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drefear · 9 months

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Sister's Mister

Summary: You and your sister are having issues now that Miguel and her are official. Your friends have some opinions, and things finally get heated.

TW: smut, masturbation, drinking, arguing, family issues, pining.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

The world was painful, too bright for your eyes and your heavy hangover. Everything felt achy and your body was like lead. Soft breathing could be heard from the corner of your room and as you looked up, you saw Gianna sleeping in your little lounge chair. You began to nod out of it again when her eyes opened and she moved to sit on the bed with you. She held your hand and smiled.

“Went too hard last night, right?” She laid her head in your lap and you nodded, barely having the energy to speak. “That’s so unlike you.”

“Don’t wanna talk about it.” You drawled on, moving the blanket to cover her as well and sleep in the same bed, something you two did often in highschool. Gianna was like having an annoying best friend around 24/7.

Once you woke up again, Gianna was gone and you were alone in the darkness of your room, your sister having pulled your blinds down to help you sleep off the hangover. Getting up, you blinked and grabbed your doorknob, needing a bit of balance before you could keep going. Practically waddling to the kitchen on sea legs, you squinted towards the fridge, seeing someone already in it.

“Dad?”

“Try again.” The voice gave away who it was and you pouted, agitated that he was the first person you had to see when you woke up.

“What are you doing here?”

“Gianna had class, so she asked me to stay and look after you.” Miguel closed the fridge and handed you a cold bottle of water. “She loves you a lot.”

“I love her too.” You answered in a short manner, not wanting to continue to speak to the massive man in your home.

“Why’d you get drunk?” He asked and you sighed, turning towards the exit.

“Because I can.” You spoke as if biting him, harsh and intent on being painful to hear. His face scrunched in a way you could only explain as both confused and angry.

“No one just gets blackout drunk because they can.” He kept pushing, like a child trying to find their parent’s boundaries.

“Why are you asking? I’m not the sister you chose.” You walked away before he could press on, and you hurried towards your bedroom, closing the door and locking it. You held the water bottle to your forehead, needing some relief and silence as tears pooled in your eyes. You missed the buzz that the alcohol gave you from last night, warmth making you feel light as a feather. Now, you just felt like hot water sloshed back and forth in your body. You laid on your bed once more to try and fight the massive, tequila induced headache. Nothing felt right and you couldn’t put your finger on it. You memory was hazy, bits and pieces of things coming back as if they weren’t even from your eyes. The last thing you remembered was a stranger touching your face before you yakked on Miles’s grass-

Miles!

You quickly grabbed your phone to see all the phone calls you’d missed. Gwen texted you three times and called three times, Miles called twice and left five texts, and Pav, who you don’t remember giving your number to, called twice. The line rang as you called back Miles and he answered on the second ring.

“Oh my god, you’re ok!” He spoke and you let out a pent out breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Your sister came in last night like a bat out of hell and was screaming for you, and then I saw that big, mean guy from Alchemax carrying you out and when I tried to ask him what he was doing, he told me to be a criminal with someone else, and I-”

“He said what?” You began to feel a familiar upset grow in your chest as you heard Miles.

“Who gives a shit? I just wanted to make sure he didn’t, like, kidnap you and sell you to El Chapo or something!” You laughed at his dramatic jokes. You loved Miles like a brother, someone who’d been there when you needed him most and vice versa.

“No, I’m fine. That’s my sister’s new boyfriend.” You heard quiet on the other line. “Hello?”

“She’s dating that guy? Miguel, right? Didn’t he fuck around with Mrs. Olsen?” He asked and you twirled a piece of your hair in your fingers.

“Don’t know, don’t care. All I know is he’s got my sister in some fantasy land and I have to listen to the stupid details. ‘Miguel this’ and ‘Miguel that,’ she won’t stop talking about him and-”

“You like him, don’t you?” Miles asked and you practically choked on the sudden gasp of oxygen you took in, coughing a bit. “Sorry, sorry! Just… sounds like you have something else going on when it comes to him. Is this the guy you used to talk about liking in your chem classes?”

You didn’t answer, you didn’t need to. Tears broke through your ducts and dribbled down your cheeks as you realized how you felt.

“Miles, it fucking sucks so badly.” You whispered, wiping your eyes on your sleeve. “It’s my sister’s boyfriend, ya know? How am I supposed to act?” You asked desperately, needing him input.

“You don’t. You gotta forget it, he’s off limits now. Plus, if he’s as terrible as he seems, you don’t want him in your life anyway.” Miles went on and you knew it was true, but a knock at your door made you almost nervous. “Miles, I gotta go. I’ll text you later.”

“Yeah, come over later and we can go in the pool. You can clean up all the throw up you left outside.” He laughed as you practically shrank into your blankets, embarrassment turning your cheeks pink. Hanging up, you got up and went to your door to see Miguel standing too tall in the doorframe.

“Why don’t you know how to act in front of me?” Miguel asked, and your heart stopped. He heard you.

“That was a private conversation. Now, you can tell my sister I’m fine and get the fuck out of my house.” You slammed the door in his face once you were done speaking to him, waiting to make sure he left. After a long few seconds, you heard his hefty footsteps retreat and the front door close. Today was too much.

You left for Miles’s house later that afternoon, getting there to see your sister’s car outside. Great. You slightly dreaded how intertwined your friend group was getting, all because of Miguel. Another reason to absolutely despise him. You wished you could.

You had on your purple swimsuit, something unique and new that you were excited to wear. Miles had said that he was inviting a few extra friends, and you were hoping one of them was cute, so you had pulled this one out to don in case your hopes came true. Now you had even more reason to push out your chest and be cute, to prove to Miguel that the conversation he heard was actually nothing. He was your sister’s boyfriend, just your sister’s boyfriend. Not the man you pine for in the dark of your room at night, not the name you have to bite your lip not to moan while your fingers circled your clit.

Walking through his gate to his backyard, you waved at Gwen and MIles, then Hobie and Pav, and Peter. There were a few other faces you didn’t recognize and then there was Miguel and your sister, making out in the pool and looking like the beginning of an amateur porn video. You cringed as you turned away from them, trying not to gawk at their gross display of affection, but you couldn’t blame her. If you were in Gianna’s position, you’d fuck him everywhere you went just to show other women that he was yours and yours alone.

You shook that thought from your head and tried to listen to what Gwen was saying.

An hour later, Gwen introduced you to someone named Ben. he was tall, built nice, and seemed to be quite cocky, but you just needed a distraction. The two of you flirted back and forth on the pool ledge as you moved a hand to your waist, pulling you into the water and playfully splashing you. Continuing to soak each other, you felt a presence behind you and suddenly, you were thrown across the pool. Sputtering up to the surface, you looked around and found Miguel smirking, arms folded with a confident roll of his shoulders.

“What the fuck, Miguel?” You yelled and he just laughed.

“I wanted to play.”

“You weren’t invited!�� You barked and he rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be so dramatic, I just wanted that constant screaming to end. It was annoying.”

“Then maybe use your words, you barbarian.”

“Oh, ouch! So hurtful, did you learn that word in the library you lock yourself inside of every night?”

“Are you really making fun of me for being smart?” You didn't realize you were walking closer to him until you were a foot away, and he finally stepped closer to look down at you, making you crane your neck up as he spoke.

“No, I’m saying you’re a loser.” He narrowed his eyes and you couldn’t find the words to answer, hurt pooling in your stomach. You didn’t even realize everyone had started to watch you two arguing until you both stood in silence and felt everyone else’s eyes on you.

“I’d rather be a loser than a whorish prick.” You spoke with sharp words and checked his shoulder as you walked past him, flipping your now soaking wet and messy hair out of your face and stomping to your towel. Your sister moved to grab your arm, but you jerked away from her.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” You screamed and saw hurt flash across her face, but you couldn’t see through the seething rage that MIguel had begun to boil inside of you. “You did this, you brought him into my life. As long as you two are together, stay away from me!” You hurried inside of the house and into the bathroom, hearing someone follow you and slamming the door in their face. You sat on the edge of the bathtub and cried. All of the frustration and upset from the past few weeks poured out as you shivered from the AC blowing directly on your wet form, overwhelmed and afraid.

Meanwhile, the pool area was quiet as Gianna was frozen in place, then looking at Miguel. She got an angry look on her face as he got out of the pool, starting to feel bad. Had he caused a rift between you two? He held his hands up, “Baby, I’m sorry-”

“Fix this! Now!” Gianna pointed inside and he nodded, just following orders.

The truth was he didn’t know why you bothered him so much, you just did. Everything about you caused him to be annoyed, and caused a stir in his pants.

He liked your sister, she was pretty and funny and nice. She was easy. He didn’t mind, he wasn’t used to having a girlfriend either. He didn’t like the feeling that much, it seemed too much of a hassle.

A few months ago, he’d seen you in his class wearing just a t-shirt and jean shorts, but your soft thighs made his mind go to new places. He’d always chased his own pleasure, not caring much for making the girl’s he bedded orgasm. They always did, but that wasn’t his goal. He just needed to ‘get his and get gone,’ as Ben once said to him.

Then he saw you, and his first thought was how those thighs would feel on his shoulders, how you’d taste on his tongue with your hands in his hair as you screamed his name. He kept oral sex for relationships, but god he wanted to eat you out so badly, it was driving him mad.

And then he saw your tits in that low cut top you wore when it started to get warm out, and he lost it.

He always thought about you as he fucked other girls, railing them from behind and tilting his head back to pretend he was inside of you. He didn’t even know your first name, which was fine by him, and he had planned to keep this going until he met your sister, Gianna. She looked similar to you and that made him satisfied.

And then he found out she was your sister, and he became hungrier. Being in your house, seeing your family, knew he’d fucked up when he saw you at the club. You were dancing with Hobie and he was feeling up Gianna, but he couldn’t stop sneaking looks at you. The way you swayed your hips, how you held Hobie, how the dress was tight around your chest. He was ging insane and that’s when your sister brought him over to introduce you two. He heard your name and it was like butter on his tongue, smooth and rich. He was hungry for you and the small tastes weren’t enough anymore.

Dinner at your house was practically painful. He was trying so hard to drown you out of his mind with your sister, wanting nothing more than to have her be what flooded his brain instead. Her hand on his thigh was the only reason he even remembered she was in the room while he watched you eat.

Arguing with you about Miles fucking Morales got him almost rock hard in his pants, watching you bitch at him, showing him something he’d never seen from you: anger. He saw you shy and awkward, saw you focused in class, but now he saw you spitting words of upset at him and the passion that filled your eyes as you sneered. God, you were like a drug.

You laid passed out on the grass of Miles’s backyard and he just watched your form for a minute, the rise and fall of your busty chest in that tight top you had on, you were mesmerizing. He made his way to you and bent down.

“Get up.”

“Lay down with me.” Those words went straight to his cock, wanting to hear them come out of your mouth in a much different scenario. “Look at the sky.”

“Your eyes are closed.” He answered, and you hypnotized him with that sweet little laugh.

“The stars are beautiful.” He couldn't help it, his body moved on its own. He nuzzled your face in his hand, your soft skin feeling like heaven against the callus of his fingers.

“So are you.” He whispered and sadness filled his chest. He’d made the mistake of entertaining your sister, and now he could never have you. You began tossing up your dinner and your sister came just in time as he waited until you were done, then moving your passed out form into his arms and carrying you out of the house. As he stepped to his car, your sister got into the backseat to hold onto you, but he heard someone shouting.

“Hey!” It was that Miles kid he couldn’t stand.

“What?” He asked, moving his arms to tilt your head upward instead of leaned over his arm.

“She’s not ok, you can’t take her-”

Miguel was about to bark back, to protect you with every fiber of your being against this stupid law-breaking twerp, but your sister jumped in and started talking to Miles, in which he calmed down. A frown just sat on Miguel’s face, bending to lay you in the car and not saying another word.

The next day, your sister had left Miguel at the house with you to make sure you were ok while she was gone. Well, he actually volunteered. Which wasn’t weird at all.

And then there was the phone call her overheard.

“Miles, it fucking sucks so badly.” You whispered, making Miguel’s heart want to do jumping jacks. “It’s my sister’s boyfriend, ya know? How am I supposed to act?”

This made him almost happy, but conflict began in his head. This was so wrong, so so wrong.

But then there was the pool, and that gorgeous little bikini you had on, and how you acted with Ben. Fucking Ben. First Miles, then Ben? Were you trying to pick the worst possible choices in men?

He meant to be playful, just to see that angry spark in your eyes again, but then you both started saying things that couldn’t be taken back.

“No, I’m saying you’re a loser.” The words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them and suddenly, the world was quiet. Everyone stared at you two and you frantically glanced around with humiliation, but he only watched you.

“I’d rather be a loser than a whorish prick.” You spat back at him and he stood still, unsure of how to go about everything that had just happened, unsure of how to fix things.

You and Gianna had harsh words as you ran into Miles’s house crying, and Miguel felt everyone glaring at him, but he couldn’t give a fuck about anyone else. Gianna yelled at Miguel and that’s when he followed you, seeing you run into the bathroom and shut the door. He heard a small thud and knew you were leaning against it, knocking gently.

“Leave me alone, Gianna.” You sniffled and Miguel sighed.

“I didn’t mean to say that, I’m sorry-” He started to apologize and the door flew open, your crying face scrunched up at him with a fury he honestly hadn’t seen in anyone but himself.

“You’re sorry?” Your tone mocked him and he clenched his jaw, nodding. “What are you sorry for? Calling me a loser? Embarrassing me in front of my friends and family? Driving me insane in my own home? Which one?”

“I didn’t-” He huffed. Miguel wasn’t good with talking about his emotions, and as he heard the laughter from the backyard, he pushed you forward into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

“I’m sorry for it all, but it’s your fault too!”

“What?!” You whisper-yelled and he rolled his eyes, leaning on his shoulder against the wall.

“Oh, c'mon. You know you’ve been driving me crazy.” He sneered and you glared up at him.

“I have not-” You stopped short and thought about his words. “How?” You tilted your head to the side.

“You’re just- you’re so fucking- perfect!” He shouted and put a hand on the wall above your head, bending down to get closer to your face. His eyes burned into yours as he studied your expression. “You’re all I think about.”

“This is wrong…” You breathed out and felt his breath tickle your cheek, eyes fluttering a bit and nose almost touching his.

“Stop me then.” He whispered and you bit your lip, a constricting feeling in your chest tying itself around your lungs and making you shiver. “Tell me you don’t want this.” He moved his hands to knead the squish of your hips, water dripping down your legs from the still wet bathing suit on your body.

“Miguel…” Your voice was shaky as he inhaled your scent, moved the tangled mess of damp hair from your shoulder. Loud knocking made you both jump a bit, his hands pulling you closer as his head snapped to the door. He grabbed the doorknob to make sure whoever it was didn’t try to open it, or succeed. Your name rang out in your sister’s voice and your legs wobbled.

You were in here, being felt up by her boyfriend right after you’d screamed in her face, and she was looking to comfort you still.

Tears filled your eyes again and the door knob jiggled, Miguel’s hand making sure it didn’t open. Your heart thudded in your chest when she repeated your name, and you tried to clear your throat.

“G-Go away!” You shouted, trying to still sound upset. Miguel’s other hand stayed on your hip, as if he couldn’t take it off of his own free will.

“Please, can we just talk? Let me in.” She begged and you broke into tears finally.

“I said go the hell away!” You screamed, leaning your head into Miguel’s chest and trembling against his large body as he finally let go of your hip and pet your head.

“I love you, I’m gonna go look for Miguel, ok?” She spoke softly and that made your body heat rise once more.

“Miguel? You’re going to look for Miguel? Yeah, go fucking chase your boyfriend, go find him, Gianna!” You shouted, Miguel now holding you back with his one arm, pulling you closer to his body to try and calm you down, but you pushed him away and fully faced the door now. “Go fucking find him and tell him that you forgive him and then fuck him and text me about it after! Go, Gianna!” You hit the door with a fist, angry sobs on your lips as everything was quiet. After a second or two, you heard her footsteps walking away from the door. You panted and hung your head.

“Are you ok?” Miguel’s low voice rubbed your ears in a way that you couldn’t explain. You just shook your head and he released the knob, then cradling you in his arms and holding you tight. “I’ll fix this, I promise.” He whispered, then opened the door and walked out.

Tags: @ihateuguys @spontaneousleo @ginger23 @y2cade @alex110370000 @winteringfalls @neverlandlostchild @haileycannotcometothephonern @loser-alert @idk-sam @bunnyrose01 @minalovesyoubabes @thedevax @arquiiva @freehentai @vonev @rue-ting @darkfairy102190 @iamv1n @teresalesbian @killykstudio @topreice @artyanimi @hrlzy @mikotoguilty @ceoofmiguel @amylasagna

#miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel smut #angst #atsv miguel #slowburn romance #slow burn #mutual pining #smut

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bitethedevil · 14 days

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Living with The Devil You Know (Raphael x Tav): Chapter 3

Chapter: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven

Read this fic on AO3 (Link)

Fic Summary: Tav broke their agreement by handing the Crown of Karsus to Mystra instead of Raphael. Not only that, but she also robbed his house and killed his incubus. Raphael is patient and he is determined to get his revenge.

…Tav isn't too bothered. She will figure something out eventually. Until then she just has to find a way to live peacefully with a devil.

Chapter Summary: Tav and Raphael are both sexually frustrated. Raphael notices Tav's interest and they find a solution for it together. Tav gets a bit more than she bargained for.

(AN: 'Give the devil your little finger and he'll take your whole arm' is a popular saying in my native language. I've never really heard it in English, so we are just going to act like it's also a saying in Faerûn. It literally just means what it sounds like it means. I believe it's the same as 'Give them an inch and they'll take a mile'. Also: they finally fuck in this chapter. ~Enjoy~)

TW: There is consent but there is depiction of painful or uncomfortable sex. Tav essentially gets hatefucked.

Warning: NSFW

Tav had been staying at the House of Hope for a couple of days. She was slowly but surely going insane. Not from any of the obvious things that one might go insane from when surrounded by the sound of damned souls and tortured debtors walking the halls, oh no: Tav was going insane from boredom and the lack of privacy.

There were plenty of interesting books in Raphael’s collection and normally this would have cured her boredom, but the fact that someone was constantly watching her every move annoyed and distracted her to no end.

Even worse: she could not use her usual cure for boredom due to the same reason. Tav had always had a healthy appetite when it came to sexual pleasures. If she was bored, stressed, sad, angry, or just generally overwhelmed, she masturbated to get that pent-up energy out. It was her beloved coping mechanism for everything life threw at her, and she was currently unable to use it.

It also did not help with her frustration that she had to deal with Raphael’s morning horniness either. She would wake up with his hard cock nestled against her ass every morning. He would press it up against her in his sleep, but he never did anything further as soon as he woke up. He did keep his word that he would not force her to do anything.

Tav would not give in and reciprocate her captor’s advances, even though her body screamed at her to do it. She would not give him the satisfaction. At the same time, she was climbing the walls and wanted nothing more than a moment of peace and privacy to let out that pent-up frustration.

She was simply studying her captor to learn more about him. That is what she told herself, as she looked Raphael up and down from across the room. She was sitting with an open book in her lap that she was not even reading. He was sitting in a blue silk robe as he looked through the newspapers and gazettes from various cities, most likely to gauge the market for desperate souls and potential clients.

Tav had always found him attractive, she was not blind, but her growing sexual frustration made her attraction to him even worse. She was also enjoying now seeing more of his devil form than she had during her adventure.

She was looking at his veiny clawed hands, as they turned the page of the paper he was reading. He had big hands…He was big in general, and it made her breath hitch how much bigger he was than her in that form.

It was almost unfair how good he looked in that robe. A part of his chest was exposed under it. She was looking at his dark chest hair when she noticed him smirking slightly before looking up at her. She had been caught. She cleared her throat and quickly looked down at the book she was "reading".

“Did your parents never teach you that it is impolite to stare?” he asked with that infuriatingly smooth voice of his.

“Wasn’t staring,” she mumbled. “I was just…pondering about this…enlightening read.”

“Mm,” Raphael hummed. “And what are you reading, dear?”

Her brain actually read the words on the open page of the book she was looking at. She had just taken it off a shelf to make it look like she was doing something productive. She noticed immediately that it was not in written the common tongue. She cursed internally and lifted it up to let him look at the cover. He squinted at it and then chuckled.

“It certainly is an enlightening read…if one speaks High Infernal, that is,” Raphael purred with an amused expression.

“Hm, well, yes…It’s never too late to learn something new, is it?” she said and quickly changed the subject. “Is it Korrilla’s turn to watch me today?”

“No, you will have the pleasure of my company today as I am taking a day away from work,” he said and folded the paper he was reading to put it aside. “Unless something comes up, then yes, it will be Korrilla.”

That no doubt meant that Tav would be glued to his side for the rest of the day. She could not walk around freely as she usually would, because Raphael would not be following her around like his warlocks did.

“What does a devil do on his day off?” Tav asked, hoping the answer would not include killing or torturing.

“Relax,” He answered with a shrug and got up from his chair. “Come.”

He moved towards the boudoir. Tav followed.

When they passed the barrier, Raphael casually untied his robe and threw it over a chair. Tav got a full view of his ass before her brain started working again and made her look away. She turned her back to him, which made Raphael chuckle.

“No need to be such a prude, dear,” he said. She could hear him stepping into the water of the restoration pool.

“You know, I’m pretty sure it’s common decency to warn people before flashing them…” Tav said. “I’m not the one acting odd here.”

“Please turn around,” Raphael said from the pool. She could practically hear the smug grin. “I can’t keep a proper eye on you if your back is turned to me, now can I?”

Her eyes narrowed and she did not move.

“Of course, I can simply make you if you refuse...” Raphael said.

She sighed and turned to him without looking at him.

“That’s better…” Raphael said. “Now please, come and join me.”

She huffed and narrowed her eyes. She knew that he was playing with her and trying to get her even more flustered now that he had seen caught her staring at him. She would not give him the satisfaction. She started removing her clothes.

