#even though it is running up towards the edge of what can be considered in-character

[monstermoviedean]

for dean, chuck becomes the scapegoat, the manifestation of every single bad thing that has ever happened to them. kill the bad thing, right? that's all that matters? he just wants it to stop. he just wants it to be over.

[zosin-ya]

omg i love your work so much! if your free can you do a fluff scenario of kid where his s/o gives him a ton of cute magnets for his arm and he shows them off like tattoos? 🥰🥰🥰

Character: Eustass Kid Content: s/o giving him magnets for his robotic arm a.n.: I really love this idea and I do love Kid. Hope you enjoy!

Kid was engrossed in his workshop as usual, tinkering away at the scattered items on his cluttered table. Screws, metal scraps, and tools lay in disarray, which he periodically shoved from left to right to create a bit of workspace. Despite the apparent chaos, he had his own unique organizational system, that made sense, only to him. Occasionally, you could hear him mutter curses under his breath, as you watched him from the doorway quietly.

His massive form sat at a well-worn workbench, which had clearly seen better days. The wood bore scratches, burn marks, and a missing corner—hastily patched with a piece of metal Kid had slammed against it. After all, it was a workbench, meant to look used, or so he told himself.

The small light aimed at the bench exaggerated his already bulky form. His foot tapped to the rhythm of the music playing in the background as he continued to tinker. He was so absorbed in his work that he didn’t notice your approach.

With your hands in your pockets, secretly holding the little gifts you had gathered, you leaned over his shoulder to see what his calloused hands were creating. Despite their rough appearance, Kid was deft when handling delicate metal parts. You kept quiet, a small amused smile forming on your lips as you wondered how long it would take for him to notice your presence.

Your breath brushed his shoulder, causing him to pause momentarily before resuming his work. He acknowledged your presence with a grunt, "What ya need?"

For Kid, that was quite polite. Anyone else would likely have faced a flying screwdriver or a loud rebuke for interrupting him. But you, you could bother him anytime. Even if he reacted this way, you knew you were welcome.

"Nothing, just curious," you answered innocently—perhaps too innocently. Kid knew you well and sensed you were up to something. He cocked his head towards you, raising an eyebrow, but before he could make a snarky comment, you pulled your hand out of your pocket and let the magnet fall onto his robotic arm. It adhered instantly.

Kid frowned, examining the small, punk-themed magnet now adorning his prosthetic. Placing his tools on the bench, he turned his metal arm for a better look. It was a small magnet, just his style.

"Where’d you get that��Hey!" You interrupted him by placing another magnet on his arm. He didn’t know you’d been collecting these during your travels. Each time you saw a fitting one, you’d buy it, waiting until you had a good collection to surprise him.

With a low hum, Kid turned towards you, still seated on his stool. This was new. He had never considered decorating his arm, which he saw as a weapon rather than a canvas for aesthetics. Your captain spread his legs, leaning back against the workbench, eyes shifting from his robotic arm to you. "What's this all about, huh?"

You stood between his legs, shrugging nonchalantly with a small smile. "It's like having tattoos. You can change them, too. Thought it was a cool idea. Do you like it?"

Kid might be rough around the edges, but he wouldn’t decline a gift from you, even the oddest one. And this? It looked kinda cool. A confident grin spread across his face as he examined the magnets. Most fit his style, though some were cuter, making his grin falter. He groaned in annoyance.

"Y/N, come on. What is this? I can't be running around like this!" He ripped off a magnet featuring a kitten with big eyes and "Anarchy" written below. Clearly, you’d picked it to tease him. Kid was about to discard it, but you snatched it back and reattached it to his arm.

"It's a gift! It’s not that bad. A real man can wear anything, right?." You taunted with a grin, pinching his cheek gently. Kid pulled his face away, rubbing the spot. You always knew what to say to him to make Kid agree. Going after his manhood usually worked. "...you're lucky I like you, Y/N."

He sighed in defeat, giving you a kiss to thank you for the magnets. He liked most of the them, even if a few were embarrassing. But they were from you, and that made them special. You’d clearly put a lot of thought into this, buying so many and especially picking out specific ones which fit his style.

Later that day, Kid kept all the magnets on his robotic arm. His crew commented, mostly positively, but when they saw the "Anarchy Kitten," they burst out laughing, knowing you’d done it on purpose. To their dismay, Kid discovered he could use the magnets as projectiles, slamming them into their faces and easily retrieving them with his power. With a smug grin, he realized the magnets were more useful than he’d thought.

Kid not only kept every magnet you bought but wore them like a badge of honor. Kitten or not, he looked sick with them.

[Click here for more Kid content!]

[lunarw0rks]

Hi! Is it possible to get an imagine where Ghost accidently walks in on reader changing (they're together and reader doesn't mind) but Ghost kinda freaks out and insists he can wait outside until they're done. I feel like with his past he'd constantly worry about invading people's privacy/violating them in anyway, so maybe just some fluffy reassuring him that he's ok and he makes reader feel safe? Sorry if that's a lot 🫶

༄ Poise | Simon Riley

Warning(s): !!brief references to ghost's trauma/SA!!, established relationship, mentions of sex/nudity, hurt/comfort, angst to fluff, gn!reader

₊˚ෆˎˊ˗ Word Count: 1.2k ꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST // have a request? ˗ˏˋ ASK BOX ˎˊ- ♡‧₊˚✧˖ 「 AO3 VER. 」 A/N: Tried my best to handle this topic respectfully. Definitely an underused, under-discussed part of Ghost's character.

Simon Riley was a complicated man, to say the least.

But he never intended to let his complications rub off on you — no matter how much suffering he voicelessly endured to ensure that.

Whether it was weeks into the relationship or months, his walls were still standing tall. Certain things: he just couldn't do with you. Reviewing old photographs of himself, going to a park where children run joyously with their parents, nor could he do anything to invade your privacy.

To you, your involvement with him was at a pivotal point. Where there wasn't a need to be bashful around the other and withhold the petty grievances.

Though, Simon's skeletons were anything but quaint.

There was weight to them; weight you only bore a measly tinge of. He never told you details, only bits and pieces of what he had been through. Those serious talks were scarce and short-lived — forgettable, even, if it weren't for the woeful nature of his past memories.

『 ♡ 』 • 『 ♡ 』 • 『 ♡ 』 • 『 ♡ 』

Per usual, he had gotten up long before you. It was a typical sight; laying in the empty bed unsure if Simon was even home, because of his default stealth. Even though you knew he wasn't beside you, your fingers outstretched to his side, palming the sheets that had gone cold in his absence.

With a drowsy sigh, you peeled back the plush comforter, revealing the remnants of the lustful night before. Or, the lack of remnants, considering you were still rid of your clothes.

Through the curtains, the risen sun engulfed the shared bedroom, illuminating its lackluster decor — at least on his portion of it. Little decor, no pictures or clutter out, clothes folded and hung neatly as he would with his uniforms on base.

After a few minutes of gathering your strength, you climbed out of bed and approached the dresser, giving your fatigued eyes a rub. You dug through the clothing piles until you found an outfit suitable for a slothful day in with him.

You set the pickings on the edge of the bed. Following, you were slipping into a fresh pair of undergarments, listening intuitively for any sound of your lover, which wasn't an easy task.

Simon ambled up the staircase, on his way to the ensuite washroom to retrieve the watch he took off to shower. In his mind, you were still fast asleep, especially after last night. His fingers clamped around the knob, opening it with slowness.

In a matter of seconds, he was poisoned with a sensation of unbearable discomfort, as well as disgust towards himself. Seeing you, nude and vulnerable rather than slumbering in the bed.

"Shit, I'm sorry, love." Unlike before, he handled the door with haste — closing it like he had just walked in on a stranger.

Your mouth remained slightly agape with bafflement, paired with a feeling of unease for him. You were only changing, and it wasn't the first time he had seen you undressed. This wasn't a little hiccup in the day, nor an off-beat moment that you could laugh at later on.

Something gravely upset him, and it wasn't your bare skin.

Quicker than before, you changed into the remainder of your outfit. As well as fixing up the rest of your appearance; an excuse to figure out how to approach the subject.

You exited the bedroom, giving the door a gentle close. No sign of Simon down the hall, not in the living room, either. You checked the office next, finding nothing but another uninhabited space. Lastly, you crept through the kitchen with wary arms folded across your chest.

Then, you caught a glimpse of Simon's unstirring silhouette through the window. Slouched while sitting on the steps of the deck; a thousand-mile stare into the garden.

He didn't flinch when the patio door shut behind him, not even when you sat beside him on the steps.

"This isn't about me being naked, is it?" You spoke into the crisp mid-morning air, feeling the unforgiving bite of it overwhelm your exposed skin and lips.

