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#this made me run around like a small bear
chibieggplant · 2 days
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Possessive Sanji
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NSFW 18+
Jealous and possessive Sanji
Sanji watches on in jealousy as you chat with Traflagar Law, who was standing a little too close to you for his liking. Your beauty in his eyes captured the hearts of not just him, but so many men.
His possessiveness and jealousy start to grow as he stands there watching intently, as he tries to make out what the two of you are talking about. Sanji's mind races as he watches closely, his chest grows tight and his heart beats rapidly. His thoughts begin to grow paranoid and obsessive as he thinks of the worst case scenario between you and Traflagar. He can't bear to even imagine any other man getting close to you.
Sanji slowly takes a step forward, he wants to let him know that you're already taken. His mind screams for him to remain cool but his jealousy grows intense and grows paranoid that Law could be making moves on you to steal your heart. He continues to step closer to the both of you, but tries his best to act as casually as possible. He's trying so hard not to look jealous as he keeps his gaze on the two of you talking. Taking another step he starts walking up to you as nonchalantly as possible despite his burning rage. He puts an arm around your shoulder and leans his head to you.
“Y/n do you mind helping me in the kitchen?” he smiles sweetly. He knows he doesn’t actually need your help, he just wants an excuse to drag you away from Law.
You smile back as Sanji puts his arm around you, happy to see your boyfriend’s face. “Sure, what do you need help with?”
His arm wraps ever so slightly more tightly around you. “Oh just some help with the veggies I have to prep for dinner”
He leads you into the kitchen happy that he put himself in the middle of what was once a conversation between you and Law. When you enter the kitchen Sanji shuts the door behind you making sure it’s locked. He has you where he wants you, now he just needs to make sure Law doesn’t come near you ever again…or any man for that matter.
“You seemed quite talkative with Trafalgar” his voice is lower than usual with a slight possessive tone, you can almost feel the heat radiating from his body.
“It was just small talk, we were just talking about-“
“I don’t like the way he was looking at you” he quickly cut you off.
Law hadn’t made any outright advances, but Sanji sees him as a threat. His possessiveness and jealousy start to grow even more, his words carry a hint of underlying aggression.
“He was checking you out” Sanji says through clenched teeth. “I saw him”
“I didn’t notice, it seemed like he was looking at me the same way he does with everyone” you shrug brushing it off.
His paranoia starts to grow and his rage is starting to boil inside him. He runs his hands down your sides feeling your curves letting his hands settle on your waist. He’s losing it but he’s trying to play it cool. However he’s starting to slip through the cracks as he imagines other men looking at you with romantic intent and flirting with you.
“I mean can you blame him?…You are very pretty” he murmurs, brushing your hair behind your ear as he takes in all the details of your face.
“We were just talking…you know I’m yours right?”
“Yeah I know” he chuckles lightly trying to act like seeing you with law didn’t bother him in the slightest… “but I want to make sure that you know” He’s leans in, his lips brushing against your ear.
“I-I know…”
He knows you’re his but your words don’t seem to satisfy him. “You’re mine” his arms pull you flush against him, his breath hot against your ear. “Say it”
“I’m yours…I’m yours Sanji”
“Good…” he says softly, his lips brushing against your neck. “However I think you need a reminder” he murmurs before he quickly turns you around pushing you against the kitchen counter. He’s insatiable, and as his need for dominance surges, he reaches around with a possessive grip, his hands finding purchase on your heaving breasts as he begins to kiss and nibble the side of your neck.
You press back against him, the heat of his skin on yours causing you to shiver. His grip on you grows firmer, his fingers brushing over your sensitive nipples as he kisses your neck up to your ear. His mouth works at your skin, sending tingles of pleasure down your spine as the intensity of his lust grows.
“Mm, S-Sanji” you whimper, shutting your eyes tightly. Your body responds to the growing intensity of his desire. You can feel each of his sharp breaths against you, his hands grasping and groping your breasts while his fingers tease you. “That’s right” he growls, “Just like that.”
The sensation of his hands upon you sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.  With each firm squeeze and possessive caress, you feel yourself surrendering even further to his dominance, willingly offering yourself up to be claimed in every sense of the word.
“You feel that?” he whispers against the sensitive skin of your neck, his breath hitting your bare skin. His hands move down to grip your hips to pull you against him, grinding his twitching length up against your body with all his intense desire and passion.
“I want you to know I’m only this rough with you because you make me crazy” he mutters.
“You make me like this…” His lips continue to move over your neck, nibbling and kissing your skin.
“It’s because of you, that I’m like this…” he exhales, his hot breath making you shiver “Just thinking about you with another man makes me go crazy…”
“S-Sanji~” you whimper softly.
“You are mine…” he grunts, his words laced with possessive desire that betrays how much he is holding himself back “I’m only like this because of you…”
With the passion and heat of his desire mounting higher and higher, his breathing becomes heavier and more intense, his grip tightening on you.
“Can you feel what you do to me…?” he asks through heavy breaths as he rubs his buldge against your ass.
“Look at what you do to me…” his breath is panting and hot as he grinds his hips. You feel the hard pulse of him against you as he leans into your ear and whispers again. “It’s your fault that I do this…”
Your heart rate quickens as you feel his cock throb against you. Every touch and caress from his hands sends shivers up your spine as the intensity of his lust grows. Your body responds on instinct, pushing up as a response to his touch. His presence alone is enough to push you over the edge, and you feel your breath catch in your throat as you let out a soft pleasurable moan.
“You see?” he murmurs, feeling your body respond to his touch as much as you did. “This is how much I want you…” his hands trace their way up and down your body as he pins you from behind against the counter.
“I can’t control myself…” he’s panting now, his breath hot and needy. “Look at what you do…” he whispers “I’m losing it…”
He lets out a soft grunt as he presses himself hard against you from behind, his hands tracing over your curves as his fingers dip lower and lower until you can feel his fingers brushing against your panties. He lets out a low growl when his fingers reach the top your underwear.
“I’m so crazy for you…” he whispers, leaning his head against you as one hand kneads your chest while the other slips under your panties. You try to keep quiet but let out an audible gasp as his fingers brush your bare skin.
“your making me loose it…” His breaths grow heavier, the growls louder. His fingers brush against your sensitive skin, his touch growing more intense as his fingers make their way lower to caress your sensitive bud.
The tension mounts as his hand continues to brush over you, his fingers grazing on your sensitive skin. Your body responds to his touch, the heat between your legs starting to rise as though the heat from his breath alone was enough to ignite your body.
He lets out a low moan as he feels your body respond to his touch. He grits his teeth together, his grunts becoming growls as he continues to rub himself against you while his fingers work confidently rubbing circles over your sensitive area.
“You are mine,” he growls, tightening his grip on you as his hand continues to work its magic.“Mine…” his breath growls out of him, he can barely contain himself. He’s barely holding back.
Every touch from Sanji’s hand sends your body into a frenzy as his fingers rub against you. Your breath grows heavy and your heart rate quickly rises. You let out low, soft pleasured moans as he teases and touches you.
Your body trembles as his fingers rub in calculated movements, the heat of his breath on your skin igniting your nerves and setting your heartbeat to a fever pitch. The heat between your legs grows hotter and hotter as his fingers continue their movements, creating ripples of pleasure throughout you. Your body squirms against his hand, begging for his touch. Your soft moans become louder and more frequent.
“Mm~ Sanji I’m going to~”
His breath grows heavy as he realises what you’re building towards. His fingers continue their work as he pushes his hardness up against you.
“Say it…” he growls, his voice low and rough as he rubs faster and harder. “Say my name…”
“Oh, god…” you gasp, your breath quickening and your body trembling. Your fingers clench at the edge of the counter, as you arch back against him.
“Don’t stop…” you groan, your breath catching in the back of your throat and rising into a louder, more intense moan.
"Say it..." Sanji's harsh whisper burns hot on your neck as he holds you in place. His hand continues to push and rub, pushing you towards the edge. Every touch sends jolts of electrifying pleasure through you as your breath grows heavier and heavier.
“Mmm…” you murmur, your eyes closed tightly. “Sanji…”
Your hands grip tightly as your spine curves against the touch of his hand, pushing you ever so close to the edge. He is working his magic on you, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body like an unstoppable force.
„Oh, god…” your breath comes out in short gasps as you try your best to contain yourself. “Sanji…” “Oh, Sanji…”
“Say it again…louder” he whispers, adding more pressure in his hand as he continues to work his fingers against you.
“Sanji! Oh, god…” your voice is shaky and broken as you are pushed closer and closer to the edge. Your body arches back against him, your legs twitching beneath you as his fingers work tirelessly at you, pushing you towards the edge.
“Not yet…” he says, his voice sounding rough and husky with desire. “Not until you say who you belong to…”
“Oh, please… don’t stop…” you plead, your breathing growing heavier and heavier as the heat rises throughout your body. His hand slows down slightly, his grip on you still tight as he puts all his force into making sure you remember who is bringing you to this point.
“Who…do you belong to?” he murmurs in a low, rough whisper. Each movement of his fingers sends ripples of sensation throughout your body as your breath grows heavier. Your body begs for more attention, your skin heating as your hips shift as much as they’re allowed to against his hand.
You let out a small whine as he slows down his pace. “S-Sanji, I belong to Sanji…please…” you gasp. “Don’t stop” Your body trembles with every caress, and every kiss, every lick of his tongue on your neck sends shivers through you. His breath growls out of him.
“Good girl…” his fingers speeding up again as he squeezes your breast tightly and pushes you against the counter. Your breath hitches as he pushes harder, his fingers finding a faster rhythm.
“I-i belong to…” your words trail off as your body quakes with pleasure. Your breath grows heavy and your eyes close as you feel the heat pooling between your legs. His grip is firm while his fingers continue to rub circles, squeezing you tightly against him, pushing his chest against your back.
“Oh, Sanji…” your breath becomes ragged as you get closer and closer to reaching your peak. Your body trembles as you start to reach the point of no return, responding to the heat and mounting pressure. Your breathing becomes ragged and your voice breaks as you reach your climax. It’s as if the entire sensation of pleasure is rushing throughout your body all at once, sending you into an explosion of satisfaction.
S-sanji!” you moan, your voice breaking as his grip on you tightens as he pushes you against the counter harder, feeling your body trembling with release on him.
“Oh, god~” you moan with satisfaction, your body writhing and quivering with each wave of pleasure that shoots through you. Your breath catches in your throat as your body quakes against his hand.
“Sanji…”you moan softly, your voice broken as he continues to rub your sensitive bud letting you ride out your pleasure.
“That’s right…you’re mine” he murmurs, his hand slowing its rhythm and applying a softer, gentler touch as your breathing grows softer as your body slows down with the intensity of the pleasure slowly declining. With his body flush against yours you can feel the warm heat of him as he cradles you against him.
“Mine…” he repeats again, a low purr in his voice as he holds you close to him, caressing your curves as he nibbles and kisses the side of your neck lovingly.
“You belong to me…” he nuzzles his face into the side of your neck, his breath on your skin feeling hot and heavy. His hands rest on your waist, kneading your soft curves as he holds you close to him.
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moondoposting · 2 years
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sukunas-wife · 3 months
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First, I adore your writing! It warms my soul 🫶🏽♥️
Second, I was wondering if you could do Sukuna x Reader w/ little Yuji asking his dad to help him make a gift for Y/N for Mother’s Day. I think it would be such a cute bonding time between them 💝
Please and thank you if you choose this 🤍
Tysm 🥹 it keeps me warm at night, So does my Sukuna plushie when I don’t knock him off the bed by accident 😭 but Yes! 🥺 I know Valentines isn’t close or far but 😫 The things I’d do for him and Yuji (as a son) on Valentine’s Day 😭😭 I wanna spoil both of them with love🥹 and maybe give Sukuna another kid 🤭
But I hope you like it Little Anon 🤍
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“DDAAADDDD” Yuji came running into the living room crying running with a pair of plastic scissors almost impaling his dad. “What is brat?” Sukuna didn’t look too interested, laid back on the sofa, arms behind his head, eyes closed.
“My scissors won’t cut!” He made snipping motions on the paper he was using and sukuna barely opened an eye to watch. Yuji’s already teary eyes watered up as she trembled and sniffled. Sukuna closed his eyes, “Then fold it and tear it, you don’t need scissors to cut paper.”
There Yuji stood, laying the paper on his dads stomach. Sukuna opened his eyes watching how he was crinkling it while he tried to fold it. Failing and failing until he got it right, and tearing it apart slowly, “I did it!” Sukuna had a small smile, bringing a hand to ruffled Yuji’s hair “After half an hour.” Yuji pouted, “I gotta go!” He ran to his room again and sukuna was left with his hand flopping down dragging on the floor. “Hey!” He yelled after Yuji, Yuji popped his head out the door, “yeah?” “STOP RUNNING WITH THOSE DAMN SCISSORS!” “….Okay daddy!”
Sukuna closed his eyes leaning back, he could hear the tearing of paper before he started to nap. Then there was a really loud tear and he choked hearing Yuji’s small voice “damn it!”
“Pssst… psss… pss daddy.” He tried to swat away whatever was touching his face “ddadddyyyy are you awake?….. daddy?”
“What is it now Yuji?” Sukuna didn’t open his eyes. “I needa go…” “Yu.. you have the short toilet you can go if you need to..” “noooo daddy I need to go to the store!” Sukuna sat him with a huff, “alright let’s go. Go get dressed- are we taking the bike?” Yuji's eyes had stars while he looked up at his dad. “Yeah, we’re taking the bike cmon, get ready.” Yuji ran off to his room where Sukuna heard all the sounds of Yuji ripping open the clothes drawers. Grabbing his own jacket he got ready to go out into the cold.
—————-
“Alright what are we looking for…” Sukuna received silence, “Yuji?” He snapped around and there was no Yuji. “Ah shit.”
There went Sukuna trying to speed walk around trying to find his son who he literally brought into the store a minute ago. Finally he found him, in the seasonal section stretching on his tippy toes to get a white tiger plushie that held a white and silver box with a costume glass pearl necklace and earrings. “…what are you doing…?” “Wan it for mommy.” He gave up looking down and pointing at the plushie. Sukuna sighed, “Why do you want it for mom brat it’s not her birthday.” “Because it’s white day daddy! I have to get something for mommy!” He threw his hands up like it was the most obvious thing, unbeknownst to him the entire world was coming crashing down on his dad at that moment.
“I..it’s what?” “White day Daddy! Now hurry, I need that bear!” He went back to jumping and trying to grab it before Sukuna grabbed it shoving it under his arm, and picking up Yuji stuffing him under his other arm, “We gotta hurry-“ Yuji bounced around under Sukuna’s arm while he ande his way to the register, “wait!” Sukuna came to a stop “what?!” “Can I get candy?” Yuji pointed at the candy aisle and Sukuna turned his side to the aisle so Yuji could get what he wanted, “okay… WAIT NO” he grabbed a second candy, “I’m ready.” Sukuna let out heh noise before rushing back to the register, “I gotta pick something up at the shops so we gotta be fast hold on.”
————-
Yuji was standing on a chair at the kitchen table looking at the white Box his dad picked up. “What’s inside?” Sukuna who was focusing on spilling the glitter Yuji wanted on his card was holding his breath to not blow everywhere. Finally he sat up taking a breath, “a gift for your mom, cmon, you wanted to put your hand on this card right?”
“Mhmm!” Yuji hummed running around the table to his dads side barely peeking over the edge, “got the paint?” … “mm…no, gotta find it” Yuji trailed after his dad on the way to his room where they started looking in the closet, in the toy box, under the bed. “Where’s y/n put everything???” Sukuna was knelt face pressed against the floor flashing under Yuji’s bed with his phone’s flash light.
“Oh oh! Top shelf! Mommy doesn’t let me touch the top shelf.” He watched his push a chair over the book shelf and jump in the chair grabbing a thin box, “I touch it anyways.” He smiled proudly and Sukuna just smirked “Oh you little devil mommy would be so disappointed to know her precious little boy plays with the paint when she’s not home.”
Yuji threw the box up, “Please don’t tell mommy! I’ll never do it again!” Sukuna laughed when Yuji started to tear up, “Don’t worry, as long as you don’t tell mommy we ran that red light earlier, grab em and let’s go.” Yuji nodded like he was on a mission, “Kay.”
——
“Daddy you put your hand on first,” Sukuna sighed but pressed his hand into the Paper Yuji worked so hard to cut earlier. “Now let me see your hand Yu, gonna ink you up.”
Yuji laughed uncontrollably at the feeling of the brush on his fingers and palm which lead to Sukuna tickling him. Yuji was laughing until he turned red and started wheezing. Sukuna tried to brush Yuji’s hair back until he smudged him with paint. He cleared his throat to not laugh at Yuji, when he finally sat up catching his breath.. “My hands dry.”
Sukuna snickered, “alright, do it this time.” He carefully painted Yuji’s hand, guiding him to make the print right in the middle of Sukuna’s hand print. “Done!”
He turned to his dad in his lap and placed his hands on his cheeks squishing his face, “Thank you daddy, i love you.” Yuji was smiling, Sukuna smiled and nuzzled his nose against Yuji’s before pressing his lips to the top of his head making a dramatic muah sound making Yuji go “eewww” while laughing. Sukuna laughed while Yuji stared at his face, “I wanna look like daddy.” Which led to the two spending the next hour painting Yuji’s face to have the same inked lines his daddy did. 🥹
———
When you came home you found Sukuna and Yuji in the kitchen. Sukuna was telling Yuji about his “top secret” frying technique and Yuji was standing on a chair looking at the stove watching every move not wanting to miss anything. “mhm mhm” he had no idea what was going on while his dad was talking. You took their picture before Yuji finally turned around “Mommy!” He got so happy slowly sliding off the seat to run over to you, “Happy White day! We got you something!”
“Aww baby you didn’t have too.” Picking him up and kissing him all over he squealed in delight. Setting him down you walked over to Sukuna, he turned to kiss you when he felt you moving in to kiss his cheek. He had that smug smile when you smiled wrinkling your nose at him.
“Look, we made the bag too.” You watched Yuji’s little chubby legs and hands pop around the bag his face hidden behind the wrinkled tissue paper, “Aww its so pretty.” You took the bag from him, it was a white party bag in Yuji’s hand writing with gold marker “we lov you momy.” Covering your smile with your hand you looked at Yuji, “Did it all by myself.” Sukuna tsked “Sure ya did brat, went to the store too and used your whole five dollars too, hm?”
Yuji stuck his tongue out at his dad, “You didn’t give em back so I did pay!” You shook your head smiling when you opened the box, pulling out a white paper card, Sukuna moved closer resting his chin on your shoulder and Yuji pushed up a chair. The was Yuji’s handwriting “We lov you momy” and a wobbly drawn heart. Under it he wrote his name and Sukuna signed his name with a little note “I Love you more ;).” When you opened it it was so cute that you knew Yuji had to have forced Sukuna to do it. Sukuna’s hands were painted red in the shape of a heart, inside were yuji little hands painted white to make a smaller heart.
There was the note in Sukuna’s Handwriting, “These are my hands and with them I will take yours to have and to hold, to love and cherish till death do us part.”
Then there was Yuji’s cute little note, “I know you wipe some away, but these prints were made to stay, So keep them forever, a treasure they'll be, A special I LOVE YOU for you from me.”
The rest of the card was decorated in gold and silver glitters dots and squiggles. Little hand drawn hearts from Sukuna and Yuji. Most of the glitter ended up on the white tiger plushie Yuji ended up taking to sleep with that night 🥹😭
Later that night when Ryo and You were in the room getting ready to sleep when he spoke up. “Sorry we didn’t take you out anywhere fancy. Kinda lost track of time with everything going on…” he paused and you just turned to look at him, “It’s not an excuse but I did get you this.”
You walked over standing between his legs taking the white box from him. He hugged your waist pressing his face against your tummy, you rested your elbows on his shoulders and he heard your small laugh. “I think this was more for you then it was for me.”
You dropped the box next to him holding up the lingerie set. It was white satin with gold hip and shoulder straps covered in crystals. The back of the panties had been customised to say “Ryomen”, all topped off with one of those dramatic lacey robes with even more dramatic feathery cuffs and edges.
He smiled up at you from your tummy with lidded eyes, “maybe…” he kissed your tummy before squeezing your sides. You out a hand on his head brushing his hair back, he had that smug smile that gave you Yuji a few years ago, “So what do you say we really make this a white day?”