As she was removing her clothing, the realization hit her that even though they had slept beside each other, they had never really seen each other completely naked. She had felt Raphael’s nakedness every night, but she had never really looked. She herself had been wearing nightclothes each night and Raphael was usually out of the bed and on with his day before she had gotten changed.

She was careful not to look directly at him as she got into the pool, though Raphael did not grant her the same privacy. She could feel his eyes on her, shamelessly devouring every inch of her naked skin.

She sat down in the pool opposite from him. She made a point to only look him in the eyes although what she saw in her peripheral vision was begging her to look other places.

She was resting her elbows on the edge and holding her hands in the air, to keep the Orphic chains around her wrists above the water. Raphael glanced at the weird position of her arms and then at her eyes.

“Are they bothering you?” Raphael asked and gestured to the chains.

“The moisture makes the skin under them itch,” Tav answered. “Other than that, no. I’ve gotten used to them pretty quickly.”

“Hm,” Raphael hummed. “It seems to be a theme with you. You have been infuriatingly calm about this whole matter. I have to say, your spirits still seem remarkably high for a woman who has been given a dead sentence.”

“Would screaming and crying about it fix anything?” Tav asked.

“I suppose not...but it would satisfy your captor greatly to see you at least a little rattled about this whole ordeal,” Raphael said with a sigh. “Although…I’m sure there is time to break you yet.”

“I’ll make sure to cry a little in my sleep tonight, just for you,” she joked.

“It really is the least you could do,” Raphael said with a smile.

“The constant supervision is annoying though,” Tav admitted. “Especially when it’s your new little pet.”

“A cheap price for you to pay when it means that you are able to walk where you please instead of rotting in a cell,” Raphael said. “As for Cassius, yes. That boy has been disappointing. There is not a single independent thought in that pretty little head of his.”

Tav bit her cheek to not smile at Raphael calling him pretty. Her theory was that Raphael only hired him because he was the spitting image of a younger version of himself. Raphael seemed to catch her look of amusement.

“Why did you hire him then?” Tav asked, trying not to smile.

“I would much rather like to hear your theory as to why I hired him,” Raphael challenged with a smile and narrowed eyes.

“Mm, I’d rather not say…” Tav said.

“Come now,” Raphael said. “It’s clear that you have some thoughts on the matter.”

Tav sighed and tried to think of a way to say what she was thinking without being too offensive.

“I think…That you might have been a little lonely after Haarlep died, and that your new warlock, coincidentally of course, looks a bit like you.”

“Clever…” Raphael said. “And is there anything wrong with that?”

“No no,” Tav said with a shrug and treaded carefully with her next comment. “That’s entirely your business. I am simply saying that you might have been blinded by this…pretty face and because of this you might have chosen someone who is less suited for actually becoming a good warlock.”

Raphael chuckled.

“That is rather rich coming from you, no? Let us not forget that you got yourself into this mess because you wanted to sleep with the same man whose face, coincidentally of course, looks a bit like mine…” Raphael said with a dramatic hand-gesture.

Tav stuttered and had a hard time finding an appropriate reply to that for a moment. He did have a point.

“Well, to be fair I was very drunk, and I did not catch the resemblance at that point,” she countered. “But alright, I get what you are saying. Neither of us are above the temptations of the flesh or whatever.”

“Indeed,” Raphael purred and let his gaze fall over her naked body again.

Tav swallowed hard and tried to ignore the feeling of arousal that shot through her stomach. She cleared her throat and immediately tried to break the tension.

“So…do you miss them?”

“Who?” Raphael asked while still admiring her shape.

“Haarlep.”

Raphael’s eyes lingered on her body for a moment longer before returning to her eyes.

“Not in the way that you most likely are suggesting, no,” Raphael answered. “You accidentally did me a favor by killing them. They were spying on me, but because of complicated circumstances, I was unable to rid myself of them. They did however have their uses, despite their clear ulterior motives…That I do ‘miss’…”

Raphael got up from the pool without warning. Tav did not react quickly enough to avert her eyes before her eyes fell on his half-hard member. His length was impressive, but it was nothing compared to the intimidating girth of it. Her eyes quickly shot back up to his face. There was a slight smile on his face as he dried himself off that told her he had caught her little glance.

She awkwardly looked away and got up from the pool to dry herself off.

His little looks and half-suggestive comments throughout the day told her one thing about Raphael: he was just as sexually frustrated as she was. It made perfect sense, in a way. He had been used to having an incubus at his disposal for whenever he pleased and now, he did not.

Now that he had caught that Tav seemed to show a bit of interest, he put on the pressure and Tav was fighting her inner demons. Her body was saying yes, but her mind was warning her not to do anything stupid. Something her mother had always said to her when she was a child echoed in her mind: ‘Give the devil your little finger and he’ll take your whole arm.’

Usually when they got into bed, Raphael would put his arms and legs around her so she could not move around, grumble and tell her to sleep if she said anything or moved, and finally fall asleep himself. This night was different. He was holding her as usual, but his nose was buried in the back of her hair and his hand was lazily caressing her hip.

Tav’s body was on fire from more than his high body temperature. Her mind kept going back to the bath they took together in the morning. It seemed that Raphael was thinking similar thoughts because she could feel that familiar hardness pressing into her backside.

It was a tantalizing thought that all she probably had to do was reciprocate his advances and she could finally release that pent-up sexual frustration that had grown inside her for the last four days.

On the other hand, she had not had sex with anyone since that short fling she had with Astarion at the beginning of their adventure, and that had been so long ago. She was out of practice.

What was she even thinking? She should not even be seriously considering this…And yet her body won over her mind in the end.

She gently pressed her ass up against his already hard cock. She felt him freeze completely for a moment. She did it again, this time with slightly more pressure, which earned her a groan. The hand on her hip that had been caressing her, now firmly held onto her hip and pushed her closer to him. His breathing was getting heavier.

He hiked up her nightgown to snake his arm down between her legs. She was already so aroused that it made sinfully wet noises when he gently put two fingers over her clit and rubbed her in teasingly slow circles. She gasped and moaned softly.

“Such a pretty sound,” Raphael whispered in her ear, followed by a growl.

The thought that there were very sharp claws close to her sensitive bits did pass her mind, but he was being careful and oddly it only made it more arousing. He rubbed her clit a bit faster, making her gasp again and grab onto his arm. He pushed his cock up against her now exposed ass.

“And you are certain that you want this?” he whispered and applied more pressure to her clit as he kept touching her.

Her mother’s words echoed faintly in the back of her mind again: Give the devil your little finger…

At this point he could have both her arms, shoulder, torso, legs….as long as he did not stop what he was doing.

She nodded.

“I do wonder if you are truly aware of what you are agreeing to, little mouse,” Raphael whispered and chuckled in her ear.

In one swift movement she was suddenly on her stomach, pinned to the bed with him on top of her. She felt a claw run down her back and the sound of fabric being ripped. He pulled what was once her nightgown away from under her and leaned down over her back. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck.

He teased her entrance with the head of his cock, coating it in her wetness.

“This might hurt,” he warned and slowly started sliding his cock into her.

Even though she was soaking wet, she was not ready for it. It was a combination of his girth and the fact that the head of his cock was oddly sharp. He wasn’t even half-way in when she started slightly yelping and grasping the sheets.

“Raphael, please,” she pleaded.

He stopped his movements.

“Please what, dear?”

“I can’t…” she pleaded. There were almost tears in her eyes from the feeling of being too full. He looked down on her and caressed her cheek with his clawed hand.

“Oh, my sweet,” he cooed with feigned concern. “You can, and you will.”

Without warning he kept going until he was fully inside her, she felt his sharp exhale of pleasure on the back of her neck. Tav resorted to biting into the pillow to silence the scream that was threatening to escape her throat.

Tav, in her eagerness, had not considered that this might be a revenge-fuck for robbing his house and killing his incubus, but that was certainly what it felt like it was shaping up to be.

He was only granting her the small mercy of going easy on her for the first couple of thrusts. It quickly turned into a more brutal pace. It hurt like hell and the sounds she was making were something between a moan and a whine. She did find pleasure in it despite also involuntarily tearing up from the pain.

“Are you crying?” Raphael asked with no short amount of amusement in his voice, not slowing his pace in the least. His cock twitched inside her as his thumb went over the tears that were falling down her cheeks.

He yanked her head back by her hair.

“Then again, you did promise me that you would cry tonight, didn’t you? ‘Just for me’,” he growled into her ear, referring back to the joke she had made earlier while they were in the bath.

“How delightful it is to see you honoring your promises for once,” he said and punctuated it with a deep thrust that made her gasp and wince.

Right when she had finally gotten used to the pain and her walls had somewhat adjusted to his size, he came inside her with a low growl. She squirmed under him, thinking it was over. In response, his tail wrapped around her legs to keep her in place. He did not pull out of her. Not long after he was hard again and continued to fuck her. This same process continued for what felt like hours.

At some point she had been flipped to her back and was facing him. Desperate for release, she tried to sneak her hand down to her clit. She could see his glowing orange eyes narrow in the darkness before he caught both her hands and held them above her head.

“Please…” she pleaded between moans.

“You will have to be more specific, my dear. Please what?”

“Please let me come, Raphael” she begged. She sounded pathetic, but she was so over-stimulated.

“Oh, you must be confused,” he cooed in a condescending voice. “This is not about you or what you want. It never was.”

After fucking her over and over again with only the small breaks between him climaxing and getting hard again giving her a chance to breathe, he eventually he did find some small amount of mercy for her. He finally reached down to rub her clit. Tav held onto him and made a prayer to all the gods that would not hear her from the Hells anyway, that this was not some cruel joke.

“Please don’t stop,” she pleaded, almost crying again. She dug her nails into his back, which made him groan and quicken the pace of his thrusts.

“Don’t tempt me,” he growled as he muffled her loud and desperate moans with his free hand.

She was writhing and on the verge of screaming as she finally came. Raphael's climax followed shortly after. He finally pulled out of her and collapsed on the bed beside her. Her legs were shaking from the intensity of it all.

She was completely ruined. Everything hurt, but at the same time her whole body was buzzing with the delicious feeling of finally having found release.

He was lying on his back, catching his breath when he pulled her closer. For a short moment Tav feared that it was not over. To her great surprise he simply gestured for her to lie her head on his chest. It felt like an oddly intimate gesture considering the rough treatment he had just given her.

She hesitated for a moment but laid her head on his chest and got comfortable. Tav was too tired to question any of it and just made peace with the fact that she would never understand the weird nature of this man. She felt his hand brush over her hair right before sleep took her.

#raphael bg3 #raphael the cambion #bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #bg3

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louismeanhoe · 3 years

Text

painted me golden

a/n: this is VERY not safe for work. i would NOT recommend reading with anyone nearby. and i 100% blame louis.

warnings: HEAVY daddy kink. slight dumbification. sort of cum-play? oral sex (male receiving). masturbation (female receiving). louis being hella' dom.

word count: 1,7k+

“look at yeh, pup,” he whispers, close to my ear, hand lost inside my panties, two fingers deep in me. “does it feel good?”

in the mirror, i could see his proud smile, the strain of his muscles working, the tattoos glistening under the dim light of the bathroom. my skin was covered by marks, red patches where he sucked and bit, handprints on my hips, flushed cheeks from exertion… i had it all.

louis teeths the flesh of my shoulder, the pad of his thumb pressing down on me, a wave of syrupy pleasure floating just around the borders of my brain. i nod a meek and frail motion, enough for him to roll his eyes.

“use you big girl words, sweetheart,” only the tips of his fingers are inside me, not nearly enough. i whine, it's a pathetic sound, his free hand, the one on my breast, wraps around my neck. “not good enough. c’mon, be good for daddy.”

his warm breath lures me in like a dumb fish to the bait. i want to scream, and cry, and laugh. all at the same time. he’d made me fall apart four times before, bent against the sink, spread open on the bed, propped up on the kitchen table, and against the front door. now aiming for the fifth, i didn’t think i had enough in me to give what he wanted.

louis sometimes goes into those moods. sex-crazed, treat-me-like-a-pillow-princess moods and he pulls these. insatiable. i’m left leaking cum, unable to sit down for days, mostly because of the spanking, but also the rough way he gave it to me, sliding in and out so hard pain mixture with pleasure.

“yes, daddy,” i finally say, eyes drooping, sweat coating my forehead, stray hairs glued to it. he kisses my cheek, mumbling words of praise, sinking deep within me again, gentler this time. i gasp and grip the cold marble surface. “fuck, daddy, ‘m gonna’ cum again.”

“yeah, pup? then beg for it, beg for daddy to let you cum,” his hand presses my neck again, my head spinning with how much i was feeling all at once. the weight of his words looming over my brain, the skilful fingers still working on me, slow and firm. i try to spit up an answer, a pleading, anything, anything, but all that comes out is a ridiculous ‘please’. “dumb pup, can’t even ask for things, can yeh? say ‘please, daddy, please let me cum.’”

“please, please, daddy,” he manages to slip another finger, three, and i feel full, stretched out, the numbness beginning on the tip of my toes. “please let me cum, please, daddy.”

“that’s perfect, pup, good girl,” tears are streaming down my cheeks, i realise, and he kisses them anyway, nose on my temple, thumb tracing o-shaped patterns where i’m soaked with desire, thrumming with pent-up energy. ready to burst.

when it comes, it hits me hard. he wraps an arm around my waistline, i can feel his hard dick against me, throbbing, still constricted by the loose cotton tracksuit he had on. i feel his warm breath near my ear, the words falling void of any true meaning. i feel his rough hand, squelching when going in and out, guiding me through the high, then back down.

my head lolls back, on his shoulder, and i whisper a quiet thank you. he turns me to face him, lips meeting mine in a peaceful kiss, it tastes like beer, and like cinnamon cookies. his body was so warm too, i felt the urge to cling to him, which i did.

“come on, lovie, let’s get yeh t’bed, yeh need to rest.”

“no.”

“no? come on, babe, yeh’re so tired.”

“you didn’t cum, daddy,” i reply, shaking when he moves away. “you have to cum, too.”

“don’t have to, angel, we’ll do it in the morning, ‘kay?”

i go down to my knees, still dizzy with the rush of endorphins. before he protests, i kiss his tummy, just below the belly button. i kiss the stretched belly from drinking too much beer. the belly that pokes his loose tees. the belly that feels so nice when i ride him. i have a thing for it, and he knows, a smug smirk all over his face.

“sweetheart…” his hand finds my face, guiding my gaze up, one thumb slipping inside. “yeh need t’learn to accept a ‘no’.”

“not fair,” it slips out like a child throwing a tantrum. i palm him, feeling him, heavy on my hand, scorching. there’s a small stain on his pants, spit starts to gather in my mouth, i want the taste of him on the tip of my tongue. “not fair you made me cum five times, and i can’t make you cum once. bad pup.”

“shh, shh, not bad, lovie, yeh so good t’me, so good t’daddy, yeh know?”

hooking my fingers on the waistband, i pull it down, his hard cock brushing my lips briefly when free from the tight piece of clothing. louis groans, rolling his eyes, then sighs, i know he’s given up, that he’ll give me whatever the fuck i want. a little smile bubbles up when i grabbed him by the base, gentle and soft, and start stroking him, shaking with how much i wanted him.

spitting on my hand, i go up and down once, then twice, to get him all nice and wet, then i start, flattening my tongue under the tip of his cock, salt-flavoured pre-cum all over my tastebuds. i’d never get over how much i loved to have a taste, have him deep inside my throat, gasping for air, and gag around him. especially when i looked up, and saw his face, all scrunched up, the swears coming out disjointed, between low grunts.

i hollow my cheeks, sliding even further down, breathing through my nose, or at least trying to. his right hand goes to my hair, all loose, spilling in wild strands. dark-blue is locked on me, tugging the fistful he grabbed, i moan around him, getting all slick again, bits of my brain trying to make me understand i couldn’t take it anymore, i would probably pass out.

his hips move towards my face, and i let him face-fuck me, both hands now on my face, guiding me. then louis pushes me away, my face a mess of saliva and tears. he looks down for a moment, letting me breathe, in quick puffs of air, his chest swell with pride, beholding the art he created. a pure angel he broke apart and corrupted.

my knees start to ache, but i dismiss it, opening my mouth again, urging him to give it back to me, which he does. i lick down to his balls, sucking on them, reaching a whole new state of blissfulness when he moans my name over and over. and he never calls me by my name. i’m satiated, content, to know i’m pleasing him.

“holy fuck, pup, that mouth, shit,” louis squeezes my shoulders, throwing his head back. “‘m gonna’ cum.”

i swallow him again, taking as much of him as i could fit, curling my lips inward so my teeth wouldn’t graze the delicate skin. i felt it thrum, in my mouth, in my hands. i knew he wouldn’t last long, that he’d let it go soon. and i wanted him to. i wanted to be the one who would push him to the edge, having him dangling from my lips, holding on for dear life.

the sounds, oh my, the sounds, the voice a pinch lower, deeper, raspier. i squeeze my legs together, hopeful it would soothe the fire licking my skin, desire heavy on my tummy, at this point, i’ve let him take over, pushing me down to my breaking point, i sink my nails into the soft flesh of his hips. in a split, daring moment, i stare up at him.

he’s focused, hell burns when louis focuses. i tremble, unable to look away from him, stuck on those blown-out blue eyes. his hips stutter.

“gonna’ cum, pup.” it’s a strained whisper, almost painful. “‘s okay if daddy cums all over that pretty face?”

“yes, please, daddy,” i gasp out, a string of saliva linking his cockhead and my bottom lip.

when he does it, not much longer after, a wounded-animal moan comes out of him, his grip tightening. hot, heavy spend against my lips, and my cheeks, and my chin. i feel him everywhere, scalding, burning up to a 100 degrees fever. i take him again, nursing, milking out whatever was left.

louis lets me, too spent and tired.

a quiet moment follows, then i sway on my knees, falling to the ground. i laugh, and he does too, kneeling to be face to face with me.

“look at yeh, so pretty,” he says, smearing his cum on my face further, then into my mouth. the taste of him makes me sigh, sucking on his thumb. “good, lovie?”

“mmhm,” the weight of everything starts to down on me, i realise. “want more, daddy? i can give daddy more.”

he shakes his head, standing up to fetch wet tissues from under the sink, inside the wooden cabinet. i’m still dazed when he starts wiping my face clean, not quite registering that it’s time to step out of the games and go back to reality, so i try to palm him, getting him going again.

“please, daddy,” i whimper, soft and mellow.

“‘m not daddy, ‘m louis, baby,”

when he finishes cleaning me up, he helps me up, then half carries me back to the bedroom, lying me down on the bed with care. i prop myself up on my elbows, sleep-drunk, but all the same willing to give him anything he wanted. louis lies down next to me, glistening with sweat, hair dishevelled. never looked more gorgeous. a sight for sore eyes. mine.

“lovie, are yeh okay?”

“yes, daddy.”

“c’mon, not daddy, hmm? louis.”

“daddy.”

louis kisses me then, a soft brush of lips, not nearly enough to encompass the amount of care he felt for me. i clung to him like a lost child, tears fresh on my cheeks. i love him so much it hurts.

“please don’t cry, sweets, ‘m here, i love yeh.”

“i love you,” i whisper his name, testing it out, as if it’s the first time i’m saying, he smiles, hugging me further.

i fall asleep between his arms, drifting into unconsciousness wrapped up in our little bubble, never happier than to be there, a tangled sweaty mess with the love of my life.

#louis tomlinson #louis tomlinson smut #louis tomlinson x ofc #louis x reader #louis tomlinson x you #louist91 #louis x you #louis x you smut #louis x reader smut #louis tomlinson x reader smut #1d #one direction fanfiction

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ifonlyweknewwhatiwasdoing · 3 years

Text

Touch Starved (06 Whumptober)

This one got out of hand. Like so out of hand I don't even know what happened.

Prompt: bruised/touch-starved/hunger

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker/Obi-Wan Kenobi

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Touch-starvation: a condition that happens in some human species when you don’t get as much physical touch as you are used to. You crave contact but can’t interact with others for some reason. Long-term it can cause PTSD.

He’d never understood why it could be something so serious, never understood how it could lead to PTSD but looking down at his broken former padawan he thought he might finally understand.

Obi-Wan understood a few things about his relationship with Anakin. One of those things was that he wasn’t ever going to quite understand the man. The other was that sometimes he had to give him space to do the things that he didn’t understand. So when Anakin started sneaking out at night to go to the lower levels of Coruscant, Obi-Wan turned a blind eye to it.

And if Anakin came back a little bruised up with some money, Obi-Wan ignored that too. Pod racing wasn’t the worst thing that Anakin could be doing and Obi-Wan knew that the boy had to do something to get the pent-up energy out. It was an odd system but it was one that worked for the two of them.

Until it didn’t.

The day that Anakin turned eighteen he left that night and didn’t come home until early into the morning. That in and of itself wasn’t odd for him. What was odd was just how he seemed to have had a particularly rough race because he was more beat up than usual.

Still, Obi-Wan just assumed that it was bound to happen sometime. Anakin may have been using the force but even the force couldn’t prevent him from ever getting hurt. He’d merely gone to the Halls of Healing to quietly secure more bacta- as per usual- and left it outside his padawan’s door.

Then the next time the same thing happened. Anakin came limping in and he looked like he might have had another crash. Obi-Wan knew that they weren’t supposed to talk about it so he wasn’t sure how he should approach the whole thing. It was times like this that he wished he could have Qui-Gon’s guidance.

Soon it became a weekly occurrence. Anakin would come in, clearly in pain and unable to make eye contact with Obi-Wan and then he’d go to his room to sleep. Obi-Wan noticed that it seemed to be getting worse, not better and finally turned to the one person that he thought might be able to hear him.

“You must have been pretty desperate to come to me,” Quinlan told him, setting his cup down and gesturing for another drink.

“I’m aware that it’s not exactly...proper. What I’ve allowed Anakin to do and so I needed someone who was unconventional,” Obi-Wan told him, “I wouldn’t be here if I was truly concerned.”