Simon scoffed at your poor attempt to lighten the bleak mood, giving you a brief glance. If only things— if only he were that uncomplicated. "No, it's not you. Nothing like that."

You nod your head, trusting that his blunt nature wouldn't allow him to stifle a thing as serious as that. If he truly wasn't attracted to you or your frame, you wouldn't be resting your head on his shoulder.

For a few minutes; the conversation stopped. Only the occasional passing car in the distance or an animal or insect chirping. The leaves blew gently, until the breeze eventually found the both of you, sending a bitter, unforgiving autumn wind.

The silence was fine; it was common with him. But it wasn't fine when you knew he was swallowed by sorrowful thoughts.

"Can I..." You began, still keeping your head pressed firmly against his solid shoulder. "Can I ask what's wrong? Why you wouldn't stay in the room?" Asking what happened was too far, and you were already walking a narrow line. He wouldn't hold it against you if you got too invasive, but that wasn't a chance you wanted to even consider.

Simon's flashbacks hadn't ceased for a minute. Not since he shut the bedroom door behind him and sat out here.

The worst part? None of it was your fault. It had nothing to do with your bare skin, not even him catching a glimpse of it. His inner voice had him convinced he overstepped; that he made you feel used and violated by proxy.

He sighed heavily, saying a thousand words with a mere exhale. "Things you don't need to hear, sweetheart. Trust me on that." That was one way of putting it lightly, considering the gravity of what he had endured years ago.

"Listen, Simon," your fingers roamed along his shoulders, caressing down his back, careful to avoid the scars he didn't want you to touch. "I feel the pain you walk around with, I do. Every moment we're together, it doesn't rest."

He nodded his head slowly, closing his eyes for a moment to absorb the bleed of your words. You weren't sugarcoating the rawness of how his past affected you, nor were you judging him for it.

"But you didn't hurt me, alright? You did nothing wrong." Your voice couldn't have reached deeper. The tightening of his chest had uncoiled a bit, soothing his silent episode of derealization.

Simon's shaky fingers found your cheek, caressing against your chilled flesh with a tender firmness, "don't think I deserve you and that bleeding heart."

Your brows knitted with benevolence, returning the same gloomy gaze his amber eyes were emitting. Following his words, you shook your head, gripping his wrists gently.

"You do deserve it," you retorted gently, "nobody makes me feel safe like you do." You had never said something more truthful. He really did make you feel safe, in every sense. Intimately, romantically, even just as another human being you decided to spend your time with.

"C'mere." Simon murmured, shortly before nudging your head in the direction of his lap, allowing you to lay against him completely.

Whether he believed you or not, that didn't matter. All that mattered was that he hit the jackpot with you. Someone who didn't tip the scale, who didn't need to be privy to his every sorrow.

You were there purely to be there for him, expectant of no rewards or praises — though Simon would definitely give them soon enough.

In his own, deeply complicated, way.

[velvetcloxds]

KISS ME | J.M.

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: basically city girl kissing the pretty surfer boy in the ocean

summary: jj has been acting like your local tour guide since you came to the island on vacation and though you can't stay there forever, there's something else that you can do

“Trust me,” it was an easy ask, truly if you were to trust anyone to lead you into what you considered undeniable danger it would be him, JJ Maybank, blonde hair, sun-kissed skin, eyes that promised nothing but bad decisions, and unforgettable nights. You’d met him on your first night on the island, all dressed up in your cutest little tourist outfit walking around all the wrong places when you stumbled into him and his friends. You had a feeling he wasn’t this welcoming to all the tourists that washed ashore via overpriced fairy and first-class ticket, but you couldn’t deny the allure of running about with a local doing everything you wouldn’t dare to think of at home.

He'd taken you on an adventure you didn’t sign up for, took you walking among the trees, showed you all his favorite spots, hiding or otherwise, stopped at the mainland to show you all the little stores meant for people like you, even stood in line with you to buy one of those beautiful but in his opinion, cringy, overprized shell necklaces, though he made sure to lay on the compliments soon after he’d helped you put it on. The logical part of you considered that this wasn’t entirely wise, allowing a stranger to whisk you about a strange place without a second thought, you’d briefly envisioned your name on some newspaper back home, “tourist girl disappears after having the best month of her life”, alas you ignored reason and allowed him to continue to talk you into his insistent spontaneity.

“Trust you?” you scoffed, a foot testing the water before gently splashing him from where he stood holding a hand out to you, hoping that that dreamy smile would convince you to onto the boat with him, it was very convincing, you’d give him that but the water splashing around you wasn’t and it brought to mind very many other newspaper articles you could end up on. “I just met you a week ago, trust is a hard ask.”

“Have I given you any reason not to trust me yet?” low was his voice, magnetic, a siren song of sorts because you inched closer, biting back a squeal when the water climbed up to your knees, wetting your sundress in the process.

“You sure you know how to drive that thing?” he’d already answered that question at least ten times since he suggested this activity last night, twice at dinner when he helped you remove the shells from your shrimp, once more on the walk home when you stopped to see someone busking by the beach, again when he walked you to your hotel, again on the phone when you called to make sure he got home alright after you’d made him late- the rest was accounted for on the way here, yet he still smiled, playfully rolled his eyes and offered you the same answers as before.

“Yes, I’m sure. Now would you just come over here already,” and with a shaky sigh and a demand from your mind to stop being a baby about it you were taking his hand to have him help you onto the boat he’d borrowed from John B. You didn’t dare take note of the way his hands lingered on your waist, or the smirk on his lips when you gripped onto his wrist until you were safe, just as you hoped he didn’t notice you trying to hide the warmth spreading to your cheeks.

JJ gave you a moment to settle once the boat started moving, hands gripping the edge very tightly as he tried not to admire the sight of you too long, brushing an entirely out-of-character respectful hand over the small of your back as he passed you to the steering wheel, you couldn't look towards him, settling your gaze on the water around you, talking your nerves down.

The nerves in question settled lightly as soon as you went further in, the beauty something you could only imagine, finally being able to experience something you’d seen on the postcards you’d bought to tell your mother all about your time here. You’d gotten courage by the time he’d dropped anker, choosing the perfect spot for what he deemed a casual swim- eyes now locked with his as he took off his shirt, dragged a hand through his hair, preparing himself for his latest pitch.

“Are you planning on seducing me into the water, JJ?” you were only half teasing, partly because you knew that if that was his plan it might just work, and partly because the idea of getting into the water was even more terrifying than getting onto the water.

“Sweet talk yes,” he confirmed, and it was embarrassing how quickly your heartbeat spiked when he flicked the strings of your sundress, a measly little piece of fabric held together by dreams and wishes, it was the only bit of your mother you could bring with you, it deserved to experience this place too. “Seduce, only as a last resort,” you scoffed at that, humming when he slid his arms to either side of you to grip the handle behind you. “You trust me yet?” he had to know the answer to that by now, so when you nodded embarrassingly eagerly, you didn’t expect him to look so surprised, or so smug to be fair. “Well then,” he was careful, seemed to always be so around you, as he released one hand to pull at the strings he flicked at earlier, expert fingers opening your dress to reveal your bathing suit. A little wink was all you got before your sundress dropped to your feet and he was over the edge and into the water.

Be brave, was all you could remind yourself, taking another second to appreciate how beautiful everything around you was, how once in a lifetime the moment felt, and how you knew without a doubt that you’d regret it for the rest of your life if you didn’t go swimming in the ocean with one of the hottest guys that ever looked at you, so you did it. You slipped in slowly, reached for JJ immediately after you’d caught your breath and he was ready for it, settled his hands on your waist, and laughed lightly as you gripped his shoulders.

“Took your time,” he teased, and you could only smile, your head hadn’t caught up with you just yet, with the cold water lapping gently around you, the smell of salt lingering heavy in the air, the heat of the wind unlike how it felt at home, his body against yours, the feel of his fingers somehow still identifiable even under the water. “Talked yourself into it?”

“Just took it all in,” you shook your head, it was worthy of a thousand photos, you had to settle for capturing it in your head, securely filing it under the best few days you’d ever have, the perfect scenes, entries in diaries there weren’t enough pages to cover. “It’s amazing, everything has been so amazing, I wish I didn’t have to leave,” you were surprised you’d managed the sincerity while being so focused on his thumbs brushing ever so close to your hips, up and down matching the rhythm of the ocean.

“Why can’t you?” he challenged and though you knew it must seem so simple from where you were, had he had any idea what brought you here, what you’d run from, what you’d have to get back to, it would probably seem even simpler.

“We can’t always do everything that we want, surfer boy,” he flushed at the nickname, and stuck his tongue in his cheek, how you’d managed to make the most mundane words feel so perfectly special was beyond him. Moving his hands came naturally, instinct, pulling you closer partly because of the increased tide creeping in and because he knew this was it, the peak of your time together and he wanted to make the most of it, savor it, rush it, replay it every moment until he watched you leave.