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Tag: @sad-darksoul @cyder-puff @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @sakuxxi @mercymccann @simpforyoubitch @certainduckanchor @domainofmarie @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare
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inlovewithmattstur · 2 months
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pls do a matt fic where the reader colors his tattoos. (could be that the reader is having a bad day...could be angst..yk..but with a happy ending ykwim?! idkidk. matt latley...WOOF.....im a chris girl but...but.....i might swing both ways..
no because you're so real for this. they're both so FINE. I gotchu bbg🤩🤩
coloring book - matt x reader
you already know what's in this
warnings: I guess crying, fluff fluff, not heavy angst just mentions of their bad day:]
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you've had the shittest day ever. nothing went right, people were arguing with you for no reason, everyone was just being a complete dick. you just wanted to crawl into a hole and cry. you opt to go to your boyfriends, he was the one who knew how to make everything better. even just sitting with you made everything feel better.
you drive a little faster than you should've but you couldn't sit alone, in your own thoughts for any longer than you already have. you finally pull up to the house, getting out of the car, accidentally slamming your door on your way out. knocking on the door rapidly, trying to get in as fast as you can
yes you do have a key, but that has slipped your mind as all you can think about matt, Matt's room, Matt's arms, matts everything.
matt answers the door, ready to see who is knocking at their door so much at once. he can't even get a word out before you're already bear hugging him, almost knocking him over in the process. he doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms securely around you, walking you both inside and closing the door behind him
he breaks the hug to bring you both to his room. neither one of you want to break from it but it would be better to be in his room, the comfort of all of him surrounding you. reminding you it will be okay
as you guys walk through the door, you're already throwing yourself on his bed waiting patiently but impatiently for him to embrace you in his warmth again. matt was looking around for something, you couldn't figure out what it could've been. he was looking through drawers, under some clothes, by his tv. everything
you watch him intently waiting for him to come over, he finally lets out a "found it" in a soft voice picking up something. it looked like a pouch of some sort, ones that you would buy for school. you hear things rustling inside of it. you felt your ears perk up at the noise slightly
matt finally walks back over to the bed, sitting next to you and handing it to you. a grin on his face, face scrunching up a bit motioning you to open. you look at him then back at the pouch. you study it a bit more, noticing it's stains of a variety of markers and highlighters, a few stickers littering it. a teddy bear here, a ransom sticker there, lyrical lemonade stickers too. smiling to yourself, it's so matt and you love it.
you finally open it up, it's filled with different kind of markers, Crayola to sharpie to bic's skin safe markers, hell even highlighters. you look back him, your smile still on your face but with your head tilted like a confused puppy, "what's all this for? I didn't see you grab any paper" you say, confusion laced in your voice
he looks at you with a shake of his head, "you can draw on me, you know like fill in my tattoos and stuff. whatever colors you want them to be, or even color on my other arm or my hands. your choice baby, I'm down for whatever" he says, a light tone of his filling your ears. his smile never faded if anything, it only got bigger if that's even possible.
you look at him, looking straight into his eyes. your lip started quivering, eyes starting to water as you try to keep it together. they're not sad tears, they're actually happy ones. you feel so loved, it's such a small gesture but it felt so huge to you.
he didnt say anything, just pulled up into him. your face buried in his neck, his chin resting on your head slightly. you grip onto his shirt as you feel the tears start running down your face. you didn't try to stop them, they weren't sad ones. just over filled with love. he whispered sweet nothings, small compliments, "you're amazing", "you deserve some love after today" despite not knowing what exactly happened
after about 5 minutes, you pulled away. laughing off what just happened, "you don't know how much I love you matt, or how much I love the thought of this. thank you" you say above a whisper looking back at him. he's already looking at you, love written all over his face. you lean up a bit to kiss him, a quick one but one that spoke everything you couldn't at the moment.
"I love you too, my pretty girl. so so much more than you could ever imagine" almost parroting the words back to you
you both pull away, finally grabbing everything from inside the bag. sorting them in the way you were going to use them.
he was laying on his bed, back propped up slightly on his headboard so you have free access to his whole arm. his hand in one phone, scrolling on different apps while you get situated.
soon enough, you're sitting on your knees grabbing your marker of choice, a baby blue/light blue color. you look at his tattoos, eyes landing on his shell one. you grab his arm gently, breaking his attention from his phone to you. you uncap your marker, filling in each part not going over the lines as if it's a genuine coloring book. he smiles at your concentration, noticing how your tongue pokes out of your mouth and your cheek changing here and there. how your hair started to fall in front of your face.
he takes a picture of this, for memories sake. he doesn't want to forget this ever.
his attention goes from his phone to you, but mostly on you. he decides to put on some music as it seems a little too quiet. not an uncomfortable quiet but enough to keep his ears ringing from silence.
a mix of rap to soft music fills your ears. you giggle when you hear it go from lil skies to Alex G. he smiles at this, he knows how much you love seeing his music taste switch up randomly.
this goes on for a couple of hours, covering his whole sleeve of tattoos to his other arm, filled with doodles. smiley faces, stars, hearts, little words, your initials all over him. covering his hands in more doodles even. he even let you do some on his legs, with a little bit of playful begging.
you were having so much fun with this, it really was a good way to wind down.
matt snuck in a lot more pictures when you weren't paying attention, giggling to himself. seeing how proud you were of each and every drawing you did, the colors you picked out weren't just random. it fit every single one of his tattoos.
what a core memory he made for the two of you with a simple offer of you coloring on him.
THIS ONE IS LONG. but it was so fun to write!!! thank you so much anon, I love you so much:]
remember, drink plenty of water, eat some good food, and take care of yourself!!!!!! I love you all so much
enjoy<3
masterlist:]
if you wanna be on the taglist!! like that post<3
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tag list:
@lemon-criminal @itssophiasstuff @55sturn @lvrr-sturnioloo @keira324 @sturniolonotes @imwetforyourmom @angelworldspost @sunray-222 @letstripdotcom @crazycaroline @liz-stxrn @mattlover586 @junnniiieee07 @sturniozo @sturnsaddictt @sturn3ol0 @samandcolbyfan22 @aresriot @sturnswrites @themattgirl @mkestrm @theyluv-meee @iminlovewithmina @princessbetsy123-blog @trickywritters @winterr-widow @mattsturniolosworld @salumaaa @caroline12b
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wanderingxiao · 4 months
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hiii can you write smut with wanderer having a breeding kink after thinking abt whether or not he could have kids (since hes a puppet)? so later that night he lowkey experiments and he ends up putting the reader into a mating press and turns her into a drooling and dazed mess >>>
thank you sm if u do it ur writing is so hearteyes
Baby Time!
Wanderer x Reader *NSFW*
Warnings: Breeding Kink, raw/unprotected sex, slight degradation, Wanderer being super horny, 18+ only please!! MDNI!! 💙
A/N: My first request!!! :0 Hopefully I completed your request correctly! I had literally so much fun writing this! He can fuck a baby into me anytime he wants 😳💙 Hope you enjoy!
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Wanderer couldn’t seem to get away from it. There were children everywhere in the streets of Sumeru city. Summer seemed to be the time where all the little reckless brats loved to get into trouble, run off, explore, or just be annoying. It bothered Wanderer in a way, constantly having to look out for frail humans that get in his path or help a child find their parent they decided to run away from.
Despite the annoying ones, he found the quieter more behaved children tolerable. Seeing a husband and wife raise a small human was oddly… arousing to him. It flustered him to no end how unbearably horny he would get just seeing a family walk by or a pregnant woman, his thoughts immediately imagining you swollen and pregnant with his child, or how caring and loving you’d be as a parent. One thing bothered him though…
Could he even have kids being a puppet?
By spending lots of time in the… not so work friendly part of the Akademiya, he began to look up ways in which he could potentially get you pregnant. It was there his undying hunger to fill you full of his sticky cum, see your stomach swollen with his offspring, and squeeze your sensitive lactating breasts began. Scholars would give him judgmental looks, but he didn’t care, as long as the book he was reading guarded his painful throbbing erection.
When the time came to see you once more, he took out all his frustrating uncertainties and sexual fantasies on you. You were sprawled out on his bed within the Sanctuary of Surasthana, legs spread wide with his sticky cock battering away at your fluttering cunt. His face was flushed with his eyes reflecting his overwhelming desire to fuck you so full of his cum your belly would be swollen with how much of his seed he would stuff into you.
“W-Wander- Ahh! Wanderer! M-Mngh! I-It’s t-too deep -ngh! Too deep!” Your pitiful cries fell deaf upon his mechanical ears as he smacked his hips aggressively into yours, determined to reach your deepest crevices. A grunt rumbled through his chest, his breath raspy and quickened feeling your walls begin to flutter around his cock so perfectly. It’s like you were made specifically for him, or he was made for you.
“Not yet. Ngh~ need to fuck you full. S-So full of my seed you -hah- bear my offspring.” His hands roughly grabbed the back of your knees, pushing them up to your chest before he leaned over your body to tower over you. Your thighs ached in dull pain at the uncomfortable position, and your body jolted with overstimulating pleasure as his sticky cock head covered in his pre-cum bumped against your cervix.
“W-Wanderer!!! Hah-! Ahh! T-Too much! Too- Ahh!! Too good! P-Plea- Hngh!” This was absolutely perfect. Your lips were slicked up with your saliva, drool covering your cheek as you couldn’t help but cry and drool for him. Your hair was beginning to get messy as he fucked you up and down the bed, your body sloppily sliding to match his brutal rhythm.
“Yeah? You f-fucking slut, you like that? Hah, being folded into a mating press by me? Ngh~ Fucking pathetic!” Wanderer groaned above you, his cheeks flushed with his forehead lined with sweat. He was determined to get you pregnant, going so far as to put you into a mating press to drive his seed as deep as he could.
You couldn’t even respond to him, your mind turning to mush the second he began to buck his hips faster, abusing your poor cunt with his throbbing cock. Your eyes were glazed over with overwhelming love and adoration for him, your chin now covered in your drool and maybe even some of his. The tight coil and warmth building in your abdomen alerted you of your quickly approaching orgasm. Wanderer could tell it too, the way your walls would spasm and tighten around him.
“You g-gonna cum? Yeah? Cum from me f-fucking you dumb?” You could only nod in response, throwing your head back into the pillows as the wet sounds of your slick cunt and his oozing cock collided over and over and over again. His forehead pressed against yours, his moans increasing as his cock twitched against your walls, feeling his own climax building up. He used his feet to push himself more above you, forcing you into a deeper mating press with his cock plunging down into your drooly pussy.
You couldn’t take it anymore, your toes curled with your legs trembling in his grasp. Your walls tightened around him, clit pulsating wildly as his pelvis smacked it with each thrust. With a loud and messy cry of his name, you gushed all over him, a creamy white ring beginning to form around the base of his cock. Despite your intense orgasm he didn’t stop, only heightening his pace to chase his own release.
“F-Fuck I’m cumming-! Ngh- shit!” Wanderer smacked his hips down into yours sloppily and spurted his thick cum against your cervix. His cock twitched feverishly, his breathing becoming more uneven and ragged as he rode out his high. His deep raspy moans died down to low whines as he fucked his cum sloppily back into you to, adoring how you practically milked him dry. He loved the way your body twitched with overstimulation, a high-pitched yet quiet moan spewing from your lips as his cum filled your insides. Wanderer only grinned, his cock twitching back to life as a new wave of arousal and lust pooled within his chest.
“Don’t give out on me now, slut… I still need to fill you up more. That way… you’ll surely bear my offspring. Hehe.”
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Hope you enjoyed~! ; ) 💙
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abigailmoment · 4 months
Text
It wasn't just bad luck that Staeve was targeted. It was a calculated attack. Halsin knew well enough how a caster could examine their enemies for tells. Halsin did it himself. Considered an opponent's tactics, and guessed at the places their mind would be most vulnerable.
You didn't have to be a gifted empath to watch how Staeve hurled himself into the thick of combat, right at the biggest bandit wielding the two-handed great sword, and think that the man might be vulnerable to a spell that exploited wisdom.
The fact that it took down Astarion too, well, perhaps that one was just bad luck.
It happened like this:
-
This is written about @velnna's Tav, Staeve. I was delighted to discover that they don't mind fan fiction being written about him.
I'm always cautious about writing for other people's OCs--getting voices right is so important to me. I have elegantly avoided that issue here.
-
Full text below.
Full Text On AO3
-
The fight was an incidental bit of banditry. Dangerous banditry, certainly. Bandits with  great swords, supported by wizards. Halsin hung back with Gale while the two rogues dashed forward to give truth to the old adage that the best defense was killing the other fellow extremely quickly. 
They cut down the man with the great sword and the woman with the mace and shield. Reinforcements were coming from around a rocky overhang. Halsin coaxed the earth to throw up entangling vines to slow them down. Gale drenched them with glimmering light that illuminated all their vulnerable points for Astarion and Staeve to shoot at.
Only the half-orc made it through the vines and the light. He was bloodied and wrathful. He was huge, but it was two against one, and the two were flanking with each other. It would have been an easy end to the combat, except that apparently there was a bandit wizard hidden somewhere in the trees who chose this moment to cast a spell. 
One second Staeve was a blood spattered half-drow sprinting full-tilt, sword out, towards a fighter twice his size. And then he was gone.
Some sort of teleportation? Banishment? Gale was saying something about trajectory and scanning the treeline. Halsin was yelling, he wasn't sure what, the concern was more important than the words. He started running forward. Because two rogues against a barbarian was fine, but one rogue against a barbarian was an extremely fast way for that rogue to die.
And Astarion knew that so he should be running away. But he wasn't running away. He was darting forward and ducking low and almost getting hit by a greataxe as he snatched something off of the ground. 
Then he was running, thank the Gods. There was something cradled in his arms, which meant he didn't have his rapier out as he scrambled back.
It was a cat. Halsin saw. They were ten feet away from each other when Halsin realized that Astarion was carrying a large, extremely upset tabby cat with grey-green fur.
That was when Astarion vanished. No. Not vanished. As the tabby tumbled to the ground, something small and white was already there, darting for cover. 
Then the half-orc arrived. Bellowing and huge, at least when compared to cats. Not quite as huge when compared to Halsin. 
Halsin decided to turn into a bear. It was amazing how many problems you could solve by turning into a bear. 
-
"I am feeling my oversight in not preparing dispel magic today," said Gale. "Or counterspell."
"This is not a situation we could have anticipated," Halsin said.
Staeve contributed to the conversation, but because of present circumstances, it came out as a meow.
He was large for a cat. His fur was pale brown, tabby-striped with green. His stripes crisscrossed in a way that reminded Halsin of his tattoos. His scar was a fur-less groove in his face. He had the same pale green eyes as always. That color was quite appropriate in a cat.
He meowed again, more insistently this time.
"We will," Halsin assured him. 
"You're speaking with him?" Gale asked. 
"Not magically," Halsin said. It had been a long day and he had barely anything left to cast with. "But I think I understand him."
"Do you?"
"Think a moment and I am confident that you too will guess what he wants from us."
It did only take a moment. Gale was an intelligent man, when prompted. And they'd all seen the small white cat vanish into the woods during the bear-orc fight.
"Ah. Of course." Gale addressed the cat, voice reassuring. "Astarion should be relatively safe though. Polymorph is temporary and even if something did happen to him in the interim, he would just revert to his natural form."
Staeve's whiskers went back and his ears went flat in a thoroughly unimpressed way. 
"I think it would be best to find him and make sure nothing happens," Halsin said with mellow diplomacy. 
"Of course." Gale paused, then said delicately: "Given my skill in woodland matters, or lack thereof, I may best serve this cause by getting out of the way."
Halsin smiled. "It is a wise man who knows his limitations."
"I'll meet you all back at camp then?" said Gale.
"Take a potion of invisibility for the trip," Halsin suggested. "There might still be bandits about."
Staeve had gotten impatient with them, and was padding off into the forest. Halsin handed Gale the potion and hastened to follow.
-
Staeve scampered about the forest like he was looting the place. No hole, hollow log, wasp nest, or brown recluse spider-web was left uninvestigated. The loss of seventy five percent of his gray matter had done the man's already flagging survival instincts no favors. Halsin spent half of his attention looking for signs of a small white cat, and half of his time making sure Staeve's efforts at tracking didn't get him killed.
After being only a hairsbreadth quick enough to pull Staeve away from the entrance to a dire-badger-burrow Halsin decided that his partner was now going to be carried. Staeve made a meowling, writhing objection. He was terribly invested in the search. A compromise was reached when he was offered a perch high on Halsin's broad shoulders. Staeve proceeded to clamber from shoulder to shoulder as Halsin walked, ears always forward and alert, eyes bright, head turning this way and that as he scanned the woods.
Small cats with stealth training were not easy things to track through dense forest. Halsin did end up using his last spell slot to cast speak with animals. The local mice and voles always noticed when predators passed, even small ones. Halsin spoke to them while keeping one hand on Staeve, who watched the tiny creatures with bright, newly interested eyes.
Halsin of course spoke with Staeve as well, but it wasn't quite the same. Talking to a person who had been transformed into an animal was not the same as talking to that person. Shape changed you. How you saw things. How you thought. The mind of a cat was a fraction of the size of that of an elf or half-elf. Thinking with it was different. The change was easiest for druids. It was hardest for the cursed, who did not choose the new shape. Who were surprised by it.
He spoke to Staeve and learned things he had already known from observation. He reassured Staeve that the mice had given useful guidance.
That guidance led them north, then west, and then to a long hollow log, moss covered and broken in two places. A good hiding spot, and the sort of shelter that had a lot of escape routes. Staeve jumped off of Halsin's shoulder as the druid knelt down and they both peered inside.
In the darkness, Halsin could just make out a pair of ruby-bright eyes staring warily back at him. 
Beside him, Halsin watched Staeve relax for the first time since becoming a cat. He wasn't actually as large as Halsin had first thought--it was just that his hackles had been up and his tail puffed out for the duration of the transformation.
It could be a painful thing indeed, to have one's heart so completely entwined with another's safety. A deeply worthwhile thing, but a painful thing, sometimes. 
Halsin made a deferring motion to Staeve, who nodded in a rather un-catlike like way. Halsin stepped back from the log, moving slowly so as not to startle anything. He shifted a few feet away and sat close enough to watch, but far away enough that his looming size wasn't an ominous thing.
Staeve didn't go inside the hollow log. He sat at the entrance. Lay down at the entrance, body long and casual, head up on the lip of the log so he could keep looking inside. Modeling relaxation.
He started to purr. Halsin could hear him purring even from a few feet away. A loud, constant, soothing rumble. It somehow did not surprise Halsin that Staeve had a loud purr.
And then Staeve waited. Patient as anything. Waiting and watching and purring in a low buzz, as steadily as a beehive.
Halsin could not see inside the log, but he could guess at when Astarion moved because Staeve's ears would flick. Staeve had a fine poker face, but everyone had tells. 
Something happened, or occurred to him, that made Staeve raise his head and sit up slightly from his sprawl on the ground. Then he stood up entirely. He gave Halsin a significant look, and trotted off into the underbrush. 
Conscious that he had just been assigned new responsibility, Halsin shifted so that he had a good view of the log's entrances and everything around it. There wasn't much danger, Halsin’s presence in general kept most predators away from this space. But still.
During his vigil, Halsin saw the glimmer of red cat-eyes once. And only briefly. 
Staeve came back soon. He had a dead vole in his mouth and he looked exceptionally pleased with himself. He dropped the vole at the mouth of the log, took a few pawpads back and watched expectantly.
It took another long minute, but after that minute a small white cat crept out of the darkness.
This should surprise no one, but Astarion was a beautiful cat. Slender and graceful with large eyes. His fur was pure, silvery white and just long enough to curl slightly. He moved with a cautious precision that Halsin recognized as his habit, and that deeply suited his new form. 
He sniffed at the vole. He shot Staeve a judgmental look, because Gods forbid the man accept any kindness without prevaricating about it in some way. He glanced at Halsin. And then he leaned down to slide exceptionally long canines into the corpse's chest.
Staeve flopped down about a foot away and watched him with an expression of pleased devotion that would honestly be a bit more appropriate on a dog.
Astarion ate fastidiously, and without getting even a blot of blood on his snow-white fur. When he finished he licked his teeth.
When Staeve was quite sure Astarion was done eating, he sidled up slantwise, sauntering around the vole corpse as if he just casually happened to be taking a stroll in this part of the forest for no particular reason. He stopped just short of Astarion. His ears were forward. His tail flicked lightly from side to side. 
Astarion regarded him levelly with his 'I know what you're doing and I know you think you're being clever about it but you're not' expression. Then, as if granting a boon, he deigned to rub his forehead gently against the underside of Staeve's chin.
Staeve took this as the invitation that it was and pressed back, much more enthusiastic and honest in his delight at the contact. Which in turn gave Astarion an excuse and space to do what he wanted and enjoy it.
They were always very dear to watch together. Whatever form they took. In about a minute they were curled over each other on the ground and Staeve was industriously grooming Astarion's head.
Halsin let this go on for as long as he could. But the shadows were lengthening, and they were very close to the Shadowlands, and he was out of spell slots, and the rogues were currently housecats.
"It is getting late, dear ones," he said softly. 
Astarion twitched at the interruption, and Staeve licked him three times along the neck and chest in a soothing way. Then they disentangled from each other and padded over to Halsin.
Halsin picked up Staeve, but he knelt down and laid his arm on the ground so that Astarion could climb up and find what perch he wanted by himself. They did both end up in his arms. Staeve was tired and quite ready to be carried, and Astarion didn't want to be out of contact with him.