“Alright how about I do some digging for you?” Quinlan asked, “My undercover mission in down in the lower levels anyway and I’m sure that there’s someone who has some information. There always is.”

Obi-Wan gave him a grateful smile.

---

Obi-Wan, of course, was sent on a mission before he could meet up with Quinlan again. He tried to convince the council that it would be best for him to remain planetside but with Anakin gaining his knighthood it wasn’t much of a resistance.

It was nearly a year before he’d returned and he was eager to get back to his and Anakin’s quarters and see the man again. It really had been too long.

But the second he touched down, instead of being greeted by the man in question, Quinlan himself stood at the end of the docking ramp.

“Quinlan?” Obi-Wan asked confused, “I thought you were under cover for at least a few more months. What’s happened? Is everything okay?”

Quinlan’s face was impassive, unreadable to even Obi-Wan and he felt a chill go down his spine.

“We need to talk,” he told him, “It’s important. I’ve told the council that my latest mission was a failure but the truth is I needed to talk to you as soon as possible. It’s about Anakin.”

And that’s when Obi-Wan found out what had changed since Anakin had turned eighteen.

“It’s a holo,” Quinlan said as he handed it over to him, “I- I couldn’t watch more than a few minutes of it. Just enough to confirm that it was Anakin, I fast-forwarded through most of it and then I shut it off. If you don’t manage to get him to stop I’ll have to report it to the council. It’s- I don’t even know what to say, Obi-Wan. He’s going to get himself killed.”

“He’d do something that awful? That you feel the need to report him to the council?” Obi-Wan asked his friend, feeling heartbroken.

Had Anakin done something worthy of getting himself thrown out of the order? What had his wayward padawan gotten himself into and was there any way that Obi-Wan could help him fix it?

“It’s not what he’s doing,” Quinlan told him quietly, “It’s what they’re doing to him.”

Obi-Wan felt like he couldn’t breathe.

---

The holo opens up and it takes a few seconds to focus. Anakin sits in the middle of the room, hands blindfolded, shirtless with his hands secured behind his back. As the holo recorder pans around and you can see that they are suppression cuffs.

Obi-Wan’s breath caught in his throat at the way Anakin’s back was marred, his mech arm forced straight while his flesh arm is contorted in a way that looked painful.

The holo recorder pans back to its original position and then a man is stepping behind Anakin with a knife in his hand. Anakin is pushed to the ground, his cheek hitting the ground with a sickening crack and he lets out a pained noise as the knife connects with his back, digging into his skin and ripping it open as it drags from just above his shoulder blade all the way down to his hips.

Obi-Wan turned the video off. He couldn’t watch it. Just the sight of someone touching his padawan made his stomach roll and he felt like he would be sick. He wanted to hunt the man down, wanted to make him pay for what he had done.

He didn’t want to watch the video.

He needed to know what happened.

He turned it back on and pressed the fast forward button, watching it speed through the recording of a man standing over him and cutting him over and over again. He is joined by another man who begins to do the same thing and then they both step away. He hit the play button again.

Anakin is breathing heavily and there is an unintelligible murmuring in the background. There are more voices in the background and then someone is behind Anakin. He drags his hand roughly against Anakin’s cut up back, smearing the pooling blood around before grabbing him by the neck and forcing him upright again. The hand squeezes and Anakin’s breathing is cut off.

The man leans down and whispers something in his ear before a second person comes into frame, gripping him by the chin and forcing him to tilt his head up. He slaps Anakin across the face and Anakin’s head snaps to the side. The other man releases him throat and he gasps for breath.

Obi-Wan turned if off again. His stomach felt like it was knotted up and bile began to gather in the back of his throat. He felt like he was going to be sick. He couldn’t- he couldn’t-.

He hits the play button again.

A third person has come into frame and he’s got a wooden implement in his hand. The man in front of Anakin shoves a foot in between his thighs and kicks them apart roughly. The man behind him grips the front of his pants and he uses a knife to cut them open, leaving Anakin completely exposed as the third man steps in.

The cracking sound the wood makes against his hip sends Obi-Wan running for the fresher. The food that he had eaten on the way home makes a reappearance and he’s shaking so hard he can’t think. He pauses the recording as Anakin cries out, the man hitting him in the ribs for the second time. The cracking noise rings loudly in the small space and Obi-Wan would have thought something was broken.

He can’t do this. He can’t-. What in the kriff had Anakin been thinking? And this-.

Force this was stuff that Quinlan had seen before. He’d talked about how unsettling it had been and how nervous he’d been when he became desensitized to it. So what in the hell happened later in the video to make him look so sick?

He hit the play button again, fast-forwarding the holo as Anakin is struck over and over again, welts forming all over his skin as his neck is grabbed painfully and his airways cut off. At some point, someone must have ripped his pants the rest of the way because when he hits play they are tattered remains surrounding him.

“That’s enough,” the man in front barks out when Anakin screams at the last hit. His whole body is red and he’s panting heavily as if he can’t catch his breath. The man kneels and then his hands are moving as he grips Anakin’s-.

Obi-Wan had to pause it again and his chest was so tight that he felt like it was him who was being choked. Why would Anakin let anyone touch him like that after doing what they had just done to him.

There are tears running down Anakin’s face and sweat dripping down his skin. He lets out a pained sound and the holo recorder is adjusted so that you can see the man grabbing his cock and squeezing painfully. Anakin tries to shrink back but he’s gripped by the back of the neck and held in place.

He’s slapped across the face again and this time there’s blood dripping from his mouth. Someone grabs him by the hair and pulls until his face is looking at the ceiling. Someone grabs something and then his legs are being pushed apart further and someone kneels behind him, shoving a hand under him so he can-.

Obi-Wan really couldn’t watch anymore. He turned it off and threw the communicator across the floor. His head was swimming and his jaw was so tense he felt like he could have broken his teeth. He tried to stand but he was shaking so hard he had to sink back down to his knees.

The door to their quarters opened and soon Anakin was in front of him, hands gently grasping his shoulders and eyes searching to look for wounds.

“Obi-Wan are you okay? What happened?” he sounded panicked and Obi-Wan couldn’t help the pained noise that escaped his chest.

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin said again and Obi-Wan couldn’t help the tears that started to escape. He wrapped his arms around Anakin and yanked, pulling the younger man into his arms as he started to sob.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin sounded like a scared child and Obi-Wan-. He didn’t know how to even begin.

“Why?” he asked weakly and Anakin looked up from where he was tucked underneath his chin.

“Why what?”

“Why would you let them do that you? What the hell were you thinking?” Obi-Wan choked the words out.

Anakin paused, gathering his thoughts, and then cautiously, “What do you mean?”

“There’s a holorecording,” Obi-Wan looked down at him angrily, “Don’t you sit there and tell me you don’t know what I’m kriffing talking about Anakin Skywalker!”

He pulled the boy tighter to him, expecting him to run away but he just tucked in further to him, closing his eyes as he took a calming breath.

“I- It helps,” Anakin told him softly.

“Helps? You’re- you’re fucking bloody and your neck is bruised and he shoved a- without any- what the hell could that possibly help with Anakin?”

He was so angry all of the sudden. This beautiful, genius, prodigy had somehow thought that having this done to him was okay. He’d thought everything on the holo recording wasn’t a problem. Where the kark had Obi-Wan gone so wrong?

“Well, it hurts,” Anakin admitted, “But it’s- it’s after that helps.”

“After? After what? You pass out?” Obi-Wan snapped.

“No it’s the aftercare,” Anakin looked down, like he was ashamed to say it out loud as tears ran down his face, “When they take care of me after they’re done. Clean up the cuts and bruises, apply bacta, someone usually curls up against me and lays with me for a few hours.”

When Obi-Wan was younger he remembered that he’d taken an interest in force healing. He ended up never being particularly good at it but the medical knowledge he’d learned had never been forgotten.

He’d never understood some of the problems the book had mentioned but he thinks he understands at least one word better know.

Touch-starvation: a condition that happens in some human species when you don’t get as much physical touch as you are used to. You crave contact but can’t interact with others for some reason. Long-term it can cause PTSD.

He’d never understood why it could be something so serious, never understood how it could lead to PTSD but looking down at his broken former padawan he thought he might finally understand.

Anakin had never been accepted by his peers and the only people he really talked to were R2 and Obi-Wan. He would occasionally chat with others but it was clear he was uncomfortable with them.

Once he was no longer Obi-Wan’s padawan they’d spent less time together. They hadn’t had as much time to spar or even have dinner together. They’d found themselves often on other sides of the galaxy.

“You don’t have to do that to get people to hold you,” Obi-Wan whispered brokenly to him, “And I’m so sorry that you thought you had to.”

“I-I don’t understand,” Anakin said after a moment, “The Jedi aren’t supposed to have attachments.”

“Oh dear one,” Obi-Wan told him softly, “That doesn’t mean that they can’t love or touch. All you had to do was ask.”

“But back on Tatooine any slaves caught together were punished,” Anakin told him weakly, “They weren’t allowed to touch each other in case one of them ended up pregnant and they couldn’t work.”

“But your mother-,” Obi-Wan said softly.

“Was punished,” Anakin told him, “You’re only allowed to have children when dictated by your master, and no matter how many times my mother tried to tell them she didn’t sleep with anyone they didn’t believe her.”

“You touched your mother,” Obi-Wan told him, “What about that?”

“It’s different, we were family,” Anakin told him, “Mother and son. And if Watto had wanted he could have demanded we stop. He just didn’t care.”

“You don’t have to be hurt for touch,” Obi-Wan promised him, “Please Anakin tell me you’ll stop this.”

“I-I can’t,” Anakin croaked, more tears falling, “I can’t stand it anymore. I don’t want to be alone.”

“You’re not alone,” Obi-Wan promised, “Any time you want you can come to me. I’ll give you everything you need. I promise.”

“Do you even know what you are agreeing to? Did you see what they do to me?” Anakin asked, looking up at him with wet eyes, bottom lip trembling.

“I won’t hit you,” Obi-Wan said firmly, “Not like that. But there are other ways to get the touch that you need. Less painful ways. There are usually no instruments and people are more gentle. And lube. For force’s sake Anakin you need to learn the importance of lube if I teach you nothing else for the rest of my life.”

“People do it all the time,” Anakin argued weakly, “How do you think I find people to do it to me?”

“With willing partners,” Obi-Wan said sternly, “Can you really tell me you like how it feels? Or do you just like that someone is touching you? That someone is with you?”

Anakin looked down, looking so guilty that Obi-Wan almost felt bad for him.

“It’s okay,” Obi-Wan said softly, rubbing a hand up and down Anakin’s back, “There’s no need to feel guilty. I just need you to answer the question. Do you like it when they hit you or choke you? Does having dry sex turn you on? Because you weren’t hard the entire time.”

“No,” Anakin told him softly, “But the first person who I met said that it turned him on. And it- it got out of hand. He said that I couldn’t stop now. How do I even tell him that I don’t want to do it anymore if I’m not allowed to stop?”

“Leave that to me,” Obi-Wan said and cut off Anakin’s protest with a harsh glare, “I’ll be talking to Quinlan and you won’t be hearing from that man again. Now how do you feel about going to lay down for a bit? I’m feeling quite ill.”

Anakin looked a little lost for a second and then buried his head into Obi-Wan’s neck, body shaking slightly. Obi-Wan’s arms circled his body and he pulled him as close as he could.

“Okay,” he agreed, sounding muffled from where he was buried in Obi-Wan’s shoulder, “I’ll go lay down.”

“I meant both of us, dear one,” Obi-Wan told him pressing a kiss to his temple, “Together.”

Anakin’s breath caught and then he let out a small strangled noise.

“Yes please,” he pleaded quietly and Obi-Wan gripped him tight, standing up and tucking a hand under Anakin’s knees to carry him to his bedroom. Without words, he slowly stripped Anakin naked, and then he was pulling his own clothes off.

Anakin stared as he did, seemingly unable to look away. When Obi-Wan pulled his underwear off Anakin’s dick twitched in interest and Anakin’s face turned bright red as he tried to cover himself with his hands.

Obi-Wan took his hands and led him to the bed, pulling the blankets down and herding him into it. He slipped under the blankets and opened his arms. Anakin happily buried himself into his arms, letting his thighs slip open so Obi-Wan could slip a knee in between them, his half-hard dick pressing against it.

“I’m sorry,” Anakin apologized even as his hips began to move minutely.

“Don’t be sorry,” Obi-Wan told him, “Press against me a little harder darling.”

Anakin couldn’t make eye contact with him but followed the directions, pressing more firmly against him and letting out a quiet, strangled noise.

“That’s it Ani,” Obi-Wan coached, letting his hands slid so that he could toy with one of his sensitive nipples. Anakin tucked his face into Obi-Wan’s neck as he continued to rut against his knee, cock fully hardening as he writhed under Obi-Wan’s hand as he toyed with his chest.

“Feels good,” Anakin breathed, “Feels so good.”

“It’s supposed to feel good,” Obi-Wan told him, “Why don’t you let me kiss you?”

Anakin’s face came back, bright red even as he eagerly tilted his head to allow Obi-Wan to catch his lips. The kiss was sloppy but what Anakin lacked in experience he made up for in enthusiasm, opening his mouth to allow Obi-Wan to push his tongue in and explore.

Anakin became bolder, rocking his cock against Obi-Wan’s thigh eagerly as Obi-Wan explored his body. Obi-Wan jerked back from the kiss and moaned as Anakin wrapped a hand around his cock.

“Oh darling,” Obi-Wan told him, “You don’t-.”

“I want to,” Anakin panted, “I-I didn’t think you would ever let me.”

Obi-Wan looked at Anakin, and then he was grabbing the man by his hips and straddling him, leaning down to pull him into a filthy kiss. He pulled back and looked at Anakin.

“I didn’t think you’d ever want me,” Obi-Wan admitted, “But if you do I want you too.”

Anakin nodded frantically, pulling Obi-Wan back down into another kiss before breaking apart for air and wrapping his legs around his waist, lining up their cocks and thrusting.

Obi-Wan moaned and pressed back down, locking their lips together again. They rutted against each other in a way Obi-Wan hadn’t done since he was a padawan himself.

“You said that there’s a better way to have sex,” Anakin told him, “Please can you show me?”

Obi-Wan was scrambling for the lube before he’d even finished his sentence, unwinding Anakin’s legs from his waist and pushing his thighs apart as he uncapped the bottle.

“It may still be a bit uncomfortable but it’s not supposed to hurt,” Obi-Wan warned him, “You’ve got to tell me if it hurts you.”

“Okay,” Anakin agreed, and then he moaned loudly as Obi-Wan pressed a lubed finger into him, surprised at easily it slid in. He worked it and out as Anakin writhed underneath him and he pushed in a second one, mesmerized by how well Anakin took it as he began to scissor him open.

“That’s it, baby,” Obi-Wan said, running a hand through his hair, “You’re doing so good for me.”

Anakin let out a strangled noise at the pet name and planted his heels into the bed, rocking back and forth on Obi-Wan’s fingers. Obi-Wan dribbled more lube over his hole and then pressed a third one in, spreading them apart as far as he could.

“Oh, oh it feels so good,” Anakin panted, “Oh kriff. It feels so good.”

He sounded so surprised that Obi-Wan knew he’d be paying a certain person a special visit. The man who’d gotten Anakin to hurt himself, to let someone else hurt him.

But right now he had a needy, horny boy in his bed who was looking at him with glazed eyes and kiss-swollen lips. Obi-Wan pulled his fingers out, pressing Anakin into another kiss as he lined up against his hole.

“Can I?” he asked quietly.

“Please,” Anakin pleaded and Obi-Wan pushed forwards, sliding into his hole with ease. Anakin let out a stangled noise and then he was clawing at Obi-Wan’s back as he began to thrust into him.

“Oh, oh it’s so good,” Anakin moaned, legs circling Obi-Wan’s waist again as the older man fucked into him. Obi-Wan gasped as Anakin opened his side of their bond, the sensations hitting him so hard that he could barely breathe.

It feels so good. Please don’t stop, please please stay, kriff, it’s so good Anakin is sure he’s going to dissolve into a puddle and Obi-Wan is warm against him and it’s so soft and gentle and it’s the best thing that he’s ever felt in his life and is this what it was supposed to feel like the hole time? I love you, I love you, I love you.

Obi-Wan’s sure Anakin is ripping his back apart as he aims and hits his prostate over and over, drawing out loud moans from him as he takes everything Obi-Wan gives him.

Anakin’s whole body tenses, back arching as he comes in between them, letting out a sob as he presses further into Obi-Wan. The clenching around his cock pushes Obi-Wan over the edge and he comes too, slamming on more time into Anakin’s slackened body and kissing him hard, teeth knocking together almost painfully.

Obi-Wan collapsed on Anakin as carefully as he could, nosing at his neck as they both came down from their high.

“That was amazing,” Anakin told him, “The best thing I ever felt.”

“Did you mean it?” Obi-Wan asked him, “That you love me?”

Anakin blinked, looking unsure at him as he bit his lip.

“Anakin please,” Obi-Wan said, pulling them so they were on their sides.

“Yes,” Anakin admitted, “I do.”

Obi-Wan kissed him again, “I love you too.”

He tucked Anakin’s face into his neck, “You’re mine now you know? No one else will ever hurt you.”

He had a feeling after he was finished with them they wouldn’t ever try.

#whumptober2021 #no.6 #touch starved #star wars #fic #consensual but not safe or sane #knifeplay #caning #slapping #choking #nsfwhump #obikin #obikin fanfiction #musicsoul1982

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shadow3142 · 3 years

Note

21. collapse :)

[cw for major injury]

Scream.

The only thing Jeb could bring himself to do in that moment was scream.

The sour chords ripped themselves from his throat, taking the air in his lungs with it. He gasped, trying to suck in the breath that had escaped him as he desperately moved to squirm free of the burning mountain of rubble that had come down on top of him. The panic in his chest flared when he found he couldn’t move. His claws scraped at the tile and his feet kicked at his surroundings, trying to wriggle him free. Every part of his body was screaming at him, telling him that he needed to move, he needed to get the hell out of there as soon as he could. But he couldn’t. No matter how hard he tried, how much he kicked and clawed and yelled, he stayed pinned to the spot like a fly in a web.

And then that’s when he felt his arm.

Pain shot through his body like liquid fire had seeped into his veins, His entire frame cringed and shook as he screamed again, flipping onto his side to see what had happened. Instead of his arm, however, he was faced with blazing metal that burned his eyes. Hot tears pressed at the edges of his vision as he used his free hand to try and push the metal off, but instead of moving it burned his palm in protest. Jeb yelped as another bolt of pain shot into his wrist, his body going to recoil but once again being firmly stuck in place. The inkling choked on a sob as he tried again to pull his arm free, the entire limb beginning to throb. His energy drained quickly, and after a minute of writhing on the floor he was left sitting still, his whole body aching as he desperately gasped for air.

This is how he dies, isn’t it? Not out in the field, heroically sacrificing his life for his friends, but enveloped by the flames of the collapsed support of a burning building. Jeb hiccuped another sob as pure horror and dismay filled his chest. His ears feel like they’ve been ripped to shreds, a deafening static blasting from his shattered headset. He can’t open his left eye, and that side of his face feels as if it’d been stuffed onto a hot pan. His shoulders are sore and his chest wheezes with each breath he takes. Trying to muster his courage, he sucked in another gulp of air, flipping onto his side to once again try to move the twisted metal. He ignored the fire in his palm for as long as he could, swallowing back another pained cry as he used what little strength he had to push against the metal.

Before his energy can drain again, however, beyond the static of his headset he can hear someone call his name. Hope flickers in his chest, and Jeb had flipped onto his back just as somebody knelt down next to him. He squinted as he struggled to breathe, but relief washes over him when his vision clears and he’s able to make out Vivian’s face. He goes to call her name, but chokes when another burst of pain wells in his arm. She shushed him just as another figure appeared behind her, and he could feel her lifting his head to rest on her knee. Tears blaze down his cheeks as she places a gentle hand on his heaving chest.

“I-I can’t—” he sputtered, choking on the combination of his sobs and gasps for air as she removed his headset from his ears, “—I can’t feel it. I can’t f-feel my arm.”

She shushed him again. “Jeb, listen to me, you’re gonna be okay, alright? I’ve got you, you’re gonna be okay. We’ll get you out of here, I promise.”

The inkling whimpered as her voice faded and the sound of the throb in his arm took its place. He stuffed his face into her jacket and let himself sob, wringing out the pent up pressure in his chest. You’re gonna be okay, he reminds himself. Vivian’s here now. She said she’d get you out, you’re not going to die. Not here, not now, not yet. He repeated the phrase to himself over and over while he cried, his friend’s thumb brushing against the back of his head. His arm had worked its way around her waist at this point, and the claws in his fingers were currently grappling onto her jacket for dear life.

Jeb’s moment of relief was interrupted, however, by the feeling of somebody trying to lift his pinned arm. He whined and squirmed in response, causing the hand to leave but a tightening band to be put around his arm in its place. He lifts and turns his head carefully, trying to see what’s going on. First he sees another blurry figure, but after the tears can clear from his vision Adam’s concentrated expression comes into focus. Confusion flashes in the inkling's mind before his eyes dart to his arm, and he sees a section of bandage being tied and retied around his bicep, a few inches before where the blazing piece of metal had crushed his arm. Panic slowly rose in his chest as he slowly realized the agent was tying a tourniquet around his arm. His eyes lock onto his face in horror just as Vivian’s voice comes back to his hearing.

“Adam, answer me.”

The grizzly inkling stops what he’s doing for a moment and glances at Jeb. His jaw stiffens as regret and sorrow flash in his eyes, before they look to the octoling holding the downed agent just as she speaks.

“No . . . no, no, no, you’re not—”

“Vivian I have to,” he says finally, his voice soft and grim.

Jeb can feel her body stiffen and her muscles tighten in fury. “No, no you don’t!” She shouts furiously, though he can hear the desperation and fear thick in her voice. “There’s gotta be another way, Adam, you can’t fucking do that to him!”

