window.

He begins by removing his mask, revealing a handsome face underneath, and you try your best to focus on how dark and menacing it looked while locked in that scowl of his. Then, he unbuckles his jacket and discards it on the floor, it coming to a stop next to your feet.

Oh man, he’s naked. Well, not really, just the incredibly toned, strong and muscular top half of him, but you stare wide-eyed as if he was.

“See somethin’ you like, doll?” He quips, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and you turn your back to him, mostly to hide your own embarrassment.

“No.” You cross your arms resolutely, because you definitely don’t think he’s attractive. He is a rude, grumpy, private-property-invader-bastard. Doll. Yuck.

You hear a rumble come out of his chest. Is he laughing? Shithead. Other noises follow, wheezes, small grunts and the tinkle of metal on the marble counter.

A particular pained grunt makes you turn, and you see Barnes with his body twisted, trying to reach a bloody hole on his back. It would be funny if he wasn’t trying to poke a gunshot.

“Do you need… help?” You ask, against your own will, only to be met with his icy gaze.

“No.”

“Come on, you can’t even reach that.”

Another glare is shot your way, and you quirk your brow up. He did need the help, you think, because aside from the muscles and the sweat making him glisten like a delicious – wait what – glazed donut, the man looked like hell.

“…fine.” He slides a pair of surgical prongs, something you identify in your head as oversized tweezers, and you instantly regret your offer. Pressing an iodine-soaked cotton ball to a wound, sure. But not this.

He turns his back to you without a word, supporting himself on the marble. You think that he’s about to make a dent on the goddamn stone if he keeps holding onto it that hard.

“Ah, fuck. Shit. Fuck. Ugh, it’s so gross. Fuck.”

It’s the most horrifying thing you’ve ever done, but you try your best to get to the bullet quickly, so very thankful that Barnes holds himself perfectly still for you. “Got it!”

He lets out a long breath when you toss the prongs and the bullet on the counter with the rest and resumes his cleanup. So, he’s not even going to say thanks. Great.

You try not to think about how you still want to make conversation while you hurriedly scrub the blood from your hands, because aside from the hostility and him jumping on you as a meet-cute, the guy peeks your interest.

Steve has said Barnes is nice, too, and you believed Steve, because he’s basically incapable of lying. Or maybe because he’s pretty. Both, for sure.

With your hands now clean, you turn to him, mouth open with some kind of conversation starter that is immediately forgotten.

Oh man, he’s naked. For real this time.

Bucky Barnes has stepped out of his pants while you were overthinking by the sink, now standing in only a pair of black boxers. It’s like he feels you staring at his butt, because he turns to you with raised eyebrows.

“Last one’s on my thigh. I got it.” He’s holding the prongs this time, and you’re glad you don’t have to do anything, because your face next to that groin might make you go into spontaneous combustion.

“Yeah.”

He hums. You hope all of this is a fever dream.

“Isn’t there a med bay at–”

“Don’t like people prodding and pokin’ at me.” His comment makes you grimace. He’s the Winter Soldier, damn it. You know the stories, everyone does. Of course he doesn’t like being prodded.

He looks at you funny, probably because you went dead quiet. You don’t want him to think you feel pity, because you don’t, but god don’t you feel bad for poking him now, even if verbally.

“I’m gonna – grab one of Steve’s – uh. Dude you need to put some clothes on. Jesus.”

He laughs at you again, which you’re thankful for because anything is better than the awkwardness of the other subject. You pick up a black pair of sweatpants that was so deep in one of Steve’s drawers that you know he’d have to have bought it and never had the guts to put it on. This one would do just fine.

If there is one thing Steve Rogers isn’t, is a black sweats guy.

“Here.” You deposit the sweats and a white tee on the counter, one of the millions that you found inside the closet. Barnes was patching himself up now, bandages wrapped everywhere on his body.

Got his ass kicked good. You shudder when you imagine the state of the other guy.

He eyes the clothes, and saying nothing, returns to his task. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“I didn’t ask you to help me.”

“Yeah, but I did anyways! ‘Cause I’m stupid, I guess.” You almost hurl a dirty plate at him when he scoffs, muttering a yeah, guess you are. “God, why are you so grumpy?”

“Well you try being shot 5 times and see how cheerful you are after.”