As Halsin walked through the woods with an armfull of cat, Staeve started to purr again. It was really the most marvelous sound. A soothing distillation of satisfaction and care. Almost enough to tempt one away from being a bear.
Astarion did not purr. Some cats didn't. Or purred only very rarely. But Astarion did, at one point, look up at Halsin and blink his bright red eyes very slowly. 
And that was a precious thing.
****
Other stories like this.
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kyo-00 · 2 months
Note
Hi, I read your recent post with the lollipop and I loved it so much!
Idk if you take requests but can you write gojo with lactation kink?
┊🍼꒱ SHARING IS CARING ! ꒱꒱ꮺ
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MINORS FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DNI!!
content: nsfw; smut; afab!reader; fem!reader; porn with a sprinkle of plot; lactation kink; dad!gojo; p in v sex; unprotected sex (oops); breeding kink (if you squint); creampie
w.c: 1k
n/a: broooo when I tell you this was a challenge for me to write, i hope i did good tho. no proof read bc im too lazy to do so, satoru the typa man to fuck a baby into you so he can have access to ur titties full of milk ^^ english isn’t my first language and im still a rookie at writing so bear with me please! any feedback/request/interaction supporting this post is very much appreciated <3
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At first, it was curiosity.
"What're you doing?" You asked, crossed arms over your chest and brows knitted together in confusion. Satoru looked at you and then back at the small bottle with white liquid he was holding. "I just wanna give it a taste," he said, taking a small sip. The flavour setting on his tongue, his eyes widened, brows perking up in amazement at the taste. 'Sweet,' he thought.
Then, he made up excuses.
"You can't drink that! That's my breast milk, 'toru!" You chastised, snatching the glass from his hands. Satoru rubbed the back of his neck, feigning embarrassment. "Shit, I'm sorry, baby. I thought it was regular milk," he muttered, pouting like a child getting his toy taken away.
The truth is, Satoru had gained a liking for your breast milk. No, he was obsessed with it. Whenever you breastfed your baby, Satoru would unconsciously lick his lips, and his mouth watered for some of your milk. Of course, he knew you'd say no if he ever asked you for a drink from it. "It's your child's food, Satoru. Not yours," you'd say, as if he didn't know that already.
Sometimes, you would wake up with Satoru under your shirt, his head nestled on your chest with one of your breasts in his mouth, milk dripping from it. When you confronted him about it, Satoru always feigned innocence: "Sorry, I don't know how it got there, I just wanted to cuddle with you."
Satoru knew his excuses wouldn't last long, so for him, it was better to come out clean before you found out first.
"Right there! Right there! 'toru, fuckk," you panted, digging your nails into his back muscles. The bed squeaked as Satoru drilled his cock into you; tears were brimming from your eyes. "You like this, baby?" he huffed, his cock stroking deeper into your pussy after you tilted your pelvis, his tip kissing your cervix so deliciously it had your mind clouded.
Although Satoru was close to his orgasm, there was one thing he was fixed on, aside from giving you the most pleasure and having you cum first: the droplets of milk dripping out of your perky nipple as you fondled one of your tits. 
Satoru opened his mouth, his tongue lolling out and panting like a dog in heat, and cupped your tit—latching his lips onto it. His thrusts slowed down as his mouth sucked on your sensitive nipple, drinking the liquid spurting out of it.
His tongue swirled and flicked against the pebbled flesh, pulling wanton moans out of you. "G-gentle there," you mewled, running your fingers through his soft hair while his teeth grazed on your nipple. You would've usually tried to stop him from stealing your baby's food, but you were too overwhelmed and loving too much what he was doing to you to care.
"Fuck, you taste so good. So fucking delicious," Satoru groaned, his cock twitching inside you as he nipped at the soft flesh of your tits, leaving faint marks on them, the vibrations of his voice sending your nerves on fire. "Could never get tired of this, gonna suck you dry," he huffs, his tongue lapping and picking up the droplets of milk running down the swell of your breasts.
You wrapped your legs around him, yearning to feel him closer. "I'm close, 'toru," you whined, your nails grazing on his nape and your hips grinding to meet his thrusts.
"I know, baby. I know," he cooed, his hand giving gentle caresses to your tits and dropping soft kisses on your neck, your throbbing cunt clenching and squeezing him so good. "Hold a little longer for me, yeah?" he said, pulling you closer for a kiss and dipping his tongue past your lips. You moaned into the kiss, your hands trailing up to wipe the sweat off his forehead that damped his bangs.
The thought of getting you pregnant again had crossed Satoru's mind for a while; he wanted to keep your tits full of milk for as long as he could. Besides, he could afford to have as many kids as he wanted—he never saw himself as a dad of an only child anyway. "Shit, I want your womb so full of my cum, fuck a baby inside you again," Satoru hissed, pistoning his cock in and out of your sloppy cunt. "Have your tits full of milk f'me," he murmured, attaching his mouth back to your boobs, coating them in drool.
You weren't sure if he really meant his words or if he had uttered them out of horniness, but you babbled, "fuck yes, make me a mom again, please."
Satoru took your words to heart and set a goal to get you pregnant again, jackhammering into your cunt with newfound strength, whispering how hot you were going to look with your swollen belly. He was determined to stuff you full of his cum as many times as necessary to ensure that you'd bear a child of his again. 
You found yourself gasping for air at his brutal pace, mouth agape; you could feel his thrusts up to your throat. Satoru's pupils were blown out of lust, and he huffed and moaned quietly at each snap of his hips against yours, absolutely enraptured into fucking you silly.
Your whines and calls for his name grew pitchier by the second—unable to hold your orgasm back anymore, your walls fluttered and you gushed all over his cock. Your knees buckled, and aftershocks flowed through you as you came undone from your release.
'You look so fucking cute cumming all over my cock,' Satoru thought, staring at your tear-stained face contorting in pleasure. He threw his head back in pleasure, your pussy greedily sucking him back at each thrust, and he spilled himself inside you, thick ropes of warm cum flooding your pretty cunny, and you moaned, feeling your insides stuffed.
The tangy smell of sex lingered in the room, your gasps being the only sounds in the room as you came down from your high. 
Minutes later, as if on command, your child's cries for food were heard from his crib. Satoru pulled out of you, his seed already seeping out from you, which he did not let go to waste and pushed back in inside your hole with two fingers, making you whine at the intrusion. "Don't worry," he said, "we'll give him formula."
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beandaifuku · 1 year
Text
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➳ waking up without you ་༘࿐ྂ
⁀➷ their reaction when they wake up without you after a steamy night
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#01 一 featuring : satoru gojo, kento nanami, toji fushiguro, sukuna ryomen
#02 ニ anon asked : Hi beannn! Can you make hcs of jjk men waking up without reader beside them after steamy night?? I hope u can post more about my man, kento ~~
#03 三 contents : fluff, suggestive, petnames, cussing, gn!reader
#04 四 song playing : telepatia - kali uchis
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𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 usually will notice you are gone just by a mere second, but he often let down his guard around you, he would notice you later. Especially when he wanted to rest and be vulnerable. As he noticed your absence, he would go into panic mode for a moment and would wake up immediately to find you. He thinks and processed things fast, so it is more likely that he'd overthink a lot about your safety when he's walking out of the room. He will be so relieved to see you are still in this house, doing something out of the room. He will hug you from behind, whining about why'd you leave him alone in the room. He will wait for you to finish your business and will return to bed with you. If you wanted to rest in the living room, he'll drag his blanket and pillow to the couch, sleeping in the living room instead. As long as he knows you are by his side.
“Baby... You're making me so worried..” Satoru murmured as he tightened his arms around you. His face buried on your nape, sighing. Hot breath tickled your skin and you shuddered at the feeling, especially when Satoru's naked torso was pressed closely against your thin sleepwear — well, it was his shirt, to be fair.
“'Toru.. sorry, I was a bit hungry..” you replied softly, leaning back to him as your hand reached to his head and caressed his white hair.
“Not sleepy?” he asked.
“Mm.. not really.. Feels like wanna watch something for a moment,” you replied, turning your body to kiss your lover. Satoru hummed, droopy and hazy eyes fixated on your beautiful figure.
“Okay...” he gave you a peck before he left you in the kitchen alone. You wished him good night before continuing to arrange your snacks in the bowl. After you were done, you took your warm drink and the bowl of snacks to go to the living room.
“Toru? You're not sleeping, honey?” you were a bit surprised to see Satoru was already curled in a blanket with two pillows on the couch. He looked at you and tapped the spot next to him on the couch. You walked towards him and sat down. After you put down the drink and snacks, Satoru wasted no time to latch on to you, hugging and snuggling against you like you were his personal teddy bear.
“Hm.. I can't sleep without you, baby... Don't run like that, m'kay? Just wake me so I can come with you too. Don't wan' you to leave me alone.”
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𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 always does his best to take care of you after intimacy, asking whatever you want and trying to help with your wish. He would prepare water and some small snacks after. Even if you did not ask for it, he'll prepare it so you don't have to leave the room — his side, to be honest. Kento seems like a heavy sleeper due to his schedule, so it would take a while for him to notice you are gone. When you are absent, his hand would roam the bed to find you mindlessly as he doesn't want to open his eyes. If he couldn't find you the first time, he just lets it go but he'll be concerned when he could not even touch or hug you when he roams his hand again. And at that moment, Kento will start looking for you. When he finds you, he'll just sit nearby, watching and waiting for you until you decided to go back to bed. If you don't want to, then he'll just get back to sleep but leave the door open enough to hear or see you.
“What're you doing?” you turned around, seeing Kento approaching you. He was half-naked, with his shorts hanging low around his waist. Kento sat on the chair at the dining table, looking at you who were sipping the warm tea you made.
“Oh. I just.. my throat feels a bit sore and hoarse.. So I made some hot tea..” you replied, walking towards him. Kento's arm caught your hips, pulling you gently to sit on his lap. You did, careful to not spill the tea.
“You could've asked me. I'll do anything.” Kento replied, his voice very hoarse and sleepy.
“You're too deep in sleep, Kento. I don't have the heart to wake you up,” you said softly, kissing his cheek. Kento smiled, a bit sheepishly, at your action. “Go to sleep, dear. You looked so tired,” you muttered.
“Will you go back to bed?” he asked, instead. You nodded as you continued to stir and sip the tea. Kento hummed and hugged you tighter, pressing a delicate kiss on your neck. You chuckled, ticklish.
“Then I'll just wait for you. Just take your time and don't mind about me, darling. I could never sleep without touching you after all.”
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𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 doesn't really mind if you are gone because he wants to sleep before he, unfortunately, has to wake up the next morning. He would not panic so much or be concerned if you are just making a trip to the toilet or the kitchen. He will wake up when he notices and will stay awake until you return to bed. So, if you are gone for a while, Toji would wait for you and when he decided it is too long, he will get up and find you. He would not personally go near when he sees you are just fine. But he will ask though if you are going to bed or not. If you do, then he'll just go back to sleep. If you're not, he'll urge you to come back to sleep with him. He will use his strength — such as carrying you to the bed.
“Where...” Toji had been waiting for you to return for several minutes already. He noticed you were gone when he did not feel your smaller hands on him and he thought you were just going to pee but it had been minutes.
Groaning to himself, Toji sat up and leaned against the headboard, watching the closed door. But you still did not return. Toji sighed and got up from the bed, walking out of the room.
“Hey, yer' gonna go back?” Toji grunted, finally seeing you were sitting in the living room with his grey hoodie on your body. You turned your head and smiled at him.
“Oh hey, darl'. This show is pretty good, I couldn't leave it.” you replied. Toji hummed and walked towards you. He was wearing the other half of his grey clothes — the sweatpants. And it was hanging very low, he might as well strip himself, to be honest.
“I wan' to sleep, though,” Toji said, voice clearly exhausted and slurred.
“Hm~ go to sleep then. I wanna watch this to the end,” you replied, returning your focus to the television. Toji looked at you, hand scratching his neck as he was stuck in his thoughts.
“You sore? Right there?”
“Y-Yes...” of course you'd be sore all over your body. It was the Toji Fushiguro.
“A'right then.”
Suddenly Toji swooped you onto his shoulder, carrying you like a stack of rice. He gave your ass a nice slap and you yelped a bit in surprise — mostly because of the sudden action of carrying you up.
“T-Toji..! Put me down!”
“Get y'r ass in the bed, m'kay? Ya' can watch that thing later. 'm sleepy, so let's just sleep. You gotta sleep too, baby.”
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𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 doesn't care, really. He's not much of a heavy sleeper, so he'll notice you're gone quickly. But instead of asking or waiting, he'll just go back to sleep. If you returned to bed, Sukuna would roll to your side and hug you, sternly telling you to stop walking around his house. You certainly could not move much as his muscular arms are caging you to stay still and just sleep. If you did not return to bed, Sukuna would not mind at all — he'll just stay asleep. His hand however would unconsciously stroke the sheet on your side because he actually does want you to stay. But, the next day, surely he'll bombard you with questions and somewhat annoyingly argue with you that you should not leave the bed when he's sleeping. He's a certified registered asshole, he'd say stuff like he'll knock you up until you only depend on him to even walk.
“Good morning, 'Kuna...” you woke up with a yawn, getting up from the couch. The movie that was playing on the television took your attention and interested you quickly, making you stay in the living room for the whole night despite the aching body you had after Sukuna and you being intimate.
“Where the hell you went?” Sukuna asked, grunting in dissatisfaction. He could not sleep peacefully, without having something to wrap his arms on. He kept shifting his positions too, despite having all the space on the bed for himself. Though he was asleep, he felt as if he was conscious the whole time, trying to feel your presence with his hand — only to find no one to hug.
“Huh? Oh... There's a movie and it looked great. So I watched it and accidentally fall asleep here. Sorry.” you smiled cheekily, contrasting Sukuna's pout.
“Why're you grinning like that? I don't get good sleep, brat,” he muttered.
“Huh? Why? Is there a bug on the bed or something?” you asked and Sukuna grunted again, approaching you closer. His thick fingers gently nudged your cheek, not even hard enough to push your face. A small gesture to show his annoyance. You giggled, knowing full well why Sukuna could not sleep.
“Next time, I'd fuck you hard till you can't walk, brat. Don't wanna have you to run and sleep somewhere else. Jus' stay with me, 'right? Ugh... 'twas so not comfy, I have nothin' to grab at all.”
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©beandaifuku 2022, no repost and plagiarism, JJK masterlist
more vignettes : daddy...? daddy!
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twstedstoryshop · 1 month
Text
FINALLY, I return properly. Kind of. Reason I've been away for so long was because of insane convention season and also had this bad boy in the works. This is one of two commissions done for a friend. Hope you all can enjoy yourselves for the crumbs I produce. -SK
CONTENT WARNING: Blood, violence, depressed s/o, and mentions of toxic past relationships.
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Your New Boyfriends Runs Into Your Ex
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While Rook Hunt was one of many to find camaraderie in a den of villains, that didn’t mean chivalry was dead to him. Certainly not him.
Under his keen gaze, he knew that when a certain topic was broached, you would shy away instantly. Paled knuckles, a panicked gaze, and your bottom lip near to splitting open by how badly you chewed down.
It was like he was seeing a rabbit or deer caught in a trap, frantic with no escape. Though his heart had been trained to a perfect steel and not feel for his quarry, when he sees that look in your eyes, all defenses fall away.
The topic? Well, the worries of what the future held for you. Moreso in far off days. Would you continue to have your friends by your side? Would someone ever cherish you? Have a deeper connection?
For Rook, it was a no-brainer because of course! Who else was more worthy of adoration and praise than his dear petite grâce? As he would declare this in all his usual grandeur, a small smile would form on your lips, but that happiness never reached your eyes.
Doubt clouded that sweet gaze of yours. In its own way, seeing such clear eyes be veiled by sadness was heartachingly beautiful. Yet it was a beautiful scene Rook couldn’t bear to behold for too long.
When it came to keeping track of you, Rook was extra considerate. If one can call it that… In his mind, he kept careful track of those you interacted with. He watched your mannerisms, your dialogue, anything amiss he would file it away. But for the longest time, it didn’t seem like an outside force was troubling you.
For a moment, Rook considered that whatever wounded your heart was a scar from a distant past he had yet to uncover. What he didn’t expect was said wound abruptly appearing on a normal day.
From a vantage point, perhaps from a second story window or among the trees that dotted the campus, Rook had caught sight of you stone-still on your walk. Before you, an NRC student he couldn’t recall. He didn’t really have time to register the man when Rook had just attention all on you.
Your wide, hollow eyes. Your chest rising and falling rapidly. How you froze so perfectly under the gaze of this man. It was a scene Rook was all too familiar with. Prey terrified beyond its own mind to run, to hide, or even fight.
Your rational mind couldn’t comprehend what your ex was even saying to you as panic held you in its overbearing clutch. The world grew dizzying and just when you felt like your heart would give out, right then and there, a broad arm wrapped around your shoulders.
“Ah, there you are, ma petite grâce. I was looking all over for you. You made me a bit worried, you know!”
It was hard to look up at him as Rook’s hat was tipped just enough for the shadows to mask his features. But your ex needed only one glance for the role of prey to be forced on him. Green eyes with a gaze so sharp, so precise like a notched arrow perfectly aligned to fire, bored right into him.
It didn’t take much time before the ex backpedaled away with his tail between his legs, now only leaving you with Rook.
Rook would face you, gripping your forearms firmly. His expression, soft though. He called out for you, trying his best to snap you from your daze. When you finally realized it was him now before you, your body moved on its own before you could think. A heaviness made you fall against his chest. You shivered, maybe tears and sobs escaping you.
Rook held you so close against him. Like he was cradling a sculpture of the most delicate porcelain. As if one scratch or knock would crumble you into fine dust.
A single hand held the back of your head protectively, letting you weep as much as you wanted against his shirt. His chin nestled along your hair. You would be so blissfully unaware of Rook’s gaze. A complicated stare into space as his mind swam with many thoughts.
Rook always found beauty in the oddest of places. Yet for the first time, there was something Rook found utterly detestable. A vile image that was a blot in his picturesque vision and that was your ex, the source of your pain. But from that ugliness, he did find a most exquisite sensation. A drive to hunt. An unyielding need to protect you.
While he couldn’t spring into action earlier, his quarry was marked. A hunter is patient and he can wait as long as he needs to for one slip-up, one more attempt to dare get near you, and Rook would be sure to let loose a vicious arrow.
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There is a tension between you and Floyd on certain days. While most times, it would be all fun and games, just him and his little Shrimpy. But Floyd wasn’t blind to the weight you carried.
It would irritate him on a dime when you obviously had thoughts clouding your mind. So much so that you fidget anxiously or not even pay attention to him. His sharp voice would call over the din of thoughts and you’d see the eel practically inches away from your face.
His dual colored eyes glared at you and a slight frown pulled at his lips. “Geez, what the hell is goin’ on with you!?” He doesn’t mean to be so crass, but to see his Shrimpy unsettled, it frustrated him. 
Moreso that he can’t exactly pinpoint what was going on with you, that he can’t just squeeze it to a pulp and boom, no more problems!
He knew you had your walls and such walls took time to lower to let him in. Floyd had the patience as a waiting moray eel, but if he had the proactiveness to actually act upon his patience? That’s a whole other story. When it came to you, he just wanted to see you happy and unbothered. All reasoning would flutter out the window.
It may or may not have taken a lot of squeezing and thinly veiled threats to your friends for them to fess up information you couldn’t bear to unload on Floyd. A common name would be passed around, an ex from your past. Just the thought that someone else had their hands on you nearly made Floyd break bones if not for the pitiful yelps of your friends to release them in time.
Questions whirled in that skull of his. Why have you never brought this up to him? What did this ex do to you that made you shy away from him? Where was this scumbag now? All of these worries would bleed into his daily life and if it weren’t for Jade and Azul to straighten him out, he would have been throwing tantrums left and right.
It wasn’t until one day that all his frustrations would come to a boiling point into a final, satisfying crescendo. At least for him.
Work was to be done at Mostro Lounge. Floyd was on duty to be a waiter along with yourself. Both of you have opted to be in an awkward silence in your relationship and it was evident by how you both avoided one another, unsure of how to really talk about your issues.
Floyd had taken an order from a particular student, one he could easily sniff out as a rude bastard by his mannerisms and his tones. But if Floyd’s temper got the better of him, he’d never hear the end of it from Azul. He would hand off the order to you to at least serve drinks.
Everything seemed normal until suddenly a glass shattered. All eyes shifted to you who shivered in place. The tray rattled in your hands and below you a cascade of broken glass.
“Y-you…” “The fuck…? What the hell are you doing here!? And look at what you did to my drink! You’re still incompetent as ever, tch!”