He stares between the two in fear and confusion for a moment before Adam suddenly bolts upright, slamming his hands on the tiled floor. “There’s no time to think of another fucking way! What, do you think I want to do this to him?!” He shouts furiously at Vivian, lips curled back into a vicious snarl. Jeb recoiled into his friend's body in mild terror. “I don’t Viv, but it’s either this, or we leave him here, and he dies, alone, and we never see him again! And I am NOT gonna fucking do that to him!”

Sobs began to escape Jeb’s lips as he finished his rant. He silently reminds himself that he isn’t going to die here like that as Vivian’s grip on him tightens and loosens. Adam shut his eyes and sighs tensely, before opening them again to stare at the inkling in her arms. His blue eyes are full of sorrow and regret, whispering of the horror he’s about to commit on his friend, but at the same time, they plead with him, telling him I’m sorry, but this is the only way I can get you out. I have to save you, I won’t let you die, but this is the only way I can do it. Jeb feels his arm pulse under the tourniquet, anything past it agonizingly numb and engulfed in an invisible flame. He shuts his eyes and sucks in a sturdy breath. It’s the only way I can get out of here with my life, he reminds himself. He opens his eyes again to give Adam a final, knowing look, before turning his head into his friend's jacket as another sob escapes his throat. He can feel the hum of her voice as she speaks, but his own whimpers and sobs were too loud for him to hear what she said. A few moments later, he can feel her hands come to his head and bring him closer to her body. The warmth of her jacket was suffocating, but the way her hands ran through his matted and sweat-ridden hair reminded him that he would be okay, and that with any luck, this would all be over soon.

#ask #anonymous #splatoon #drabbles #OC: Jebediah #OC: Vivian #OC: Adam #post #SDT AU #injury//#haha sdt to WHRRRRR #ask to tag

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wxnholy · 3 years

Text

dream a little dream of me [lee hoseok]

warnings: none, slight angst, fluff

pairing: wonho x f!reader

request: none

plot: you stay up late to finish some work and hoseok manages to lure you back to bed (includes some kisses and touches here n there, nothing major)

a/n: i was just imagining wonho from that vid on his channel about his full day of work and he looks like the most magnificent cuddler,,i just couldn't help myself y'all sorry !!

hoseok loved you like you would never even know. the man was obsessed with your smile, the way you walked in his arm and talked to other people, the way your lips parted prettily when he kissed you, and how adorable you looked all cuddled up next to him when it was time for bed.

together, you were known for being quite the sleepers. hoseok was lighter than you were, often getting woken up by even the slightest shift in the bed, hence why you tried your absolute hardest not to move. but he mostly handled that himself, slinging his hand around your thigh to drape it over his waist and burying his head in your chest because you smelled absolutely heaven sent.

but he valued his rest more than anything, often taking naps if time permitted it even if he wasn't tired and most importantly, teaching you how to take them with him.

you were a workaholic. you were never tame unless your work was finished correctly and on time, and always found yourself in distress if it wasn't complete. hoseok never understood that about you, despising it ever since you two first started dating because whenever he begged to see you, you were busy at the computer. and if you weren't there, you were rummaging through paperwork or checking your email.

enough to make him nervous for you.

but he accepted that that was the way it had to be because at the end of the day, his drive and yours worked perfectly together. and you knew what was too much and when to sit back and relax. it helped when he'd come behind you and softly rub your back and kiss your shoulders, asking if you'd like him to cook dinner, or force you to take breaks so that you could sit on the couch and watch tv with him. it was the littlest things that reassured you.

but sometimes, there was serious work that needed to get done.

hoseok was in charge of dinner tonight, not only because it was his turn but because you were busy at the computer on a case that wasn't anywhere near completed. your law firm tried it's absolute best to give you work that acted in your favor sometimes, granting you breaks to spare. yet there were also the torturous weeks of sitting up during the ridiculous hours of the morning because someone needed your help.

and they knew they could count on you because you never rested until your clients were absolutely satisfied. you were special that way. hoseok loved that about you. you were a no nonsense kind of woman.

but he could admit to being just a little worried about how long you were sitting in the same chair since the afternoon. it was nearly eight o' clock and the thought of eating alone for the sixth time that week kind of broke him, but he knew he'd get his time with you because you'd have to come to bed at some point or another.

the man took his time in preparing the dinner that you liked best; a pasta dish with vodka sauce and a red glass of wine.

you continued to work through the hypnotizing scent of garlic and cheeses, noticing the way that your stomach growled but too busy to get up and go check on your boyfriend. your knee shook and by now, your back was starting to ache like nobody's business, but the way you were concentrated at the screen seemed to have dimmed any ounces of pain.

"baby," hoseok was quick to appear at the doorway with concern written all over his face, receiving only the quietest hum from you as your eyes remained fixed on the bright monitor at your desk. the man moved further into the office and caught how your eyebrows furrowed in concentration, typing like a mad woman before leaning against the edge of the desk to watch you.

you were still so beautiful to him.

even in the plain cotton of your shorts and a shirt, you had him hooked, and he thought it was a shame your firm had to be so hard on you. he missed you in more ways than one. by this time, the workload was consuming you, and yet he wanted you all to himself��lips clashed and all.

at the realization that you wouldn't stop your job for him, he grabbed your chin, forcing your eyes to his and seeming quite annoyed. "give me one good reason why i shouldn't put your boss six feet under the ground," you quickly smiled at him and pushed his hand away gently. "it isn't his fault, my love," you sounded exhausted, "this is my job," he let out a huff, clearly fed up with that excuse at this point even if he couldn't understand it.

yet he had it so much easier in comparison to you. he would go to work, come home, and have the rest of the day to himself. probably checking his email once or twice if he really, really felt like it. but the two of you were different. your jobs were different. and you would be lying if you claimed that you weren't at all jealous of the fact that he could come home and do whatever he wanted. but that was nothing to hold against him.

"yeah," hoseok muttered lowly, the dark look on his face telling you that he wasn't believing you or pleased with your state in the slightest. so you decided to prove it, finally standing from your office chair and grabbing him by the neck to pull him into a lengthy kiss that froze him. but he sunk into you as quickly as he regained his sense.

you had nearly forgotten how good his lips tasted after all this time, actually feeling relief from all the exhaustion and tension pent up in your little body. his arms wrapped around you in seconds, his warm, ready tongue meeting with yours as he locked your lips together for a second time.

you couldn't help smiling at him, sensing how needy he was feeling by the way he pulled your hips against him and sighed like he'd finally got what he wanted. but of course, he wanted more, growing disappointed the moment you pulled away, still holding him like a baby and watching him frown from the sudden lack of lip to lip contact. that twitch in his pants was slowly starting to bother him and what you granted was nothing less than a tease.

"this isn't fair," he muttered, dropping his head into the crook of your neck as you kissed his head gently.

"it's nothing we're not used to," the sigh he released just made you hold him tighter, "just give me a few more hours, hoseok. i'll come to bed with you, i promise. but let me work just a little bit more. trust me when i say that i'm almost done."

"but you're exhausted, y/n, i can tell," he countered before you kissed him again, smiling even though he was right. you did want to shut your eyes and fall into him. you did want to take his hand and follow him back into the kitchen to spend the rest of the night at his side and just be done. but you were strong. strong enough to say no even if your body was screaming otherwise.

"i'll be fine," you whispered beside his ear, your voice delicate and almost broken. but he trusted you enough to let you go—that you wouldn't work yourself to death because you had never, ever lied to him.

the grip around your body loosened as he straightened up and gave you a short nod, aiming not to waste any more of your time. he glanced at your full lips once more before brushing past your side to finish dinner, only to feel your cold hand taking his wrist on his way out. the touch made him spin around to look at you. but in truth, you just wanted to admire him. you blushed, realizing you deserved none of him.

"i love you," your hand tightened around his wrist as you spoke, basking in how relieved he looked as he took in the words; his favorite out of your mouth, even more than his own name.

"i love you more, y/n," you blushed again, pecking his lips sweetly before reluctantly slipping your hand from his wrist to return to your desk. the man's eyes remained on you for a while though, probably imagining how wonderful it would be if he could just take hold of something and make time stop just to kiss you again.

but he retreated, returning with a big plate of food and some wine to give you the energy to go on. you smiled beautifully at him as he tipped your head back to kiss you again, settling into the couch in the living room to catch up on all the shows you two couldn't watch together because you didn't have the time. he held a drink in his right hand, lightly circling the rim with his mind set on you and your lips, slowly feeling his body giving out as the night fell later and later.

the phone laying at his side read eleven o' clock at night, making it a full two hours since you two had last spoken to each other. he could see that you were still in the zone from when he came in to take your plate away earlier, asking about how much longer you'd be. but once again, you only promised that you'd be done soon.

so hoseok waited on you some more, fighting sleep to the best of his ability as midnight crept. he got another drink, and another, and another, until he realized that it was only making his exhaustion worse. to the point that staying awake felt practically impossible. so, he checked on you one more time, your eyes still glued to the screen though he didn't call for you this round. you weren't even paying attention to the time. he didn't need to guess to know that that was the truth.

but he didn't say anything.

he turned off all the lights in the house, made sure the doors were locked, washed the dishes, shut off the tv, and did everything either of you would've done on any normal night. though made sure to leave the light in your office on and the door open just a crack. he didn't tell you goodnight because that defeated the purpose. he couldn't fall asleep properly if you weren't beside him.

he attempted reading for a short while after showering and slipping some fresh sweats on but ended up drifting off within the first few chapters, comfortable as always in the bedsheets yet cold—which hoseok attributed to your absence, the lack of presence inevitably waking him up just a few hours later. the lamp at the bedside was still shining, and the clock below it read a bright 2:34 in the morning.

he grew pissed.

he tore the blanket off and stood from the bed, feeling even more cold air engulfing his body as he made his way over to your office for what felt like the millionth time that night. except now, he wasn't taking no for an answer. not anymore. this obviously wasn't healthy for you and if he could, he'd throw you over his shoulder and force you to come back to bed with him.

except the consequences would be movement. tons and tons of it because you'd be restless, thinking of all the outcomes of what a heap of incomplete work could do to you. and those were by far, the worst nights of his life. if you were coming to bed, you'd have to get there yourself. and hoseok hoped that the fuming expression on his face was enough to scare you into submission. normally, it's what did the trick.

hoseok quietly pushed the door back and saw you in the same exact position as before, slowly reaching over to flick off the light switch and almost sending you into a heart attack. your throat grew dry knowing the man was standing in the doorway probably furious with you because you had completely disregarded his wishes. "bedtime," he stated firmly as you sat in the dark, the monitor glowing against your skin and making you chew at your lip.

you glanced at the time in the corner and noticed the horrid hour, sulking in your chair and just for a second, thought of opening your mouth to speak. "i'm not asking this time," his statement had you quiet again. yet for some reason, you wouldn't listen. "i'm so close to being done," you whispered, practically pleading even if your eyes were burning and drained, probably even red.

"i don't care."

"hoseok–"

"i'm not repeating myself, y/n,"

you whimpered at how sore your joints were from sitting in your firm office chair all day, slowly dropping what you were doing and reluctantly pushing yourself away from the desk.

your boyfriend walked closer to you, whispering an apology against your ear and brushing a few strands of your hair away from your face to reveal the dark circles. "forgive me but i just can't handle seeing you like this," he carefully stated, kissing your head. "now go to our room. i'll be there in a second," you obeyed him this time without a second thought.

he straightened your work space and shut off your computer, saving whatever work you were trying to complete before finally feeling the pleasure of shutting the office door behind him, trailing back into the bedroom and doing the same. of course, you were a bit unsettled. not because of anything he did but because you hated when you couldn't finish something, understandably.

you tiredly glanced up at him from the bed, his cool skin soothing you instantly as he touched your face with the back of his fingers and kissed you. "tell me what you want," he continued to caress your cheek, hovering over your body and seeing how you beckoned towards the bathroom. and hoseok knew immediately what you meant.

he pecked your head again, gently laying you back against the sheets to go and get the bath ready for the both of you despite having already been clean. he dipped his hand in to make sure the water was warm enough for you and tested it over and over, using all your favorite soaps in order to make the bubbles. he delicately hoisted you into his strong arms and undressed you slowly, submerging you into the bath first before stripping and joining you in the water.

you fell into him in seconds, your nose pressed against the skin of his neck as he took his time in cleaning you off properly, dozing off quickly due to the warmth. he made sure to be especially gentle with the rag while kissing the crown of your head and listening to the way you breathed slow against his chest. like you were a child.

he kept mumbling apologies into your ear whenever he needed to move you, making his heart ache every time because whenever he rinsed you, you had no choice but to stay awake. to prevent you from getting cold, he wrapped you in a blanket and dried you promptly. he also allowed you to rest on the toilet and massaged the sorest parts of your body as he rubbed your favorite lavender lotion into your skin, kissing you even still.

after pulling one of his shirts over your head and helping you slip on some clean panties, you heard him whisper a 'you're all done' and carry you bridal style to the bed. the moment he finally set you down, it felt like your body sunk into a layer of clouds, growing a smile that hoseok could see as he got under the covers beside you. "thank you, hoseok," was all you could manage as you snuggled into his arms. though he began to hush you gently, wanting nothing more than for you to just sleep because you needed it.

"i love you so much," the last peck he landed to your temple almost had you in tears, bunching his shirt in your hands as you finally shut your eyes. more in love than you could say.

"i love you more, y/n," the lights went off and the rest after that was kind of a blur.

"dream about me," he muttered, smiling against your hair and feeling your heartbeat sync with his.

"always."

#wonho #monsta x #kpop #fluff #lee hoseok #minhyuk #kihyun #shownu #hyungwon #changkyun #jooheon #i love him #hes so precious

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anothertimdrakestan · 4 years

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Light Of My Life Pt.2 Jason Todd x Reader

Words: 2.5k

Requested? Yes! From a lovely returning anon!

“I’m the anon who requested the avenger reader and ......... *chefs kiss* *chefs kiss* *chefs kiss* It’s so good! i love the readers powers and how they get sparky when they’re happy! I always thought that captain America and tony stark and Natasha and everyone else would be protective of the reader so I wonder what would happen if she introduced Jason to the avengers? Do you think they’d find out that he was red hood? (And they’d keep it a secret but maybe then they’d be REALLY protective)”

LINK TO PROMPTS -> REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

HI AGAIN IM SO GLAD YOU’RE BACK LOVE!!! We been knew I love me a good protective family and Jason sooooo my beautiful anon you did it again! Chef’s kisses right back at you angel <333 Because you liked the happy sparks let me show you what happens when all the emotions come out to play.... mwahahahaha CHECK OUT PT 1 HERE!

“Fuck no.”

You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend as he pouted. “Hey I met your family you have to meet mine!” you chided, Jason had been reluctant to meet the other Avengers. The last time he’d ever met one besides you was as Robin pre-death when Stark came to visit Bruce Wayne and Iron Man visited Batman. The two never really got along and since Jason idolized Bruce he hadn’t been the kindest to Stark.

You’d only recently learned this when you told the other Avengers why you always wanted to be in Gotham. Cap was happy you’d found a friend, he understood the necessity of having a person you can talk to and rely on, and he missed his person so he wished you the best. To say Stark was pissed was an understatement. Not only was he secretly rooting for you and Spidey to get together but he always got a bad taste in his mouth thinking about the Wayne family. “No” was his only reply and you had to give him the “even though you’re my father figure and my boss you don’t control my personal life” speech which ended in a hug and some cursing under his breath. To your surprise Peter was equally upset and said next time you went to Gotham he needed to meet this elusive, powerless, gun wielding, Jason.

And just like that here you were in Gotham, wrapping in your boyfriend’s arms, trying to convince him to come meet the “A-list” as he called them. “You’re going Jay. Maybe you can bring Tim he loves the Avengers he’d die to meet them!” you cooed, knowing Jason would agree because he never wanted to tell you no. Jason knew how excited you were, he could feel the light shocks that danced on your skin as he held you. Begrudgingly he agreed. You had decided it would be better to meet as your human personas rather than stir up the media with an Avengers visit to Gotham.

“Hey gorgeous” Jason grinned as you gave him a spin in one of your favorite outfits, beyond excited to introduce him to the people who were your family you rushed over to him. As you toyed with his t-shirt collar you admired his appearance, Jason was fashionable in the lowkey, vibey kind of fashion, it was perfect, and undeniably attractive. You could tell he was trying to hide his nerves, he gripped your hand tighter than normal and fidgeted slightly, he knew these people were your home and you could tell he wanted to make a good impression even if he wouldn’t admit it.

You’d invited them to your now shared apartment with Jason. The two of you had spent a while cleaning and prepping for guests and the apartment was spotless. Getting the text from Stark that him, Peter, and Natasha were headed up and you saw the three of them cloaked in jackets and hats entering the main lobby. Giving Jason’s hand a squeeze you gave him a quick peck on the cheek and a reassuring looking. Jason leaning into your embrace whispered “it’ll go fine” and you couldn’t tell if he was saying it to himself or you. Almost on cue there was a loud knock and before you could get to the door Tony burst in with Natasha and Peter following. “WHERE IS HE!” Tony yelled and you rushed over grinning. “Shut up Stark behave yourself!” he brought you into a quick hug before looking at Jason. “Hello Todd” he said, Jason looked a little shocked that Tony had either remembered from those years ago or had done his research. Jason stuck out a hand feigning confidence and Tony took it strongly.

Inviting everyone in you all sat cooly around the living room. As you talked with Natasha about recent events and living in Gotham you noticed that Jason looked afraid to touch you, sitting rigid next to you. Glancing over you saw him getting death stares from Peter and Tony anytime he moved a muscle. “The two of you stop it!” you chided, grabbing Jason’s hand and realizing it was slightly shaking. “I expect it from Mr. Father Figure but really Parker?” you quipped as he shrugged in agreement.

You could feel your aura radiate with annoyance and Peter and Tony looked taken aback. “Hey Sparky- Y/N it’s fine” Jason looked embarrassed at his use of one of his many nicknames. “Dude you use electric puns too!” Peter looked excited as he told Jason about some of his favorites. As the two bonded you groaned when Peter said “DUDE LIGHTNING MCQUEEN IS SUCH A GOOD ONE!” and went in for a high five over your embarrassment. Tony broke the bro-moment, “So Jason Todd, second Robin, heard you died. Haven’t seen you in a bit do you prefer Todd or Hood?” Jason gulped, straightening up as he squeezed your hand. “Um, Todd is fine, yeah I did and it was really hard but I have Y/N and she’s really been amazing and also yes I was Robin when I saw you a long time ago and you totally already know that but yeah” he took in a deep breath as Tony processed his answers. Turning to you he asked “and he’s nice to you? Good friend? Good lover? No ring yet right? I learned the hard way waiting too long isn’t great but you better not rush this kid” you rolled your eyes hearing the same line of questioning as always. “Tony shut the hell up” Natasha interrupted. “Look, Jason’s whole body is angled to Y/N, he’s holding her hand through the sparks and probably shocks, he hasn’t gotten angry at your dumb overprotective dad moments, and everytime one of them looks at the other they calm down a little more. They’re in love Tony leave them be.” Tony starred in silence before standing up, drawing in a breath you could feel Jason tense. “Alright then I approve. Let’s get this party started! You guys got booze?”

A couple drinks in an everyone was best friends with everyone. You and Peter weren’t of age yet so you both skipped but Tony was definitely nicer a couple drinks in, and Jason was a lot less tense even though he wasn’t drinking, determined to stay sober to answer any questions he was asked. Peter still looked like he didn’t trust Jason but you couldn’t help but grin as you watched the only father figure you’d ever had bond with your boyfriend. You finally felt like you had a family, it was perfect.

Perfect until Peter Parker got attacked.

As you frantically zapped through light posts you heard Jason on his bike behind you. Tony and Natasha didn’t want to alert the press with two of the most prominent Avengers being seen in Gotham and after a couple drinks they decided to let you and Jason take the lead. So as Red Hood and Y/H/N took to the Gotham streets after Clayface who had engulfed a terrified Peter Parker, Black Widow and Iron Man watched from above.

You zapped in front of Clayface, your skin practically sizzling. “you!” ZAP “are!” ZAP “interrupting!” ZAP “my!” ZAP “DAY!!!” you screeched, letting out all the anger and stress pent up from the day. Unfortunately, your electricity didn’t have much effect on a giant piece of dirt, so you went for keeping it’s attention while Jason fiddled with some explosives.

You zapped around the scene, being careful not to let Clayface get a hand on you for fear of him trying to engulf you too. You could barely hear Jason, cursing yourself for leaving you comm somewhere in the apartment but you could make out “Y/H/N it’s ready but Peter’s in there!” from Jason. “Shit alright I’m going in I guess!” you called, unsure if your powers would even work inside of Clayface. With a deep breath you ran straight ahead, preparing for whatever came next when a figure shoved you out of the way. Instinctively you shot into a lamp post for safety when you saw Red Hood press the button for the explosives and dive into Clayface. Once you realized he just sacrificed his life for yours appeared on the pavement screaming for Jason. Lightning cracked above you as you cried out amid the explosion. At the peak of the explosion everything you felt was too much, needing to know if Jason was okay and it Peter was still alive you felt stuck to the ground. Letting out a guttural scream you gave up trying to hold everything in. The lightning dissipated as you felt your energy connect to every current in Gotham. As the smoke cleared you saw a pile of Clay and no Red Hood and your heart snapped in half. Sinking to your knees you felt the power of every light in Gotham and it was too much. As your tears poured you needed the pain to stop, it had to stop, you’d lost everything.

And then it did. No more sparks, no more current, no more emotion, no more pain.

Your eyes fell out of focus as you stared ahead. You didn’t see two figures emerged from behind the corner of a building. Your eyes were blurry and you felt numb, unable to recognize the voice of Jason as he called out for you. Everything was quiet and muted, no buzzing from the streetlights or vibrations from cell towers, you felt disconnected, lost. Slowly blinking, thoughts of your past boyfriend jolted through you so quickly you couldn’t comprehend the fact that he was right in front of you. His voice sounded like a faint whisper calling for you. A different reality almost. You felt yourself get lifted into the air, off the ground and into someone’s embrace.