“You got shot 5 times?!”

Looking at you from between his brows, the Soldier nods to the five mangled bullets sitting on the counter. You think about how you’ve made yourself a sandwich just hours earlier on the exact same spot. You want to puke.

Taking time to look around yourself, you can finally grasp the state of Steve’s ever-so-pristine kitchen, now a mess of dirty clothes, blood and your own few dishes from the night before. You don’t even think about what you’re doing as you move, gathering every single cleaning supply you can find, and start working on the cleanup.

You’re struggling, because obviously you’ve never done this before. Anyone can tell, from your soft abdomen and your severe lack of muscle, that you’re not an Avenger. Sure, you work with them, but you’re usually neck deep into advanced tech, not in the gym by any means. Also, you don’t do blood.

That means you have to think about something else, anything else, while you’re manically cleaning the floor. One sheep, two sheep, three sheep, the Winter Soldier’s tight ass, four sheep, get it together goddamnit –

“Leave it. I’ll clean.”

You huff, he huffs back, and you look up at him.

“You got shot five times. Go sit down or something before you blow your back too, grandpa.” You call him that to assure yourself that he is old, like actually super old, and thirsting over him is weird. Even weirder when he’s all bandaged and bleeding. And still shirtless. Shit.

He mumbles something that you ignore, and stomps off. You think you actually did a pretty decent job with the cleaning, considering.

You need coffee. Definitely an entire bottle of vodka too, but there was no alcohol in this god’s good home, so you settle for the brew that you made earlier. You pour a mug for Barnes too, because you’re nice like that, and amble into the living room to find him slumped on a chair.

“Coffee?” You start, settling his mug on the table next to him.

“It’s almost 5 a.m.”

“Guess I’m up early for once. Maybe I should go for a run.”

He snorts, and opens one eye to inspect you from where he is. He reaches out for the coffee, using his metal hand, and you consider the two ways this could go.

He’d shatter the mug right then and there. Or, he’d throw it at you. Your jaw goes slack at what he actually does, sirens blaring loudly in your head. Truly astonishing, the most bewildering turn of events.

He drinks from it.

“Thanks. Quit staring at me.”

“Wow, Mr. Winter knows the magic words. Mr. Barnes. Sergeant?” You’re thinking aloud, abandoning any trace of sanity you’ve been holding. You even sit on the couch next to his armchair.

“It’s Bucky,”

Again, absolutely bewildering. You must be going insane.

“– and you talk too much.” He finishes, with an end-of-story tone, and returns to his rest. At least that felt like normality.

“Bucky. Bucky.” You roll the name on your tongue, feeling a weird buzz start to take over you. It grows stronger when you notice he’s looking at you, one brow quirked as if you lost your marbles. “You know, Bucky, this is definitely not how I saw my night going. Home invasion, playing surgeon – not my usual kind of fun.”

You get up, maybe because you decide that you – and Bucky – need a blanket, or maybe because you need a distraction from his chest going up and down like it’s got a business with making you want to touch it.

You’re not a slut, but who knows? Jim Halper would get it.

“You’re that kid, aren’t you? Stark’s assistant.” Bucky’s voice, low and husky, makes you jump. You look at him, your eyebrows furrowed slightly.

It’s surprising that he knows you, considering. He’s – well, he’s basically a celebrity, if ex-assassins could be considered that. You’re only Tony’s techie, and you and Bucky have never actually met, not even in the few parties you had attended to stop your boss from nagging you that you had to actually go out and have some fun sometimes, because you’re still young and cute and you need to enjoy yourself before you get saggy and bitter.

Jokes on him, you were born bitter.

“I’m no kid.”

“Nice socks.”

You wiggle your toes and it makes the ears of one of the baby Yodas move.

“Still not a kid! If you wanna be sad and wear your sad, plain socks, Bucky, that’s entirely your choice.” You said, pointing your index at him, making circles in the air with it to really get your point across.

Bucky smirks, and you go up to him with the two blankets on your arms. He’s blocking the door with that bulky body of his, and you raise your eyebrows quizzically.

“I’ll have you know – meeting Steve’s annoying, mouthy, pretty house sitter is not how I saw my night going either.” Bucky puts a doubtful tone on house sitter, as if he still doesn’t get exactly what it means.