“What about just one?” he suggested and you’d be left to wonder what on earth that meant had his eyes not drifted to your lips for a fleeting glance before meeting your eyes again, tinted cheeks though not of embarrassment as much as excitement. “What’s one thing you want that you can actually do,” you were happy for the bravery that survived from when you’d talked yourself down there.

“Kiss you,” you didn’t need much time to admit it, consider it, might as well face it and he knew you would, or hoped at least because it didn’t take him much time either to bring you flush against him, chest to chest, far closer than ever before, one hand tightening around his neck to assist you in pulling yourself up, the other though far from steady cupped his cheek. “I want to kiss you,” you breathed though far less certain, eager still but in a nervous, shaken way.

“Well, then, city girl,” he lifted a hand as well, climbed the surface all the way up to your head where he forced you to close the distance, his lips tasted of salt and coconut, perfectly fitting you managed to decide on before getting lost in the kiss and when you pulled away with a light giggle and newly wettened hair from the boat bumping into you, JJ swore he could kiss you all over again. “You could stay,” he argued, humming as you returned your hand to fall over the other, arms folded around his neck, no need for space now which is why you didn’t stray away from him brushing his nose against yours. “There’s still so much more I could show you,” you didn’t mean to shake your head so quickly and turn him down, but for once you didn’t want to think about what was next, only now.

“Kiss me again,” you demanded and you were perfectly in place to do it yourself really, but you needed him to stop talking. “Just stop talking and kiss me.”

“Now who is seducing who,” his words were laughably contradicting as he tapped your legs to have them wrap around his waist, hands drifting daringly low as he did just as you asked and selfishly he had no plans on stopping anytime soon.

[lovelettersforthedamned]

re: “congrats on 200 followers, lovely!! you deserve 100x more! could i request 8 from the angst prompt + hurt/comfort 5 ❄️❄️”

oh my gosh i didn’t even realise i forgot to put a character - suppose that’s what happens when you spend all night on tumblr 😭 tasm Peter or Matt Murdock pls <333

Priorities

--genre: angst :(

--pairing: matt murdock x gn!reader

--word count: 1.1k

--warnings: language, mentions of alcohol, arguing, matt is the king of self sabotage, angst.

i'm a sucker for some good angst omg

“He hasn’t been alright (Y/N),” Karen sighs, “when he’s here he’s on edge. I know he can hear things we can’t, but it’s like…it’s like he’s not really here.”

You’re sitting next to her at Josie’s bartop, the crowd is mellow on this rainy Wednesday night. You can tell Karen is genuinely concerned about Matt, the look in her eye tells you so. You’re running through the possible reasons why your boyfriend could be feeling this way, but you draw a blank. You furrow your eyebrows, frustrated, “He’s been quiet lately, but he never brings it up.” 

The blonde in front of you takes another sip of her drink before she clears her throat, “I don’t know what’s going on, but I have a feeling it has something to do with the devil.”

You can only nod your head. You hate when Matt gets in over his head about his nightly activities, it’s hard when you can’t do anything about it, not like he lets you anyway. “I’ll keep an eye out for him the next few days,” you reach into your wallet for cash, “just keep me updated about how he is at work, okay?”

She stands with you from the seat, giving you a tight hug as you say your goodbyes, and heading home to your apartments. You can’t help but think about Matt the entire walk home, your mind taking you to dark places. It wasn’t hard to worry about him, considering the fact that he loves to push himself past the limit more often than not. 

You would never tell him to stop, right? 

***

For the next few days, you start to pay attention to Matt when he’s home. The first thing you notice is that he seems to always be in a rush. He’s quick to get ready for the day, and he’s quick to get ready for the night. You’re not sure where this sudden boost in drive has come from, but what Matt doesn’t realize is that the quicker he riles himself up, the harder he plummets. 

You’ve gotten multiple texts from Karen during the day that Matt is blowing up on Foggy while clients are in the room. You know that something’s wrong, and you don’t know how to fix it, but you have to try. 

Later that day, you caught Matt putting his suit on to go out into the city, the sun draining the light away from your apartment. As he’s about to put his helmet on, your voice interrupts his movements, “Matty, can we talk real quick?”

He sighs, already walking away from you, “I’m about to leave, can we talk later?” 

“How long have you been feeling like you need to do more for the city when you do more than enough?” 

Your question catches him off guard, he stops in his tracks, his back facing you. He can hear that your heart is beating faster than normal, the question making you nervous. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he responds, quickly. 

You cannot help but laugh at his response, “You’re a terrible liar.” 

Shaking his head out of frustration, he takes a deep breath, “You don’t need to worry about anything that I do when I’m out at night, trust me.”

“Another shitty lie, Matty,” you walk towards him. Once you reach his back, you raise your hand to hold his arm, giving it a soft squeeze. Unconsciously, he leans into your touch. You know that he’s been craving this kind of softness since he started to act differently. “You know that I still worry, even though you tell me not to. I can’t help it,” you speak softly. 

And suddenly, it’s like his hard demeanor returned with a flip of a switch, “I need to get out there (Y/N),” he shrugs his arm out of your hold. You’re left there standing like an idiot in the middle of the living room as you watch your boyfriend walk away from you. You can’t help but feel angry, it’s like everything you said went through one ear and spilled out the other. Turning on your heel you walk to the closet, pulling down the suitcase, letting it slam on the floor. You don’t care. 

The obvious slam caught Matt’s attention, his worries now focused on you. He hears more shuffling coming from your shared bedroom, along with sniffles. He calls out to you, before walking to you, “(Y/N)?” 

He’s met with no response, just the sounds of your muffled sobs and the rustling of clothes. As he gets closer to you, he can taste the salt in the air as your tears stream down your face, and suddenly he’s panicking. “I never wanted it to get to this point,” you zip up the suitcase as you rise to your feet, Matt’s sudden appearance scaring you as you see his figure. 

His eyes are darting back and forth as he tries to de-escalate the situation, yet his tone is still sharp,  “What point?” 

You’re still a mess, running your hand across your eyes to wipe your tears, you smear your makeup across your skin. With an uneven breath, you respond, “You’ve reached the point where you stop valuing yourself and the people around you to dig your own grave, Matthew.” You try to make your way around Matt, but he doesn’t make it easy as he holds your shoulders, keeping you in place. 

“Don’t make me do this,” he says quietly, “don’t make me choose.”

You think that you’ve actually gotten through to him, you hope a sense of clarity has finally washed through his senses. Until you see his head twitch, his ear lifting towards the air. You can’t hear anything, but you know that he already has an exact location of whatever commotion is happening in the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. 

With your boyfriend distracted, you shrug his hands off your shoulders, “Looks like I didn’t have to make you choose, you’ve already figured out your answer yourself.” 

As you’re walking out of the bedroom and towards the front door of the apartment, Matt calls for you, “I’ll be back in a few hours, then we can talk, okay? Just–please, don’t go anywhere.”

And just like that, he slips out of the window, not even waiting for your response. Maybe Matt’s heart will never fully belong to you, and you should’ve known that when you first met him. He has always and will always dedicate himself to the city, and you’ll just have to come to terms with not being his priority. That is if you stay. 

--author's note: I KNOW THAT MY 200 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION IS DONE, BUT I HAD A BURNOUT PERIOD SO HERE'S ONE LAST FIC!!! ❄️ anon this is such a good request, thank youuuu! don't forget to like, comment, and reblog to support me and your fav writers! my asks/inbox is open, so send me your juicy ideas baes...ok, bye ily<3333

[testingthewatersss]

What it felt like Trigger warnings for PTSD, mentions of war, torture, fear of the dark etc. Just unapologetic cuddling and comfort. Bucky Barnes x F Reader Oneshot 4500 words fluff, angst, comfort. 18+ MDNI Reader is Tony's sister, a non-enhanced shield agent who reappeared after TWS. What could possibly go wrong after movie night?

“That looks like it hurts”

Y/N’s voice cuts in above the din of the action movie that’s playing on the television, making Bucky tilt his head so that he can look down at where she’s nestled against his chest.

“What does, doll?”

“That” she scoffs, gesturing towards the movie, where some poor schmuck lying on the ground, taking kicks to the face.

“It’s not so bad” he shrugs, “You stop feelin’ it as much after they’ve gotten the first couple of licks in— It smarts for awhile after though, poor guy has no idea what’s comin’”

The way he says it is so lighthearted that it takes Y/N a minute to process what he’s actually said. By the time she has, the moment has passed. The scene on the screen has changed, and Bucky is back to stroking her arm, happy to let the silence between them continue.