This embrace carried you home. Home. That was your apartment. With Jason. But he was gone and someone had brought you home, setting you softly on the couch.

“What the fuck happened to Y/N” Jason pleaded Tony who looked just as confused. “I think she’s in shock, maybe she didn’t have her comm in and didn’t hear the plan for rescuing Peter then dealing with Clayface?” Tony whispered as he looked at you as you stared at a wall, tears slowly cascading down your cheeks. Natasha squatted next to you, waving a hand in front of your face. “She’s in shock but we need to shock her out of it, anyone got a spark?” Tony quickly reprogrammed part of his suit to deliver a fair amount of voltage into your body. Taking a deep breath Jason just wanted to hold your hand but he knew that was not going to be safe until you woke up. As everyone stood back Tony counted down “One, Two - ”

Suddenly you felt the connection again, it jolted through you and danced on your skin, you felt the humming of the fan in your apartment. Your apartment, you were home. Home. Home is with Jason, and you could feel him next to you. Jason, was, home. Safe.

“JASON YOU IDIOT WHAT WERE YOU THINKING YOU FUCKING DIED AGAIN!” you bolted up and began wailing on his chest, shocking everyone around you at your burst of, well, energy. Without thinking Jason just pulled you into his chest, swaying slightly back and forth you melted into his grip. “Y/N baby Stark thought your comm was on like mine and we thought you knew the plan, you were making a good diversion and everything” Jason explained. “Then Parker and I come out after the big boom and you’re like completely zoned out. Like even the sky was clear, and your eyes didn’t have the little sparkle they always have, we thought you’d lost it or something” he rambled as you finally put the pieces together. Glancing up at him you whispered “so you’re okay?” and he nodded, giving you a reassuring smile. “You can’t get rid of me that easily Sparky” you found comfort in the nickname that was slowly growing on you.

After a cup of tea and some relaxation you were feeling a lot better. Peter was impressed at how quickly Jason thought on his feet and that he’d put himself in danger to save him and was a lot happier with your relationship. You’d told him about Tim and how well the two nerds would get along so he tagged along with Stark who was out meeting Bruce and trying to explain why there had been an explosion and Avenger sighting in his city, and Natasha used her expertise to know it was time for you and Jason to have some alone time, so she headed out as well.

Now you were resting in Jason’s arms as he toyed with your hair. Breaking the silence you admitted “I think I severed my powers when I thought you died” and Jason looked up, his face asking you for more. Delving into some of your own truths you admitted “I always knew my powers were emotion driven. Like our kiss that one night. And I knew there was a reason that I have to keep some energy inside and reign it in, but now I know that releasing it all doesn’t explode, it makes me implode on myself. Like the energy I use is raw emotion and when I thought you were gone it hurt too much and I cut it off” you sighed, enjoying the feeling of letting it off your chest. You could’ve sworn Jason slyly wiped a tear away before pulling you in close as he too sighed. “I think you’re right Y/N but that means your powers are more interesting than we ever knew. And I know what it feels like to lose everything, and I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing for ever being the reason you felt the loss. It kills me to think of you in such pain you couldn’t feel it anymore. Because you are the strongest person I know and I know how painful it must’ve been. I’m so sorry. And I love you”

The big eight letters. They felt right. Raising your head to his you took his lips in yours, trying to convey the same words right back at him. In the moment of pure love you felt warmth envelop your entire body, unable to contain the joy. Mid-kiss you let a grin slip onto your face and you pulled away. “Jason Todd I love YOU!” you moved to throw your arms around him and as you outstretched your fingers you released some of your love into the air and suddenly everything in the room when black.

“Y/N you just shorted out the apartment building. But I love you too” You were kind of glad the lights were now off because Jason couldn’t see the furious blush that developed on your cheeks. Flopping down on to him you mused “Too many emotions for one day, I feel pretty shorted out too” and Jason hummed in agreement. As the two of your drifted off into sleep you heard him mumble:

“You better get control of these emotions I can’t be telling you I love you then having you break my toaster. I need my waffles you know” and you groaned.

“I’ll put that on the list of things to worry about. Right beneath the end of the world so pretty high up there”

“Thanks I appreciate it. Good night my lovely bolt of lightning”

“Goodnight you sappy fuck”

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thepeacetea · 5 years

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Broken Angels Ch. 5

Hi everyone! Sorry this one came out a little later, but here it is. Though I do have to say, I don’t know where you guys got the idea that Marinette is Jason’s sister. I don’t think I ever remember saying that. Oh well. Anyway, thank you all again for the likes, comments, and reblogs. I tried to tag everyone, but if I missed you, just send me a message and I’ll get you next chapter. You all really seemed to enjoy the last chapter, so I hope ya’ll enjoy this one! Again, if you have any comments, questions, or suggestions, let me know. Hope ya’ll enjoy! Peace!

“I swear, if you don’t get out of my way right now, I will kill you! NOW. LET. ME. GO!”

It wasn’t the threat that caused the family to pause. No, they received death threats everyday. Nothing new there. It was the pure rage, desperation, and panic that radiated off Jason that caused them to hesitate. They had never seen him like this. Sure, they had seen him angry, they had even seen him worried. But they had never seen him panicked. Ever. No one, that is, except for Alfred. As he watched the young man yell and threaten his family, his brothers, Alfred was reminded of the one time Jason had displayed that same amount of panic.

It had been three weeks since the boy had been in the hospital. Three weeks since Master Bruce had found him in that ally beaten half to death. Three weeks since he had been in the coma. Alfred had been coming in faithfully for those 24 days like clockwork. He would arrive precisely at nine and leave when visiting hours where over. Bruce would occasionally come for an hour or two and Dick had dropped in once or twice, but most days it was just Alfred. Most days he would just sit in the room and read. Nothing changed for three, long weeks.

It was around 4:00 p.m. on day 24 that the boy woke. The subtle shifting was Alfred’s first indication that he was waking up. The soft groan that followed almost made the old man smile. If the boy was feeling pain, then that was a good sign. It meant he was healing. The boy forced his eyes open and for the first time, Alfred looked into the blue eyes of the newest member of the Wayne family.

The boy blinked a slowly a few time, carefully shifting in the bed to scan his surrounding, muttering something that sounded like ‘Nettie’. Confusion flashed across his face as he surveyed the hospital room before landing on Alfred. For a moment, Alfred let the boy just look at him, giving him a chance to collect himself before speaking. But he never got a chance to.

In a split second, the boy’s eyes went from clouded with confusion to recollection. Alfred watched as the boy’s eyes grew impossibly wide as panic leaped in.

“NETTIE! WHERE’S NETTIE?” the volume of the question was more on tune with a scream then a shout as the boy shot up from his position, fully intending on leaving the bed.

“Sir, you need to calm down. You’re in no condition to be walking.” Alfred stated, rushing forward to prevent the boy from getting up.

“NO! NO! I HAVE TO FIND NETTIE! SHE’S OUT THERE AND SHE WOULDN’T RUN! SHE WOULDN’T RUN AND THEY WERE GONNA HURT HER!”

The shouting caught the attention of the staff. Nurses and one of the doctor’s came running in a panic. They were greeted with the sight of the comma boy wide awake desperately trying to get out of bed, while his temporary guardian was trying to hold him down.

“Kid, listen. You need to calm down. You just woke up from a comma. You’re still healing.” One of the nurses said, rushing to help hold the boy down.

“NO, YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND! I HAVE TO FIND NETTIE! SHE’S OUT THERE ALONE AND I NEED TO FIND HER! I HAVE TO FIND PIXIE! I NEED TO FIND MY SISTER! NOW! LET! ME! GO!” He ordered, the panic giving him enough strength to throw the nurse and Alfred off him and into the wall.

The doctor used that momentary distraction to his full advantage. Moving faster then the boy, the doctor injected a sedative into his body. The thrashing he was doing speed up the reaction as his body started to relax.

“No, please. I have to find her. She needs me. She needs me!” The boy said, his voice cracking as tears made their way down his face. “. . . . I need her.” he whispered the last part before his body relaxed. Forcing him into a state of forgetfulness.

As the medical staff buzzed around the boy, Alfred just looked at him. The boy may be asleep, but he wasn’t forgetting. The whimpers proved that. He wouldn’t be forgetting any time soon.

“Jason, we are not going to let you go out to do god knows what until you tell us what is going on.” Master Bruce’s voice snapped Alfred out of his memory. “And I think a good place to start is how you know that girl.”

“Yeah, its not like you’ve cared about accident victims before.”

“Or anyone for that matter.”

The last statement was from Damian, who had said it in an attempt to snap whatever state of panic his brother was in. Though he may not admit it, he was concerned for his older brother. Panicked was not something Jason ever was, and it honestly scared the youngest. He knew that it would snap him out of panic, but no one was ready for what it snapped Jason into.

Jason’s eyes flashed from panicked blue to almost murderous. If looks could kill, then the family would have been turned to ash. Everyone, including Bruce, fought the urge to step back. Jason never was one to keep his tempter in check, and the family had seen many explosive episode, but none prepared them for what they were seeing. To see Jason go from laughing, to panicked, to looking ready to murder them, in under the course of a few minutes, was terrifying.

“How do I know her? Why do I care?” he hissed, his mouth pulling back into a snarl, eyes flashing dangerously. “She’s my f*cking sister! That’s how I know her!” He yelled, his words echoing off the walls of the manor.

“I thought . . . I thought she was dead for seven years. Seven! Then I see her on the news after almost getting killed by that frecking driver looking like someone’s been beating her! So get the hell out of my way!” he shouted, his voice hitching slightly at the mention of her injuries.

“Jason, think rationally for a moment. It’s late. Even if she still was at the station, they wouldn’t let you in. They would be monitoring everyone who’d go see her. Only her legal guardians could, even then, they would be under scrutiny because of the state she’s in. If you go down there like this, with no form of prof of your claim, they could very well arrest you under suspicion of abuse.” Bruce said, physically putting himself between Jason and the door. He spoke low, logical. It wasn’t quite his Batman voice. No. But it worked better.

For a few, very long seconds, the two men stared at each other, neither breaking contact. Both tense, ready to fight. Jason’s fists shook with pent up energy, his entire body taunt. The silence stretched from seconds to a minute, with no one daring to move.

“ . . . you have a sister?” Dick finally asked, breaking the tense silence with the question everyone had.

“Nettie. My little Nettie.” The confirmation came almost without thinking, Jason’s eyes never leaving Bruce. “She was always so tiny. No matter how much I tried to feed her, she never grew. We were both convinced she had some pixie blood that prevented her from growing. But what she lacked in size, she made up for in heart. Tch, her heart was always too big, ‘specially when I first met her.”

“You look cold.”

The tiny voice startled Jason. He almost thought he had imagined it as it seemed to blend in with the wind. Looking up, he found an incredibly tiny two-year-old girl staring at him, wide blue eyes blinking slowly. The kid’s face was red from the cold as the bitter February wind tore through the streets of Gotham.

“What?” He hadn’t meant to ask that. It just slipped out.

“I said you look cold.” The tiny fairy said, waiting for an answer.

“That’s because I am cold.” Jason growled. He didn’t have the time or the patience to talk with this kid. He was trying to stay warm. He had gotten kicked out of his last place and he hadn’t been able to find a new one to hole up in. He didn’t want to spend time talking with an over curious kid.

A tug on his sleeve brought his eyes back to the girl. She was tugging on his coat sleeves, trying to pull him up. While she obviously couldn’t, Jason was a little impressed at the strength she did seem to have.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his brows scrunching together at the girl’s actions.

“Well, you said that cold so I’m taking you to my house. It’s not very warm, but warmer then out here.” She grunted, still trying to pull Jason to his feet.

“Thanks kid, but I don’t think your parents would be too happy with that.” He explained, gently pulling his hand out of hers. She seemed sweet. And caring.

“Oh, I don’t have parent’s, so they wont mind. An’ I have blankets an’ some food an’ you can stay with me.” She said, a cheer in her tone that caught Jason by surprise. This girl, this two-year-old was on her own and offering him, a total stranger, to stay with her.

“Kid, didn’t anyone tell you not to talk to strangers? And how old are you?”

“I’m five. An’ yeah, I’ve been told not to talk to strangers. But you’re nice. You won’t hurt me.”

“Really, and makes you think that?” Jason asked, momentarily ignoring the question of why a five-year-old looked so small, and focusing on why she thought he was safe. Her answer surprised him.

“Your eyes.”

“My eyes?”

“Yup. You have good eyes. You . . . care even if you don’t show it. You’ve been hurt before, but you still care what happens to other people. And you don’t always follow the rules, but you do what you think is best. You do what you have to do. You’re good.”

That answer shocked Jason. This little girl. This tiny, pixie like five-year-old, was telling him that he was good, that he was worth something. She was too trusting. Too soft. Something tugged at his heart at the thought of someone taking advantage of her.

“Alright you pixie, I’ll come with you. But just for tonight.” The words were out of his mouth before he could even register what he was saying. The smile she sent him seemed to make the air a little warmer, but it fell after a moment.

“I’m not a pixie, though. Pixie’s are pretty, and nice, and magical, and I’m not.”

Seeing how she seemed to shrink into herself, Jason felt that tug again. Smiling, he knelt beside her, gently guiding her chin up to meet his eyes.

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that. You’re tiny, just like one, you have the most uniquely beautiful blue eyes. And you seem pretty magical to me. You where able to tell I was a good guy just by looking at my eyes. And you’re offering me a place to stay, and that’s really nice. So yeah, I think you’re my pixie.”

For the longest time, the girl just stood there looking at Jason, as if trying to see if he was telling the truth. Finally, that same, heart warming smile made its way back on her face.

“I . . . I guess you’re right. But if I’m your pixie, can you be my big brother?”

‘Big brother?’ Those word caused something to tighten in his chest. He didn’t know how to be one. He had no idea how to care for someone younger. He wasn’t exactly the safest person to be around. He was in trouble more often then not. But . . . she didn’t have anyone to look after her. And she was too trusting. She needed someone to look after her. He couldn’t just leave her after everything he just said. The coil in his chest just tightened, agreeing with everything his mind thought of. Glancing at her, he found her looking at him with so much hope shining in those eyes, that he knew there could only be one answer.

“As long as I get your name, pixie-pop.”

“Marinette, but everyone calls me Nettie. What’s your name?”

“. . .Jason.”

The smile that she gave him sealed the deal. He was going to be her big brother. He was going to protect His pixie.

“Well then Nettie, lead the way.”

@mystery-5-5 @captainmac6 @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @mochinek0@sonif50 @zalladane @thebananathatwrites @schrodingers25 @kuroko26 @miraculousbelladonna @souleaterlicestein @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @ijustwannabecanadian @ellerahs @ranger-paladinikoe @xxmadamjinxx @derpingrainbow @sassy-spocko @vixen-uchiha @mjisntme @iggy-of-fans @violentbisexualprophecywriter @valeks-princess @crazylittlemunchkin @redscarlet95 @alexzandria-747 @ayuchan07 @whomthefyck @rhub4rb @constancetruggle @rikku052 @kurogaya913 @shizukiryuu @spicybelladonna @zazzlejazzle @luciferge @mewwitch @emotionalsupportginger @grunklestantheman @my-name-is-michell @northernbluetongue @chez-pezeater @shamefullove @goggles-mcgee @gingerdaile @zebrabaker @tinybrie @bluefiredemon @tbehartoo @god-is-dead-and-so-am-i @shyestofhearts @darkthunder1589 @fridayfirefly @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @yazi-ing @lunar-wolf-warrior @ladylb @vivilakitty @ghostcryptid @casual-darkness @yamadochie @thatrandomfandomgirl @mindfulmagics @myriad-of-passionate-pettiness @violatiger8 @seraphichan @synnesstra @friedchickening @kiara-rose-blackthorn

#maribat #daminette #batfam #mainette #damian wayne #jason todd #jim gordon #big brother jason #tim drake #dick grayson #bruce wayne #ml salt #marinettes class #angst with happy ending #fanfic

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cyberneticfandoms · 4 years

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Devoid of Music

(Credit to Void!Al goes to @rileesrambles)

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Characters: Alastor

Even after death there was always something happening.

There were always sounds, sights, touches, tastes, smells melding together in a range from calm to outright cacophonous. The sound of heels clicking through an empty hall, of a radio crackling to life and weaving its tune into a room. The fiery reds and oranges that made up the backdrop of Hell. The heat that clung to skin and settled somewhere deep in one’s bones, the feel of grabbing, spinning, dancing with another. The bitter bite of a coffee made with someone in mind, the coppery tang of blood fresh from a hunt. The smoky air thick with gunpowder and drugs and every unsavory thing a sinner could ever wish for.

And there was none of that here.

Alastor never imagined he would miss any of it. The places. The sound of their voices. The simple companionship. Why, the very thought of him, the Radio Demon, being so sentimental was ludicrous! No no no, he would have been fine being “double dead”, as Angel so elegantly put it, if it were not for the sheer nothingness around him. The inky blackness of the void left much to be desired, and he was a beacon of red in comparison. The dullness alone might drive him mad.

So, in the beginning, he wandered. He walked until his legs ached and his lungs burned, and then walked further than that because the pain was something different to think about, but that proved to be a fruitless endeavor after a few minutes. Or had it been hours? Days? Time was a rather… fickle thing here. Nevertheless, he needed something else to occupy himself, lest his mind be allowed to drift. A light chuckle escaped at the thought that his eternal torment would be boredom, because truly, that was clever on the higher power’s part. It would seem his second chance had been “life” in Hell and his punishment for dying again was this.

How laughably ironic.

“Oh, how I wish there were another to hear this riveting internal monologue!” Alastor cried, arms thrown out wide. Silence greeted him, and he snapped his fingers with a huff, summoning his microphone from which a laugh track sprung to life. He slid easily into his Radio Host persona. “That’s more like it! Now, how about some music, my dearest listeners? There’s nothing quite like jazz to liven up a room!” Waving his microphone with a flourish, he waited expectantly for the sweet sound of music to fill the dead air. A static screech cut through the silence and his ears twitched back at the feedback, his smile tightening at the corners. That was… to be expected, he supposed.

“That’s enough of that,” he chirped, without a loss of enthusiasm, switching between channels until he could determine with certainty that there was no way to get a signal. At that he simply turned down the horrid shrieking until the static was a dull hum in the background. It was better than the silence.

“Oh, how I abhor the quiet…” The void swallowed the words entirely, leaving no echo to bounce back. He could scream if he wanted and the abyss would take his voice and leave him with nothing. “Well, it’s a good thing I have not stooped so low as to divulge my frustrations to the emptiness, haha!”

Really, the whole situation was hilarious. He, who originally worked with the idea of redemption to watch others fail, would end up failing himself! He was stuck in this damnation for defending a cause he never should have believed in, while fighting for people he never should have cared about! If Lucifer could see him now, Alastor was sure the king of Hell would be laughing.

He hummed to break the ever-present silence. He didn’t have anything better to do, so why not practice the performances he would never be able to dazzle the clientele with? Alastor took all but a moment to burst into song, swinging himself through the black as though he had a proper audience to please. He was able to go on like that for quite some time, though after the 12th rendition of “You’re Never Fully Dressed Without a Smile”, among other classy titles, he found that his trembling body and raw throat left his performances lacking.

“Well,” he sighed, shedding his overcoat and exposing a twitchy black and red tail, “Maybe I shouldn’t have tired myself quite so abruptly!” Dropping into a sitting position, he twisted the metaphorical radio dials within him, letting the static from his microphone warble louder and quieter. “I do have the whole eternity to myself after all!” If the corner of his mouth curled into a sneer at that, he was glad no one else was there to see it. Solitude did have a few perks.

A growl startled Alastor out of his musings. The deer demon’s gaze travelled slowly to his stomach, his eyes as wide as saucers. At least there was one problem he could solve.

“I know a quick meal will perk me right up!” He punctuated the words with a wider smile and a snap of his fingers. He glanced about expectantly, eyes narrowing marginally when… nothing happened.

“How… peculiar.” He snapped again to the same results, the usual warmth of his magic absent from his chest. With a quick shake of his head he dispelled the alarm tickling at the back of his mind and settled himself more comfortably on the ground. “No matter! My powers will return after a short rest, I’m sure.”

Gradually, Alastor’s muscles relaxed along with his smile. If he ignored the fact that he couldn’t summon any of his shadow minions – not that they would be very discernible from the shadows all around him – he could almost forget that something was wrong. Because at the moment, trying to do more than summon his microphone was like pulling from a well of power that wasn’t there. There was a gaping hole inside of him.

Well… he would never admit it if he were incomplete either way. Admitting would be a weakness. And he was not weak.

Alastor realized quickly enough that it was impossible to tell time here. After Lucifer knows how long, his body finally started to display signs of exhaustion, his eyes gaining dark circles, and his feet feeling more like lead with every step; regrettably, even demons needed to sleep. Though the longer he went without light or anything else to keep track of a cycle of some sort, the more he found himself leaning away from the idea. Even though his thoughts were getting increasingly jumbled, he stubbornly refused to succumb to unconsciousness. Thanks to recent events, he doubted his dreams would be very pleasant if he did.

…But a short rest couldn’t hurt. Yes, he needed to be able to think, and he couldn’t think if he walked himself to his double – triple? - death. Alastor’s smile twitched as he lowered himself to the ground to sit, his coat immediately folded and placed neatly beside him.

“It could have been days or weeks, and I wouldn’t know the difference,” he sighed, rolling up his sleeves, frustrated when not even a breeze could be stirred up in this abyss. The lack of stimuli was really beginning to get to him. His entire body itched with pent up energy. There was no one he could touch, could coax into a dance, no furry companion for him to drag into a side hug; there was only him and his microphone. Irritation turned to indifference, making his ears perk up and his tail flick idly back and forth. It was still just him, and no amount of pointing it out would change that fact.

Claws trailed lightly across his arms in a soothing, repetitive motion until he noted – not without a hint of disgust – that he was quite nearly hugging himself. His hands dropped into his lap because the Radio Demon didn’t need comfort.