You wanted to cry, scream, run away. You felt so ashamed, being treated like garbage again from an ex you swore you’d never let walk all over you again. But at the height of stress, you couldn’t bring yourself to stand up for yourself. Pathetic, absolutely pathetic…
That is until a sing-song, nonchalant voice slid right up behind you. “Ahhhh, what a shame. I apologize on the behalf of our lil waiter here. They’re just nervous is all. Here~ Why don’t I make it up to ya? I can serve ya a drink right here, right now. On the house~” “Finally, some decent fucking service…”
You looked up at Floyd and saw that dangerous glint in his eyes. How his pupils honed on the poor fool as his smile widened so tightly across his face. He reached for a spare glass that was left on the table, presented it with a flourish to your ex, and coyly said, “Readyyyy~? Watch carefully.”
Then, his hand flew so quick to grab a clump of your ex’s hair and slammed it squarely on the glass. The crunch of glass, your scream, and the screech of chairs being pushed back as patrons jumped.
“GYAHAHA, YOU LIKE IT!? IT’S MOSTRO LOUNGE’S OWN PERSONAL RED. Ahhhh, but the red comin’ from you? Pfft, it ain’t worth the shit under my shoe…” Your ex could barely register what was even being said to him from the glass embedded in his face and blood gushing from his nose and broken lips.
Hands covered your mouth in terror as you could barely register what was happening. From panicked students screaming to Azul and Jade holding Floyd back from beating the poor ex to a pulp. All you could really register was the horrifying satisfaction deep in your chest, seeing the one who hurt you so much battered under the hand of someone who protected you…
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Leona has his own ways of caring but most of the time, if you cannot read between the lines, it may come off as uncaring.
He does care, but don’t expect a coddling man rushing to be your knight when you are feeling sorry for yourself. The last thing he wants to do is pity you as he knows all too well the humiliation of being pitied.
Instead he observes, he watches, he’s keen to everything you do that isn’t a part of your daily life. In sly ways, he tries to break your moments of dissociating. He calls your name sharply to snap you out of your funk and gives you a menial task.
Telling you to maybe preen his mane, join Ruggie on an errand, what have you. It’s better to keep yourself occupied than whatever is plaguing your mindscape.
Sometimes, he will even abruptly lean against you, his weight toppling the both of you over. Even if you protest under him, he will insist he’s really tired and just wants something warm beside him to help him sleep. In truth, it’s just another way to stop your self-deprecating thoughts.
Though he will speak up in annoyance if your depressed thoughts start to bleed into your relationship. It will sting, but he means well. He tells you gruffly that he’s not in the mood to lay next to baggage. He wants only his partner, dammit.
You may argue, you may not, it depends on how you react but at the end of it, one way or another, you’re going to have to face him and this problem that hangs over you.
If you take time before approaching him or spill everything in one go, he will wait patiently and listen. But cowardice by running away he won’t accept and would want answers promptly.
One way or another, the truth has to come from you and you explain the thoughts that coil around you like a petulant serpent. A name and face that digs into your chest horribly. Your ex and the ways he has hurt you in many ways.
Leona listens stoically, letting you share your story before acknowledging and commending the strength it took for you to finally admit this. He knows all too well the pains of the past, he shares in your frustrations. But the past stays in the past for a reason.
Now it’s you and him now. You define yourselves here in the present. If anyone says otherwise? Well, he’d like to see them try.
Who would have known that such a time would come so soon when one day, someone had the gall to start harassing you right in the Savanaclaw dorm.
That same face that always lingered around you like a ghost was here right now in the flesh, taunting you at the edges of the Spelldrive field. Your ex sneered at you, wondering what the hell you were doing around here during his practice hours. Had the nerve to accuse you of stalking him despite your split.
Your anger boiled your blood, your face flushed. Your nerves alighted with a burning fury that made the dorm’s dry heat pale in comparison. But your body did not respond to you. Your throat froze despite wanting to curse and yell out at your ex.
What neither you expected though while your mouth gasped for something, anything to throw at this scumbag, was a lion’s roar peeling across the field. A shadow loomed over your ex and both of you looked up to a silhouette blocking the sun and a pair of piercing green eyes.
Astride his broom, Leona stared squarely at the ex. “For a minute, I thought I heard annoying squawks from a mangy vulture, but now I just see a whelp. Having the nerve to approach my partner…”
Without missing a beat, Leona lowered himself to the ground and sauntered right over to your ex. Your ex tried to stand his ground but anyone could tell he was practically shaking in his spot.
“So.... What were you two talking about?” It was such a simple question. So trivial. But the way Leona spoke each word, it was like a pair of hungry jaws were ready to snap behind every syllable. He dared for your ex to slip up.
“N-nothing… Nothing at all… I was l-leaving…” “Hooo?” Leona’s tail whipped behind him in amusement. “So you just waltzed up to my partner and gawked at them? Nothing left your useless, flapping gums? I can hardly believe that.”
Leona’s knuckles cracked as he flexed his hand and for a quick second, you swore you saw wind and dust particles gather between his finger tips. The air felt still and you heard your ex gulp audibly from a dry throat. Then, a sudden calmness.
“But if you were just about to leave, then by all means, scurry along. I hate people wasting my time.”
To which your ex immediately did, turning on his heel, so close to make a run for it. Then, like a giant paw slamming atop a helpless mouse, Leona’s hand roughly grabbed his shoulder and stopped him.
“A warning since I’m feeling so generous today… Don’t ever let me catch you near them again. Ya hear me? Or else, I’ll make you a nice addition to the scenery. We could always add more sand and bones.” Leona cracked a toothy smirk with darkness in his eyes. His fangs glinted in the sun and it was then you truly realized the fierce lion you had taken in as your boyfriend.
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clockwayswrites · 8 days
Text
City Pigeons Part 12 CW: blood, past trauma and experimentation
Jason could almost go to sleep. He wouldn’t, not when he was the only Bat in the apartment, but it would be so easy to. Danny made a really good weighted blanket.
It seemed once the kid got over touching someone, he basically became a koala. Cass and Danny had spent the morning wrapped around each other on the couch. Cass was playing one of her weird clicking games and Danny, blue bear in his lap, was scrolling through articles on the tablet that Tim had brought him the other day.
Now, though, Cass was out on a snack run and Danny had slowly slumped over until he was laying across Jason. It wasn’t minded. Jason could admit he still had some trouble with touch himself, but it was easy to be there for Danny like this.
The problem was, Jason needed to get back to Crime Alley for at least a few nights. He was already past when Red Hood should have made an appearance. It he didn’t go back soon, rumors were going to start that he was dead. Again.
Jason waited for Danny to start searching for a new article to read to ask, “Are you alright with meeting someone soon?”
He didn’t expect Danny to tense like he did.
“Robin?”
“No, Dandelion,” Jason said, stroking Danny’s white hair. “N talked with Robin and he knows not to stop by like that without warning. We’ll have him over when you’re comfortable but not before.”
“Okay. Sorry. I don’t mean to…”
“None of that. He freaked you out,” Jason said. “I know he didn’t mean to, and from our guess it’s not his fault how he feels like to you, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t. It’s okay to set boundaries.”
“He… doesn’t feel weird to you?”
Jason sighed. “No. I guess I don’t sense it. I didn’t know you had died until you told me.”
“Oh.” Danny’s voice was small and quiet.
“But I knew that I had died— the others know it’s too,” Jason was quick to add. “It’s alright that you died. No one will think differently of you.”
“They might. It’s… you’re different than me, I guess.”
“I don’t know, because I don’t know what happened to you, but I actually hope so. The way I came back wasn’t pleasant.” Jason had to take a breath before he continued. “I was murdered by a rogue in town called the Joker. I woke up… we’re still not sure when exactly, but somewhere about half a year later. I didn’t have any of my memories, but I still had most of my injuries.
“I was picked up by some people you might hear us refer to— the League of Assassins. They put me back together about a year after my death by tossing me in something called the Lazarus Pits. Those things come with a price though, one that I’m still paying. Coming back was… hard, in a lot of ways.”
“Oh,” Danny said. He clung a little to Jason’s shirt, like he wanted to make sure Jason was still there. It was a feeling Jason understood all too well. “I, um, don’t think I’ve ever stayed really dead for more than a minute or two. At least not like… not like you were.”
Jason rested his hand on Danny’s back, feeling him breath. Feeling him… feeling him not breathe.
“…Danny?”
Danny clung tighter to Jason’s shirt. “Go ahead, ask.”
“Are you… somewhat dead right now?”
“Yes.”
Just one word. A simple answer.
“Okay. That’s— okay. I’m glad there’s a reason that you’re not breathing,” Jason said and pressed a kiss to the top of Danny’s head as he tried to calm his own pounding heart.
“I think B.B. knows. I usually… it’s habit to breath but sometimes I forget and—”
“She’s good at noticing things.” Jason would have to talk with her. “But that goes to what I said, right? None of the others will thinking of you differently.”
“Even if…”
“Even if anything.”
Danny sat up and Jason resisted the urge to reach for him. It took him a moment longer to release Jason’s shirt. Jason sat up slowly and waited for Danny to get the words out he was obviously working on.
“Can I show you?”
“Course.” Jason braced himself for anything.
“It might be bright, close your eyes.”
The flash still shown through Jason’s eyelids.
“Oh.” Danny’s voice wavered horribly. “I didn’t think of that.”
“Danny?” Jason was reaching forward even as he opened his eyes.
It was good he did.
He had to catch Danny as he wavered dangerously. Danny’s who hair was black. Who’s eyes were blue. Who looked all the more like Bruce’s son. Who was bleeding red.
-
“Jesus and Mother Mary,” Dick cursed, resting his forehead against his wrist’s.
Cass came over and peeled the bloody gloves off for him. “Breathe.”
“I am breathing,” Dick wheezed.
“Badly.”
Jason barked out a laugh at that. It was unstable in a way that reminded the room of worse days.
The door banged open and they all jolted, everyone but Cass, who was better than that, and Danny who was still out cold.
“Shit, fuck, sorry,” Tim rambled. “Is he stable?”
“Yes,” Cass answered. Her voice was calm, but but Duke could see the way that she fidgeted. For anyone else it wouldn’t be called fidgeting, but the way that she untied and retied and untied the trash bag in his visions told Dick otherwise.
Cass was as worried as the rest of them.
“Signal?” Tim asked. He came into the room, tablet already pulled up to record everything.
“Hard for me to say,” Duke said with a little shrug. He wished he could say, but he was still trying to understand what he was seeing. “The guy is… he’s like no one I’ve ever seen before. But I think he’s getting stronger.”
“That’s— holy fuck.” Tim paused as he finally got a look at Danny.
“Really looks like the old man like this, doesn’t he?” Jason asked. He was trying to hide how his hands were trembling by keeping his arms crossed. Everyone in the room let him pretend.
Duke sure wouldn’t have wanted to be the one Danny collapsed on like that. It was bad enough being the third one there as he swung over from his patrol. The cuts had still been appearing on Danny’s skin, ripping him apart like he was nothing.
He didn’t look much better all bandaged up.
“I think the cuts were ones he must have sustained before changing forms before he even met us,” Duke reasoned. “They… felt old.”
Dick rubbed at his face. “So the whole time they were there just waiting to bleed?”
Jason laughed again. “Waiting for him to be alive again.”
Slowly, Dick dropped his hands and looked up at Jason. “Jay?”
Okay, so they were at the point of forgetting cape-names now. That was a great sign.
Confusingly, Jason looked to Cass, who actually fidgeted.
“He doesn’t breathe. He does, not always. His heart beats, not always. It is like he…,” she twisted her hand as if trying to grab onto the right word. “Like he relaxes and forgets.”
Well that was weird. Dick nodded to the monitor that he had helped hook up. “He’s breathing right now and the monitor says his heartbeat is hella slow, but steady.”
“This is his alive form, I think. More alive form,” Jason said with a shrug. “His other form is his more dead form. He said he’s never stayed ‘really dead’ like I was. I think ‘really’ was the important word in that. He stressed it like it was… a technically or some shit.”
“Or a loophole,” Tim said. He was watching Danny with his head tilted just slightly to the right.
It was a pose that had Duke straightening up in attention. “What do you see that I can’t?”
Tim glanced at him and then back down at Danny. “The scars don’t match.”
“Ti—Red, please just say it,” Dick pleaded, exhaustion hanging on his words.
“Sorry, I was. I mean, the scars he has now don’t exactly match the scars he had in his— what are we calling it? Dead form?”
Jason flinched.
Dick’s eyes flicked from Jason to Tim. “Let’s go with… ghost. Undead, you know?”
Tim continued on valiantly. “His scars don’t match with what he had in his ghost form. There are a few like around his neck that I think are one-to-one and a lot of them are in the same place from what I can see and might be the same? I’d have to take photos and compare. But… he has more in this living form, I’m sure of it.”
“Okay, right, so that’s a thing,” Jason said. He slid down the wall he was leaning against until he was squatting. He hung his head between his knee and wrapped his hands around the back of his neck.
Duke could see Jason passing out with enough probability that he slipped out of the room to grab some sour candy for Jason and an icepack for the back of his neck. Being honest with himself, Duke could use the moment out of the room. It was a lot to deal with.
Man, someone would have to do something about the bloody couch too… Dick sighed and took the time to send a message to Babs about it as well as an update. Knowing her she had a list of all the furniture in all the safe houses and could get a slipcover ordered on same day delivery. At least he hoped so. Everyone was taking this pretty hard and they didn’t need the reminder.
Duke figured the bad reaction was pretty fair though, they had thought that Danny was getting better and now his healing was going to be set back. Dick would be guilty because he hadn’t been here, Jason going through his issues about kids and violence and death, and Cass already counted Danny as family. She was never good when family was hurt. It was even worse that Danny should have been safe, he was under their watch.
Duke set the pack of candy and ice pack down next to Jason’s foot, close enough that he should be able to feel the cold, and backed up to his corner. It was best not to touch right then. He wasn’t afraid of Jason ever hurting him purposefully, but he was also very aware for Jason it might not always be purposeful.
Cass joined him, leaning against his side, and Duke wrapped an arm around her. Tim was tapping away on his tablet, mostly muttering to himself, but Dick had gotten up to peer over his shoulder.
Jason tore open the packet of candies and popped one in his mouth.
They’d be okay.
It would take work, but they were Bats. They were stubborn.
Dukes wrist buzzed. The tracking number for slipcover flashed across his hud. It would be there by 9 pm.
They’d be okay.
-
Everything hurt. Everything ached all the way down through his skin and muscled and bones. His breath caught in his chest, ragged and frayed like his lungs were full of shattered glass.
He tried not to make a noise.
He tried to stay quiet.
They would notice him if he made a noise. He couldn’t take any more attention. He didn’t think he’d survive more attention. God, that thought was almost enough to kill him. Once he would have done anything for his parents attention and now—
There was a hand in his hair. It was gentle.
Oh, he was crying.
“…going to be okay. We have you, Dandelion, and we’re not letting them touch you ever again. The two Reds will make sure it can never happen again. Once you’re better they’ll take a little road trip.”
That was… that wasn’t… a sob broke through Danny’s lips and he didn’t stop it. He didn’t even try.
He wasn’t there.
He could make noises.
He was safe.
“Danny? Hey, are you awake.”
Danny nodded as much as he could manage.
“Hey there,” Nightwing said, voice so kind that it just made Danny cry harder. “Can you open your eyes for me?”
Danny shook his head.
“Okay, that’s okay, thank you for answering me Danny. How’s the pain? Um, squeeze my hand once if it’s okay, twice if it’s really bad.”
Danny squeezed it three times.
“Really, really bad, huh? Okay. Okay… we can give you some pain meds through your IV. We have you on a saline drip because you looked really bad. We didn’t want to give you any meds without your consent though. Are you alright with some pain medication? Once for yes, twice for no.”
One squeeze.
“Okay, let me go—”
Danny clung to Nightwing’s hand a tightly at he could. His breath stuttered around the glass.
“Not leaving, Dandelion. I’m going to text Red Robin, okay? He’s in the living room. Hood and B.B are out… running an errand. They’ll be back soon. I’ll text Red and he’ll bring the pain meds.”
Danny nodded. Nightwing shifted around, but didn’t let go of Danny’s hand. The breathing calmed, got easier. Danny let out a slow breath.
“Hey Danny,” a new voice said. “The medication will make you feel fuzzy and maybe disoriented. You’ll probably sleep a lot. We don’t want you to wake up panicked. Is there anything we can do to help you know you’re here with us and safe?”
“Bear,” Danny croaked. He wet his lips and tried to continue. “Smells that aren’t… Touch. Warmth.”
“Red will get your teddy bear as soon as the meds are hooked up and we’ll work on the other things. One of us will always be here with you,” Nightwing said.
Danny squeezed his hand again.
“Okay. We won’t leave you alone, Danny, we’ll keep you safe. You’ll be okay.”
Danny trusted that.
It was surprising.
He didn’t think he could trust anymore, but Danny trusted that, trusted them.
The warmth of that thought followed him back into the black.
---
AN: This all Danny's fault, not mine! He decided to reveal his form early and then... welp.....
...Stay delightful, darlings?
607 notes · View notes
msgexymunson · 1 year
Text
Overwhelmed
Fem!sensitive!reader v soft!dom!eddie
Overview: hyper sensitivity can be awful. But you begun to find out it's a blessing in disguise with Eddie Munson touching you.
AN: This was a drabble which turned into a long one, whoops! No use of Y/N, pure indulgence on my part due to my neuro divergent ass.
Warnings: reader uses she/her pronouns, smutty mc smutt smutt, NSFW (minors I will chase you with a broom) bit angsty, bit fluffy, female oral receiving, lap riding, also I'm english so bear with me and the American-isms!
7k words
Part 2 here Masterlist
Ever since you were a kid you were sensitive. Loud noises got to you. Not necessarily single noises. It was usually the painful overlay of sounds, mixing and mingling, overwhelming you until you couldn't think. Emotions could be problematic. It seemed that everything affected you more than others. Dizzying highs and earth shattering lows. If someone gave you negative feedback it wore down on you for far longer than it should. The pain was palpable, you could almost taste it.
Touch sensitivity affected you the most. It got to you on a daily basis. No one normal really picks up on how much other people touch you. It's constant; an arm brushing against yours in passing, fingers skimming against your own handing over coins or a pen, a hand at the small of your back when inching past you. Every touch from someone you didn't know or didn't like made your skin crawl. Even wearing a slightly itchy jumper could be hell.
It was even worse with someone you liked. An accidental swipe of a hand, a knee resting against yours, it could send lightning bolts up your spine. It was something you've always had to deal with, and managed to control quite well, until you became friends with Eddie Munson.
You befriended the little band of outcasts mostly out of convenience. Safety in numbers. One day a seat was free on their table in the cafeteria and you asked if you could sit there. The teenage boys gawked at you in silence, all except Eddie. He had stood up and flashed a debonair smile at you, bowing and offering you the seat. You took it gratefully, mumbled a thank you, and proceeded to eat your lunch with your head in your book.
Each day it seemed the same seat was free, next to Eddie. Each day you sat, and each day you opened up more and more to the lovable weirdos surrounding you. Little by little you had been indoctrinated into their gang and it pleased you more than you were prepared to admit. It escalated from just lunch, to being a key member of their D&D party, Hellfire, since they were in sore need of a cleric. You were slowly shedding your rough exterior, the walls you placed around yourself for protection. Not completely though, not yet. You never shared how you felt, how things got to you sometimes. How sensitive you were.
That only got more difficult when you realised just how much you liked Eddie. Suddenly that flash of a smile would make you weak at the knees. You'd see him running his hand through his hair, palm coming to rest on the back of his neck, and you could barely breathe. It's like your attraction to him sucked the air out of your lungs. That shoulder length messy hair, the slim but powerful build, that damn smile. It was all too much. The biggest problem of all though? Eddie was a toucher.
You were sure he didn't even realise, but it was continuous. It was like a compunction. It was innocent enough, but it affected you so much. Every time he grabbed you by the arm it made you shiver. If he slung his arm around your shoulder you were practically quivering. Worst of all was the hugs. He would pull you in for a crushing bear hug and it was like your legs turned to jelly.
Last night at the weekly Hellfire meeting it happened again. You were all celebrating your victory after a particularly drawn out battle. You usually held back a bit being the party's only healer but this time you'd had to step up and had managed to land the final blow. The boys had shouted and jumped up, celebrating the victory with vigor. Eddie had beamed at you and reached out, stroking your cheek with his thumb. "Atta girl" he grinned at you. And what did you do? You fucking whimpered. You felt the blood rush to your cheeks and you froze, staring at his deep brown eyes. Eddie stared back, brow furrowed but smiling, like he was trying to figure something out. As soon as the moment happened, it was gone. He moved his hand and you had stared down into your lap, trying to will the blood from your face. It appeared no one else had noticed, too busy making noise to see what had occurred. Eddie had tried to touch your arm again at the end of the session but you had grabbed your bag and high tailed it out of there, much to the confusion of the rest of the party. 
Today you were heading into the cafeteria, nearly dreading it. Why had he stroked your face? What the hell was that about? Was that just Eddie being Eddie? He was always so touchy feely. You tried to shrug it off, took a deep breath and headed to your usual seat.
Eddie beamed at your approach. You flashed a tight lipped smile back and perched on the bench, eyes darting around the rest of the group. Dustin was mid sentence, clearly berating Mike about some video game.