And it does continue. It continues until the end of the film when the credits are rolling;

“Well that was somethin,” Bucky says, beaming as Y/N turns to face him, “Not sure I’d watch it again-”

“No” she agrees, reaching up to stroke his cheek, “It didn’t make my top 10 either.”

“You have a top 10?”

She laughs then, soft and tempered before sighing and deciding to take a moment to really look at him.

He really is beautiful.

Even in the dimly lit room, she can’t help but admire the gentle curves of his face. She lets herself reach up to stroke his jaw with her fingers, tracing the bone until she reaches the edge.

And then, she can’t help but think about what he’d said before.

How he’d so nonchalantly described the feeling of being kicked in the face.

The thought of hard leather boots crashing into him makes her cringe-

“What are you doin’, doll?”

She’s stroking his face, running her thumb across his bottom lip now, trying not to focus on the mental image of it splitting open-

“Nothin” she replies, reigning herself back in and offering him a tight-lipped smile as she lets her hands fall away, “You ready to turn in?”

He nods, still wearing an awfully curious expression, even as they both start to head towards the bed they’ve started to share.

By the time they’ve started the process of undressing, Bucky has decided that he must’ve done something to upset his partner.

He doesn’t know what, yet- but he’s sure that she’s avoiding him, and he can’t think of any reason for her to do that, other than him having done something wrong.

This relationship isn’t exactly new, but the concept of being in any relationship as a is something he’s still very much practising.

And considering the way he’s just spent a lifetime being barred from socialising at all, it wouldn’t be unexpected for him to mess up, sometimes. Even though Y/N has always maintained that there’s nothing he could do to make her like him any less, he thinks that she’s definitely acting off.

Every time he turns away he thinks he can feel her watching him, but every time he catches her eye she looks away.

She’s not talking much, either. Which is very out of character. Normally she fills the quiet between them by saying- well, anything, really. She’s a Stark, like her brother, and he’s grown quite accustomed to her monologuing.

So accustomed in fact, that he misses it now.

And then, he looks up and sees her on the bed, wearing a big t-shirt and nothing else and he goes to smile at her, but she looks away, fussing with a glass of water on the nightstand to her right, and he feels his heart drop.

Something is definitely wrong.

He finishes the task of getting ready, and then he silently paces over to her left. Mechanically folding himself up onto the mattress beside her.

Y/N can feel the stiffness in his posture. It’s awkward and unnatural, so she turns her body towards his;

“Are you alright?” she asks, “Tired?”

“Not really, doll” he says, “Tired, I mean- I’m alright.”

She chuckles at that and nods, kicking her legs under one of the many blankets they keep on the bed.

Quiet swells between the pair for a few more minutes, until Bucky decides that he can’t physically bare the tightness in his chest any longer-

It’s always better to just know. To face up to whatever he’s done and get the consequences over with.

And on the bright side, he’s sure that Y/N won’t hurt him. Not physically anyway, and if she does hurt him with her words, he knows that it’ll be justified, that she wouldn’t ever be cruel or unjust.

“Are you upset with me, Y/N?”

His question takes her totally by surprise. She puts the book she’d been fussing with down, and turns to face him properly.

She looks confused. So confused that Bucky can’t help but wonder if he’d spoken in a foreign language by mistake.

Wouldn’t be the first time, he thinks dryly, maybe she didn’t-

“No-Why would you think that?”

Oh, she did hear him then.

“I don’t know-” he admits, suddenly feeling very exposed, “-You’ve just been real quiet”

“I have?” she interrupts, quirking a brow, “I’m sorry, Buck. I’m just thinkin’”

“So it’s not…” he begins, relief starting to creep in, “It’s not because I said somethin’ or-”

The second he says that, her face shifts. The whole expression shifting as she averts her gaze to her lap;

“I did” he says, certain, “I said somethin’, that upset you didn’t I?”

“No” she repeats, tone softer, “Not exactly.”

Not exactly, he thinks, mind echoing her words—

“Buck, it’s fine” Y/N insists, “I’m not upset with you, don’t worry”

“What did I say?” he asks, tone edging towards desperate, “Please, doll- I didn’t mean to-”

“Bucky,” she says, tone firmer now, “I told you- It’s not like that”

“Then” he gulps, “what it is it like?”

Y/N sighs again, focusing her attention very deliberately back on his face for a moment, before surrendering to his wounded expression and rolling onto her side, beckoning him towards her;

“C’mere” she murmurs, patting the space by her chest, “You really wanna know?”

“Yeah” he whispers, shifting into place, letting his head rest in the crook of her bent arm, “I do”

Y/N looks at him thoughtfully for a beat before nodding, settling down and bringing her free hand over to his brow.

She starts to stroke the skin gently, trailing her fingers across his hairline, and then dipping them down to his temple, before starting the circuit all over again.

“You didn’t say anything wrong…” she clarifies, “…but when we were watchin’ the movie and I made that comment about that guy gettin’ the shit kicked out of him and how I bad I thought it must’ve hurt?…” she pauses, thumb brushing the bridge of his nose, feeling a dip in the bone from where it’s obviously been broken and re-set over the years, “…You weren’t imagining when you answered— You knew what it felt like and that- That made me sad…”

Her hand is back on his brow, so he looks up at her, guilt sitting heavily in his chest;

I made her sad being the only thought that he’s able to focus on as he readies himself to speak

“I’m sorry,” he tells her, swallowing thickly, “so sorry, doll-”

“Bucky” Y/N scoffs, edging her front closer towards him, “You’re not hearin’ me- You didn’t upset me, there’s nothin’ for you to be sorry about…”

“I made you sad” he counters, metal arm reaching out to stroke her waist, “I should’ve thought ab-”

“You didn’t make me sad,” she tells him with a smile, “The fact that you ever had to find out what bein’ kicked in face feels like makes me sad. The fact that anyone ever hurt you, makes me sad, Bucky… It’s not your fault.”

Oh, god…

He loves her. He loves her so much.

“I think sometimes I forget” Y/N hears herself drawl, “maybe we all do, huh? Me, and Steve and the others… I think we all forget how rough you had it before.”

“I forget too” he admits, “Sometimes… Sometimes when we’re together I’m so happy, Y/N— So happy that I can’t imagine ever not bein’ that way…”

And then she’s beaming at him, leaning in and pressing a kiss against his brow, where her fingers had been just a moment before.

“I think that’s why it hits so hard when I do remember”

That confession makes Y/N's mouth quirk unhappily. She corrects quickly, feeling obscenely grateful that he hadn’t been able to see her lapse in self-control.

“You make me feel safe, Y/N, really safe.” Bucky tells her, meeting her eyes the second he can, “I know it’s more complicated than that” he allows, “I know it’s because I’m out, too, because I’m not there anymore, but it… it really is better with you, and I think that’s why— I think that’s why when I remember, when I think about it all too much, or when I have a dream that I don’t forget— I think that’s why it’s so hard for me to deal with, because it feels like the two worlds aren’t connected, like they can’t exist at once”

“Bucky” Y/N murmurs, fingers working at carding his hair back now, “What can I do, huh?”

What can she do? he thinks, awed-

“You do more than enough already, doll”

She just shakes her head smiling.

“Listen…” she says softly, “… it sounds like keepin’ everythin’ so separate, actin’ like they don’t go together— like they can’t, go together— might be makin’ everythin’ harder for you than it needs to be.”

He doesn’t disagree with her, so he doesn’t try. He just keeps watching her face as she curls her fingers across his face. He feels like he could drown in the affection. Like that would be a wonderful way to go.

“So” she continues, “how do we make it easier? How do you think we could start to bring the two together a little?”

“Do you” Bucky gulps, “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

She raises a brow in questioning;

“Bringin’ them both together” he clarifies.

“What I think,” she says, “doesn’t mean shit, Buck. It’s what you think about it that counts.”

He can’t help but laugh at that. A real, true chuckle escaping his chest as he turns to press a kiss against her wrist.

“I” he sighs, “I haven’t thought a whole lot about that”

“Maybe it’s time you do” she suggests gently, “Now you’re somewhere where you can, y’know?”

“Yeah” he agrees, “Yeah, I think you’re right, doll- and I know I- I know I shouldn’t just pretend it didn’t happen, I know that’s not the healthiest, doll, but I’m- I’m worried…”

“Worried?” she presses, fingers costing under his eyes now.

“Mhmm” he hums, loving the contact she’s giving him, “I- I don’t want to make things weird”

That’s fair. That’s very fair. She just nods, understanding and waits for him to carry on;

“If… thinkin’ about me bein’ kicked makes you sad, darlin’ — then I—”

“Of course it does” she sighs, “Are you tellin’ me it wouldn’t make you sad if I told you about all the bad things that have ever happened to me?”