“No, perish the thought!” He sprung to his feet, ignoring the spots that danced across his vision. “I would never need something as mundane as comfort, ha!” Distractedly, he snatched his overcoat from the floor, clutching the fabric tightly to his chest. “Nonono, I simply need to make my own entertainment…” Legs still trembling, he staggered his way in a random direction, blinking slowly to clear the splotches of black out of his sight. Tremors ran through his claws that burrowed deeper into the red fabric at a more insistent snarl from his stomach.

Smile tensing, eyes widening, Alastor ignored the ever-growing pit in his gut.

“I’ll be fine,” teeth dug into his lower lip. “I can surely keep myself occupied! And when my powers return, I’ll make myself a most wonderful Jambalaya!” Oh, the things he’d do for some Jambalaya…or gumbo…or any meal currently. He was practically drooling over the thought of tearing into some venison. With a shake of his head the thought was dispelled.

He would be fine. He would find a way to eat. He wouldn’t let this abysmal darkness consume him. And he absolutely would not fall asleep.

Always being right, Alastor supposed, had its downsides. For instance, he knew if he let the darkness of sleep claim him that it wouldn’t be restful in the slightest.

When the deer demon jerked awake, terror in his eyes and a scream lodged in his throat, he cursed himself for being right. Sweat glistened on his forehead, plastering clothes to his skin, and he shuddered in revulsion, uncurling from his position on the ground.

Opening his eyes to the same blackness he’d sadly grown familiar with didn’t help at all. And yet, that didn’t matter, he reasoned quickly, struggling to regain control over himself, over his breathing, over his shaking, rebellious body. He was better than this.

Alastor sat up straighter. Even while he couldn’t get the crack of a gunshot, the feeling of choking on his own blood out of his head, he forced his smile wider. Letting everything out in one deep breath, his mind finally obeyed the command to be quiet.

Shoving himself to his feet, he briefly remembered to grab his coat before he could lose one of the few things he had left. It wouldn’t do to leave anything behind! However, even standing proved to be bothersome as his legs buckled under his meager weight, and he could only let out a sharp laugh in response.

”Ha, I haven’t been this unsteady since that sickness in 1912!” The words weren’t punctuated with the usual laugh track, and he decided it wasn’t worth the effort to summon his microphone. The humor was lost regardless when his thoughts drifted to the accompanying hand that would rest on his forehead, the fingers that carded gently through his hair. Her sweet voice humming a comforting tune all the while he’d been coughing his lungs out and staring back with a feverish gaze. His mother had been a doll and deserved what she got in going to heaven. Alastor brushed a finger absentmindedly against the wetness trailing down his cheek and tried not to think too hard about what it entailed.

“Now now, none of that,” he chided himself, continuing his endless march after determining that his smile was still stubbornly in place. “I haven’t gotten choked up over my dear mother in decades; why would I start now?”

A sudden stabbing pain in his gut doubled him over in reply. Of course! Hunger always did make him more receptive to emotions, he recalled, straightening himself up once more. A hand settled over his stomach in an effort to quiet the incessant growling.

Alastor was no fool. He knew the gaping hole where his powers should be was there as a result of him being killed by-

No. The deer demon’s eyes narrowed marginally, as he paused mid-stride because he’d rather not think of his proclaimed killer and the power he’d stolen, thank you very much.

Regardless of the reason for his abilities being rendered null and void, he knew that meant he wouldn’t be summoning more than his microphone – a deeply fixed extension of himself. That meant no props, no books, no music, no entertainment.

No food.

Smile widening and fingers curling into his aching stomach Alastor decided that his punishment was a fitting one. Eternal starvation! He’d been stuck with it in Hell and he’d be stuck with it in here! And yet there he could simply whip up a meal or cannibalize some hapless demon if he were feeling desperate. Here, on the other hand… he couldn’t summon so much as a paperclip.

A low chuckle escaped him. This really was the worst punishment. If he would have been thinking of himself, and only himself, like he’d done for the past 80 years, then maybe he’d be dining on a steak of rare venison with liquor on the side for his troubles instead of wasting away in his own personal pocket of the void.

“No,” he sighed, letting his eyes droop into a half-lidded state, “I was aware of the repercussions of my actions as soon as I committed to them. I dare say that I was right in my assessment of all loathsome sinners…” He smoothed his coat over his arm, resuming his unsteady gait into the darkness and summoning his microphone to lean on. “There really is no redemption for us.” His smile softened in the slightest. “I wonder how heartbroken Charlie will be. After all, her little project is still based on the willingness of others like me to get better, and well,” he let out a bitter laugh, “I’m here, aren’t I?” Yes, Alastor would be just fine. He could handle himself.

Even as his smile lost its toothy enthusiasm and slipped into something smaller, something more genuine and reminiscent of a different time, he wouldn’t admit to himself that he felt at least an ounce of sadness for their dearest Charlotte Magne.

“The poor doll…” his lidded eyes trailed lower, fixating on the never-ending blackness at his feet. “She should have known better than to care about someone like me.” And if he had grown to care about her and her friends as well… then maybe he was a fool right up until the end.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #void!alastor #implied character death #anxiety #starvation #remorse #my writing #this took a piece of my SOUL #Alastor is not having a nice time #The epilogue is going to be even worse #:)

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fangirlxwritesx67 · 4 years

Text

Up The Walls (Sam x Reader)

A/N: The usual. 18+. Sex. smut, first time, condoms, consent, fingering, fucking. Actually, there’s an extra lot of consent in this one.

Sometimes, being a hunter was fantastic. Times when a plan executed perfectly, when the whole team came together to kick ass and save the day. Sometimes, being a hunter was terrifying. Times when you didn't win the battle, when it seemed like evil triumphed, when people you cared about got hurt or killed. Sometimes, though, being a hunter was just frustrating. Today was one of those times- in between battles, prepping for the next one. Sure, some people were out on minor missions. And sure, the research and work that everyone was putting in now would help secure a win in the future. But you hated being cooped up, feeling useless, knowing that somewhere out there, evil was on the loose. After a long day in the library poring over ancient texts, you were ready to climb up the walls.

Finally you slammed your book closed and sighed. Sam lifted his face from his laptop screen and pushed back his hair. "Hey hon," he asked with a curious look, "What's going on?" "I just can't with this anymore!" you exclaimed, shoving back your chair. "Hey, its okay," piped up Dean, "You know you can-" "I'm going to my room!" You announced as you stormed off.

"Wait-" with a few long strides, Sam caught up to you in the hall. He grabbed your arm and turned you back toward him. "Talk to me." All of your pent-up emotion tumbled out in a rush of words. "I just can't do this anymore. I hate sitting around. I'm so bored and frustrated and there's nothing in this stupid bunker to do!" Sam raised his eyebrows, "Oh, I could think of a few things to do." A grin spread across his face, making dimples pop in his cheeks. He cupped your chin in one hand, turning your face upwards towards his. His long chestnut hair brushed your cheeks as he bent down to you, and you shivered. He took your sigh for the consent that it was, and lowered his lips to yours.

Your first kiss with Sam Winchester was electric. His mouth was amazing, somehow lush and firm at the same time. You were both so, so hungry for one another. He ran his hands eagerly over the curves of your body. Sam reached down and cupped your ass thru your jeans. You threw your arms around his neck and wrapped one leg around his. Next thing you knew, he had picked you up and pressed you against the wall. You folded your legs around his waist. Even held in his arms, you had to tilt your face up to reach his lips. He was also fully erect- you could feel it even through all of one another's clothes- and you pressed your hips against him. He moaned, softly, into your mouth. Suddenly you pulled away, "No, Sam-" "Wait, don't you want this?" he looked concerned, and gently lowered your feet to the floor. "I do! Oh Sam, how I want this. Just not in the hall where anyone could see us." "Your room then?" He grabbed your hand and you had to practically run to keep up with him.

Once you were safely inside with the door shut, you grabbed for him again. As you kissed passionately, you both pulled off your shirts, trying to undress without losing contact with one another. When you were down to your bra and panties, Sam grabbed you with one strong arm and pulled you against his chest. Your hands slid down over his trim waist to grasp his round ass. With the other hand, he undid your bra and your breasts tumbled free. He cupped them in both hands, licking and sucking hungrily until your nipples were hard. You gasped and ground your hips against him. He was hard, so hard He looked down at you and grinned, his hazel eyes blazing. "Still bored?" "No," you gasped, "Sam, condoms and lube are in my nightstand." "Good," he let you go for just a moment, "You're going to need it." He pushed you gently back onto the bed and grabbed the things you had mentioned. Keeping his boxers on, he pulled your panties off and spread lube over his hand. He reached between your legs where you were already so wet, and just placed his palm against you. You nodded, and that was all the encouragement he needed. He stroked you with his thumb and then quickly slipped one finger inside of you. You gasped and ground down on him. Soon another finger joined the first one, and then a third, as he continued to stroke you inside and out. It felt so good, but it wasn't all you wanted. "Sam, yes, " you gasped, "I'm ready. I'm ready for you." Sam pulled out his hand, tossed away his boxers, and slid on the condom. You saw that you were not ready, that his three big fingers didn't even begin to approach the length and thickness of him. You grabbed the lube and made sure he was covered in it. Then he straddled you on all fours, and you tipped your hips up towards him eagerly. He lifted one hand to hold your face, and brushed away your tangled dark hair. Then he cupped your cheek. "Look at me," he commanded. You obeyed, and locked your gaze on his. As Sam slid slowly into you, a kaleidoscope of feelings played across your features- pleasure, pain, amazement, and desire- so, so much desire. Lust and gentleness battled for control of his facial expressions. When he was buried deep inside you, he whispered, "Is this okay?" Not trusting yourself to speak, you nodded.

Sam began to thrust into you with slow and steady motions. Your hips rocked underneath him, trying to embrace the incredible pressure of him inside you. Soon his rhythm quickened, along with his breath. You couldn't stand to look at his beautiful face anymore, at his gaze fixed on you, so you closed your eyes. You rode wave after sensation, dissolving into the experience of his body on yours. You heard moaning, and realized it was you, but you didn't care. All you wanted was to find your release, but instead it kept building- Sam kept pushing you farther and farther- every muscle in your body was clenched- and then you were coming, harder than you ever had before. You slammed your hips down and screamed as your orgasm tore thru you like a wave of fire. Your whole body quaked with the energy. You heard Sam moan- he had been waiting for you- and then he throbbed, deep inside you, as he came. After a long moment, he pulled out of you, and you suddenly felt like you had lost something. He rolled over on the bed next to you. Propping himself on one elbow, he looked at you, still sweaty and panting. You felt too raw to meet his gaze, so you let your eyes wander over his body. He was scarred and marked from all of his battles, but he was also perfectly formed and in incredible shape. When you finally raised your eyes to his, you saw that he was staring at you too. A satisfied smirk flitted across his lips. "Sam Winchester," you breathed raggedly, "Fuck me against the wall." He raised his eyebrows. "Was that a response or a request?" "Just shut up and do it!" Sam grinned, and for a moment, you saw his dimples again. He stood up and grabbed another condom. You stood up but your knees were still shaky, and you stumbled. He caught you, and pulled you up against him. Taking your face in both of his big hands, he kissed you, and you kissed him back hungrily. In no time at all, he was holding you just the way he had in the hall- only this time, there was nothing between you. His chest was slick with sweat, his arms strong as they cradled you. You slipped your arms around his neck and tangled your fingers in his long hair. He pulled you close and kissed you. His skin was so warm and his lips were so soft. Slowly, he pinned you back against the wall and then pressed himself into you again. You were tender, so tender, and you shuddered. With your hips spread like this, he could go even deeper inside you, and you were quickly moaning again. Sam was holding you up and fucking you at the same time- how was he doing that?- and you hooked your ankles behind his back. That changed your angle, somehow, and Sam suddenly hit your g-spot. You dug your fingernails into his arms as he pounded into you. Your orgasm hit you like an avalanche, tumbling you under its sudden weight. You threw your head back and groaned as you came, hard and fast. Sam felt you sink down onto him, and he arced his back and let himself go. When he could move again, Sam laid you back on the bed, still held tightly in his arms. "Let me know next time you're bored and frustrated." He teased you with a kiss, "I'll be happy to push you up the walls."

#up the walls #sam x reader #sam winchester #fangirlxwritesx67

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amenomiko · 5 years

Text

Before You Know it..

Pairing: IkeSen Ieyasu x MC

Rated: M (Smut)

Type: One Shot

❤❤❤🌸❤❤❤🌸❤❤❤

-----------------------------------

....At first,

It was only to release each other's pent up feelings. It was only a mutual agreement of one night stand and that's that.

She had been rejected. By the loyal right hand man of Oda Nobunaga. Forcing herself to adapt to new surroundings of the past stressed her mentally, and he was the one to make her feel like it's home, even though the way they begin their greetings was bad. He treated her, spoiled her, until she fell in love so deep than the love he has for her.

Before she could bring herself to confess, he smiled wryly, saying that she was only like a little sister to him. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Ieyasu had found her by the lake, not to far from Azuchi, where he coincidentally just got back from plucking some herbs within the mountain areas. At first, he refuses to pry, but since she is the so called "Lucky Charm" to Nobunaga, he had to get himself involved, like it or not. He can see her tears brimming endlessly but before he could approach her, she rose from where she sat and loses her balance.

The herbs from his arms fell in instant as he run after her, holding her tight in his arms. He asked angrily if there is no better place to kill herself, yet, she responded by crying into his chest. He was taken aback indeed. Sighing, not only he HAVE to get himself to approach her and now she is crying..? Oh for the love of-

Suddenly she made a request.

It froze him right away.

"Please make me forget..! I beg of you..!"

His face twisted the moment he blend it all in his tired brain. She even BEG him, to woo her, to make her FORGET about the REJECTION. "Don't mess with me..! Aren't you being ridiculous and selfi- mmmf..!!" She had pushed him first, kissing him deeply, and they fell onto the grass because this new situation right here is too much until his knees gives in. He tried to push her, not to hurt her at the same time even though his heart is fuming with anger. But somehow her tears stopped him, even his hands that were tugging on the back of her kimono gets weaken. Especially when her tongue dances with his; energy slowly leave him when she moaned into the kiss.

Their lips break apart, and his heart give a slight "Thump!" as his eyes glances at their single slick of mixed saliva the moment she pulled away. "Mmm-.." MC whimpered to his bulging that brush against her entrance, where Ieyasu himself couldn't fathom how he can be aroused just from a kiss. He sigh, and he turn her body to be at his bottom. He leans and pauses very close to her flushed lips, mumbling, "Don't regret after this. I will be the one who will take your virginity, you got that..?"

She didn't say anything, only sliding her hands into his upper haori to pull him into another kiss. "Please.." She cried again. "...Tch." He takes her leg to rest it over his shoulder, grunting, "....Just this once."

-------------------------------------------

From one it becomes twice. From twice to thrice, and from thrice to..

He had lose count. After that first day they shared an intimate moments together, they act as if nothing had happened. MC only said "Thank you" and "I'm sorry" to him, in which he didn't reply. But then, before he knows it, she had come again for the second time, and the third. No conversations, and only a 'look' they've given to each other to proceed with their usual rendesvous session. A glance, too, is more than enough. Or just a simple brush to his hand, he gets the message.

Still, there are time when they didn't do it, they only exchange a few secret, deep kisses, until MC feels weak in her knees. Ieyasu would always catch her, and they will continue their kiss again. And again. And again. They even did it before attending war council, earning a tease from Masamune of why both of their lips looks as if it is swollen.

There's also one time of where Ieyasu wonder why it never stop. Realization hits him. But all he knows is that, he will hate it whenever Hideyoshi pats her head lovingly, and she smiled sadly in return. He didn't know why he was angry; there's a slight heavy feeling in his chest. "..MC." He find his throat growling when he utter her name. "Come with me. You need an ointment to your swollen legs."

Before MC and the "Brotherly" Hideyoshi could ask, he already pulled her away from Hideyoshi, and despite MC winced and say that her wrist is painful, he keep on pulling her to push her into his room, leaving the door slightly open on purpose and grip on her wrist when she tried to escape, and kissed her deeply.

"Mmm..!" She gasped for air, only to be kissed again. "Ieyasu..! Why- mmm..!" He undressed her harshly, licking and biting on her neck and shoulder as he do so. "Nnnh..! Ieyasu-..! A-Aaahh..!!" She writhe desperately to get away from him as he suddenly spread her legs apart to lick her warmth. Deeper and deeper, licking into her wet entrance and she only could tug on his hair roughly from the pleasure. "Mmmh..! Ieyasu..! Not there..! Ah..! I'm cumming-..!!"

Ieyasu licked and swallow all her cum, holding her legs into place when she quiver from ecstacy. He keep on licking her again, and again, sucking on the side of her thigh, biting on it while rubbing his dick on her clit. MC licked her lips, she can feel her clit throbbing with need to his dick. "Ieyasu..! P-please..! I-..! I want you inside me..!" She blushed when he look at her, smiling into her bitten thigh. She moaned again when he tease her entrance with his dick head.

"It seems this is a habit of ours, hm?"

Her eyes widened to his words, but she lowered her eyes to meet his. "...Do you hate doing it..?" She tightened her hold on the tatami beneath her. "I know it was selfish of me but.. When I realized it I.. I think I.." Tears started to form in the corner of her eyes. "I never regret it at all. To do it with you. Instead I.. I feel so safe when I'm with you, Ieyasu."

He didn't respond. He only stare at her.

"D-do you-...no, you can hate me." She cupped her face. "You can hate me because I'm the one who started it all, I'm-""Be quiet."

"Eh- a-AHHHHHH!!!"

He entered her fully. Without giving her time to adjust, he move to thrust in and out of her. "Then don't hate me for doing this to you. Before I know it, it has become an addiction for me to pleasure myself roughly on you like this." She shakes her head. "It's alright.. You can use my body as much as you want.. I deserve thi-""Who said it's about using your body? Just calm down already."

"Hya..!"

He pulled her up into a sitting position as he thrusts more and more into her. "I-Ieyasu..? Mmmh-..!" He kissed her again, twirling his tongue with hers, and she melted into it. He pulled away, continuing, "You didn't even give me time to reply, and you come into conclusion on your own." Her hold around him getting tighter as his movements getting frantic. "Nnnnn!! Ieyasu..! I'm coming.. Ah- Mmmmnnnnhhh!!!" He buried himself deep into her, riding throughout the release. "Nnnnh..! So warm..!" Fluid after fluid pumped into her, she just loved the way Ieyasu cumming inside her everytime they have sex.

She rest her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes into full bliss when Ieyasu kissed her neck. "Ieyasu..?""What is it?"

"Is it alright for me to hear what you wanted to say..?"

"....There's nothing much I could say. Isn't it enough when we have shared our secret?"

Kisses after kisses. Then sex. And every sex is always full of bliss and never a rough and desperate ones. No matter how they didn't talk, Ieyasu would always prepare her medicine to ease the soreness within her.

"But still.. I just wanted to say that I.."

"I love you too. Happy?"

She giggled. For the very first time she giggled happily like that. She stopped as Ieyasu pushed her gently to rest his forehead on hers, kissing her softly on the lips. They slowly lay down onto the futon as Ieyasu move again inside her for slow sex. Sharing a kiss with each other desperately as they go for another round of sex, more and more to indulge with one another.

---------------------------------

Hideyoshi has been listening to the whole moments they share their love with each other. He is concerned with MC's condition, and so he followed them right after Ieyasu and MC left the hall.

He can feel his own bulge rising whenever MC moaned in Ieyasu's touch, disappointed with himself for having those kind of feelings towards her; late in realizing so. He had secretly pump himself and cum when MC screamed from pleasure and to add more into that disappointment..

MC had grinned towards him, smiling as their eyes come into contact with each other. She purposely moan more when Ieyasu came inside of her, licking her lips to get Hideyoshi's attention. He was flabbergasted to the look she gave him, and now he cursed when he give himself another self pleasure, imagining that moan and look from her in his mind.

He panted, his hand slowing down when his cum coated all over his hand. Resting his forehead onto the table in front of him, he cursed again,

"Damn it..."

-----------------------------

That's what you get for being too "brotherly" hewhew 👀.

No worries, MC is not bad. She's just want to give lesson of lifetime to him. BAHAHAHAHA 💕

#ikemen sengoku #ikemen sengoku imagine #ikemen ieyasu #ikemen sengoku hideyoshi

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once-upon-a-ouat · 4 years

Text

“The Sound of the Sea Can Keep You from Drowning”

Summary: Emma's had one of the worst days in her career as a detective and the biggest problem is that she can't even get back home to her son. She is stuck in the same room with Killian who has been nothing but understanding and caring–not just that night but all the time–and it annoys her so much that she can't figure out why he's doing all of that for her since she's sure he's not driven by desire for personal gain. Bedsharing.

This was always meant to be a birthday present for @theonceoverthinker but I am so late because I had some disagreements with the muse about this fic. It's just my second time writing Captain Swan so I hope you'll like it.

Read on FFN or AO3

A simple motion was usually enough for Emma to get free of her jacket but the red leather was clinging adamantly to her that night and refused to yield to her manipulations, making her huff in tact with yet another useless tug. It felt like she was stuffed in a body tight cage and that had only so much to do with the jacket and much more with the fact that she was actually stuck in a situation that did not at all suit her tastes.

She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, trying to calm down enough to hunt down the patience she needed to get rid of her jacket. It would surrender and let go of her if she could try to peel it off slowly and gently but then she’d be left with nothing to help her with all the pent-up frustration bubbling inside her and she needed to get rid of that just as badly. Perhaps even more if she wanted to be able to fall asleep and not have anything else go wrong that day. Though, it would take effort for the few minutes left of the day to make it even worse than it already was.

“Feeling tense, are we, love?” Killian asked behind her back, the question playful but still gentle with the care laced in it that she hadn’t asked him for. She could take care of herself and her son and didn’t need anyone else to do it. “Should I get out while you change?” Killian asked in that same tone that made it impossible to ignore the fact that his attempt at being a gentleman was genuine.