"Seriously, you take the enchanted sword and then move through the forest, defeat the goblins and you're practically at the tower. It's not hard, a five year old could do it!" He gestures emphatically. Mike shakes his head.
You pipe up "Dustin, seriously. Tone."
"What, what did I say?" He shrugs at you.
"Not what you said it's the way you said it." Mike adds.
"I know what tone means moron!"
You ignore the rest of the argument and look over to Eddie. He's not paying the slightest bit of attention to the pair. His eyes are trained solely on you. He doesnt shy away when you catch him staring, if anything it seems to spur him on. Theres a glint in his eye that you aren't used to seeing. You cough and look away.
At the end of the lunch period you move to get up and go to class, but Eddie's hand on your wrist stops you. The feel of his rough calloused fingers on your pulse point sends waves throughout your body. You drag your eyes to meet his.
"Everything OK? You seem a bit, off." His words seem genuine, but theres that grin again. You feel like he knows, he must do, and every move is to torture you.
"Um... I'm okay Eddie, it's just all a bit, much." You struggle out, trying to ignore the way his fingers lingered on your wrist.
He finally gets go, frowning.
"I just wanted to check, thought you were mad at me yesterday or something."
"No no no, opposite of mad! I just get, er overwhelmed is all." You babble at him.
"Oh okay, still not sure I get it but glad you're not mad at me." He stops and looks down, avoiding your eyes for a moment. "You wanna join me and Jeff and Gareth on Friday? We're gonna pile round Jeffs, watch a movie?" He looks up at you and you can't help but be reminded of a puppy, those big brown eyes impossible to say no to.
"...sure Eddie." At that he beams at you and strokes your arm. Your breath hitches, you don't know if he notices.
"Cool, we're meeting at 8. See you sweetheart." And he leaves. You stand there dazed for a second. Sweetheart. That was new. Maybe Eddie does like you. Smiling, you head to your next lesson.
***********************
When Friday rolls around you're a trembling ball of nerves. What if you had misread? What if he was just being nice?
You dress casually; a pair of black jeans, a black tank top and sneakers. Not anything special, but the top was lower cut than the usual plain coloured t shirts you wore at school. You threw on a red flannel shirt leaving it unbuttoned, just in case it was chilly at Jeff's house, and walked your way over there since it was only a couple of blocks away. You had come prepared with snacks. What teenage boy doesn't love food? You had an enormous bag of popcorn and a Tupperware full of homemade cookies. The cookies were probably a bit much but you had made them simply for something to do with all your nervous energy and it seemed a shame to waste them.
Walking up Jeff's driveway you check the time. 20:08. Not too late, you didn't want to be rude, but you didn't want to be the first there. Ringing the bell, you heard footsteps running to the door. Jeff answers, swinging the door wide, and waves at you to come in.
"Stairs just to the left, everyone's in the basement." He shouts over his shoulder, turning to the kitchen to get drinks. You make your way downstairs. It's slightly dark, but cozy. Theres a very old green loveseat with a coffee table in front of it, strewn with snacks, beer bottles and an ashtray. In front of that is a fairly new TV and VCR. Gareth is taking over half of the couch. To one side of the room there's a huge purple beanbag. Eddie is lounging in it.
"Hey sweetheart." He grins and waves a hand at you. Gareth greets you and you move  to put your snacks on the table.
"Hey, cookies, you can come again!" You hear Jeff behind you. You giggle at that. He passes you a beer.
"No worries I had some time to kill you know." Before you can sit on the sofa Jeff collapses onto it ungracefully, handing beers to Gareth and Eddie.
Faltering for a second, you look around the room for another chair.
"Plenty of room on this if you dont mind sharing? I don't bite!" Eddie looks at you, grinning. Shit.
"Not worried about your mouth, I'm worried about your hands." You quip at him. Jeff and Gareth laugh, and Jeff starts putting the movie in the VCR, some slasher flick you hadn't seen.
"Hey, young lady, I'm a perfect gentlemen." Eddie puts his hands in the air as if surrendering, and winks at you.
No use arguing the point. As you are making your way over, he shuffles up. You sit down carefully, but it doesnt seem to matter how you sit, you roll right into Eddie. You were pushed right up against him, your side flush with his. He lowers his arms and drapes one over your shoulder. You sit, legs squeezed together, picking at the label on your beer bottle, trying hard not to think about Eddie's warmth seeping into you. Why was he so warm?
The cookies were a hit, as was the popcorn. About halfway through the movie Jeff gets up to get everyone another beer. You take that as an opportunity to take your shirt off. Eddie was like a furnace and you needed some sort of relief. Sitting back down you nearly sit on top of him, the back of your shoulder flush to his chest.
"Sorry Eddie I'll move-"
"No problem princess this is comfier." And he rests his chin on the bare skin on your shoulder. The arm that was around you now falls to your waist. The feeling was intense. You could feel his heart beating, or at least you thought you could. Maybe it was just your own. The heat emanating from him and the touch of his skin on yours was dizzying. You try and keep your breathing steady.
Jeff returns and hands out the beers and you take yours gratefully, it's something to distract you from the feeling building up between your thighs.
Eddie sips his beer and settles his chin back on your shoulder, watching the movie. You're paying no attention, it was difficult to think when you were surrounded by Eddie.
"Sorry sweetheart can I just-" Eddie says, startling you out of your revelry. He reaches up and strokes your neck, moving some stray hairs of yours that were sticking to your neck and were presumably in his face. The touch is so delicate but it thrums through you. It feels like he's played a chord on your neck and your body has amplified the feeling, sending a shiver all over your skin.
His hand drops back down to your waist and his fingers find a sliver of bare skin between your jeans and your top. Just the feel of his rough fingertips on your exposed skin, after he had given you goosebumps so easily pushed you over the edge. Before you could stop it, a breathy moan escaped your throat. It wasn't particularly loud, but it didnt need to be. It didn't look like Jeff or Gareth heard, but there was no way Eddie didn't. He turned his head towards you so you could feel his breath on your neck which was definitely not helping.
You didn't need to look at him to know he heard. You could practically hear the smirk on his face when he whispered "sorry sweetheart, am I overwhelming you?" Fuckfuckfuck. You could hear your own heart beating profusely. Squeezing your thighs together, you manage to respond.
"No-no, I'm okay," an octave higher than you meant to.
"If it's an issue sweetheart I can sit on the floor-"
"No!" Too loud. Far too loud. Where did that come from? Jeff and Gareth glance over at the sudden noise.
Eddie's grin widens. "Just making sure you're comfy." Jeff and Gareth turn their attention back to the movie, having a discussion about where they recognise the leading actress from.
You sit still, trying not to breathe too loud, alternating between sipping your beer and picking off the label. Eddie moves his head from your shoulder much to your relief, but his hand stays at your waist, gently caressing the exposed skin.
After the movie you hang around for a bit chatting, then make your excuses to get up and leave.
"Hey, wait sweetheart, need a ride?" Eddie stands up.
"I live like two blocks away, it's fine." You turn to the door and start walking upstairs with Eddie at your heels.
"Then I can walk you back. No big deal."
"I'm fine, seriously. I'm a big girl. Tie my own shoes and everything." You smile at him.
"Can I see you tomorrow?" He blurts out suddenly.
You blink at him, surprised. "Er, maybe?" 
"Look, I'll pick you up, 7 o clock, we can come to mine, chill out, maybe watch a movie?"
"Sure Eddie that sounds nice."
He moves towards you, arms outstretched for a hug. Complying, you soften at his touch. It's gentle, much gentler than the bone crunching hugs you are used to from him. One hand strokes your back softly. Before you pull away, Eddie's breath is in your ear.
"Maybe if you're up for it, I can try and get you to make that noise again." He whispers smugly.
You pull away, mouth gaping whilst he stares at you, smirk on his lip, head tilted at you.
"I... erm, maybe" you stutter out and head out of the house before you make more of a fool of yourself.
***********************
Saturday evening finally crawled around. You were excited but were trying to push down the feeling. You didn't want to come across too eager, it was a problem that happened all too often with you.
A bundle of clothes in various states were spread out before you; you were trying to pick something to wear. You decided on a pleated skirt, not too short, and a crop top. Checking yourself out in the mirror you thought you looked hot, but then again, maybe it was too needy? You shrugged your flannel shirt on to try and calm it down a bit, doing up a couple of buttons. Slinging on your sneakers you looked at the time. 18:46.
Downstairs you lay on the couch, feet dangling off the edge, waiting for a knock at the door. The house was quiet, your parents had gone out a while ago for a weekend away. Trying to calm yourself, you make a mental list of all the objects in the living room. Its helps to centre you, until theres a loud knock at the door.
Opening it you see Eddie's huge grin. He's wearing his usual attire; Hellfire t shirt, jeans and leather jacket.
"Jesus Christ you look hot" Eddie says before he can stop himself.
"Thank you" you blush.
"Parents around?"
"No they're away all weekend." You say, grabbing a jacket and locking the door behind you.
"Thank fuck let's go." You giggle as he grabs your hand and you let him lead you to his van.
Eddie starts to drive as Dio blares through the speaker, and you surprise Eddie by nodding along.
"Oh, you like this stuff sweetheart?"
"Yeah, I mean nothing too heavy, but this is great." You grin.
Eddie returns the smile out the side of his mouth. Soon enough he's turning into the entrance to the trailer park he calls home.
Getting out of the van he runs around to the passenger side and opens the door for you with a low bow. You blush and take his hand as he leads you to the door.
"Now, don't get your hopes up, I know it's pretty impressive from the outside but..." he opens the door and let's you go in first.
You take in the surroundings. It's a bit cramped, but homely. There's a sofa and tv, and a small kitchen area. Hats adorn the wall, you assume his uncles. It seems relatively clean, just cluttered. There's something about it that feels welcoming. You sigh, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding.
Eddie seems pleased that you haven't run a mile after seeing the place.
"Wheres your room?" You look up at him.
"Steady on sweetheart you just got here" he winks at you.
You hit him playfully on the chest "shut up Eddie."
He gestures to you to take a seat on the couch and you take it gratefully.
"So, what do you want to watch? I rented a few, wasn't sure what you were into."
He gestured to the small pile of videos on the side table. Glancing over the selection you pick out a movie and hand it to Eddie.
"Nightmare on Elm Street? Didn't peg you for a slasher flick girl." He put the film in the VCR.
"Yeah well I've not actually seen it yet." You admit.
"Really? Well buckle up buttercup! You wanna beer? Or a smoke?"
"Is your uncle-"
"-at work. Dont worry." He gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Your breath hitched in your throat. 'Lemme grab my tin."
He returns, battered lunch box in hand, and sits on the floor to roll whilst you start watching the film. It's amazing how comfortable you feel around him. Usually you were on edge being at someone else's house, but Eddie made you feel like you belonged there. You kicked off your shoes and curled your feet up on the sofa.
Eddie joins you. Lighting the joint he takes a couple of tokes then hands it to you. You pass it back and forth for a bit until you start to feel an effect. Giving the last of the joint back to him you say "finish it, that's more than enough for me." You smile at him lazily, head feeling slightly foggy.
"Oh, have I got you stoned sweetheart?" He looks at you, eyes full of mischief.
"Maybe, like this much" you say, holding your thumb and forefinger an inch apart.
"Hmm" he says frowning "not buying it. You want a soda, or some water?" You shake your head. He gets up anyway and gets you a glass of water. Taking it you appease him by drinking a few sips. He flops down again and puts his arm around you.
Settling into watching the movie you start to enjoy it, your high mellowing you a little. It's ridiculous but fun, and some of the special effects impress you. The boy on the screen is attacked unexpectedly and it makes you flinch bodily. Eddie sees this and pulls you closer to him, his hand stroking the top of your arm. Eddie starts explaining how they did the blood on the ceiling effect, waving his hand for emphasis. When he stops his hand comes to rest on your knee. You can't help it, you twitch at the feeling, it's like lightning up your leg.
"You okay sweetheart?" Eddie's face is frowning down at you.
"Yeah sure it's nothing."
Eddie's not buying it. He pauses the movie and looks at you.
"Something's going on princess. And it's either good or bad. Or both, I can't tell. Can you let me know? Did I do something wrong?" Eddie looks at you with those puppy dog eyes of his and its almost heartbreaking.
"No Eddie, you're perfect. I like you. It's just... I'm really, um, sensitive. Loud noises and stuff get to me, emotion wise I kinda run hot. Things affect me like, a lot. And I'm really, really touch sensitive." You see some understanding dawn on his face.
"Ah, right, okay, so is that good sensitive, or bad sensitive?"
"It depends. I mean if it's someone gross it feels horrible brushing past them. If it's someone I like, and I'm in a good mood, it's, well it's, hmm... overwhelming." You know he knows what you're trying to say, you dont want to have to say it out loud.
Eddie smirks at you, eyes like the devil himself.
"So, if I do this..." he says, fingertips tracing circles on your knee. Your breath catches in your throat. "It's nice." You manage.
"Hmm" his hand moves higher, onto the inside of your thigh, just under the hem on your skirt, with feather light touches. "And this?" Dark eyes stare down at you. A small moan escapes your lips. "Jesus Eddie..."
Eddie let's out a dark chuckle. He moves his hand off of your leg and you find yourself almost trying to follow the contact. His hand comes to rest on your jaw, guiding your head to turn and face him.
"What about this?" He says, eyes darting to your lips and back again, looking for confirmation. You close the gap and press your lips against his.
You've kissed before, messy, sloppy things, but never like this. His kiss is fire, igniting through you. The press of his lips against yours firm and warm. His tongue tentatively reaches out and you submit to him, allowing him to explore your mouth. You reply in kind, using your tongue to swipe against his, moving your hand to weave into his hair. He snakes his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. He draws a deep moan from your mouth, the pure pleasure of the moment taking over you. You can feel his mouth turn at the corners, smiling into you.
He breaks the kiss first, panting slightly. "Was that okay?" He says, hand remaining on your jaw, thumb gently swiping your chin.
You want to say something sarcastic, or flirty, or, well anything. All that comes from your mouth is a half broken whine. Face flushed pink and breath well and truly taken.
"That bad huh?" He chuckles and drops his hand.
"Wow- I mean, Jesus- it's not usually that, er-, intense. Fuck." You continue to try and catch your breath.
"Gonna take that as a sign that maybe you like me, as much as I like you?" Its not a question, but the head tilt and the look from him make it one.
"Maybe. I mean, I've liked you for a while Eddie."
"I've liked you since you sat with us at lunch." He says to you, eyes sparkling, looking a little sheepish. "Why do you think I saved you a seat every day?"
"Seriously? Why didn't you say anything?" You take his hand in yours, fiddling with his rings.
"You seemed like, really shy. Didn't want to make you uncomfortable."
You smile at him softly. "Not shy, just... sensitive. I've had a lot of shit in the past from people, saying that I come across too keen, so I kinda dial it back. Plus I don't exactly want to invite people touching me, you know."
"Except me?" He says smugly.
"Except you." You nod.
He entwines his fingers with yours, looking down for a moment. "You shouldn't care what people think you know." He looks back at you "don't make yourself less for anyone."
Your eyes well up instantly at that. Wiping a stray tear from your eye you respond, "sorry, no ones ever said that before." You smile weakly.
He presses a soft peck to your lips. "Wanna finish the movie?"
"Okay"
Eddie presses play and this time you lean into his arms, pulling his arm around your shoulders and holding his hand. You hear a soft chuckle from him. His other hand comes to rest on your knee, tracing absent minded circles. You bask in the feeling of his warm body pressed against you for a moment.
After a few minutes it's just too much.
"Jesus Eddie why are you so warm?"
"I don't know, you must bring it out in me princess."
You giggle and lean forward, taking off your shirt, and snuggle back next to him. Eddie's eyes are no longer on the movie. He's looking at you and your exposed midriff. His hand tentatively moves from your knee to your stomach. Before he touches you he whispers "this okay?"
You turn your head to him to say yes, planting a quick kiss on his cheek and keep watching the movie.
Eddie's fingers find your flesh, stroking so softly it sends shivers over you. You feel your skin break out in goosebumps. His fingertips dance over you with such care. He flattens his hand and strokes it across your abdomen, the tip of his thumb just brushing the underside of your breast and you inhale suddenly whilst squeezing your thighs together. He lightly scratches across your stomach with his fingernails and you let out a quiet, low moan.
"Eddie-" you turn and realise he's been watching you the whole time.
"What? This is so much more interesting than watching Krueger, trust me."
"Eddie I didn't tell you so you can take advantage!" You say, but theres no malice in it. You smile at him.
Eddie, ever the dramatic, wobbles his head at you and mimics your voice, "Oh Eddie, I'm like, really sensitive, and the smallest touch turns me on but don't do anything about it!"
"I don't sound like that!" You laugh loudly at him, your frame shaking. "And that's not what I said!"
"That's what I heard sweetheart. What do you want me to do? Sit on my hands??" He wiggles his fingers at you and with exaggerated movements forcefully sits on his own hands, frowning and flicking his head the opposite way.
"Eddie?" You touch his shoulder. If anything he turns his head even further away. You can't help but giggle.
"Eddie..." you say in a sing song voice. Nothing.
"Eddie!" Still nothing. You get up as if to leave, but turn to him and straddle his lap. His head is still turned so you take the opportunity to kiss at his neck, trailing kisses and small nibbles.
"Now that's just unfair sweetheart."
"No" you say, still peppering him with kisses "this is unfair" and you mouth the spot where his neck meets his shoulder and suck, hard.
"Holy shit." Eddie wriggles but realises hes trapped himself, his hands stuck under both his weight and yours.
You release his neck with a wet pop and sit back on his lap with a smug smile. Something hard is digging into you, you wiggle slightly and... 
Oh.
"Had enough revenge?" Eddie tilts his head at you, raising his eyebrows. You shift your weight so he can free his hands, momentarily lost for words. He reaches out to move some stray hairs from your face, tucking them behind your ear.
"C'mere." He puts his hand to the back of your head and guides you towards him, mouth finding yours.
God, you could become addicted to this feeling. His mouth on yours, hands caressing your waist and hips, his warmth between your legs. You feel a pulse deep inside you, spreading in your core. You roll your hips, grinding your heat down on his jean covered member, drawing a deep groan from both of you.
You plant one hand firmly on the back of the couch, the other in his hair, and deepen the kiss. Every touch feels electric. His palms pressing into your hips leave tingles in their wake. You grind against him again, feeling yourself getting wetter, moaning into his mouth, the feeling building until you know you need to stop. That was embarrassingly fast. You break the kiss and look at him, chest rising and falling heavily.
"Sorry, I have to stop or I'll..." you blush crimson and look away.
"Or you'll what?" He says until his eyes widen. "Oh, were you gonna come?" The last word a whisper. You nod your head.
"Fuck that's so hot. Please don't stop." His hands move to stroke your thighs, bucking his hips into you. You let out a broken moan. Eddie's hands reach under your skirt and grab you by the ass. You lean forward and kiss him again, with urgency this time, tongues clashing. You grind against him, trembling with pleasure. Breaking the kiss you throw your head back, eyes closed, mouth parted.
"Eddie, fuck, oh God yes Eddie!"
You release; the hot, incredible feeling spreads throughout your limbs. Grinding against Eddie you try to keep the high going as long as possible.
Finally coming to a stop, you look down at his face. You want to feel embarrassed but he nearly looks as fucked as you feel, red in the face, hair clinging to his sweaty brow, eyebrows knitted together, mouth slightly open. Chuckling and smiling shyly at him, you move some hair from his face, mirroring what he did to you earlier.
"You okay sweetheart?" He looks at you, stroking your thighs.
"Yeah you could say that" you laugh "how about you?"
"Me? I nearly came in my pants, Jesus Christ!"
You giggle and hide your face in your hands. "Sorry." You say again as if on instinct.
"Hey" he grabs your wrists, "pretty girl, look at me." You reluctantly turn your head back to face him.
"This might be the best day of my life, so I'd appreciate it if you'd stop apologising." You giggle but Eddie looks at you with a serious face.
"Okay Eddie, I'll stop apologising." You climb off his lap and flop next to him on the couch. When you look over you cannot help but see an unmistakable wet patch on his jeans.
You look at it and your eyes flick back to his face. Staring at him he raises his eyebrows at you.
"No. More. Apologising. That's fucking hot."  He states, gesturing to his crotch.
"We missed the movie" you say lately, pouting at him.
"Well, I think I've just found my favourite thing to do, and it's a hell of a lot better than watching a movie" Eddie says waggling his eyebrows at you. Sniggering, you bat your eyelashes.
"So, you ready to show me your room?"
"Well, how can I resist when you pull that face?"
He gets up off the couch and walks to the back of the trailer, opening the far door.
"Well, you coming sweetheart?" He gestures at you to follow.
Stepping into his room, you don't know what to expect. It's a mess, not exactly dirty but theres stuff everywhere. Posters adorn every available wall space. Tapes flow over the small desk to one side. Theres note paper and clothes on the floor, and an overflowing ashtray on the bedside table.