Okay. Okay, she’s got me there, he thinks.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be able to talk about things that happened” she tells him, with the same adoring tone as before, “You can always talk to me, Buck… You can always tell me anythin’… and if it makes me sad? Then that’s okay. I can handle bein’ sad if it makes things better for you in the long run.”

“But…” Bucky gulps, “…I don’t want you sad, doll”

She laughs at that, sweet and quiet as she rolls her eyes.

“I don’t want you sad either” she agrees, “but that’s not realistic— that’s not how life works, and I’d rather be sad for a minute, knowing that you’re healing, than have us both pretending that everythin’s okay.”

“…I..” Bucky concedes, “..I guess I could talk about some things, some more? I could try to anyway…”

“That might be a good start” she agrees, “It might help with the disconnect, which might make it less of a shock when things…crop up..”

And then, he feels himself nodding. He feels her fingers running across his hairline again, and as he looks up to meet her eyes he feels a layer of bravado fall away.

“I never liked it when they’d hit my mouth…” he admits, “or my nose— I mean, I didn’t like any of it, but- there was always somethin’ about when they’d go for my face that I really… I really hated.”

Y/N is stroking his cheek, now. She’s watching his eyes as they glaze over as he thinks back to a time he’s tried very hard to repress;

“It… it hurt, but- but it’s like I said before, after the first few blows it just, it just all burned the same, I- I think the noise was worse. The sound, and the taste- the taste of blood, and not, not being able to hide, just havin’ to take it— and not knowing when they were goin’ to stop… I- I hated it.”

Y/N nods, palm settling over the hinge of his jaw in a way that feels awfully protective.

“and after- whenever they did stop, it— got worse real quick, it- it would all swell up, and throb somethin’ fierce and, god, doll- Sometimes they wouldn’t even let it mend before they’d put that goddamn mask back on and it’d feel like I couldn’t breathe…”

On the topic of his breathing— it’s getting shallower by the second.

Y/N makes a mental note to watch that, to monitor him for signs of hysteria while he practices the kind of openness she’d been encouraging just a moment before;

“and when… when they did leave me after, I- I’d just be layin’ there, tryin’ not to move— just feelin’ it, until they came back, and I- I never knew how long it’d be, I- I never knew how long it’d take for someone to come and make it worse…”

His expression is still strangely vacant, even though she thinks there’s a definite layer of red in his cheeks now.

“…sometimes…” he murmurs, tone dropping now, “sometimes when it’s quiet, when nobodies touchin’ me, or I’m fallin’ asleep, I- I feel like it’s about to happen. Like someones about to hit my face. It’s… it’s hard to explain, but it’s the same- it’s the same feelin’ of bein’ there, waitin’ for the blows to start, and I- I never know what to do”

Okay, now he’s hysterical. Or his breathing is anyway.

“You don’t know what to do?” she asks, voice calm.

“No” he admits, “No, Y/N…”

She just smiles, smoothing his hair back gently as she hums.

“Does anythin’ make the feelin’ stop?” she asks, “Or make it less?"

“When” he swallows, “When it happens at night- when I’m fallin’ asleep, then I— I reach out for you, doll, I- I’m sorry, I- I don’t mean to do that, but I- I can’t help it—“

Y/N hushes him, shaking her head to dispel his obvious concern;

“Does that help?”

Yes, he thinks instantly, Yes, god, it helps so much-

She watches him nod, shame making the blush in his cheeks burn hotter than before;

“You just need to feel someone there, huh?”

“Not someone” he counters nervously, “Doll, it’s… it’s you- it’s only you- It’s because you’d never- because you’d never hurt me…”

“Nobody in this building would ever hurt you” she reminds him calmly, “Bucky, you’re safe here”

“I know” he agrees automatically, “I know that, but- it’s… it’s hard to explain…”

“Want to try?” she offers her fingers back to playing with his hair as he nods, retreating inwards to try and produce a way of rationalising his thought process.

“I trust Steve” he begins, “I really do, doll- I love him, too.”

Y/N knows that, so she nods, waiting for him to expand;

“but he… he hurt me, when- when I wasn’t me…” he says, shame making his throat tight, “I know it was my fault. I know I fought him too, doll, but- there’s part of me, that… that doesn’t care about that— that’s just scared, and when he comes up behind me, or pats my shoulder without me expectin’ it, then it’s real hard for me not to forget where I am.”

That’s sad.

It’s terribly sad, but not totally irrational, which Y/N thinks makes it worse somehow;

“You’re the only person that makes me feel safe like that” he continues shyly, “Sometimes the noise is too much, sometimes the quiet is too much, and I can’t know what’s going to be too much until it’s too late, but you… god, doll you’re the only thing that helps me catch my breath when I feel like that…”

“Well…” she exhales, letting her thumb brush across his nose, “…It’s lucky I’m here then, lucky that I’m not ever gonna’ let anyone hurt you ever again”

“I’m sorry I’m puttin’ all this on ya’, Y/N…” Bucky hears himself say next, tone thick and sincere, “I love you, I- I really do, and I’m sorry I—”

“Shhh, now” she whispers, shaking her head a fraction, “I love you, Bucky, just as much as you love me. I want to help you”

“But I really don’t want to upset you” he says, although Y/N thinks he sounds defeated before he’s even finished, “I know you don’t like thinkin’ about what happened, just like you said—”

She presses a gentle kiss on his cheek to quiet him, before letting her lips coast upwards to his temple.

“You’re just gonna have to indulge me a little after we talk, baby,” she says, “We can always talk about anything you want— You can always come to me when you’re not feeling right, okay? but, after, I’m gonna need you to work with me”

And he’s blinking at her, confused but adoring. And she’s cupping both of his cheeks in both of her hands, now, and god, he…he loves her so much it hurts.

Absentmindedly, he considers asking about exactly what she means by working with her afterwards.

She’d said indulge, too, he remembers dreamily, I’d let her do anything, anyway- so it doesn’t really matter…

“You look confused” Y/N purrs, thumbs stroking his cheeks, “Where did I lose you?”

“Workin’ with you” he admits, “Somethin’ about indulging, doll- I, I can’t think of what you mean.”

She laughs at that, soft and gentle as she continues her act of tracing his face with her fingers.

“I mean” she sighs, “That if I’m being honest I don’t think I could handle you just droppin’ somethin’ heavy on me and then disappearing… I’m gonna need you to let me smother you a bit…”

“Smother me” he echos, awed by the concept.

“Mhmm…” Y/N hums, “Like this-” she says, making a point of exaggerating the way she’s touching him, “- baby, just let me keep you close… let me love on you…”

“Oh, god”

Bucky can feel himself practically melting under her consideration.

Being smothered by her is all he’s ever wanted.

He can’t think of anything that would make the idea of opening up and healing more tolerable than Y/N keeping him close while he does.

“You’re so precious to me” she whispers suddenly, “Bucky, and sometimes you’re goin’ to have to let me show it…”

“I don’t…” he replies voice barely audible, “…I don’t think I can think of anythin’ nicer…”

“Well then…” she chuckles, rubbing her nose against his, “…that’s settled…”

“When can we start?”

The question bursts from his lips before he even realises what he’s saying.

Y/N just smiles, thumb running in circles across his cheekbone;

“I think we already have…” she replies, voice soft, “…can you think of anything else you wanna talk about right now?…”

A considerate crease forms between his brows as he thinks about her question.

Suddenly, there are thousands of things he wants to tell her.

Countless horrible situations that he’s been forced to live through are vying for his attention, fighting for the opportunity to be addressed. To be acknowledged as real—

and then in an unexpected moment of clarity, Bucky knows that he can’t open the door to them all now. He knows that doing that would be more than he can handle, even with Y/N taking care of him so thoroughly.

If he’s actually going to do this, he’s going to do it right.

He’s going to have to be careful, methodical and aware of his own limitations; but even having decided that he realises that there’s one more thing he wants to tell her tonight-

“Just that” he gulps, “They- They kept me alone most of the time, doll and I don’t just mean, on my own… I- I mean in the dark, with- nothing… just, just— totally alone… and- and that… god, that was always worse than the pain, I- I was so damn scared, I- I just want you to know that if… if I ever hold onto you a little too tight, or- or if— if I wake you up because I have to put a light on, I- I’m not doin’ it to- I, I just need to remember where I am…”

Y/N had decided as soon as he started speaking that she wasn’t going to interrupt. That she was going to let him finish his train of thought, no matter where it led, but now that he’s actually grown quiet, she’s not sure how to reply.

She settles for pressing a kiss against his lips, stroking his face with her fingers as he lingers in the moment for a little longer than normal.

At some point their bodies have shifted, their fronts being drawn together like magnets. Bucky seems to love it. He’s relishing in the closeness, and based on the new information he’s just given her, Y/N thinks that it’s hardly a surprise.