It only annoyed her more, for it would be easier to be angry with him if he were pretending. And she needed to be angry with something so that the feeling wouldn’t stay inside her and keep clogging up her system. She’d gathered enough negativity for a whole year that day and she didn’t need to keep it. She’d sworn not to take work home with her so that it wouldn’t bother Henry but, of course, she hadn’t even been able to make it home, the damn case more complicated than they’d thought and leaving them in the middle of nowhere when they should have been home hours ago instead of engaging in a wild goose chase of evidence that seemed to mock them with its elusiveness. She’d gladly lock away Regina Mills once she managed to catch her simply for keeping her away from her son if nothing else.

Emma turned around to speak or snap–whatever came out, really–at Killian but was given a sharp pause when she saw him laying blankets on the ground that she hadn’t even heard him fetch from the closet. Not that she could pay much attention to anything besides the mess in her own head.

“What are you doing?” she asked, the clear protest in her tone startling even to her with how acute it was but she couldn’t comprehend what she was seeing.

“There’s only one bed,” Killian said, and of course there was. Of course there was only one room in the one motel they’d managed to find when he’d convinced her it was far too late in the night to drive all the way back to New York and of course there was only one double bed. But the way he said the words as if they explained everything, as if his actions were proportional to the circumstances, didn’t sit right with her. He really intended to sleep on the floor and she only felt more pressure enter her system at the conflicting feelings he’d planted in her.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she decided to acknowledge the annoyance and let it out to free herself from it and because that was safer than falling into the appreciation she couldn't help but feel at his consideration. Especially when she knew there was nothing fake in it, no hidden motive for personal gain. Just the genuine attempt to help her feel at least somewhat comfortable with the whole situation. “We’re both adults,” she said, keeping her tone as calm as she could manage as she tried not to work against herself on that one and give proof of the opposite.

It wasn’t worry that Killian would get the wrong idea about it that had her doing her best to keep her heart rate from elevating. She wouldn't have needed him to be willing to sleep on the floor to know she could trust him enough to sleep in the same bed with him. It was exactly the knowledge that she couldn't remember when was the last time she’d trusted someone to let them get so close that had enough adrenaline rushing through her to have her running out and keep working until she could catch their criminal and go home to Henry and Mary Margaret and David.

“Are you inviting me in your bed, Swan?” Killian asked, a smug smile on his face that made her want to hit it off as it did nothing to overshadow the care in his eyes that had been there ever since they’d been partnered together.

He’d had her back, risking his life for her, and she’d been grateful that he’d protected Henry from losing the only parent he had left even when she’d wanted to scream at him for exposing her to potentially having to carry his death on her conscience. She’d even done it a couple of times but she’d stopped wasting her time and efforts after he’d given her a look as calm as she would’ve never managed after he’d almost gotten his heart pierced by a harpoon and had told her he was a survivor but he wouldn’t regret giving his life for her and for her son to not be left an orphan. All her strength had poured out in the tears she’d hoped he understood were all his fault and she’d decided to spare herself the exhaustion of trying to talk some sense into him when he’d obviously gone insane. Who talked like that?

Emma rolled her eyes. “Just get in before I change my mind,” she said, returning her attention to getting rid of her jacket only to notice her hands were now trembling.

She almost groaned in despair and considered the option of just going to bed with it. It could be what she needed, the one normal thing in the situation to keep her grounded, but she shrugged the thought off as quickly as she wished she could do with the jacket. It would just feel stuffy and get her to sweat underneath the covers, crushing what little hope she had of falling asleep with all that restless energy still inside her.

Scraping what little patience had remained on the walls of her mind, she managed to unpack herself at last with careful and meticulous movements that left her so tired she straight up collapsed in bed feeling the pressure building in her eyes and pushing her to cry with the awareness she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep that every passing second kept stuffing in her mind.

“Good night, Swan,” Killian said when she managed to gather enough energy to pull the covers over herself without falling apart in the process. His voice was so soft compared to the sharpness filling her that she wished to push him out of bed to stop the temptation of finding a way to get some of that for herself. She wouldn't find any of it inside her, even the thoughts of Henry only making the restlessness inside her more acute rather than helping, and she wouldn’t let herself ask him to help her soothe what was supposed to stay quiet in her head.

She didn’t answer, hoping he’d decide she’d fallen asleep as that wouldn’t be far-fetched after the killer day they’d had even when she knew he wouldn’t fall for it. He was extremely observant and would be able to tell her mind was still racing by the reflection of that exertion in her breathing. He had the same superpower of detecting lies as her when it came to her, as if he was stealing it from her to use against her, and she could only hope he’d mind his business and fall far away from her in sleep. She’d made sure to turn her back on him to make it easier for him to ignore her and not feel the need to pull the gentleman act.

She got her wish in the fashion of vicious mockery from the universe, of course, as Killian didn’t try to talk to her and she was left to drown in her thoughts instead. She couldn’t stop them as they kept flowing, a string of pain stitched together when her memories bled into each other.

The foster homes, the hunger, that cutting starvation for affection that refused to die no matter how many walls you built around it to trap it and make it give up at last, Neal smiling, him stealing a cheap keyring with a swan that she still wore as a necklace because it meant so much, the pain in her hands after she’d made herself bleed by hitting a wall when all she’d wanted had been to hit his father for getting him killed with his illegal business, the pain in her heart when she’d found out she was pregnant with his child that she could never raise on her own because what did she know about being a mother? What did she know of love now that she’d just lost what little of it she’d ever had? And then more of that.

She could still remember the pain tearing through her whole being when she’d thought of giving Henry up for adoption. It had turned even more vicious when she’d changed her mind–or rather, had it changed by Mary Margaret who’d been there for her ever since she’d gotten herself to the hospital to have her hands bandaged after she’d done her best to fuck them up like the hurt and anger had been doing to her heart–as the doubts had started eating at her and her own memories had tried to leap at her baby to suffocate it in the pain of missing a parent. She’d had the hardest time believing she could be enough to fill for Henry that emptiness she’d carried inside her her whole life because she’d never had parents, no one had ever wanted her. But she’d wanted him. She wanted him so much, wanted to take care of him and give him all the love he somehow managed to create in her heart, wanted to give him the love she would’ve given his father and that Neal would’ve given him. It was the best way to honor his memory.

Henry had been the one good thing in her life, the one that had taught her to take care of someone else other than herself and to open up her heart. She’d had to bring down the walls around her heart for him, to let him in, to love him, and she’d done it. And for once it hadn’t brought pain because Henry was just magic like that. He was her miracle and she wouldn’t ask for more. She didn’t need more, didn’t need anyone else.

She turned around, angry at the tears trying to enter her eyes and determined to leave them behind.

“Can’t sleep, love?” Killian’s voice startled her before his face being so close to hers that she could see his eyes even in the darkness of the room could.

“Why are you awake?” she hissed, keeping her voice down when there was no need as anything she could’ve disturbed was already up and running, and kicking, too, to remind it was there, in front of her, and she had nowhere to go even if she jumped out of bed and back into the pickup David had lent them as they were trying to stay unnoticeable and a police cruiser definitely stood out.

“I could ask you the same question,” Killian said, his voice not carrying any traces of offense and it made her want to scream at him once again for how calm he always remained even when she was pushing against him. And she couldn’t even accuse him of pretending because he was still there after she’d done much more to drive him away than any of the foster families that had taken her in had needed to kick her out again. He was still there, sticking around, even when she’d made it clear that she wasn’t looking for a relationship, much less for a fling, and with a colleague no less, and she couldn’t understand his motive. What was keeping him at her side when no one else had ever wanted to stay and the one person who had had been taken away?

“I’m thinking about Henry,” she said, not trying to lie to him because it would have no effect anyway. He would just keep up the caring attitude until she relented and told him what was truly bothering her and she just had no more energy left for anything.

“He’s fine,” Killian said, his reassurance effective when she knew that if it’d been someone else, she would’ve been offended for having her concerns brushed away. But Killian wasn’t like that. He’d always listened when she was worrying about her son and had given some surprisingly good advice despite having no experience in parenting except for a pickpocketing, homeless teenager daughter that he’d practically adopted and was helping make her life at least somewhat normal. It was heartwarming. His concern for both kids was. So she didn’t find a reason to doubt his words. “I’m sure Mary Margaret and David are taking good care of him.” Even less to argue with there.

She’d become fast friends with Mary Margaret and her and her husband had helped her immensely throughout the years. She wasn’t certain she would’ve ever been able to do it without them, without the endless help they provided with Henry and not only. They both had been there for her, listening to her concerns like she wasn’t used to anyone doing, offering comfort and a shoulder to cry on, and a hand when she was in need, and that meant so much because she’d always been. They were the friends she hadn’t dared hope for.

Killian startled her out of her thoughts again when he threw the blankets aside and got up. She wanted to ask what he was doing but the question refused to get out so she had to resign to the anticipation settling inside her and trying to shake her even more than she already was while he rummaged through the bag with documentation on the case he’d brought along.

It seemed to take forever even when she knew it wasn’t. She was used to her mind pulling time apart and creating eternities for her to suffer through while her life remained suspended in its cocoon of pain and she’d learned to recognize when it did so, could almost calculate the ratio between reality and the other reality in her head. She’d learned at least that in twenty-eight years of it happening almost constantly with the happy moments being the only ones that were quick to slip through her fingers leaving her nails sinking in her own skin when she tried to hold the memories in the palms of her hands because her heart was fragile and she was afraid to let them touch it, not to mention that she didn’t know if it would be a good enough home for them.

“I always carry this with me,” Killian sat back down on the bed and opened his palm to reveal a seashell. “When I can’t sleep, the sound of the waves helps me calm down,” he said, his voice never wavering like hers did when she had to share something personal, and neither did his devotion to her as became clear when realization hit her.

He hadn’t gotten up to get his shell so his sleeplessness had nothing to do with inability to dive into rest and everything to do with him staying awake for her, to make sure she was okay. It was too much to put that knowledge in her head and it started trying to leak out of her eyes once again, and she didn’t know how much longer she could hold it back.

“My mother’s love is tangled into the sea for me, the shanties she’d sing to me having the rhythm of the ocean and the way she’d rock my hammock–yeah, I did sleep in a hammock, what else to want from a little pirate at heart–made it feel like a ship carried gently by the waves,” Killian said, his gaze on her as if he wasn’t afraid of letting her see into his soul and the life that was kept there, as if that was exactly his goal, and she couldn’t understand that kind of bravery when she knew he’d been abandoned too, by his father, and had lost his brother. His openness made no sense. “It helps soothe me,” he said and she could see how that would be the case even if she’d never had a parent’s affection. It sounded beyond lovely and she wanted to believe that she’d managed to give that to Henry at least.

“Do you have a lot of nightmares?” she found herself asking, trying to comprehend the kind of person that he was and how he could share so freely with her, how he could trust her when she knew his life hadn’t been easy either. Losing his hand couldn’t have been anything short of a tragedy, and the woman he’d loved, too.

He’d shared that with her when he’d found her staring at her swan keyring and had gotten her to share her own pain which she tried to hate him for to this day but it always just turned into gratitude instead, for he’d taken a load off her shoulders. Especially when he’d supported her decision not to let Neal’s father anywhere near Henry no matter how he tried to frighten her into allowing him in his grandson’s life since she was afraid her son would suffer his father’s fate. She’d hoped Neal would understand, wherever he was, and for some reason Killian’s reassurance that he would had helped put her concerns to rest like she could never hope to do for him.

“Only one,” Killian answered, his voice empty this time like she’d never heard it before.

Oh.

Emma moved to take the shell from him, feeling sheepish as she did so but it only lasted until it was in her hand. The effect was instantaneous with everything the shell meant to her when she knew he’d trusted her to share the story of his lucky charm with her and had given up his own means to repel the nastiness of the past to help her. She wasn’t used to someone else sacrificing their own comfort for her except for Mary Margaret and David, who she’d come to think of as the exception, and it definitely struck a nerve. That was not such a rare occurrence but this time it was different. Her awareness of her vulnerability in the situation that had prompted him to do so wasn’t so acute and threatening when she knew she wasn’t alone in it. He was there with her.

“Thanks,” Emma said as she looked into his eyes before focusing on the shell as she brought it to her ear. The sound of the sea entered her mind to wash away what had been suffocating her before and she soon drifted off to sleep, carried by the waves.

#once upon a time #ouat #emma swan #killian jones #captain swan #swan believer #henry mills #swanfire #neal cassidy #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my wriitng #operation end

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hot-boy-jimin · 5 years

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Bullet Wound | Stranger Things 2|

Seven-

Billy and Steve were now sitting on the couch looking at the girl who stood before them. Steve knew what was going on but, Billy, he had no idea.

"Here is what's going to happen. You two are going to stop your useless fighting and help us make sure my sister doesn't die in that God forsaken lab, and if she does I will put a bullet in both of your skulls." The boys both felt fear sliver through their body.

"Do I make myself clear?" She asked looking between them.

They nodded their heads not wanting to get her even more anger than she already was.

"Good, now lets go." She turned around and went to Billy's car with the two boys following close behind.

Max was in the drivers seat which caused Billy to clench his jaw and Steve to do a double take.

Before they could protest Seven gave them a cold glare that almost had them shivering in fear.

The drive was quiet aside from Lucas giving Max directions. Billy felt like his head would explode with the amount of questions that swarmed through it.

He took a glance at Rose and saw that she was already looking at him. He felt her hand in his and he was immediately brought to another place. It was her memories, she was showing him everything she could remember and everything that transpired this night.

His eyes were wide and they started watering, each memory was filled with pain and screaming, so much screaming. Each scream coming from the girl beside him.

He saw what they did to her, the experiments, the conditioning and he got a glimpse of what they made her do. The last few memories were from today when they kissed to when she comforted him and when she vanished and ended up at the Byers' household.

He looked at her and saw that blood was trickling from her nose and tears were welling in her eyes. She wiped her nose and turned her head forward no longer looking at him.

He felt his fave softened and his heart fill with sorrow as he realized that she had went through hell and she was still willing to do whatever it took to protect her sister.

He turned his head and looked away from her but he reached down and grasped her hand in his, holding it for the remainder of the ride.

"Nope. We're not going down there." Steve said shaking his head.

"Steve I know you're upset but a party member is in need of assistance, and it is our duty to provide that assistance. Now you promised Nance that you would keep is safe." Dustin thrusted a bag with the bat with nails, a pair of googles and a bandana into Steve's chest. "So keep us safe."

Steve grabbed the bag with a sigh of defeat. Seven turned to Billy to make sure he was properly protected. She tightened his googles to make sure they didn't fall off.

Billy's mind was in scrambles, seven had shown him what they were getting into and he was afraid but he had no choice but to help. He looked at seven as she secured the googles on his face, she was gentle and it was something that he hadn't felt in a long time and he could get used to igo.

They were walking through the tunnels when she heard eleven again.

"Sev! I can't do this alone."

"I have to go." Seven said loud enough for the others to here.

"What!" Mike said in disbelief.

"It's eleven."

She was no longer in the upside down, she had teleported to the dreaded lab that she was born in.

"What the hell! Where'd she go?!" Billy's voice was frantic.

"Can you relax?!" Dustin shouted at the older boy but he regretted it when Billy threw him a cold glare.

"Eleven. She went to eleven." Mike said not turning around as he and the rest of the group continued walking.

Seven was now in a room in Hawkins lab. She looked around and saw a dead body that had been mauled by the demegorgan.

Seven looked toward the door when she heard a loud screech. She looked back to the body and saw that the person had a machine gun. She grabbed and made her way out of the room.

It was like second nature almost, even though she couldn't remember all of her training, her body did and she skilfully checked every corner she turned.

She felt a throbbing in her head and she closed her eyes and saw eleven. The basement.

Using her powers, she teleported herself to the gate.

She raised her gun to Hopper the same time he turned around and did it to her.

She lowered the gun and rested on the floor and Hopper lowered his.

"This way." They made their way to eleven who was standing on the contraption that would lower them to the gate.

She felt them going down and grabbed her sister's hand and let out a sigh. This was going to be the end.

Her and eleven stuck their hands out towards the gate and the shadow monster simultaneously and they started to close the gate.

That's when she felt it, the monster was fighting them back and a scream tore through their throats as they rose from the air with blood trickling down their noses and ears.

Her chest was burning and her head was throbbing but all of the pent up emotions fueled her power.

Eleven's energy was depleting and when she fell back into Hopper's chest the monster started to break through the closing gate.

Seven let out a scream that caused Hopper to wince, but she was not standing down. All at once the memories came crashing through her mind, the killings, all the people that had died by her hands, she thought of the way her and her sister were treated in the lab and then she thought of Billy, the boy who treated her with kindness, but didn't have the same from anyone.

Those horrendous memories fueled her to push harder and her body rose higher along with her screams and then just like that, the gate was closed.

She fell forward and Eleven's scream was what she heard as she kept falling. With her last bit of energy she thought of Billy and then it went dark.

_________

1077 words......

Hope you enjoyed....

Unedited.......

#billy hargrove #stranger things #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove x reader #dustin stranger things #eleven #lucas sinclair #stranger things 2 #dacre montgomery #sabrina carpenter #fanfic #max mayfield #mike wheeler #will byers #fantasy #fandom

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lovemesomerafael · 5 years

Text

El Amor Todo Lo Puede Chapter 41: Restless

Source: @minidodds

Chapters 1-40

Rafael Barba was making his closing arguments, meaning this trial was finally going to end. Laura was looking forward to the opportunity to go to the gym and work off all this nervous energy. As nice as it was to have the opportunity to sit for hours doing nothing but watching Rafael, the trouble was the “sit for hours” part. Laura wasn’t much good at sitting still. She found it especially difficult in this situation, because she couldn’t shake the feeling that any moment the defendant was going to go off. He was visibly wired, taut, like a panther crouched and ready to spring.

Laura wasn’t the only one who felt it. She could see the court bailiffs eyeing him, too. She would let them take care of the defendant, Cameron. But Rafael sat less than ten feet from him. And if Cameron decided to go after Rafael, Laura was going to get to him first. Rafael didn’t have to love her. He could be as brusque and businesslike as he wanted. She’d been dealing with that all summer, and she rarely still cried about it. But that didn’t mean she didn’t love him. And it certainly didn’t mean she would let anyone hurt him.

She missed Rafael a hundred times a day. At first, the pain had been so acute she sometimes had to lock herself in the bathroom at the station and just sit on the floor, knees pulled up tightly to her chest, rocking and crying. That hadn’t happened in a while. The months had done at least that much. These days, missing him usually took the form of hearing him say something particularly clever, or seeing him do something that reminded her of when they’d been a couple. She usually didn’t cry about it anymore. Usually, but not never.

Laura wasn’t concerned that Cameron would be acquitted – he wouldn’t. But until he was safely shackled and out of this courtroom, he was a threat to Rafael, and she was anxious. Not a good state of mind for someone as restless as Laura to be in as she sat through a week-long trial. She was glad the day was nearly over; it had been a long afternoon.

Rafael, on the other hand, was in his element. He had no fear of Cameron. Cameron was a blowhard and a bully, nothing more. Rafael was in complete control of this trial, making sure that a rapist went to prison and wiping the floor with smarmy Trevor Langan in the process. It was a good day. Best of all, he could feel Laura in the first row, directly behind him. He wasn’t above showing off in front of her, even now.

Rafael and Laura had somehow cobbled together a working relationship, cool and impersonal and overly polite as it was. He thought there might even someday come a night when he didn’t purposely work too late to avoid being home at times he used to spend with Laura, only to lie awake thinking about her anyway. For some reason, she and Stone still hadn’t gotten together. He knew that because he had seen Stone a couple of times at Forlini’s, treating the bar like a corner bodega where he could just stop and pick up a girl on his way home.

He also knew it because, prior to a meeting one morning, he’d been pouring himself a cup of coffee and overheard a conversation between Fin and Laura.

“So how was your date with Rollins’s friend?”

Since Fin and Laura were the only two at the table, Fin had to be speaking to her, although Rafael’s back was to them.

“I only did that as a favor to her. And he was a troglodyte.”

Rafael couldn’t help but grin with both amusement and relief. Which was stronger, he didn’t examine too closely.

“Troglo-what now?”

Rafael turned around then, not being able to convincingly spend any more time simply pouring a cup of coffee. “A caveman,” he told Fin as he sat down at the table.

“Why’nt you just say caveman, then? Damn nerds all up in here…” Fin complained.

Spontaneously, accidentally, Rafael and Laura had begun to share a smile before both catching themselves and awkwardly fumbling to look elsewhere as though it hadn’t happened. That moment had been both the highlight and the most painful part of Rafael’s day. He couldn’t have known that the same was true for Laura.

At this moment, Rafael was walking around as he gave his closing argument, first standing in front of the jury to address them directly, then standing in front of the defense table and gesturing toward Cameron as he laid out the evidence, link by link.

Laura wished he wouldn’t do that. As long as he was closer to Cameron than he was to her, Cameron could get to him before she could. With each additional fact and piece of evidence, she could see Cameron’s jaw clench harder and his face get redder. His hands had been in fists throughout the trial, but now he was actually knocking them softly against the table in front of him. A couple times, he shifted his weight as if to stand. Each time, Laura shifted hers in the same way, ready to jump up.

Cameron’s obvious difficulties controlling his seething anger had caused the court bailiffs to move a little closer to him. One, a wiry Asian woman who looked like she could move quickly, stood within 5 feet of the defense table ready to act. The other, a tall, beefy white guy with a very red face, had inched to within three feet of the defendant. Although he stood slightly behind Cameron so that he couldn’t be seen directly, Laura could sense the defendant’s awareness of the bailiff just behind him.

Rafael continued his closing, bringing up a photograph of the victim on the large screen across the room from the jury. Laura noticed Cameron’s face turn a frighteningly dark shade of red that seemed almost purple.

This wasn’t good. She elbowed Fin, sitting at her left, as she moved forward to the edge of her seat. She pulled the edge of her blazer back from in front of her holster and unsnapped the strap that secured her weapon. Fin did the same.