"Yeah, wasn't expecting you to come in here, maid's day off and all." He grabs the ashtray and a couple of empty bottles and jogs out the room to dispose of them. Returning with a clean ashtray, he places it on the bedside table and comes behind you, holding you at the waist. His lips press on your neck, sweeping open mouthed kisses from your jaw to your shoulder and back again, hands pressing firmly into your hips as if he thought you might slip away.
Leaning back you bask in the feeling, tipping your head back and smiling.
"Stay" he whispers, almost too quietly; so quiet you're not sure you heard.
"What?"
"Stay." A little louder this time, still peppering you with kisses.
"You mean stay the night?" You question, turning your head to face him, butterflies exploding in your belly. Fingertips ghost your sides, tracing your figure.
"The night." Still kissing your neck, he continues, "the weekend," trailing kisses down your back, meeting the exposed skin and leaving goosebumps in his wake, getting down on his knees to kiss the small of your back, "forever."
Turning to face him he looks up at you, huge brown eyes boring into your soul. Giggling and mussing his hair with your hand you stare back, the question burning in your mind.
Eddie knows. Eddie always knows.
"What's on your mind sweetheart?" He smiles into your skin, nipping and kissing where your skirt meets your stomach.
"Not much when you keep doing that, Jesus."
"Sorry," he grins, smug smile spreading across his face, "it's hard to stop myself."
"It's just... is this real? I mean, you said you like me, but do you... I mean, is this..." you wring your hands, trying to make the words surface in your head.
"Hey, hey, look at me." Eddie grasps your hands; you have no choice but to turn your head down to face him.
"When I said this might be the best day of my life, I fuckin' meant it. You're literally the girl of my dreams. I've been dreaming of you, actually." He presses his mouth to you again, running his fingers along the waistband of your skirt. You sigh in response, legs shaking slightly.
"Jesus Eddie-"
"Not Jesus, just me." He chuckles, hands drifting to your legs, stroking your thighs.
"Fuck Eddie wait..."
"Sorry, you just, you do things to me." He smiles up at you.
"Are we, are we a thing now?"
"What like a couple? Sure, I'm not letting you go anywhere."
Your tummy does a backflip, hoping, longing.
"Well maybe I can stay. I just, I want you to be sure, you know. And I've never, done much with boys. In case you think I'm not... any good."
Eddie gasps at that, his eyes soften. "Oh sweetheart, theres no universe out there where you could possibly not be any good, in any way. You're amazing."
"So, you gonna get up off the floor, or..." you giggle.
"I'm pretty happy here, unless you don't want me to." He flips your skirt up and sees just how wet your panties are. A low groan escapes his throat. You shut your eyes for a second, trying to gather yourself.
"Eddie, I'm trying to say..."
"Yes, I know baby I know. Seriously, if you want me to stop, tell me. I'll stop. You can still stay. We can just go to sleep. Or cuddle." His eyes meet yours, brow furrowed.
You back up a little and you see the disappointment Eddie tries to hide written over his face. Smiling, you sit on the edge of his bed, wriggling your hands down from your hips to your ankles. Eddie looks at you in confusion until you open your hand, your underwear in your palm.
"Now that's the best magic trick I've ever seen!" His eyes wide, grin threatening to split his face in half. You can only blush in response. Waddling over to you on his knees, Eddie grabs your hand and takes your panties. Before you can say anything they've been shoved into the back pocket of his jeans.
"Eddie!"
"What?"
"I hope I'm getting them back..."
"Getting what back?" Eddie grins wolfishly,  pressing kisses to the inside of your knee.
The will to argue dissipates when his kisses trail higher and higher. With deft movements his rough fingers are rubbing the insides of your thighs, travelling towards your throbbing pussy. Leaning back onto your elbows you gaze at Eddie through half lidded eyes, wondering how you could have possibly gotten this lucky. As if he could sense your attention he glances up, running his tongue dangerously near your sex. You moan at the sensation, fingers grabbing the comforter underneath you.
"Fuck, you're just so responsive," he plants a kiss to your mound and you squirm, moaning.
"Oh, we are going to have a lot of fun sweetheart." Eddie smirked at you, eyes shining.
"Eddie please..." you wriggle, skirt riding up to your hips, cunt on full display for him.
He lifts your legs up and over his shoulders. The swipe of his tongue over your tender heat is sudden, sending rivers of pleasure through you. Gently he laps at you, his thumbs pressing bruises into your thighs. The feeling is immense, flowing, molten fire running through your veins. It's both too much and not enough, you need more, more feeling, more Eddie.
"Oh God Eddie..."
He takes your clit into his mouth and sucks softly. Licking and kissing at you; you buck into him, chasing the feeling, unimaginable heat coiling in your stomach, chest, wrists. Nothing matters except this moment. Incoherent babble escapes your lips, telling him not to stop and how good it feels, then just his name, over and over and over.
Eddie's groaning into you, the vibration nearly sending you over the edge. With a final suck to your swollen bud you come, clenching around nothing. You buck and writhe against his face, using it to chase never ending pleasure. Lewd, erotic noises fall from your mouth but you can't find it in you to care. All that matters is you, and Eddie, and the feeling.
Shaking and whimpering you start to come down, well and truly spent. Knuckles white from how hard you were clinging to the bed clothes. Realising this you finally loosen your grip. Eddie moves your still twitching legs off of his shoulders and looks up at you. Your slick is coating his lower face, shining in the light. Eddie literally looks like the cat that got the cream. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand.
"I've changed my mind, that is my new favourite thing to do" he says with a roguish grin.
Your smile at him, arms reaching out, making grabby hands at him. Chuckling he climbs over you, straddling you. You kiss him full on the mouth, lingering tang of you on his lips. Fingers stroke down to his waist, fiddling with his belt.
"Woah princess no need. Literally." He looks you in the eye, and you stare back, hand reaching to his manhood, and glance down.
Oh.
"Did you-"
"Cum in my pants? Yup." Literally no shame in his voice; he almost looks proud.
You giggle, hand to your mouth. It's almost a relief, having no real idea of what to do with it anyway. Plus, it's nice to know you have a similar effect on him.
"So, I'm gonna clean up and get changed. You need something to sleep in?"
"I'm ok, I usually sleep naked, if that's not a problem?" Your eyes meeting his.
Groaning, Eddie throws his head back, hands to his face, and falls backwards to the floor. You gasp, then realise this is Eddie being his usual self.
"Holy shit sweetheart you cannot say shit like that to me. I've died. I've literally died, and I'm in heaven, and you're some sort of angel." He splays his arms wide, tongue out, eyes closed. Shaking your head you throw a pillow at him, jerking him out of it.
"No need for the vicious attack, I'm having a moment."
He jumps up to go to the bathroom. Stripping off and climbing under the covers, you take a minute whilst he's away to think, really think. It's so hard when he's so near, clouding your judgement. You know you can be impulsive. Is this too much too soon? Am I gonna make a fool of myself? Does he really like me as much as I like him? Your emotions usually get the best of you and the constant struggle is exhausting. Maybe you don't need to think about this tonight. Enjoy tonight, let tomorrow be what it is.
When Eddie returns, all doubt is erased from your mind. He's standing there in a pair of plaid boxers, and his eyes light up at the sight of you in his bed. The look he gives you makes you feel like you're the only girl in the world.
Smiling shyly at him, he stands at the foot of the bed, continuing to stare.
"Something on your mind Eddie?"
"No I'm good, just a bit... overwhelmed." Knowing smirk plastered on his face.
"I can probably help you with that, you know."
"Well, it seems like we've got all night." The look on his face is pure sin.
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aestheticaltcow · 11 days
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Six Months
An attempt at some parenthood angst?
Similarly to the title, this fic has been in my WIP folder for a minute; it went through a handful of edits. I'd like to think this is good enough for y'all.
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 Carmy sat in the office staring at the paperwork Sugar needed his signature on; when he saw the date on his phone, it hit him—today marked six months. Six months of parenthood and six months of celibacy, to say Carmy was sexually frustrated, was an understatement. “Hey Carm, did you- are you okay?” Sugar asked when she caught him staring blankly at his phone. He didn’t respond until she put her hand on his shoulder. Her touch snapped him out of his trance. He looked at her before quickly apologizing, “Sorry, what were you sayin'?” Sugar grinned as she patted his shoulder, “You okay, Bear?”
Carmy nodded and straightened up in his desk chair, “Yea- just thinkin’ bout the baby.”
Carmy got home from work late. He quietly slipped his jacket off, and hung it on the coat rack before removing his shoes. Walking down the hallway, he slipped into the nursery, knowing the baby would be asleep. He found it impossible not to be happy in her room. The walls were decorated with vintage floral wallpaper you’d bought off Etsy, it may have been a pain in the ass to put up, but Carmy happily obliged when he saw how happy it had made you. He crept to his baby girl’s crib and felt the day's stress disappear. She was peacefully sleeping in a light pink sleep sack, furiously sucking away on her pacifier. “Sweet dreams, princess,” he whispered. “I love you.” 
The joy of watching his daughter sleep faded away as he approached the askew door to the master bedroom the two of you shared. “I’m home, baby.” Carmy grinned as he walked toward the open closet door, “Hi, Carm.” you called from the bathroom. When he entered the bathroom, you were brushing your teeth. As the mix of salvia and toothpaste residue dripped from your mouth Carmy’s breath hitched- was this enough to get him goin’? He shook his head as he pulled his shirt off and threw it in the laundry hamper before turning on the shower.
“How was work, babe?” you asked before bringing a small cup of mouthwash to your lips. Carmy watched as you swished it around your mouth and spit it into the sink. “Carmy?” you asked again; he swallowed. “Yeah, uh, it was good. Busy,” he answered as you hopped up on the counter. You were desperate for adult interaction after being home with the baby all day. 
“Mia, have a good day?” Carmy questioned. You nodded, “We did some laundry, then had mashed pears for lunch- she did. I had that leftover pasta sauce you made... Read a couple books and went on a walk... Then did her bedtime routine, and I worked on that stupid documentary I was telling you about.” 
As you recounted your day, Carmy nodded, but he was staring at your chest, barely hearing what you said. You’d been wearing one of his old T-shirts. He noticed how prominent your nipples were under the soft, worn-in material. He was captivated by the fullness of your breasts, and he’d do just about anything to touch them again. “Carm, you okay?” you asked, hopping down from the counter; he nodded. “Wanna get in with me?” he asked cocking his head in the direction of the running shower. You giggled, “Maybe next time, bear.”
“Oh fuck-” Carmy grunted as he worked his hand up and down his length. He felt like a teenager again, masturbating in the shower before going to school. However, now, instead of imagining the unrealistic scenarios he’d see in pornos, he had memories of you. Carmy thought back to the last time you’d really touched him. Heavily pregnant, hormonal, begging for his tongue and his cock… he’d expected a shift in your sex life as the two of you adjusted to parenthood, but this long of a dry spell was the last thing he’d expected. Carmy squeezed his eyes closed as he came down the drain.
~
“Good morning, princess.” Carmy cooed as Mia squirmed in her crib, trying to get out of her sleep sack. She spat her pacifier out and let out a gruggle. “So it’s one of those mornings?” he chuckled as he unzipped her. He watched her stretch before carefully picking her up, “See, you’re okay.” he rocked her gently before exiting the nursery and heading downstairs. 
You were making coffee and prepping a bottle for Mia as he entered the kitchen. “You’re off today, right?” Carmy nodded in response before handing you Mia. “You goin’ to work?” he questioned, as he got two mugs from the cabinet. You groaned in response, “Jenny called off, so I have to go in. I’ll be back before bedtime.”
“Well, looks like Mia and I are havin' some Daddy-Daughter time,” you smiled as Carmy gently kissed her head before going to get the milk from the fridge. When you’d met Carmy all those years ago at some trendy Chicago bar, you found him incredibly alluring. His disheveled curls, the mix of some musky cologne and cigarette smoke, the way his T-shirt wrapped around his muscular arms… he’d always been… sexy. But watching him interact with Mia was a different kind of attractive.
Carmy drummed his thumbs on the handlebar of the grocery cart. He scanned the shelf before him as Mia happily made her baby noises as she looked around the aisle. “Okay, princess… they don’t have almond extract. What kind of grocery store doesn’t have fuckin’ almond extract.” Mia put her hands out to Carmy, grabbing at the air. Carmy chuckled and ducked to kiss her cheek.
“Oh my gosh, she’s too precious.” a sickly, sweet feminine voice cooed from behind Carmy. He grinned when he turned his attention to her, “How old is she?” she asked. Carmy got a good look at the woman; she was pretty, but she wasn’t you. “Oh, uh, she’s six months,” he answered as the woman stepped closer. She smelled like cheap vanilla and a mix of flowery scents Carmy couldn’t place. Mia glared at the woman, and Carmy scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m Selena. I’m in this parenting group. You should stop by.” she smiled as she looked him up and down. The attention made Carmy regret not regularly wearing his wedding ring. “I’m not really the par-” Carmy started to say before Selena cut him off. “I’m not takin’ no as an answer. What’s your number?” she handed him her phone. 
Carmy didn’t know why he gave her his number- could he blame it on feeling uncomfortable? Was that even the right thing to do? It’s not like he’d ever do anything with this woman. He’d never throw away his marriage to you by hooking up with some woman he met at the grocery store. The reality of Carmy's actions didn’t hit him until he was in the checkout line. He gave his phone number to another woman- was that cheating on you? Did doing that in front of his daughter make him a bad father? “Okay, your total is $63.82.” the cashier smiled. Carmy nodded and swiped his card. He needed to get out of there as quickly as possible so he wouldn’t run into Selena again.
~
It had been a couple of weeks since Carmy’s interaction at the grocery store. He’d noticed Selena’s text messages here and there. They seemed innocent until one Friday night, he was working late, you were home with the baby, and Selena had sent Carmy an explicit picture, hoping it would get his attention.
We’re both parents. 
I’m not looking for anything serious, Carmy…
My son is at his Dad’s place
Come over <3
Carmy stared at the messages before his eyes went up to the attached photo. Selena had the hem of her T-shirt between her teeth, showing off her toned stomach. He swallowed as he admired the contrast between her skin and the brightly colored fabric of her lacy underwear. He should block her. He should just delete the messages and block her number. He had a wife and baby at home—he couldn’t make this kind of mistake. He locked his phone and shoved it in his pocket before returning to the kitchen cleanup, “Hey Carm, I can finish this up. Go home.” Sweeps grinned as he attempted to connect his phone to the Bluetooth speaker on the counter. Carmy grinned, “You sure, man?” Sweeps nodded assuringly. “I think I can handle this boss man.” 
You heard Carmy walk into the bedroom that night, “Hey babe!” you called as you put your blowdryer in its designated spot by the sink. As the bathroom door swung open, Carmy’s lips were on yours. The initial shock wore off as Carmy’s tongue invaded your mouth, and his hands pushed under the hem of your sleep shorts to grasp at your ass cheeks. Carmy pulled you closer to him, forcing you onto your tip toes. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers delicately tangling in the roots of his hair. The passionate kiss ended when Carmy started to kiss down your jaw. A giggle escaped your mouth as his lips brushed against your earlobe before he nipped at your neck. “Carm-m what got into you?” you croaked as you adjusted your hips against his.
 “I need you, baby,” he muttered, lifting you off the floor. You squealed as he crashed down onto your mattress. He hovered above your body, staring into your eyes. “I need to be inside you, baby.” he swallowed hard as you bit your lip. “Carmyyy,” you giggled as you watched him pull his t-shirt off. You ran a finger down his chest, making him moan softly.
 “Let me make you feel good, baby…” Carmy whispered in your ear as one of his hands found its way into your oversized sleep shirt. Your breath hitched when you felt his calloused fingertips graze your ribs. " I-I—" you studdered nervously. “Baby…please.” Carmy quietly asked as his lips brushed against yours. “No.” you whispered as you grabbed his wrist through your shirt, “What?” Carmy questioned as he stood up abruptly, “Did I do something? We haven’t done anything in like six months- clearly I did something wrong. Just tell me so I can fix it!” Carmy raised his voice as his eyebrows knit together in frustration. 
You propped yourself on your elbows and watched as he picked up his shirt from the floor, “Carmen, please don’t yell at me.” you said calmly. You watched as he rolled his eyes and paced before you, “Baby. I want to have sex with you. I need to have sex with you-” Carmy groaned as he pushed his hands over his face into his hair. Your eyes narrowed, “Carmen. I had a baby-”
 “I KNOW! I fucking know! You had my baby, but now you don’t even want to fuckin’ shower with me! I get it- pregnancy was hard, and then giving birth was hard, and now being a mom is hard.” Carmy started staring at the ceiling while he expressed himself. He took a breath and turned to look at you; regret washed over him when he noticed you were on the verge of tears. “Baby, please don’t cry…” he pleaded as he knelt by the bed. He reached for your hand, but you pulled away before he could grab it, “Sorry, I don’t want to fuck you after taking care of your baby all day.” you spat. Carmy closed his eyes and took another breath trying to compose himself before saying something dumb, “How dare I fail to meet my wifely duties.” you angrily laughed as you stood up. 
You crossed your arms over your chest and stared as Carmy got up. “Baby, I didn’t—" you cut Carmy off with a groan. “Shut up, Carmen. You don’t get to speak to me like that.”
Carmy sighed and stepped closer to you, as he reached out for your hips only for you to slap his hands away. “Don’t touch me.” you glared at him, “Fuck this.” Carmy muttered under his breath as he pulled his shirt back on over his head. “What do you mean ‘fuck this’?” you questioned as Carmy exited the bedroom, “I need air.” Carmy called back to you.
You moved to your bedroom window to see Carmy walking toward his car in the driveway. He got in and pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket. 
Send me your address.
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crossdressingdeath · 1 year
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A thing I wish DAO went into more: the way Alistair is in some ways incredibly selfish. Like, the way he refuses to take charge of the group is treated as kind of endearing in the text, but the game doesn't really get into what a massive burden he just... drops on the junior Warden present with no warning or discussion. Think about it: the Warden is heavily implied to be very young (possibly younger than Alistair, definitely around the same age), most of them have no real experience in leadership, several of them have no experience in the world outside their small corner, all of them have only been Wardens for a few days. And Alistair dumps leadership of the group on them and refuses to take any of that weight. Does your Warden like leadership? Are they any good at it? Is it exhausting and difficult for them? Alistair doesn't care! He doesn't want to lead, and that means you have to lead, and whether or not you want to lead has no bearing on that. It's not a discussion, there's no suggestion of sharing the responsibility of leadership as the Wardens of the group; Alistair metaphorically throws the responsibility at you and runs.
But if you go for low approval with Alistair it's basically all about calling him childish and immature, even though I think a much more compelling low approval dynamic is the Warden despising Alistair for putting so much on them with no hesitation, but being stuck with him (because they know as well as he does that they need all hands on deck Warden-wise) and stuck with that burden of leadership (because a Warden kind of has to be in charge of the group and even if one didn't no one else in the group would be very good as a leader in this situation, and Alistair has made it very clear that he won't take it). Even at high approval it would be very compelling to have this sense of resentment at how Alistair just assumed they'd take on the burden of leadership and refuses to take any of it for himself. But that aspect gets completely ignored in the story, you don't really get the chance to raise the matter aside from asking why you're in charge despite him being the senior Warden present a couple of times.
It also adds something really spicy to the fallout of sparing Loghain, though, because... Alistair forced the Warden to take on leadership. He made them be the one to make these hard choices. It's never been a discussion, it's never been the Warden's choice whether or not they take on responsibility for these tough decisions, Alistair always just expects them to do it. And now they've made a call he doesn't like, and he abandons the group on the eve of battle because of his wounded feelings? I'd argue that's as much a betrayal as sparing Loghain if not more so, and certainly more of a betrayal of Duncan's memory; Duncan understood that a good Warden must be driven by necessity, not emotion or even morality, and I feel like in the Warden's place he likely would've made the same call. They need Wardens around to kill the Archdemon, as many as they can get, and even one more could make the difference between victory and defeat. The Warden and Alistair may not know the details, but with the most senior Warden present saying they should make Loghain a Warden instead of killing him a logical assumption would be he has a very good reason for saying so and maybe they should listen to him! I would've loved it if during the argument with Alistair after sparing Loghain you could really get into that "You forced the responsibility of making these decisions on me when I never wanted or asked for it, you don't get to throw a tantrum now that I've made one you don't like" aspect of it, but you... don't. And that's a shame, because it takes a lot of depth away from his dynamic with the Warden.
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halcyone-of-the-sea · 8 months
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Run Away To Me (II)
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AU MASTERLIST || PART III
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PAIRING: Blacksmith!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Runaway Bride!Reader
WORDCOUNT: 4.5k
WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, medieval period-esc standards for women, arranged marriage, toxic family dynamic/relationship, intentional harm (in the recent past), blood, angst, protective Johnny, hurt/comfort, pining, speedy relationship, etc.
A/N: Johnny sweaty and working the forge...that is all.