“You think you can fall asleep with the lamp on low?” she whispers, mouth still grazing his, “It’d save you havin’ to turn it on if you come round in the night…”

“I can” he replies, “I used to, until we started sharin’… even, even as a kid I used to keep candles burnin’…”

“You’ve never liked the dark, huh?”

His head shakes a fraction and she can’t help but sigh;

“You could’ve told me”

He knows that. He offers her a tightlipped smile that looks awfully embarrassed;

“I wasn’t the most slick when I was young” he admits, “I’d suck my thumb a bunch too, it used to drive my old man crazy, but my- my ma never minded… she’d sneak me into their room until I got too big to bunk”

The laugh that triggers is soft. It’s light and musical and Y/N is stroking his jaw, again;

“What did you do after that?”

It’s Bucky who laughs then. It’s equally tempered, but it’s laced with a nostalgia which makes her chest ache dryly,

“I’d share with Steve sometimes…” he tells her, “…He always got sick if it was cold, and he was real scrawny so it made sense, especially after he moved in. We didn’t have a whole lot of space so we topped and tailed until I got drafted, and he got his own place.”

“And when you got drafted?”

“I had a dozen bunk mates, doll… even when we were in transit we were all packed together like sardines in a can…”

So the first time he’d been alone had been in a cell, either when he was being tortured in some cell or when he’d woken up after the fall.

Even when he’d arrived at the tower, it must’ve been terrible. Being on his own in a room, no matter how nice they’d designed it to be.

“Did you ever think about slippin’ in with Steve again?” she wonders, “after you got here?”

“No” he replies honestly, “No, I- I knew how different things were… and I- I was used to it by then, figured I was lucky to have a blanket, let alone a room, and a bed, doll… I wasn’t goin’ to push it, especially after everything that happened with him, y’know?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs, “Yeah, I know…”

“But then I met you,” he says dreamily, “and you let me curl up with you on the couch… you never made it a big deal, darlin’- even before we were us”

“I remember jokin’ about you bein’ part cat” she recalls, “the first time you passed out with your head in my lap, Steve walked in with Natasha and I thought he was goin’ to burst into flames he went so red.”

“I was mortified,” he tells her, “I was sure that you were goin’ to say somethin’, Y/N, I- I couldn’t believe my luck when you just asked if I wanted to grab dinner”

Again, her laugh is like music. Like the sweetest song he’s ever heard.

“What could I have possibly said, huh?” she asks, “you were always exhausted… I was just happy you’d managed to get some rest.”

She sounds so adoring that Bucky finds himself lost for words.

He’s just blinking at her, flushed and precious while she strokes his cheek with her thumb.

“We’ll keep the lights on tonight” she tells him after a beat, “See how it goes, and take it from there…”

“Only if you’re sure, doll”

She nods, smiling calmly.

“I’m sure…” she swears, “I’m very sure…”

After a flick of her wrist, the room is illuminated with a dim, warm glow.

It reminds Bucky of being in a room with a fire. It feels nice, homely, even. And even though nothing else about their position has changed, bar the way Y/N has hitched the covers up higher, covering them both more thoroughly, he can feel his pulse starting to slow. His posture relaxing as he breathes, relishing in the comforting lull of her fingers in his hair, tracing his brow and tucking curls back behind the ear he’s not lying on.

“Oh, yeah” Y/N whispers, a few minutes later, “Yeah, this is a winner, huh? I haven’t seen you this settled in a real long time…”

His lashes flutter, eyes opening dreamily to stare at his love again. He hadn’t even meant to close them; He really is tired, now.

“Can I do anythin’ else?” she wonders, pressing another kiss against his lips,

“You’re spoilin’ me already” he replies, knowing the attempt at protesting is lame at best

She just rolls her eyes, beaming at him in silence.

“Can we stay like this?” he asks, cheeks heating up, “Please? I’ll try not to smother you”

“Sweetheart” she sighs, “Of course we’re stayin’ like this…”

Masterlist

[seishirospeaches]

Home

for added spice 🌶️

genre: smut, angst, drama

warning: mentions of past mistakes (mostly on Oliver's side), sex, cheating, drinking, etc.

characters: ex-husband!Oliver Aiku x ex-wife!afab!reader (aged up Oliver Aiku)

Minors Not Allowed and DO NOT INTERACT

It was already a tough start, even your friends warned you about a man like him, he wasn't someone you could bring home to your family with your head held high.

It felt like the ground beneath you just swallowed you whole, his words never meant anything to him but to you it meant everything. He ate his words, all those promises he kept were always broken and the vow he wrote for you was merely just words and nothing more important. To you Aiku was everything - he was your world.

But the moment he went back to his old ways, casually flirting with women to women with that golden band wrapped tightly around his ring finger, was nothing but a loose end.

You came picking up the pieces, like broken glasses were you'd be bleeding in the end because you could hardly take it anymore. Aiku never looked back nor did he ever cared. The marriage was doomed, you were done for even worse when you catch him sleeping with the same bed he made love to you.

"I promise to love you forever." He once said that, and he never did it again he only talked sweet when your arms wide open for him and pussy good for his dick. It was just sex, sex and sex.

It was just too much, you've gone far lengths to understand him but somehow you just gave in and fled far from the man who did nothing but make your heart ache, drinking until dawn and even consider committing adultery but you never want too because your heart always yearns for the shittiest man you've ever fell in love with.

You did manage to send him divorce papers, until it was approved for and moved out of the country. Flying back to your hometown to connect with your friends and family, it felt peaceful but you weren't going to lie to yourself that somehow you wished Aiku was just like himself from the beginning.

He was the sweetest and most kind man, he gifted you bouquet of flowers every time he meets up with you, cooked for your home dates, building a fort at two in the morning and even helps you fall asleep whenever there was storm raging outside.

Where did it ever go wrong?

It wasn't until your cousin invited you to his game play, happily watching and cheering for him as he was proudly playing for his team. Until your eyes landed on the man with green streaks on the edge of his hair, those eyes even though he may have heterochromia iridum those set of green and purple eyes was the most beautiful eyes you've ever laid on to.

The same eyes that once shown adoration towards you, but now they were just simply displaying their full reaction towards your direction - he was shocked to see his ex wife in his game.

He knows your cousin was in his side, but never did he expect to see the woman he truly loved the most right close by. His heart was thumping, perhaps it was from the running or the rush of adrenaline pumping through his system.

But it was more than just that, to his eyes you've gotten more beautiful than the last time his ever seen you. Later after the game,he was hoping to catch up on you. Afterall it has been nearly five years since then he knew what he has done and he hopes to patch things up even if it takes time.

Aiku wanted to be a changed man but deep inside his heart, it wanted no one else but you. He vented out his frustration, faced all consequences for doing such thing behind your back. He loves you more than anything in this world, you might even come equal to his love for soccer.

Catching your frame from the distance he excused himself to able to catch you, once he did he felt as if his breathe was knocked out of him. You looked more better than before, but he still hopes you can give him another chance to prove himself better than he was.

"Hi." Aiku's voiced came out relieved.

You looked around, wondering if it was really meant directed to you. Noticing that it was you awkwardly greeted him back but he only chuckled.

"Is there something funny I said?" Crossing your arms towards your chest.

"No, it was just that you're cute." You scoffed, rolling your eyes to him.

Aiku didn't missed seeing that reaction, instead he felt something about it. It was remarkably hot.

"Did you just rolled your eyes on me?" He stepped forward and another, until you were backed up with the wall and his body, he used both of his arms to caged you.

"And even if I did? It's not like you can do anything about it." You bravely answered, you mentally patted yourself without even stuttering.

Aiku smirked, simply amused by your newfound behavior. He likes this new side of yours it was igniting something within him and even to yourself.

You wanted to deny it but it was simply there never going unnoticed.

It was like nothing ever happened few years back, all the pain, waiting and heartbreak.

You find yourself naked underneath your ex husband, moaning out in ecstasy. Eyes curling at the back of your head as your toes curling from the intense feeling.

You left print on his back as he gave his mark all around you body, painting you with his cum. His mind was filled of you, he was never really the same after the divorce, locking himself up in his own room having to fight with his teammates.

But now with you in his arms. He could only hope you feel the same way as he does, but little does he knows you were also holding onto it.

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere rivals Jinx vs caitlyn falling for upsider /piltover darling who builds wild inventions and for them to keep running into Jinx only for Caitlyn to keep saving the reader much to Jinx anger

I've been able to watch Arcane more and let me just say, I love this show so much. Jinx, Vi, and Caitlyn are easily some of my favorite characters. So here's this :)

Spoilers for League of Legends: Arcane

Yandere! Jinx vs Caitlyn

Ft. Piltover Inventor! Darling

Pairing: Romantic - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Stalking, Jinx is mentally unstable, Jealousy, Manipulation, Overprotective behavior, Trauma mention, Kidnapping, Forced relationship (Jinx)/Dubious Relationship (Caitlyn), Forced affection, Violence, Attempted murder/murder, Delusional behavior, Blood, Threats.