Rafael moved back behind the prosecution table. Continuing his closing, he turned toward the defendant, who glared at him with abject hate. Laura leaned forward and placed an arm on the rail between the gallery and the counsel tables. That was when Rafael made a particularly strong point, put so cleverly that there were scattered laughs in the courtroom. That did it.

At that moment, the defendant’s pent-up rage exploded in a violent roar as he used one hand to push the table at which he had been sitting halfway to the judge’s bench. With the other, he pulled the red-faced, beefy bailiff toward him by the belt and grabbed his sidearm before the bailiff had a chance to react.

In one fluid movement, Laura stood and vaulted the rail with one arm, throwing herself at Rafael and allowing her momentum to knock him to the floor, where she landed on top of him. She pulled her Glock from its holster and aimed, leaning on Rafael’s back as much to cover his body and keep his head down as to give her a steady firing platform. “Stay down,” she said into his ear. But it was already over. There had been only one shot: Fin dropping the defendant where he stood.

The courtroom filled with the cries of terrified onlookers and court staff, the judge pounding her gavel and screaming ineffectually for order, and the chaotic banging and scraping of fifty people trying to escape from the room using the same two doors. Laura didn’t immediately let Rafael up – she surveyed the entire courtroom from where she lay on top of him behind the table to ensure that there was no further threat. The other detectives were doing the same. When they saw that there was no more danger, the rest of the team began to assist those in distress and work to calm the general panic.

Laura levered herself off of Rafael’s back and sat up next to where he lay prone on the floor. She holstered her gun, then gave him a quick but thorough once-over and saw no blood. “¿Estas bien?”[1]

Rafael began to roll to a sitting position. “I’ll get back to you on that.”

Laura put her hand on his shoulder and pushed off him to stand. She offered him her hand to help him up, which he declined. “I’m good here.”

She squatted down next to him. “Look at me, Rafael.”

He did. Her heart contracted at being this close to him, looking into his beautiful green eyes.

“You’re OK,” she said, nodding slightly at the same time and willing him to believe it.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m OK.” He didn’t look, or sound, convinced.

Laura, not knowing what else to say and not wanting to crowd him, especially given their circumstances, stood up and said, “I’m gonna see what I can do here.”

For the next two hours, each member of the team was busy taking statements from those who had been present during the shooting. They assisted the crime scene unit and the Medical Examiner as they did their work, finally helping to load the body onto a cart for transport to the morgue. As Laura turned away afterward, she noticed that there were less than ten people left in the room. One of them was Rafael, sitting slumped in his accustomed place at counsel table, head down, hands folded in front of him. He stared at a legal pad that she could see had nothing written on it.

She walked over and leaned on the rail near him.

“You saved my life,” he said, not looking at her.

She pulled a chair from the defense table and sat down facing him across his table, trying to figure out what a neutral distance was. After what had just happened, she knew to let him speak if he wanted to, or just sit with him if he didn’t.

“You knocked me down. If he’d have shot, he’d have hit you instead of me.”

“No, he wouldn’t.”

He looked up at her with his eyes, not moving his head.

“That’s why I knocked you down. Bullet would’ve gone right over our heads. Anyway, Fin got him.” She deliberately tried to keep her voice neutral, factual. She wouldn’t deny the reality of the situation, but needed to avoid feeding his reaction.

“And then you stayed there, protecting me. Why did you do that?”

“You know why. It’s the job.”

He didn’t respond. He looked over at the bloodstain where Cameron’s body had been. A team of custodians was already beginning work to clean the stained area of the floor.

“By tomorrow, that’ll be gone, and it’ll be like this never happened.” He sighed. “Except it won’t.”

“No. It won’t. But you’ll be OK anyway.”

They sat in silence. After a few minutes, Lieutenant Benson called to them that it was late and there was nothing more to be done, so the team was leaving.

“We’ll be right behind you,” Laura answered in a casual voice, waving nonchalantly. There were some intrigued looks between the other members of the squad.

“I didn’t think he’d do anything. I thought he was all talk.”

“Most of them are.”

“But you and Fin took him seriously.”

“That’s – “

“The job, I know. But I feel like I should’ve been shot, just for being such a colossal idiot.”

“Good grief, Rafael, if stupidity was a capital offense… I know there’s a good joke there, but I’m too tired to think of it right now.”

Rafael actually chuffed and his lips twisted at that. “Raincheck.”

“Thanks.”

Again they fell into silence. Rafael was busy processing what had happened. He appreciated Laura just sitting with him, not judging or preaching, just letting him work it through. With anyone else, he might have felt the need to be cool, to downplay his reaction. But even after everything that had happened between them – or maybe because of it – he didn’t think he needed to waste the effort with her. When the custodial team actually began mopping up pooled blood, Rafael decided he’d had enough.

“Let’s go home,” he said.

“Let’s.”

They both liked the way that sounded. As they walked slowly from the courtroom, somewhat farther apart than perhaps other coworkers might, Rafael thought how much he needed to spend the evening with her in her cheerful, laid-back apartment. He needed to eat takeout in front of a ridiculously violent movie where The Rock did impossible stunts and beat the hell out of everyone he came across, and he needed Laura next to him wearing one of her grubby outfits, with her hair pulled thoughtlessly into a knot on top of her head. And then he needed to make love and fall asleep holding one another.

The similarity of their thoughts, had they known it, would have shocked them both. But they would have to settle for being together in the same car on the ride home.

Both were quiet, awkward, uncomfortable, trying to figure out how to be together outside of work. They’d had drinks with the whole squad a couple of times since Rafael had ended their relationship, which had been a little awkward at first, although liquor helped. But this was the first time they’d been together alone since their breakup. It helped that they’d just been through a traumatic experience, which gave them an obvious topic of conversation and also the bond that unites people who have been through such an event. But there was a massive, obnoxious elephant in the room that was pretty hard to ignore.

They walked down the street, far enough apart that there was no chance their hands would accidentally touch, making occasional innocuous remarks about the September weather and the shortening of the days that comes with the season. Laura knew that she should try to get Rafael to talk about Cameron’s attempt to shoot him. But she was uncomfortably aware of her angry words to him that first day, when she had told him that they were not friends, and that he was no longer allowed to ask whether she was OK. She decided to do the right thing, and let him call her a hypocrite if he wanted to. The fact was, she would do the same thing for any of the other members of the team in a similar situation.

“So, um… Cameron. It’s supposed to be helpful if you talk about this kind of stuff.”

“So Lindstrom said,” Rafael responded.

“Yeah, I guess this isn’t your first time to the dance, is it?”

“And I can’t help but notice that this stuff didn’t happen to me before I met you. Coincidence?”

Oh, it felt good to hear that gentle, teasing tone in his voice after so long! It hurt terribly, too, but Laura was used to everything wonderful he did reminding her of what she’d lost. She would have loved to say something clever back, but could think of nothing. Self-conscious and nervous, all she could do was smile.

“Lindstrom wanted me to tell him the whole story of what happened with Rhee. Apparently, that’s healing. But this... you were there. You know what happened.”

“Actually, it would be interesting to hear it from your perspective. I mean, did you expect me to tackle you?”

“No! As a matter of fact, I was meaning to ask you how you got there. How much do you weigh, anyway? It felt like I got hit by a truck.”

“You did not just ask me how much I weigh! I know your mami taught you better than that.”

“I stand corrected. Still felt like a truck.”

“Thank you. Or sorry. Not sure which.”

“Thank you? Why would it be thank you?”

“OK so maybe for you it’s sorry. But if I tackle a bad guy – sorry, offender or suspect, not bad guy – I’d be thrilled if he felt like he got hit by a truck.”

Laura had exaggerated the way she said “offender or suspect”, making gentle fun of his instructions to her during their first witness prep meeting together. Rafael would like to have been able to spit out a few curse words when he actually felt his dick twitch just from being teased by her. His mind went temporarily blank and he completely forgot what they were talking about. ¡Coño![2] Three months apart, and she still affected him every bit as much as she ever had.

Fortunately for him, she went on. “You might not have noticed it, you were too busy pontificating, but-“

“Pontificating? I do not pontificate.”

“Waxing eloquent?”

“Better.”

“Anyway, you were putting your thing down,” she looked mischievously at him, causing yet more agitation in his pants and his mind to once again go offline temporarily. “So you weren’t watching Cameron. But we were, and the bailiffs were, because it was clear he was going to blow. So when he did, I hopped the rail and covered you.”

“Literally.”

“But that’s my story. You were supposed to be telling me your story.”

They reached the parking garage and, as he always did, he opened her door for her. As she always did, she found that small courtesy disproportionately sexy.

When they’d buckled in and Rafael was starting the car, he said, “I honestly didn’t see it. I was concentrating on putting my thing down,” he looked that teasing, under-the-eyebrows look at her and suddenly it was her whose body was responding. “I was in the zone. I had an outline, and I was running through it. Maybe paying a little attention to how ill Mr. Langan was starting to look… And then Cameron stood up and the next thing I knew, OOF.”

“And…?”

“And I… wasn’t quite sure what had happened for a second. I think I felt you hit me at the same time I heard the gunshot. I think.”

“Happened pretty fast. I’m not sure, either.”

“Which means if Fin hadn’t gotten him, you might not have gotten there in time.” The drop in the volume and register of Rafael’s voice evidenced the effect this realization had on him.

“Fin got him,�� she said in a quiet, but firm voice.

“Yes, but…”

The implications hung in the air for a moment.

In the same quiet tone, Laura asked, “Did you and Dr. Lindstrom ever talk about ‘what ifs’?”

“A little.”

“Dr. Charles said you look at them like you’re window shopping. You acknowledge them, say ‘isn’t that interesting’, and move on.”

“Lindstrom said something similar. Maybe not as picturesque.”

“Fin got him, Rafael.”

“Yeah.”

A few minutes of silence ensued, during which they each followed their own thoughts.

“I have to thank you for being there. Again.”

“Someone messes with you, they mess with me.”

“So I’ve heard. Nice to know it still applies.”

That night, after they said an uncomfortable good night as Rafael took the elevator and Laura the stairs to their respective apartments, Laura let herself into her apartment just before the tears became uncontrollable. Everything about him was the same: all the things she loved about the way he looked, his ability to tease her in a way that felt like foreplay, the smoldering looks he didn’t even know he gave, the way he smelled when she was close enough… Everything but one, crucial thing. He didn’t want her. For the first time in weeks, she found herself sitting on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest, rocking to dissipate some of the biting ache of loss.

It was one of those nights when Rafael laid awake, unable to think of anything but Laura. He didn’t even care that it hurt like hell. He couldn’t stop, and he didn’t want to.

[1] Are you OK?

[2] All-purpose swear word.

#rafael barba #raul esparza #law & order svu #law & order: special victims unit #fin tutuola #chicago pd #chicago fire #chicago med #chicago justice

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raendown · 5 years

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Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 2530 Chapter: 6/7 Summary: An accident at work leaves Tobirama blinded while his eyes are bandaged to heal from some rather nasty burns. Too busy with his own job to play the role of caretaker, wife too pregnant to place the burden on her, Hashirama calls upon his best friend Madara to stay with them and help Tobirama out in anyway he can. Madara isn’t exactly thrilled to play babysitter but he can see an opportunity when one comes along; this may be the chance he’s always waited for.

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Chapter 6

Having fingers prod at his face had never been Tobirama’s favorite thing. Not being able to see those fingers coming made it several times worse and the only reason he hadn’t swung his fist out to throw a punch on reflex was the sound of his brother’s voice in the background keeping him calm. There were still a few close calls but at least one of them had to stay calm and he had long since resigned himself to the knowledge that it would always be him.

“Everything seems to be healing very well,” a feminine voice spoke from much too close for comfort. “There’s no scarring on your face that you haven’t put there already–”

“They’re tattoos, Dr. Haruno.”

“No, they’re colorful scars. And they’re on your face. But I digress; the burns here all look like they’re healing very nicely and if you haven’t experienced any undue pain or discomfort then I have every reason to believe that your vision will come back just fine when we remove the pads.” Finally the fingers let go of him only for Tobirama to flinch violently at the sudden sound of clapping.

From the corner he heard a quiet, “Oops. Sorry Tobi.” It took effort to resist the urge to roll his still delicate eyes.

“Thank you, Dr. Haruno, you have been most kind.”

“My pleasure,” she told him. “You’re a much calmer patient than I usually have to deal with. A lot of people get rather squirmy about having their sight taken away.”

“I can’t imagine why,” he drawled. She chuckled and he used the sound to track her across the room.

The rest of his appointment was fairly short, just a few reminders to be careful about his face until they could finally remove the bandages and a couple more questions to make sure he understood what to do in the slim chance that his vision did not return as expected. When he left Dr. Haruno dryly informed him that she was waving and it lightened his mood enough to keep him from dwelling on the uncomfortable possibilities of never-ending darkness.

Clinging to Hashirama’s arm as they moved through the hospital and across the parking lot was embarrassing and awkward but it was much faster than trying to feel his own way around. The battle between his pride and his practicality had been an ongoing one for the entirety of this tiring process but it seemed in public his practicality won. Getting away from other people faster was better when he knew they were going to be staring at him no matter what he did. Not that he could blame them for staring. Who wouldn’t double-take at the sight of a man waltzing around with half his head bandaged like a Hollywood mummy?

He had feared that without being able to stare at the world going by outside the only thing to occupy him during the drive would be Hashirama’s annoying radio stations but, to his delight, he realized that it was actually that much easier to simply disappear in to his thoughts while his brother’s voice washed over him, nattering on about one of the patients he had dealt with a few days before. It wasn’t that Tobirama disliked listening to his brother or didn’t care. Rather it was that he knew patient confidentiality was very important and he knew Hashirama was expecting him not to listen and so used times like this to vent about feelings or release any pent up tension that he had been carrying around. It was therapeutic for them both, actually, since it allowed Tobirama a break from social requirements.

Madara was just serving lunch when they pulled in to the driveway. Hashirama made sure to see his brother safely in to the kitchen before scurrying up the stairs saying he wanted to fetch Mito so they could all sit together with their meals.

“Homemade pizza,” Tobirama heard their chef’s voice murmur after shuffling footsteps stopped just beside his right shoulder. Ceramic thumped gently against wood when Madara set the plate down and admitted, “I kind of flubbed the crust so use both hands or else you’ll end up wearing it, it’s not as firm as I meant it to be. I was going to make soup but I didn’t want you to knock the bowl or something.”

“We won’t have to worry about that for much longer.” After a long car ride back from the hospital Tobirama finally allowed the excitement to sink in, feeling his way along the edges of his plate until he found the crust edge of his lunch. “Doctor says everything seems to be healing just fine.”

“Is that so?” Madara hummed and the distant note in his voice had Tobirama pausing just before he took a bite.

“What, you were hoping I’d stay blind forever?” he demanded.

He sort of expected some kind of snarky response but all he heard was a low sigh just barely audible under the sound of another chair scraping away from the table. “I never said that. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

It took a lot of effort to clamp down on the instinctual snap back about putting other things in his mouth. Maybe he should stop talking to Izuna so much if the idiot was rubbing off on him enough to have him spewing unintentional innuendos. Tobirama shook the thought away with purpose and tried not to pay too much attention to the images rising up in the back of his mind. Definitely not something he should be thinking about with Madara – or anyone, really – right there in the room with him. Also not something he would have even considered thinking about before losing his sight and being forced to learn a bit more about the man. Truly a worrisome development.

They ate in silence instead of the easy conversation they had been slowly falling in to over the past couple of weeks, Tobirama using the silence to puzzle over what could have Madara's knickers in a twist this time. After what felt like much too long Hashirama finally returned with Mito, who was humming under her breath of all things, and the two of them easily picked up the conversation that had lacked in their absence. For the most part Tobirama listened with one ear, still more interested in figuring out what Madara's problem was. He did pay a little more attention when Hashirama clapped him on the back without warning and he nearly face planted in to his second slice of pizza.

“Anija!” he snarled. “I can’t fucking see yet you imbecile!”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry Tobi! I’m so sorry! I don’t- I forgot!”

“Forgot my ass! Mito, get him for me!”

“With pleasure, my dear.” Mito’s dreamy voice was followed quickly with a yelp, though he hadn’t heard any sort of impact. It didn’t actually register as all that strange until he heard Madara's reaction.

Shoving his chair back with a noise of disgust, the man declared loudly, “If you’re going to be doing that sort of thing at the kitchen table I think I’ll just eat later. I seem to have lost my appetite.”

Whatever he had seen, Tobirama felt it was safer not to ask.

He also felt it was probably in his best interests to leave the table as well. Part of what had driven him to move out of such a lush home in the first place had been the sickening levels of cutesy canoodling those two got up to even when there were other people in the room. Just because he couldn’t see it didn’t mean he was comfortable sitting around and letting it happen right next to him. Following after his current conundrum seemed like a much safer option.

Madara's footsteps faltered halfway to the living room, presumably when the man noticed he was being followed, and it was the way he waited to make sure Tobirama got where he was going alright without offering unnecessary help that finally clicked all the pieces in to place. He sank in to the chair he had found all on his own mostly because gravity pulled his stunned body down on to the cushions with a little too much force. It might not be the same bee that Madara had up in his bonnet but Tobirama found himself floundering a little in the face of what he’d just realized.

Getting his sight back was all well and good but healing a little faster than everyone thought also meant that Madara would be leaving a little earlier than everyone thought – and Tobirama wasn’t ready for that.

Of course, it wasn’t like they would never see each other again. Madara would always be his brother’s best friend and despite neither of them officially living in this home they did manage to cross paths here with startling frequency. He still didn’t like it. For reasons he was not yet prepared to admit he wasn’t quite ready for Madara to leave because Madara leaving meant that everything would quickly fade back in to how they had always been. The two of them would rarely talk even on the occasions they did run in to each other and Madara would spend his energy focusing on Hashirama rather than the unwanted little brother tucked in to the background of whatever shenanigans they got up to.

It felt like a loss even though he knew he had no right to feel that way. Madara had always been and always would be Hashirama’s. Had probably been born with a photograph of Hashirama stapled to his forehead, already screaming the idiot’s name. If Mito hadn’t come along Tobirama would honestly not have been surprised to see the two of them get married someday despite their continued insistence that they only saw each other as friends.

Now here he was sticking his heart in the middle as though he hoped to belong.

“What are you doing?” he asked, frantically searching for anything to distract him from looking too closely at the places in his heart that were never meant to open up.

“I just have a few touch ups left to do on this project before I send it off to the client. There’s not much to fix and I do have until the end of next week but it never hurts to get an early start in case any new bugs crop up. They have a tendency of doing that.” Something in Madara's voice suggested his words were followed by a shrug and Tobirama wasn’t sure how he felt about knowing that without seeing it.

“Read to me,” he blurted. “I’ve got nothing else to do and I don’t want to spend my afternoon all bored. Will you…read me a book or something?”

Startled silence hung between them for a few seconds until finally Madara said, “Sure? I guess. As long as you understand that I’m going to find the most terrible, awful, crappy novel this house has to offer and probably make you sit through one of Hashirama’s romance mysteries.”

“That’s fine,” Tobirama muttered. Anything to keep the attention with him but not on him.

True to his word, Madara did actually rummage through five different bookshelves in four different rooms, all while Tobirama trailed along behind him just to listen to him crow over the hilariously bad literature and boring science or medical texts, until at last he began to laugh so hard he sounded in danger of giving himself a hernia. It took several minutes for him to calm down enough to say what he found so funny. Every time it seemed like he was about to calm down he would start reading the book summary and fly off the handle yet again.

For the first time Tobirama regretted letting his eyes pass over all the terrible books sitting around, never sure if they belonged to Mito’s secret shameful hoard or Hashirama’s utterly shameless collection. He was all but bouncing on the balls of his feet when finally Madara calmed down enough to speak properly.

“It’s – oh my god – this is the stupidest sounding shit. It’s called ‘Seduction in the Suna Desert’ and th-the little blurb on the back says ‘When a tall drink of water steps out of the desert heat like a tasty mirage, it looks like all of her problems will be solved. Until Harue realizes that she’s accidentally discovered a werewolf’s den in the least likely of places. Will she stay and be mated against her will? Or will she escape and leave behind that tall drink of water that just won’t get out of her head?’ Oh sweet lord this is such utter crap!”

“They actually read that shit?” Tobirama shook his head and despaired that he could be related in any way to two people with such awful taste. “I’m disowning them both.”

“We have to read this,” Madara declared.

“No! Find something else, I beg you, before you melt out my brain with that drivel.”

A firm hand took hold of his own and before Tobirama could properly register how warm Madara's fingers were they were pulling him around and back towards the living room. “Yes, this is happening. You were the one who wanted entertainment! Well I find the idea of making you listen to this very entertaining. Hashirama always says you should take breaks from all the science!”

He wanted to protest that taking a break was not synonymous with halving his own brain cells with dime store romances but the grip on his hand and the laughter in Madara's voice was just distracting enough that he found himself seating on what was probably the living room couch with Madara pressed up against his side a few minutes later. Luckily the opening chapter of ‘Seduction in the Suna Desert’ passed in one ear and right out through the other without a single word sticking in his mind but that was mostly because he couldn’t focus past the sounds of Madara's voice. When he wasn’t screaming the man did have an absolutely incredible voice to listen to.

Two chapters later Tobirama still wasn’t listening to the actual story, more focused on the way his narrator kept cracking up and injecting his opinions on the source material, and the longer he sat there the more he realized that he was much more screwed than he thought. Madara didn’t seem to notice that they were slowly inching closer and closer as Tobirama slid farther down in to the cushions. Or if he did notice he didn’t say anything. Whatever the case was it was better for him to stay silent on the matter so that the panic attack beside him could go on in silence as Tobirama wrestled with an unwanted truth.

It appeared that he had developed feelings for Madara, someone he had hated for many years until his sight was taken away and he was forced to look at the man in other ways. This was more than just unexpected. This was an unprecedented disaster just waiting to happen.

And only he stood to lose anything when Madara left.

#rae writes #madatobi #madara #tobirama #hashirama #fanfiction

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