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
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You groggily awoke to the steady sound of a hammer meeting metal and the scent of eggs. Warm bread makes your mouth water. Eyelids peeling back, your lashes flutter in even intervals as you groan in the back of your throat, content and unbothered in this soft bed of fur and cotton. For a moment you had forgotten everything that had transpired—the run and the rain slamming into your scalp.
Had it all been some dark dream? A trick? 
“Ow!” You hiss, hand darting out from the plush covers as a sharp pain darts through it. Your eyes blink on the bloody bandages, white now completely bled through with fresh crimson. 
Everything comes rushing back in a lightning-strike moment of realization. 
Quickly sitting up, your face moves all over the sun-lit room, rays of light leaking in through the opened shutters; past the glass of the windows, the nearly violent green of the near forest line meets your wide gaze. A small sound exits your throat, fingers sliding through the bear fur that had been once pulled up to your ears as you gather your senses. 
Johnny. The blacksmith.
Your eyes lock onto the small table across the room. 
As the hammering outside continues to ring in your eardrums, you tilt your head at the items sitting atop—slipping off the bed you go to tidy the fur but pause in your curiosity. A patch of blood from your wound stains the sheets and you slow at the sight, the air leaving your lungs.
“Oh,” you swallow down your slight nervousness, heart jumping for a moment as you bite your lip. 
You would have to tell Mr. MacTavsish—your brows furrow. 
Not Mr. MacTavish, he asked me to call him Johnny. A strange thing, now that you thought about it as you slowly back away and go to the table, gut rumbling at the sight of fresh eggs on bread. There was also a parcel covered in cloth sitting on the chair. 
Carefully tiptoeing, you grab the plate with a delicate hand, picking it up as you lick your lips. Had the man…made you breakfast? 
“What reality have I slipped into?” Your lips whisper, Johnny’s clothes hanging off of you heavily. Not only food but milk had been poured into a carved cup as well, and utensils placed on the table with care. Fork and knife on the right, spoon on the left; all forged and tempered. 
It was sweet, perhaps. Kind. 
You eat standing, bare feet taking you around the homestead as you listen to the blacksmith work outside. Your hands take up carved knick-knacks of animals, twirling them in a hand as you lick your lips before placing them back with all the care of a priceless possession. Chuckling at the poorly wooden face of a deer, you bring the last bits of food to your lips as you pass the window. 
Sucking in a swift breath, your body freezes. 
Perhaps it was the sudden freedom of your situation or even the want of true, honest, companionship, but you had suddenly never seen someone look as good as kind Johnny MacTavish as he worked his forge. 
The earth was still layered in dew and mist, the distance between the main home and the small hut that was holding anvil, tongs, the flame of the furnace itself, and a great number of hammers. One of which was being wielded with firm efficiency by the sweat-stained hands of Johnny—being brought down again and again to the molten form of what would be a fine sword. 
Clothed in a rolled-back white tunic, like the one from yesterday, and brown breaches, there was a leather apron tied ‘round his waist cinched tight. Lips parting, you watch with a guilty conscious for the frailness of your resolve; gaping at the sight. 
Johnny works like the dead might rise, not faltering or slowing in the abuse of the metal—twisting the rough shape of the blade and flipping it with one hand while the other hammers. How he doesn’t overheat you’d never know; letting out a slow breath as the sweat slips down his strong jaw and drips from his chin, mouth open with a far-off pant of air. 
Electricity of the same breed as last night sizzles down your spine like a finger caressing the knobs of bone, hairs standing on end as you quickly clear your throat against the burn of your face. You shift your body away, fearfully aware of the scent of Johnny’s clothes and the very bed you had slept in last night. 
“My parents will never allow me back into their home,” you utter, picking at your bandages. “I shall never even be seen in the very air near them.” 
But the true question was whether or not that was a good thing. While this freedom of yours was what you wanted, you were a woman of relative standing—having no family, no husband, and no money to your name was not ideal. In fact, it could very well be the death of you. 
You stand and lightly lick your fingers of crumbs. “At the very least,” the wood under your feet is warm from an only recently dead hearth, “this Blacksmith is quite good with meals. Such a peculiar man, hm?”
Smiling to yourself, you chuckle and push back the heat in your blood; this odd attraction to a working man. So different from Lord Wilkin. 
Not wanting to sink back into that hole quite yet, you remember Johnny’s hands slipping over yours as you take a final glance back out the window before heading back over to the table. Cobalt eyes meet yours in an instant of wide shyness through the glass. 
Staring at each other, the Blacksmith's legs shift from where they dig into the packed ground, large biceps tight as they hold the hammer and the dulling metal. 
Blinking quickly, you feel your heart skip beats at the soft contact. 
Smiling awkwardly, you raise the empty plate in display, chuckling as a wide, pleased, grin builds on Johnny’s face. He mocks a small bow, hammer going across his abdomen as his dirty cheeks peel back at his glee—you see his chest move with a deep laugh. Like the scent of lavender in your nose, you can call the sound of it to your ears as if he was in the house all this time. 
Quickly skittering away, you feel giddy, placing down your plate and taking a sip of milk before looking at the parcel. While your mind may be mingling with the blacksmith and the sweat of his body, curiosity was getting to you. And, mayhaps, a shyness at being caught.
It was covered in dark cloth, and when you touch it, the fabric immediately reminds you of a cloak—an expensive and finely spun wool dyed green. Lips parting, your hands pick it up and place it on the table; turning it over as you pull at the twine tie. 
Your heart seems to grow like a flower, the pedals opening and the stem becoming strong with a rush of admiration. 
“When did you do this, Blacksmith?” Your voice hits off the walls in a breathy gasp as the hammering picks back up outside. 
Smiling delicately, you pick up the fine linen of a chemise and the paired kirtle dyed deep blue. It wasn’t the most extravagant thing you’d worn by a long shot but as you step back and size it to your body, you decide that it was the most meaningful. 
When had he gotten up to ride into town and buy this for you? How much did it cost? 
How could this blacksmith be as chivalrous as a Knight? Not wanting you to be forced to wear his own clothes in a way unflattering to your status even if you didn’t truly care about all of that.
You had no answer, body vibrating with warmth as you slipped out of Johnny’s sleep clothes and slid the gifted items over your skin. They were slightly oversized for ease of the man’s mind, not knowing your measurements. With a small bronze clip, you situate the cloak before the boots at the door add to the already bursting emotions in your veins. 
Tears burned the back of your eyes, putting your fingers to your lips to hide the shaky inhale. All of this care after such horror was nearly unthinkable; by a complete stranger no less. 
Your own family had never been so generous. 
Taking up your now empty cup, you look to the water basin and let your ears twitch to the sound of physical labor; thinking, wanting to give even just a sliver of thanks back for this debt. As you lace your new boots, leather, you keep the memory of his calloused hands in the front of your skull with honied sanctity. 
You fill the cup and that’s that.
Cheeks heating, you bring the water with you as you exit the home, breathing down the scent of rain and pulling your cloak tighter to your neck at the slight chill. Closing the door, you make your way to Johnny who continues to work away, now a small distance from the anvil and setting the iron back into the fire to heat. 
His large back flexes and rolls with the movement.
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” the cup stays steady in your two hands as you see Johnny’s muscles momentarily tense, blue eyes turning to look over his shoulders. There’s a moment where something swirls in his eyes as he stares down at your new clothes, standing up to his full height quickly. You blink. “...I’m sorry, but besides an offer of fresh water I’m unable to repay you for the gifts.”
“Ah,” Johnny clears his throat, looking back to his forge before turning back to you with a bashful look. “Please, none of that. I needed to go off and grab more grain for my horse, see.” He chuckles. “But I’m glad they fit, Dearie, was a bit worried I’d asked the wrong size.” 
“They’re perfect,” you shake your head. “It was…far more than I deserve.” 
Brows furrow. For such a presence, he slips the cup out of your hands with more care than your husband-to-be had ever thought to handle you, nodding a deep thank you.
“Now why would you say something like that?” Your head tilts, lips thinning. You suppose it was right to make good on the deal you’d struck last night. 
Johnny takes a sip from the cup, waiting for your answer as one hand hangs from the neck of his apron, fast lungs steadily slowing. As you frown and gather your thoughts, you don’t notice his eyes narrowing, concerned. 
“Well, anyways,” he clears his throat, itching at his stubble to change the subject as you startle back to reality before you can form a sentence. “I suppose I’d better take a look at that cut of yours, then, eh? Wouldn’t want it to get infected, do we?” 
“That’s not…” He has already darted to a small chest in the corner of the open hut, cup placed on the anvil top before he opens the thing with a scratch of rusty hinges. “...necessary.” 
The blacksmith laughs, taking out fresh badges. 
“I don’t think gettin’ bedridden is in your plans, now is it? C’mon…I’ll be gentle.” Johnny winks with a smirk and your pulse flares; stuttering as he grasps your elbow—leading you out of the forge and to a small break in the trees. 
A stump and a dead firepit take form, and you’re plopped down to the wood with a small huff, a stiff look sent to the man who only smiles and raises an eyebrow. 
“Is my kindness wearin’ ya down, Little Lady?” 
“You’ll make me lose my head and I’ve only known you for, at most,” you emphasize as he kneels down and takes your bloody hand, “half a day.”
“Being generous,” Johnny hums, unwrapping your hand and once again looking you over. Bloody, but still alright. His fingers move to pick up dew from the grass and wipe away some of the crimson pigment as if an artist. “When one goes and nearly makes a man’s house crumble from the force of ‘er fists, it’s only customary for him to respect her.” Blue eyes gaze up to you and twinkle. “I’m just savin’ my own hide.” 
“How honorable,” you shake your head and turn to hide the full-face grin, moments later laughs slip your tongue. “They weren’t that loud,” your vise insists, “...were they?”
“Thought the world was ending,” Johnny says it was a fake expression of seriousness, re-wrapping your hand in clean cloth. “Damn near got to my knees and prayed.” 
You find great amusement in that, placing a hand over your mouth as your spine shakes with loud laughs. The scene is similar to the one from last night—the blacksmith offering jokes and merriment to get you to laugh. It's as if every time he succeeds he smiles just a smidge wider. Realizing this, you feel your lips twitch and you look away, embarrassed.
“...I promised you answers, did I not?” You decide to ask, deciding that getting this over soon was the best course of action; also the more courteous one. After so much giving, you had to share at least the reason for all of this. “I’m sorry.” Johnny frowns at you, tying another loose knot atop your palm before sitting back on the ground. 
On his bent knee, he rests his arm, hanging off loosely, while the other hand rests behind his back as a way to keep him upward. With all of this, with him, you'd entirely forgotten to mention the stained sheets. 
“There’s no need to apologize to me, Dearie, I won’t do anythin’. I promised you,” he smiles, “remember?” You blink softly at his strong face, those eyes studying you as your hands rest in your lap; curled over each other. 
“There’ll be no harm comin’ to ya as long as you stay under my roof.” 
Johnny huffs a chuckle, shaking his head. “Take your time, eh? I won’t be needin’ to travel back into town again until late evening.” Your hands curl slightly tighter, touched. 
The blacksmith watches you as you gather your thoughts, your face going stiff and new boots shuffling over the grass. Blue slides to your hand and his lips turn down. 
He’d be lying if he didn’t say he’d been up most of the night and working before the sun had risen—mind occupied by the woman that had been in his bed and the little information he had. Obviously, Lord Wilkin was looking for you; adamantly. 
Relentlessly. 
When he’d been in town there had been guards everywhere, checking every shop and house like beasts of metal and sharp words. You were the Lord’s bride, of course. As the tailor had asked him, a bit dejected, if he’d taken a wife as he’d bought you your chemise and kirtle, the woman had mentioned the wedding. 
“Little thing darted off during the Handfasting ceremony, I ‘erd. The Lord had only just put the knife to her palm before she yelled and fled. Oh, ya should have seen it, Mr. MacTavish. Like a bat from Hell, Lord help me. He’ll not stop till he’s found ‘er.”
Johnny’s stomach rolls, abdomen tightening as he shifts to release tension. Along the ground, his hand momentarily clenches. You hum under your breath, whispering out an easy, “Are we sure we should be outside for this?”
The man blinks in confusion. 
“Well, would…you prefer being inside?” You look nervous, fingers flinching over themselves and Johnny sits up straighter, letting his large hand carefully grasp your knee. Your innocently wide eyes lock with his own. He offers a comforting look. “It’s no difference to me—you decide. Whichever’s easier, eh?”
“It’s just,” you begin, the skin below your kirtle burning you in the best possible way. What was happening to you? “Well…My family rarely let me out.” Johnny’s body stills to a near stone carving. “Said I was to stay inside. I suppose I’m not overly used to it, you see.” 
It’s not impossible to understand the role that was placed on you. Arranged marriage, sold off to be a housewife for a large dowry paid up by the Lord. You’d been brought up to be tossed away at a moment's notice. The blacksmith’s jaw tightens, bone sharp through the flesh. 
“...Well,” his voice is a bit ragged—scratchy. You listen with nervousness in your chest, a slow infection of unease. “I’m not your family, am I? It’ll be good to get some sun, I think—let’s stay here for a little longer and then we can go back in when you’re ready. There’s no rush to things.” 
Letting you calm down, his thumb rubs a small circle before he pulls it away, perhaps realizing what he was doing before clearing his throat, cheeks alight. 
A small breeze pushes through the pines, a wind filled with the scent of fire and earth—dirt and dew. It was peaceful here, among the old spirits and the hidden trails. So different in the light than it was in the pouring rain. 
“I imagine you knew about the wedding?” You sigh, staring at your lap. “Lord Wilkin?” 
“Aye,” Johnny nods, speaking quietly. He doesn’t want to force you. “I did.”
“I was placed into the marriage two months ago by my parents, an agreement of land and money was traded for my hand.” Watching, the man’s eyes go sad, lids tilting. He stops the grunt in the back of his throat as you continue. “I had resigned myself to it, truly. Being of enough standing all I was needed for was marriage—”
“That’s utter shite.” Johnny growls, angry at the sentence. “They would just toss you away like that? To a bastard ten times your age?” 
You stare, brows tight. “I…I’m a daughter, am I not?” 
Johnny’s jaw goes slack, eyes sharp with horror as his gaze looks deeply into your vision, biceps tense with cooling sweat and dirt. Such a sight it was, two beings as different as a mountain and a valley; so near but starkly contrasted in the harsh strength of rock and the gentle sway of grassy low-land. Bears and deer, barn swallows that sit on rafters and golden eagles that soar tempests. 
The dark-haired man could never imagine raising a girl for nothing else than to be a man’s property—to sell as if a good and nothing more. Johnny turns his head away before he snaps at nothing, a low sound trapped in his chest. You never had a single choice.
Confused by his approach to this, you watch the side of his face as the man’s expression of anger slowly shifts back to a hidden seriousness. Eyes dark and his hand tightened into a fist. 
“I’m sorry, Dearie. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” Johnny blinks, shaking his head. “Hope I didn’t scare ya.”
“No,” you motion a hand. “No, not at all.” 
“Good.” He sighs, rubbing at the back of his head. “Ah, please, keep going. I’ll be quiet as a mouse, promise.” You smile tinily. 
“At the wedding, when it was near the end, they brought out the cloth and the knife for the Handfasting ceremony,” Johnny leans forward, and you look down at him on the ground. He lent a sort of silent vigor, you think to yourself. A comfort. “He dragged it along my skin and then he gripped my hand and forced the base of my palm harder into it.” 
Your words get smaller and hushed, flexing your damaged hand. “...I think…that he wanted it to leave a scar. I bolted off before they could tie the cloth.” 
Johnny stands and brings you into a hug, a hand coming to the back of your head and pressing your skull gently to his chest. 
“Steamin’ bloody Jesus.” He breathes, and you slowly wind your own hands around his waist; melting into him without even knowing it. Johnny’s scent encompasses you like a blanket, and your very bones seem to sprout flowers from the marrow as your eyes get watery, held in such a way that most people only dream about. 
When the first silent tears fall he doesn’t make a big deal out of it—only holds you more firm and sighs into your scalp. 
“I don’t know what to do,” you whisper, honest and truthful. Could you run? Go to another fiefdom? How far would you even be able to make it? No food, no horse, no supplies. 
You’d be found out in no time. 
Johnny moves back, tilting his head down to you and grasping your face with a single hand. “We’ll figure it out, Little Lady. By my word, I’ll do what I can to make sure you’ll never go back to that bastard of a Lord again.” A hard thumb pushes back your tears and blue eyes soften on you. “Can you trust me?” 
Can and not do. 
Even the simple alleviation of pressure from a word makes you care for this man even more than you should. The simmering attraction to not only his appearance but his steadfast heart; indomitable morals. 
“You, Johnny?” You sniffle, a grin twitching your lips up as the blacksmith’s face goes hot. “Yes, I can trust you.” Actions enough from last night had proven that. 
Johnny huffs and lets the blush on his face spread along his neck, suddenly unable to look you in the eyes for too long before he has to clear his throat and gaze to the side. Not knowing what overtakes you, you lightly press your lips to his cheek—feeling the heat and the slight gasp that escapes his lips. 
You giggle as he grunts a thanks, awkwardly shuffling on his feet as you both continue to hold one another. His grip travels down to your back as he raises a brow, trying to push past his beginning stutter as he speaks. “I’d tell ya that if you do that again, I might just have a fainting spell, Miss.”
“A fainting spell,” you tease, “from a kiss, Blacksmith?” 
“Aye—especially if it’s from such a Bonnie woman like you, see.” You both laugh, faces burning up, as serious topics and tears fade into the past. 
As you had said, where any other man would have been different, Johnny Mactavish had proven himself to be right and true. Even if you’d been impossibly tired last night, the small sliver of fear had still remained that something might happen to you here; in the presence of one man in the middle of the woods. No such fear remains. 
Like a great Lord of old, Johnny had offered sanctuary from a man of cruel and horrible intentions. But perhaps he’d offered far more than that, with how he’s staring at you. 
Your laughs steadily die down to a pulsing silence, hands around one another and faces only a few inches away. It’s bizarre how fast this had happened—these feelings brimming in the cup of your heart. A bowl overflowing with care and affection; of something else that cannot be named for fear it’s only a simple infatuation. A twin flame of red-hot fire that could rival Johnny’s forge. 
“I…don’t want to overstep,” the man says, and your eyes are drawn to his lips as they move—a small scar you’d yet to notice living on his chin, a stain of lighter flesh. You swallow stiffly and dart your gaze back to his as you feel his heart pounding in his ribcage. It wasn’t a mystery to wonder if your own is doing the same. “Y’should tell me to stop, Dearie.”
“To stop what,” you pull the words from the depths of your throat. “What are you planning on doing, Johnny?” He shivers as you say his name as if put under a spell. 
“Are you sure you’re not a witch, now?” You stifle a confused laugh, furrowing your brows with amusement.
“What?” 
“One half-day is all it took for you to chain me to your will,” he grasps the bottom of your chin and angles your head up; you go willingly. His eyes search yours for any hesitation or flighty emotions. All he finds is wide awe. “Most would call that witchery, Little Lady.”
“Then it seems your will is easily broken, Blacksmith.”
“Perhaps it is,” Johnny smirks, his breath puffing out along your parted lips. Your body vibrates with anticipation of what was to come, hearing his voice lower to a deep rasp. “Haven’t ya heard…? Blacksmiths have a weakness for runaway brides.” 
“Is that so? I’ve never heard of such a thing.” 
“Suppose I’ll just have to show you.” His lips are firm and his body runs hot. 
Eyes fluttering shut, you sigh into him as his hands dig into your gifted cloak, meeting him with every pass. Low purrs of satisfaction echo from his chest and make you shiver, nose pressing into his lower cheek. Playfully, his teeth nip at your flesh and you gasp; eyes pulling back to stare half-lidded as blue sparks with mischief. 
You should stop this—but you were starved for honest affection. Companionship, even. Johnny by far wasn’t the worst to throw your lott in with and he might just be the best possible to fill that role. Life in this era is fast and harsh; it’s unfair. You had to make quick decisions without thinking of the possible consequences. 
So as you blink up at the man who watches you closely, you place your fingers on the side of his face and tilt his lips back to yours with a small smile. His hand at the curve of your spine twitches, sliding along the cloak in minute increments as Johnny’s heart hammers like his tools. 
It’s as if the forge was still around the two of you—air hot and the feeling sticking to your skin like a brand of sin and forbidden magnetism. He shouldn’t have kissed you, but the hypnosis of the hammer was in his head; its rhythm and striking slam. You drew him in as the anvil does the iron. 
In this moment of contentment, there is a fast sound of something in the air, something that rattles the two of you out of your tender embrace to gaze with contorted faces through the thin line of trees. Panting and open.
Through the foliage back to the homestead is the rapid movement of hooves and the baying of hounds. 
It strikes you like a knife, eyelids moving far back as Johnny’s head snaps to the noise with something growing in the back of his expression. Calls; shouts. You know who it is, who’s found you out. You’d never heard it until it was too late.
“Johnny,” your voice says, fearful with wild eyes. 