This whole situation is going to be such a train wreck.

If you've seen the show you'll know just how Jinx feels about Caitlyn.

She feels Caitlyn will replace her and honestly wants her dead.

Caitlyn's an enforcer, from Piltover, and Jinx feels she's trying to steal all she loves

The dynamic is definitely going to be Caitlyn as an overprotective yandere while Jinx is the more delusional and insane yandere.

You're most likely an inventor with connections to Hextech.

You like to tinker and create small but powerful inventions, a perk that is useful considering the whole situation going on with Zaun.

Such a trait makes Jinx fall for you, she feels you get her when she meets you getting parts from Zaun for something.

You both tinker and she often pops by to see what you're working on.

All of her visits are usually not welcome.

Jinx is a delusional yandere, she's under the impression quickly that you two are close.

She shows up out of nowhere, nothing hostile, but it's like she's toying with you.

Meeting you was by chance, but for some reason Jinx finds comfort in you.

You're an inventor from Piltover... normally she hates anyone from Piltover.

Yet everything you make holds a beauty similar to the stuff made at Hextech... and you're so cute when scared!

Jinx has been looking for someone to love ever since losing Vi.

By some twisted turn of fate she feels you'll be the one to fill such a hole in her heart.

She's playful and teasing whenever she's around to see you.

She giggles as though she's innocent and not insane.

She's always too touchy and talks to you like an overly excited child.

You barely know her yet she clings to you.

Something is clearly wrong with this woman.

Caitlyn meets you later.

She meets you as you're from Piltover and you have a way with tech, a helpful asset she can use to team up with Vi to investigate the Silco situation.

This is where things become a problem.

For the longest time Jinx has been able to stalk you, watching you through binoculars to be able to see you when away.

She already feels Caitlyn has stolen Vi from her, her delusional thoughts making lies to fuel her obsessive craving for love.

Now? Now she sees Caitlyn and Vi...

Talking to you.

She just about loses it.

Caitlyn originally asks you for help due to your expertise in technology.

The moment she learns about your encounters about Jinx, that sparks even more interest.

If she isn't careful... Jinx can use you against her and Vi somehow.

Caitlyn's obsession is slower than Jinx.

She's way less desperate and Jinx is deranged due to trauma and Shimmer.

Caitlyn has a clearer head and her obsession would originate from wishing to protect you.

Jinx just looks for someone to cling to, scared to lose you like she has everyone else.

There's no doubt they'd fight.

In fact, Jinx aims to kill.

Jinx would be pushed over the edge if she had to rival against Caitlyn.

She's lost Vi to her (in her mind)... she's not losing you!

Meanwhile, Caitlyn has no doubt you and Vi are targets of Jinx.

Caitlyn's feelings towards you develop over time.

You make machines that can protect others or just yourself.

The Enforcer admires your genius even if a lot of your inventions aren't approved by investors.

Caitlyn takes comfort in the fact you're also from Piltover, even if you roam Zaun to help her.

It starts as a friendship, you're partners within your little group to investigate what's been going on.

Soon... Caitlyn thinks about how much you need protection-

Vi could protect herself from her sister.

What about you?

Caitlyn promises to herself that she needs to look after you during her investigation.

She's proven right when Jinx does kidnap you.

Jinx is the more intense yandere, she's forceful and delusional.

She'd kidnap you, tie you up, and force you to sit and look lovely.

She's powerful... a dangerous combination with her mental state.

Jinx would sit in your lap and cuddle into you.

She whispers about how adorable you are, if you try to fight or run your mouth she pulls out her gun.

She praises your work and whispers about how much she'd love to tinker with you.

She meant that in more ways than one.

Jinx wouldn't mind breaking your mind if it meant keeping someone to love her.

She's scary with her obsession.

Her kisses taste like poison, her hugs feel like she's grappling you....

She likes to ask you questions, like how do you feel about you and her making an invention together.

Jinx holds you like you'll leave her, you can use that to your advantage to get her to relent on her obsessive tendencies.

She wants to hear you reciprocate.

She wants you to forget about Caitlyn... it's just her now.

She can forget about those two... those traitors... truthfully, you were all she needs after all.

Caitlyn on the other hand doesn't rest until she finds you.

By the time Jinx kidnaps you, subjecting you to her obsessive delusions, Caitlyn has begun to care about you.

Vi notices the fact Caitlyn refuses to rest.

You have to be found.

Jinx could hurt you!

You'll eventually be found by the two... after days and days of searching.

You look so tired when she finds you, prototype machines made by you and Jinx surrounding you.

It appears your form of bonding has been inventing to appease the psychotic girl.

Before Caitlyn is able to step near you with Vi, Jinx strikes from the darkness.

A fight between the two would be brutal.

Jinx aims to kill while Caitlyn aims to defend herself, you, and Vi.

Jinx would be a yandere who frequently experiences tantrums due to her rotting mental state.

She blames Caitlyn for everything and fights her like some feral animal.

There's two inevitable outcomes this rivalry can have.

Jinx wins... or Caitlyn wins.

If Caitlyn wins by detaining or killing Jinx, she takes you in.

There's no doubt you've gone through your own trauma back there and Caitlyn wants to make an effort to help you.

She feels it's partly her fault anyways.

It would actually be after the rivalry has concluded that Caitlyn fully gives into her yandere behavior.

Being an Enforcer she tries to keep you somewhere safe to invent and be happy.

She doesn't leave your side and you two become really close.

While you invent she hugs your back, telling you how much she's sorry about what you've went through and how she loves you so much.

If you do start dating, Caitlyn is gentle with her affection.

Her kisses are soft, not hungry. Her hugs are warm... not suffocating.

Caitlyn gets overprotective based on what she's witnessed.

She wants to protect you and she reassures you you'll be well off with her.

She's a part of a luxurious family and hopes you'll be happy with her.

Every freedom she restricts is to protect you.

If Jinx wins... Caitlyn's as good as dead.

Jinx is sure to make her death elaborate, then kidnap Vi as she did you.

She's so happy that Enforcer is out of the picture.

Not only does she have her sister now... but she has you, her beloved!

In her deranged mind, Jinx couldn't be happier.

She shows Vi all the amalgamated inventions she made with you.

Jinx also goes on and on about your little "relationship" to Vi.

You try to drone out her obsessive ramblings, but it's hard when Jinx is clinging so tightly to you while speaking to Vi.

In her mind, this is how it's always meant to be.

It's meant to be her... her sister... and the one she loves!

You may be tied up now, Caitlyn's blood staining the floor and your boots while tears fall down your face...

But Jinx reassures you things will be better now that she has you.

[doctorsiren]

Okay chat we gotta split this up (this is why I said preferably one image per ask, but since these are a set, I’ll allow it)

First of all though

I HAD NO IDEA THOSE FIRST TWO EXISTED I HAD ONLY SEEN THE SECOND TWO the last one is literally my lockscreen on my iPad and has been since I discovered it this summer,,,,

IMAGE 1: AA3

Characters: Maya Fey (channeling Mia Fey), Godot, Iris Fey, Sister Bikini, Ron and Desirée DeLite, Dick Gumshoe, Maggey Byrd, Phoenix Wright, Pearl Fey, Miles Edgeworth

Rating: 11/10

These ones are hard because there’s SO MUCH to unpack here, but that’s what makes it fun.

Starting off I AM A SUCKER FOR MIA AND GODOT/DIEGO INTERACTIONS GAHHHHH Like c’mon!! nothing more to say on those two, they’re perfect

IRIS IRIS IRIS IRIS IRIS MYBELOVED WAHH!! She’s so,,, AND SISTER BIKINI gosh I love that she’s confused about the Wii of course she would it only makes sense..but I think Iris being the one to look like she’s explaining it to her makes it even more silly bc girlie you lived in a mountain temple for most of your life how do you know what this is?