You blink. You’re positive you heard it wrong. Is he… is this flirting?

“You think I’m pretty?”

“I called you annoying and mouthy too.”

“Yeah, I mean I know that much about me.” You chuckle, rolling your eyes. “The pretty part is new though.”

Bucky still hasn’t moved from the doorframe, and you find yourself staring up at him. He is inches away now, pupils blown wide in the darkness, and you can see a ring of steely blue around them. He licks his lips, and you’re drawn in.

The maelstrom in his eyes sends you spinning.

“I think someone should say you’re not see through, much less–”

Bucky shuts you up by pressing his lips onto yours, a slow, exploratory kiss, the tenderest he’s been all night. His metal hand rests on your lower back, making you shiver at the cool touch.

You’re all panting and eagerness when you cup his face with both hands and press your body against his. You need to deepen this kiss. You haven’t drooled over Bucky Barnes all night to keep things lovey-dovey.

He responds in earnest, pulling you closer. The flesh hand on the back of your neck is a stark contrast against the chill of the other. You and Bucky stumble from the corridor and back to the living room, knocking over a few of Steve’s decorations in the process.

“I don’t feel as bad for this one.” You mumble against his lips, stopping to look at a particular framed picture of Captain America in uniform, surrounded by every single counterfeit Cap in Times Square.

“S’ one of his favorites.”

You nod, you’re aware. Steve thinks it’s the most hilarious thing ever.

Bucky’s breath tickles the hairs on your neck when he continues.

“I hate it.”

“Yeah.”

You capture his lips again, and you two resume your chaotic redecorating. You’re thankful for Bucky’s strong arms keeping you from falling over, because at this point you’re not sure if your legs work anymore.

He takes you with him when he drops down on the same armchair from earlier, and the dizzy spell you find yourself in is broken when you hear him groan.

Right. He’s battered up and stuff.

“Shit, Bucky, I’m sorry–”

“No.” He pulls you close again, and guides your body to straddle one of his thighs. “Stay right here, doll.”

Doll. God-fucking-damnit.

His hand moves under the elastic band of your pants, oh my god you’re making out with Bucky-Hot-Piece-Of-Ass-Barnes in your wiener dog pajama bottoms, and finds the hem of your underwear. He pulls on it, and you yelp when he lets it snap against your side.

He laughs, and you vibrate along with his chest.

You find yourself grinding on his leg, sucking on his bottom lip, raking your nails along his shoulders, doing anything, everything for more, trying to burn the taste and the feel of him on your memory. He moves on to kiss your neck and you sigh, tugging on his hair and making sure you’re holding on for dear life.

Your eyes flutter open, enough to see the fish Avengers in their tank.

The Avengers.

Steve Rogers is an Avenger. So is Bucky, technically.

You’re making out with Bucky. One of his hands is on your boob.

This is Steve’s apartment.

You manage to sober you up enough, despite Bucky’s constant attacks of open mouth kisses and bites on your neck.

“I don’t think Steve would – if we–” You lift your head begrudgingly to look at him. “You know, on his armchair.”

“Right.” He didn’t seem convinced, but his hand moved up from your butt to your waist again.

Steve Rogers was probably miles away right now and still cockblocking you.

Even worse, his furniture was cockblocking you.

Stupid star-spangled IKEA shopper.

And his hot best friend. Who’s currently smiling at you in a such a way that makes you almost abandon all comradery towards Rogers and the sanctity of his place.

You debate getting up, but resign yourself to burying your nose in the crook of Bucky’s neck and just staying there, because honestly, when are you going to have the chance to do this again. Never, that’s when.

Also, he’s surprisingly comfortable for someone with a metal arm and such a jacked-up body.

“You’re sleepy.”

“No, I’m like, super awake.”

It’s a lie, because now that the sparks have flown and the rush of blood in your ears gave way to the quietness of the early morning, you feel yourself drifting, on and off, surprising yourself when you come to once and find that Bucky is still there, warm under you.

“Sleep, doll. I need it too.”

You shift, ready to let his rhythmic breathing lull you to sleep. The last 75 sleepless hours catch up with you.