“Stay behind me,” he says, monotone with red lips. Shadows of horses and guards are near the house. You stare up at him in shock. A kiss is pressed to your forehead. “Nothin’ll happen to you.” His eyes dig past layers. 
There was no running from this. 
“Okay,” you whisper.
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angelsworks · 2 months
Text
Goldilocks and the Four Bears
I haven’t written for the cod fandom yet so all the 141 might be terribly out of character. In fact I haven’t written for a while. I appreciate all the people that still read my work and continue to support me. I hope you’re all doing well :)
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Poly!141 x reader
Masterlist -> Here (will be made later :))
Warnings: 18+, mature themes, descriptions of torture, injuries and mistreatment, etc
Summary: After escaping from your last mission that had gone terribly wrong, your stumble through the woods leads you to a log cabin.
It was snowing. Fucking snowing.
Any belief in a deity had been long since crushed after the last few months. Well you thought it had been months. Your captors (a small but deadly terrorist group) had failed to provide you with your own calendar and clock. Much like how they had failed to provide you with new clothes to replace your own, that had been ripped and torn and become tattered to the eye.
It was stolen clothes you now wore as you made your escape. Trudging slowly through the already six inch snow, your thoughts trailed to the fresh snow adding to the existing six inches. The size 12 pair of boots were rubbing at your heels with increasing vigour. Leading you to contemplate if bruised skin could blister or not. The guard you’d killed as part of your escape had been good for one thing. Or three things actually. The ill-fitting boots, a loose pair of combat trousers and long sleeved compression shirt.
As you made your way through the terrain you felt a cold chill steadily working it’s way up your trouser leg. Slowly, spreading across the flesh, affecting any skin that wasn’t in direct contact with the trouser material. It made you wish you’d waited for a guard more similar to your stature. While the compression shirt was better than nothing, it was still thin. The flimsy seeming material now doing little to ward off the cold.
Maybe the sudden awareness of the less than ideal weather conditions wasn’t down to your stolen clothes, but the sudden loss of adrenaline. How long had you been running now? Well trudging desperately through the snow, making your way further and further into the thick forrest and fauna.
It was hard to try and map where you’d been, what direction you’d walked in and where you’d come from. It was all white. Every tree looked the same. Every incline became and decline and you’d become disoriented.
Months of abuse, of torture, ofpain. All ignored for a few short hours as you willed your aching body forward. Through trees and snow and stone. Through anything that would put you at a greater distance from them, from Miasma.
They hadn’t transported you. At least you were mostly sure. When you blacked out, you woke in the same dingy cell, on the same dingy floor. Only covered in more bruises or cuts. So you hoped you were where this all started. In Slovenia.
You’d done solo missions before. It was easier that way. One man in, one man out. No one to turn on you or leak information. With Gunner in your ear, nothing ever went wrong. Until it did.
Your objective was to gather intel. To stay under the radar before formulating the next attack. While sneaking around you’d learned just how large their operation was. In turn you’d also learned just how large their base was.
The small outpost hid underground levels. That became clear after your covert operation was blown and you were dragged down to the very heart of the multi-storey building.
Each day (if that’s what you could call them) gave you no indication of the time of day or how much time had passed. They made sure of that. In fact it was the first time in months you’d seen the light of day.
The light that you noticed was now fading apparently, as you looked desperately up into the sky. Grey clouds had rolled in, covering the majority of the sky. The sun was still peaking out from the dense overcast that was rolling further forward. Soon the sky would be covered and the snow fall would quicken.
A few miles back you were struck that no one from Miasma had followed you. You’d expected armed guards to be shooting at you and angry dogs to be tearing at your ankles. Yet you’d had no chase.
Maybe they knew you would get nowhere in the climate. That you’d be weakened by the terrain and from the violence you’d endured. They were right of course. But you didn’t let it stop you.
Even now as you’d gone further, you still felt the burning desire to survive. Granted it dwindled under the ache of your body and the never ending valley of white before you. But you wanted to live. You wanted your revenge.
The final rays of the sun had been clouded and the snow started to pick up. At least your footprints would be covered under the fresh snow. Not that it mattered if all your footprints lead to was a frozen corpse.
Flexing your fingers, you found yourself wishing for gloves. Your toes were long past numb and every injury you’d endured felt like it was waking up. Old cuts that had turned to scars felt fresh, bruises that had yellowed felt like they’d returned to their starting purple colour. Your felt heavy. You felt dense. You felt tired.
Your desire to drive on had dwindled now. The once raging fire was now only a candle. A candle that was down to its wick. The wax around it long since melted and now it was to its edge. Trying to burn the glue that chained it in place. The image made you crave warmth even more.
Was this it?
All the work you’d put in over the years. From a child you had trained for a mission you didn’t fully understand. A mission that belonged to someone else, to Gunner. He’d turned you into a soldier, his perfect soldier.
Is this how his perfect soldier died?
No it wasn’t.
So despite your blue fingers, numb toes and foggy mind, you push on. Just a little further, you tell yourself. Past these trees, past this stream, past more trees.
Your doubts evaporate when you come upon a clearing. You find a decent space boarded by snow dusted trees from all sides. They stand tall, seemingly acting as natural walls to protect those inside. The grass is covered in undisturbed snow. It’s thick and white and makes you smile.
None of it matter though because sitting in the middle of it all if your salvation.
A log cabin.
You consider the sight to be a mirage. Created from and low blood sugar, dehydration and desperation. But you trudge on, almost to a stumble speed, as you reach for the door handle.
It’s unlocked.
Despite any moral compass telling you that breaking and entering or trespassing is wrong, you ignore it. You’re hurt, aching and this is a last resort.
You close the thick wooden door behind you. Taking note of the copious locks it has. When you move inside the cabin you find that no one’s home. As quietly as you can on stiff legs, you sneak around the house. Trying to wake up the instincts you’d been trained on.
Enter a room, check your surroundings, check again. Don’t assume anywhere is empty. Threats could be hiding around any corner.
So for each room of the ground floor you do just that. Open door, check the rooms, move on. From your searching you’ve found a large living room, a kitchen, a dining room, a toilet some sort of office/drawing room. The decor gives you no clue as to who’s house you’ve invaded. There are no pictures of people, no personal possessions. It feels surreal. And wrong.
To start with you go back to the living room. Using the large fireplace, stockpile of logs and matches, you start a fire.
Again, better sense would tell you to avoid such an action. To avoid alerting anyone of your presence here. But you decide to put sense aside in a bid for survival. If you didn’t get warm soon you were sure you’d be frozen soon.
Next you go to the kitchen. You rifle through the cupboard in an attempt to find something edible. To your surprise you find the place to be well stocked. Even going as far as having fresh milk in the fridge. The sight confuses you. Send alarm bells ringing in your ears.
There are products in the fridge that are in date. Fresh products. Yet no one is home. It doesn’t make sense.
As you empty a can of soup into a pan you realise, it doesn’t need to. You’re happy to play stupid and see this as all some sort of blessing, some miracle.
While the soup cooks you fill a glass with clean, cold water. Relishing in the taste of something fresh. When you’ve downed the first glass you refill it again. This time with an intention to make it last longer.
After the first spoonful you find that you like vegetable soup very much. Almost burning your mouth as you devour it in a few minutes. Immediately it feels as though you’ve been recharged. The warmth from the fire has spread throughout the ground floor, your fingers have warmed around the bowl of soup and your body no longer feels related to a glacier.
The sky only darkens as you sit by the fire. Basking in the warmth and taking a moment to rest for the first time in months. You don’t imagine ever leaving your spot on the floor. But the promise of a bed upstairs has you moving your legs in that direction.
Before your ascent to the second floor, you strip your clothes and hang them on a drying rack you found to the side of the fire. Now left in the nude.
Upstairs you find multiple bedrooms. All almost identical, except for one at the end of the hall. You assume this is the Cabin’s master bedroom as it’s slightly larger than the others. Inside there’s a wardrobe full of clothes, a full length mirror, a TV, some sort of game station, and of course the larger than most bed.
In the mirror you catch sight of yourself. The cuts of course stand out first. From the slight turn you can muster in your neck, you can see large welts and thin cuts, bruises and scrapes, all littering the previously plain skin. From the front and behind, your legs look like a Jackson Pollock original piece.
Capturing various purple and blues surrounded by smaller splodges of green and brown. With the occasional black blob or two to really contrast the overall tone of the piece.
As a child you had a strange infatuation with your bruises. Likening them to a sticker or badge of achievement. They were easy to come by during training. A strange part of you liked the way they looked on your skin. They acted as a log book of the hits you’d taken, the falls you’d taken, any sort of impacts you’d had. They made you feel strong, maybe even proud too.
Staring into the mirror at your body again, it all seems worthless. You knew you were strong before. You didn’t need months as a prisoner to prove it.
You take a few steps forward to properly look at your face. Who stares back must be a stranger. You haven’t let your eyebrows be this out of shape since you were thirteen. You didn’t have that scar above under your chin before. Your eyes were always so bright and vivid. Not lifeless or hollow or so lost.
With newfound energy you take yourself to the nearest bathroom. That just so happens to be the en-suite in the bedroom. It doesn’t surprise you. Nothing about this abandoned, well stocked cabin does anymore.
Instead you shower in one of the nicest bathrooms you’ve been to in a long time.
At first the water has you freezing. Not due to the temperature but because of the fire it lights on your back. Every scrape, every cut, every burn now being cleaned. The cleanse sets your body alight. In a way you feel the heat is helping you to heal. Granted, all you have to show for it is a mixture of blood and grime, floating slowly down the drain. But it’s more than that.
It’s the last few months being scrubbed off your skin. Your wounds and ailments being shown that this is the end. They can heal in peace. You can heal in peace.
So you take your time. Using any products you can find; shampoos, conditioners, body wash, face wash. You’ve acquired a new razor, fresh from the packet. It’s amazing what a difference shaving your legs and various other places can do to your mood. You’ve always preferred removing the body hair. Afterwards the feeling of smooth legs under a thick duvet made all the work worth it.
The final step, bar drying yourself, was brushing tour yellowing and plaque ridden teeth. The minty taste in your mouth feels unfamiliar but it welcomed nonetheless. Wiping your tongue across the now almost pearly-whites you’re happy with how smooth they feel.
Now showered, shaved and dried, you make you way into the bedroom. Finding the wardrobe and drawers to be filled wit strictly masculine clothes. You pick out a pair of boxers and one of the large white t-shirts to sleep in. The shirt dwarfs you in size, looking more like a dress. Not one that you would wear outside though. Not with the black boxers showering through the material, or your hardened nipples making an appearance.
With your towel back in the bathroom and the lights off, you crawl into bed. Letting out the loudest sigh your sore throat could muster. Then quickly falling asleep on the linen.
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It was snowing. In fact it was a fucking blizzard.
A barrage of white, dagger-like snowflakes pelted against the four men. The lack of light and the dense haze of the storm made it impossible to see where they were going. They were all thankful for the less than modern compass. Hidden away at the bottom of Jonny’s bag. When he acquired it was unknown. But the four were grateful nonetheless that the Scott had the dated equipment in is kit.
After their week long training they were ready to fall asleep on the nearest surface. The blizzard they now faced was an unexpected one. Nothing on Price’s radar Gad alerted them to such a storm.
They’d just finished their survival training in the mountains when the first snowflake formed. During the rest of their descent it had only worsened.
As the snow around them thickened they trudged on. Becoming more aware of the weight of their kit, ache of their muscles and chill in their bones. These men were tired, hungry and cold.
After more miles and more words of encouragement from Price, Gaz was sure they were close to the safe house now.
Laswell had been kind enough to let them use the safe house after a particularly gruelling training exercise. It would be the closest thing to a holiday the 141 would get this year. Before the worst of the storm it had the Scotsman joking that he would build a snowman outside. An idea quickly shot down by Ghost in the interest of remaining vigilant to an enemies surrounding the house.
While snowmen were out of the question, snowballs were not. Something Ghost found out, twice, in the back of the head. Turning to see an innocent looking Gaz and Soap.
“You’ll regret that when we’re back on base and you two are on shit duty” the balaclava wearing Brit grumbles.
Soap sighs dramatically, “Oh come on Lt. Dinnae be like that, it was only a joke”.
The threat prompts Kyle to add, “It was all Soaps idea, think he should get shit duties on his own.”
Soap gasps feigning offence, “You bleeding clipe, don’t come knocking on my door when you want someone to warm your bed tonight.”
The comment causes the younger man’s face to heat up and laughs to come from the others.
“That if we get there in this blizzard” the captain quips. Trying to keep morale, but refusing to ignore the sinking feeling that they’ve missed the safe house completely.
“How far now?” Gaz asks, determined not to start pestering like an insolent child. Yet equally determined to have a proper meal and get out of his cold clothes.
“Two klicks north, then we should be there.” Soap tells him, loud enough for the others to hear in the now whipping winds.
“It was two klicks north last time someone asked Soap, are you sure you’re reading that right lad?” Price finds himself asking. Despite his rank, his military expertise and all his training agains the elements, it doesn’t make him immune to the cold. Immune to looking forward to sitting by a fire with a cup of tea in his hands.
Laswell wasn’t one to be stingy with safe house stock. From previous safe houses he’d been to that she had set up, they’d been a home away from home. Proper bedrooms, running water, stocked shelves. Price found himself ready to welcome anything that had four walls, a roof and could shelter him and his men from the storm.
“Two klicks north Captain, I’m sure”. Jonny confirms.
Sure enough, through the dense curtain of blizzard, light emerges. A gentle glow against the black nights sky. The closer they get, the clearer the house becomes.
A log cabin.
A big one at that. The sight is inviting enough to bring a smile to the men’s faces.
“Laswell’s outdone herself this time, fuckin yaldy” soap practically exclaims. Pushing forward to the front of the pack, in an effort to get in first.
“Hold it Jonny,” Simons voice is quiet through the mask, but harsh enough that the others can hear.
Ghost points to the chimney, “someone’s here”.
Sure enough as the others look up, they too see the plumes of smoke, gently rising from the brick chimney.
“Another team captain?” Gaz finds himself asking, while reaching for the know hidden in his thigh holster.
Price finds himself doing the same, “No, we’re the only ones in the country.”
The tension in the air is thick, rivals the thick snow pelting down on them. The four of them stand motionless, a short distance from the front door. Covered head to toe in winter gear, a layer of the snowstorm attached to anything it can stick to.
“Right, there’s only one door. I’ll lead. We’ll secure the ground floor first. Stay silent, we do this quietly.” Price commands. The men nod, moving to grasp their various knives. Following their captain as he moves to the front of the cabin.
With an almost inaudible creek, Price turns the handle of the door. Pushing the oak forward, grateful that it seems to glide over the wooden floors. Allowing him and his men to breach the property without alerting its inhabitants.
Price enters the living room first, signalling for the others to spread out and search the rest of the floor. He does indeed find a crackling fire, yet no one man’s it. The warmth is welcomed, but for the time being he ignores any desire to sit near it and warm himself.
His attention moves to the drying rack set up beside the fire. Upon further inspection of the items he finds combat trousers, a compression t shirt and a pair of large boots, size 12 he gathers from the label on the tongue. The clothes are still damp to the touch, leading him to infer that the intruder arrived a short time ago.
The badge on the arm of the shirt catches his eye. He rips it off the Velcro and examines it up close. An unknown insignia, contractor perhaps? Some new found terrorist group? Price doesn’t know. It’s not one he’s come across before.
Simon searches the kitchen. The space is a decent size, dark too. He blends into the shadows as he checks the space for any sign of life. He finds a empty soup can on one of the worktops. Turning to the sink he notices a single glass and pan siting there.
Once finished in his search he creeps back to the living room. Finding his captain there, along with a stoic looking soap and serious looking Gaz.
Price raises his hand to Simon, showcasing the fabric insignia to him. With cold eyes Ghost runs over the stitchwork. Mind running through the possible groups it could be associated with.
“Any ideas?” Price asks in a hushed voice.
Ghosts silence is a loud enough answer for the group. No
“Whoever they are haven’t been here long. Their clothes are still damp. Large boots, size 12.” Price goes through the details he’s uncovered.
“Men’s?” Gaz asks.
“Most likely”.
“There’s a pan in the kitchen. They’ve had soup. Only one glass.” Ghost reels off.
“We don’t know who we’re dealing with, could be anyone. Stay vigilant. Be prepared for a fight. I’ll take the lead upstairs. Shout if you find anything.” Price commands.
The team follow him single file up the stairs. Weapons at the ready as the sneak up the steps. Footsteps light on the wooden floor.
Price takes the first door, Gaz the second, Ghost the third and Soap the last door at the end of the hallway.
While three of the 141 find their rooms to be empty, Soap stops in the doorway. After almost silently twisting the door handle and letting it slide open, he stands in silence. What he didn’t expect to find was a girl sleep in the master bed, a pretty girl to be exact.
The Scotsman finds himself lost for words. He expected to have to fight someone of his stature. Maybe larger. He expected to walk away with a bruise or two. He feels lost on what to do. Should he wake her? Should he leave her?
Meanwhile the others have gathered in the hallway. Sharing a concerned glance at their teammate.
“What is it soap?” Ghost asked quietly.
“It’s a lass. A bonnie lass at that.” He tells them. Wonder in his tone as he stares at the sleeping girl. Watching as her chest rises and falls at a steady rate. Completely unaware of the four men that have entered the house.
The men collectively frown, walking further to investigate themselves. Sure enough, after they pass the threshold of the master bedroom, they too stand frozen. A girl. Not a man, or group of men. A girl, sleeping in their bed, in their log cabin.
Completely unaware.
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lehguru · 2 months
Text
BE MINE + ONE PIECE MEN
request: them asking the reader to be their partner + luffy, zoro, sanji & law
info: gn!reader, i forgor how i characterize them so bear with me, also this is me trying to crawl back to one piece so im sorry if its rlly bad; not proofread!!! (i should start asking ppl to beta read those istg)
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monkey d.luffy didn't really straight up asked you to be his partner. luffy being luffy, he walked up to you one day and said that you were his partner. you, having feelings for the captain for a really long time now, chuckled nervously, asking "what do you mean?". as he explained that nami told him that if he liked you, then he should ask you out, you could hear the red head sighing from somewhere—you knew at least half of the crew was watching you two right now. you laughed softly at the proud smile he wore and nodded, agreeing to be his.
roronoa zoro was almost the same as luffy, but at least he had the decency to actually ask you about it. during a beautiful day, you were on one side of the little garden that was built in the thousand sunny's deck, helping robin to water the plants. out of nowhere, a shadow was cast upon your crouching form; looking up, you noticed the green haired swordsman and smiled at him, getting up. "yes, zor—"
cutting you off, he asked in the same stoic tone he almost always had: "do you want to be my partner?". your eyes went wide and you let out a small exclamation of surprise. taking that as a denial, he turned back and started to walk away, but you managed to yell out his name. "yes! i will be your partner." the man huffed and nodded, but you could see a slight blush dusting his cheekbones.
when the subject is romance and love, you always expect sanji to be a master at it. out of everyone, he should be the one knowing how to ask someone to be his significant other, but he has never felt this... strongly about someone like he feels about you. when he approaches you to ask that, he's holding a little box with your favorite dessert, his long slender fingers shaking a little as words seemed to catch on his throat for the first time in front of someone he loves. he took a deep breath, a bead of sweat dripping down the back of his neck, you touching his arm and asking 'is everything okay, sanji?' with your sweet voice sent him over the edge. "do you want to date me?", his words were clear for him, but for you, he simply spat all of them out at the same time. you told him to breathe and say it again, and he did, his eyes looking at the floor with the shame of the rejection that would surely come his way. your head almost bumped on his as you jumped on his arms, screaming a yes and giggling loudly. he hugged you and spun you around, giggles of his own leaving his pink lips.
trafalgar d.water law didn't want to acknowledge his feelings for you. you were one of his closest friends, one of the few people he trusted the most—you knew things about him that he never told another soul; so he was afraid of losing you. terrified even. he had lost enough people that he loved during his life and he couldn't bear to lose another one. but... his other friends knew a little too much about his "silly" feelings.
"c'mon man, go ask them out." law saw himself being cornered by penguin, sachi and bepo one day, all of them with playful expressions. "the worst you can get is a punch."
he tried to ignore them, ignore how his cheeks seemed to be heating up, but they were being so obnoxious and annoying, he couldn't handle them anymore. with a burst of rage, he yelled at them, "can you shut up? i don't like them and they don't like me, either!"
"like who?" your voice made his heart leave his body and he felt like stabbing the three men—and bear—that were running away now. "no one." law replied, scoffing to himself for the slip up. "torao! tell me! come on!" now you were the one bugging him and he rubbed his face with his hand. you poked his cheek, giving him a little pout. "law, please!"
"it's you." he snapped, making you freeze. "it's you, dumbass." surprising the man, you started to giggle, making him go from annoyed to even more embarassed. "what?" you kissed his lips softly and started to walk away, saying that you accepted to be his partner.
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2024 © content belongs to lehguru, but the characters used in them belong to their respective creators!!
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