“Bucky? If you want to break into someone’s house again sometime – I have a first aid kit too. Just sayin’.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #avengers x reader #emwrites

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asimpforarmin · 3 years

Text

Cuddling & Sleeping Headcanons with the AoT Characters 💛

Character(s): Eren, Armin, Mikasa, Bertholdt, Jean, Connie, & Sasha

Genre: Fluff, light-hearted.

Warnings: None

A/n: Did not mean for Bertholdt’s to be that long but oh well. It’s clear some of these are much longer than others, but I’m trying to get better at writing for a lot of people. A Modern AU is mentioned in Mikasa’s paragraph. Pretend this was posted Tuesday. I had a post I was going to edit so it said it was on Tuesday, but I already did all the tags here and because characters have multiple names I can’t be bothered.

💛 Eren:

Loves getting behind you and spooning you, arms around your waist and legs under your thighs. He’s good at it too, he’s very comfortable to snuggle with. You feel so special and lucky that you’ve got him this close to you.

Either that or him on his stomach with you halfway on his back.

He really can’t sleep and cuddle at the same time, so there’s going to have to be a point where he has to turn away from you.

He’s down to keep holding hands or something simple like that though if you still want to be touching him.

The blanket usually falls off him when he’s sleeping, meaning you usually have to drape it back over him before you fall asleep.

He’s one of those people who hangs his limbs off the side of the bed.

He also snores, not too loud, but it can get annoying sometimes.

Eren loves to rest a hand on your thigh or on your stomach while spooning you, nuzzling into the back of your neck.

He’s up for trying different positions, but only when he’s not tired. When he is tired, he just wants to hold you and go to bed as soon as he can.

💛 Armin:

Loves to lay on your chest or shoulder. He gets to look up at you and can talk to you as he falls asleep. Sure, your arm might go dead sometimes, but it’s worth it to see him lying on you, talking about his day and looking up at you admirably.

He likes to intertwine his legs with yours in this position, laying his head on you and sometimes holding one of your hands.

Oh, and if you use your other hand to rub his back or play with his hair, this boy will be in heaven.

He can fall asleep cuddling easily, he rarely has to roll away from you to sleep.

That being said, if you need to roll away, he’s fine with it, but he will try to see if he can cling onto you somehow. If you sleep on your side, he’ll wrap his arm around your waist and bury his face into your back. If you sleep on your stomach/back, he’ll get on your side and link arms with you or hold your hand.

He also like to be little spoon a lot. Especially if he’s had a bad day, all he wants to do is be held by you.

He will be big spoon sometimes but only if you ask him or if he’s clinging onto you after you’ve turned around.

If you still can’t sleep when he’s doing that, he’ll just turn around and snuggle up to one of his pillows. Not in a sad way, but he just likes to clutch onto something.

Speaking of pillows, he sleeps with like three just on his side.

He will also steal your blanket from you. He doesn’t do it on purpose of course, but you’ll wake up cold in the middle of the night and have to discreetly try to get some of your blanket back.

You’ll end up with 1/4 of it back at most, unless you want to wake Armin up, so be prepared with another blanket somewhere you can grab.

💛 Mikasa:

Any position that lets her see your face is the best. She loves to just lay in front of you as you go on about what happened that day.

Just imagine coming home after a long day and collapsing on the bed alongside Mikasa, facing each other on your sides as she brushes a stray hair out of your face.

As you get more tired, she’ll get closer to you and take you in her arms, chin on your head.

Or if you’re on the couch together, she’ll lay down and pull you onto her stomach, tangling her legs with yours. One hand will be on your head playing with your hair and the other will be getting popcorn or reaching for a remote.

She’ll glance down at you, before sitting up a little and gripping your chin with her finger and kissing you, then lay back down.

Whatever position is comfortable for you is the one she’ll cuddle you in. She’ll manage to fall asleep in whatever pose you want her to be in.

She’s good at not taking the blanket away, but if you do she will take her side back. Most of the time, she’ll be able to get it back without waking you up, but if she does, she’ll apologize and plant a kiss on your head, then resume cuddling.

She doesn’t toss or turn or snore much at all, she sleeps like a rock.

She secretly loves it when you play with her hair. Just rake your fingers through it or massage her scalp and she’ll nuzzle into your neck trying to hide a small smile.

Wrapping your legs around her is another thing she likes. You probably won’t be able to fall asleep like this, but just sitting in her lap, legs and arms wrapped around her as she rocks you side to side is bliss.

If she wakes up before you, she’ll try her best to stay still and let you wake up on your own, sometimes falling back asleep.

💛 Bertholdt:

So we all know Bert has some crazy weird sleeping positions, but that doesn’t stop him from cuddling you. Because of this, he will have to turn around at some point, but will still cuddle you until he’s tired enough to go to sleep.

He likes to be little spoon, but because of his height that can be hard, so any position where he can be the one cuddled is great for him.

He’s fine with being big spoon as long as he gets to hold your hand while doing it.

After he inevitably turns around, if you can somehow find a way to cling onto him, he’ll let you, but that’s almost impossible most nights.

He’s one of those people who sleeps with his leg up and crossed over the other, and can also get a stack of pillows under his head to prop it up at a 90˚ angle but still be comfortable.

A position he’d like is to just have you on his chest. He’ll kiss your forehead and play with your hair. After he does, kiss his cheek, it will make him blush like no tomorrow.

He loves it when you wrap your arms around his shoulders, then he wraps his around your waist. It’s a loving position that makes it easy to look into each other’s eyes.

He also likes to sleep in opposite directions but have your backs touching. Even if it’s not super close or face to face, it’s comfortable and still feels really nice.

Don’t be surprised if you get accidentally pushed to the side or off the bed. If you’re on the edge, it’ll be hard to get back, but he’s alright with being woken up if you need more room.

If he pushes you off the bed, he’ll probably know straight away from the loud thwump that comes from the other side. He’ll bolt up and apologize profusely and help you back up. Then, he’ll bring you close and kiss you all over. It’s not a big drop, but he’ll still act like he dropped you off a cliff. You’ll have to assure him you’re alright, but no matter what you do, he will be glued to one side of the bed the rest of the night. You only fall off on rare occasions though, so that’s good.

The only downside to sleeping with Bertholdt is that your presence makes it harder to predict the weather. ok ill stop with the jokes im sorry

💛 Jean:

LOVES face to face stuff. He’ll hug you close and tight, giving you lots of forehead kisses and just cherishing you.

He’ll hold you like there’s no tomorrow, just feeling so lucky to have you. He’ll never tell you any of this, but he’s so happy he got someone like you.

All night, he’ll make sure you have the blanket wrapped around you and that you’re comfortable.

He also likes to spoon you, rubbing your upper arm or back. He really likes to be little spoon too. Unless you begged him for like a week, he would never be little spoon. But once he tried it, oh lord he loved it.

He doesn’t let you spoon him too much because, y’know, ego, but when you do he loves when you wrap your arms around his waist and intertwine your legs with his.

He’d snore a lot, but it wouldn’t be too loud. It’s usually just a low rumble and you don’t hear it that much.

If you’re in a position to, put your hand on his chest, he adores it.

💛 Connie:

Be careful of his legs because he will kick you sometimes. Not purposefully of course, but he is a deadly weapon when he sleeps.

Which is why he normally sleeps in the opposite direction of you.

He adores being little spoon, plus his height makes it easy to do.

He will have no shame in being the little spoon, unless someone finds out he is and gives him crap for it. Then he’ll yell at them, getting all defensive and flustered. After that he’ll assume the little spoon position defiantly.

If you’re facing each other, putting your legs together is a must, just hope he doesn’t kick you in the shins.

If he does, he’ll apologize and laugh at what he did, before flipping over to make sure he doesn’t kick you again.

💛 Sasha:

She will steal the blanket from you 24/7. No doubt about it. Even if you manage to get it back, she will do it again.

She loves getting cuddly with you. She will be big spoon, little spoon, lay on you, whatever makes both of you comfortable.

She does snore on the louder side though, which annoys the crap out of anyone else in the room, whether that be just you or if she’s in the barracks.

She loves it when you sit up and hold each other, rocking left and right, she will melt in your arms.

She’ll love to cuddle and talk about her day with you. She’ll come up with a lot of different topics and it will never get boring.

There will be crumbs in your bed, that is the price of dating Sasha. She’ll try to clean them out sometimes, but there will always be that one that ruins your sleep.

She loves it if she’s laying on her back and she’s holding your shoulders as you lay on her chest. In that position you can hear her heartbeat and she can kiss your head.

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