Ron, being silly as usual ALSO WHO’S FOOT IS THAT NEXT TO HIM ?? I’ve been trying to figure it out and I THINK it’s Desirée’s but the angle of the leg doesn’t feel right and I just don’t know. Whoever’s foot it is, they need to wear socks (i CANNOT not wear socks, especially wearing shoes without socks?? So when I see characters doing that I’m like 😨 what)

Ron is obviously spooked by Gumshoe and Maggey, and so Dezi (was that a nickname for her? Or did I make that up) obviously is trying to help him but WHY IS THERE SMOKE?? OR DUST OR STEAM OR WHATEVER THAT IS?? HUH

GUMSHOE AND MAGGEY they’re working together it’s so cute IT LOOKS LIKE THEY’RE RUNNING TOWARDS GODOT AND CONSIDERING THAT IRIS AND SISTER BIKINI ARE HERE, THAT MEANS THIS WOULD HAVE TO BE POST-AA3

Which mean Iris should be in jail (i mean actually no she shouldn’t, women can do what they want and she did nothing wrong smh) and that Godot would definitely be in jail

So it looks like Gumshoe and Maggey are running in to arrest Godot (also I love the Blue Badger on her hoodie <3 )

Okay actually BACK IT UP if this is technically post-AA3…Mia is so calm in speaking to Godot yes I know she loves Diego, but he JUST killed her mom…but whatever I crave their interactions

PHOENIX bro is probably exhausted from everything that happened in AA3…BUT ALSO IS THAT A PLAYING CARD IN HIS POCKET WHAT IS THAT ?? I go insane when playing cards are associated with pre-disbarment Phoenix bc ough…almost like foreshadowing…

Also that CANNOT be comfortable…his poor neck

And also the silly thing he does of tucking his tie in his pocket so goofy so silly

The man he loves and the women he loves are both RIGHT THERE and what does he do?? SLEEP

PEARL SLEEPING ON HIS LEG?? THAT’S SO CUTE this is him preparing to adopt a child in the next 3 months

MILES SMILING I love him look at his goofy big hand, loom how he sits, look at how he looks both relaxed and on edge at the same time, like he could be leaning a bit more back and not be so stiff with how he holds his arm across himself, but he isn’t

He probably loves the Wii. He never got to play video games growing up after DL-6 I bet

UPON FUTHER INSPECTION I am led to believe that the leg belongs to none other than LARRY and that he FELL and that’s why there’s that dust cloud

Those shoes are his and, if we look behind Godot’s legs, there’s a little bit of orange in the same colour as Larry’s jacket

thats literally all I have to support that, but I think I’m right

Also upon further inspection, the spider-web that I mention later in another image is still there and it looks bigger this time and I find that funny

IMAGE 2: AA1

Characters: Miles Edgeworth, Dick Gumshoe, Cody Hackins, Lotta Hart, Larry Butz, Penny Nichols, Maya Fey, Phoenix Wright

Rating: 11/10

OKAAAAY CHAT

LOVE HOW THEY’RE ALL CONFUSED

Miles…miles…miles…sweetie why are you looking out the window honey what’s wrong are you being followed?? OKAY NO WAIT IT JUST CLICKED THAT THIS IS FOR AA 1 AND THAT MEANS DL-6 AND,,,ough

Baby boy needs a distraction, and even when he should have it here with the Wii, he is still worried :(

His hand is in his pocket, but he’s still looking over his shoulder (ough…metaphorical….) he looks like he’s about to cry ?? Poor guy someone give him a hug :(

Gumshoe being perfect as always

I love that they invited this CHILD to come to the law offices to watch the lawyer who questioned him try to play video games. But also I don’t reasonably think he would be confused, so…

Lotta. She would definitely not understand. Also I love lotta, glad they brought her

Larry being Larry once again, and I bet Penny’s just happy to have someone new who’ll listen to her about Steel Samurai cards and such (please watch out girlie, bro is about to make a fool of himself) also isn’t that the statue from the studio on his shirt??

The storytelling here is crazy WHY IS THERE A KNOCKED OVER CUP?? Maya probably knocked it over but the fact that this was something included in the drawing is silly to me and I absolutely love it

Also I don’t think I really realized that Maya’s sleeves don’t span the whole length of her arm and only go down to barely past her elbow?? How am I NOW just registering this?

And she would definitely be the one to show everyone the Wii (how did they buy it? Phoenix barely gets paid as is)

PHOENIX I love him I love his face look at his befuddled expression…the way he sits…how his legs are bent…his suit jacket is unbuttoned, he’s more relaxed, which is the opposite of how Miles is at the moment (sorry I’m a little bit goofy hehe) HE JUST LOOKS SO SMOOCHABLE HERE

Also dude you gotta hold the wiimote more forwards or else the sensor isn’t gonna pick it up. That’s probably why y’all are confused. Maya’s trying to tell him that he’s doing it wrong

IMAGE 3: AA3

Characters: Max Galactica, Maya and Pearl Fey, Larry Butz, Regina Berry, Miles Edgeworth, Will Powers, Phoenix Wright, Dick Gumshoe, Franziska von Karma, Maggey Byrd

Rating: 11/10

Max I love you but only the version that isn’t weird so like uhh girls step away

THE ACE CARDS IN MAYA AND PEARLS HAIR,,,OUGH,,,,Maya having the Ace of Hearts…Pearl having the Ace of Diamond (Trucy’s shape,,,they will become like sisters, they just haven’t met yet)

LARRY GET AWAY FROM REGINA SHE’S 16

Regina you’re perfect, don’t change a thing

ALSO I JUST NOTICED THE WEB IN THE CORNER ABOVE REGINA WITH A SPIDER IN IT…Phoenix I thought you spent all that free time cleaning…or was it just the toilets you cleaned a lot…

MILES MILES MILES LOOK AT HIS PRECIOUS LITTLE SMILE LOOK AT HIM HE IS HAPPY!! HE’S GETTING THE AUTOGRAPH OF THE ACTOR OF HIS FAVOURITE CHARACTER FROM HIS HYPERFIXATION I LOVE HIM he deserves all nice things

And Will…I don’t understand the canon narrative of people hating him without the Steel Samurai mask on because he genuinely looks so sweet and kind like CMONNNN

Phoenix…with his shirt unbuttoned a little…his sleeves rolled up…his arms…his tie doing the silly pocket thing and also he’s drinking out of that cup that was spilled in the previous image

Phoenix pog he is so goofy and for what

IS FRANZISKA LEFT HANDED or is she also just ambidextrous/showing off. Her calm expression, the way she sits…

Gumshoe will never understand I think and he’s perfect for it. He stands like a dad, but I’m not sure if I’d trust him to be someone’s father. He’s an uncle, because it means he doesn’t have to be responsible for a kid because bro can barely afford food on his own 😭

MAGGEY I love her look at how she is just leaning over the couch she is me fr

IMAGE 4:

Characters: Miles Edgeworth, Godot, Franziska von Karma, Phoenix Wright

Rating 11/10

Biased on this one, it’s my lock screen and this will never not be funny to me

They’re probably the only people in the world who would ever have a legitimate reason to wear the wiimote straps because have you seen how forcefully they point?

Miles…that’s all I can say…Ough I love him

The way Godot’s neck is bent kinda bothers me and it makes him feel like an action figure but you know what that’s okay

FRANZISKA ONCE AGAIN USING HER LEFT HAND I THINK SHE’S LEFT HANDED??? I love that for her look how confident she is

Phoenix has a big mouth and that’s funny to me. His hand just in his pocket so casually hehe

Why is Miles the only one not pointing

Final notes about the first 3 images all together

The time of day changes. The AA3 one is set at night, the AA1 one is later in the day, probably early evening, and the AA2 one is like midday

The office is the same in each image, including those books in the shelves which never change places because no one ever reads them. AND OH MY GOSH I JUST REALIZED THAT THE THING NEXT TO MILES IN THE AA3 IMAGE IS THE AUTOGRAPH HE GOT FROM WILL THAT MEANS IT IS REASONABLE TO ASSUME THAT THESE ALL TAKE PLACE IN THE SAME DAY?? Weirdly, it would have to go AA2, AA1, AA3 unless the AA1 image is actually in the morning and not early evening…you could assume that the AA2 image comes first as the light from the window is bright and Phoenix is holding that cup which is then knocked over in the AA1 image (unless they cleaned up the spill from AA1 and now Phoenix is drinking from that cup.) Also AA1 has him in his full suit, so I guess it would make more sense if that one came first and then AA2 because he isn’t wearing his suit jacket in that one and his sleeves are rolled up

AA3 is definitely last though because I JUST REALIZED THE CARD IN HIS POCKET IS PROBABLY FROM MAX and also he rolled his sleeves back down

Okay wait hold on now I need to think about these as 3 scenes from one day

Maybe Miles is looking out the window because he was told Will Powers would be showing up, and so he’s just excited for that and so he’s just watching for when he does

And then Will shows up and now Miles is smiling and he is getting the autograph

And then in the third one, Miles is happily playing the Wii, with his autograph next to him…

The only thing that would lead me to believe that these cannot take place in the same day is how much that spider web changes. It isn’t there in AA1, it’s there in AA2, and then it’s bigger in AA3

Regardless of all of that, these images are truly among my favourites and I’ve spent like 45 minutes at LEAST typing all of this so yeah and there might have been things I missed but I’ve already typed a lot

[eyedoeluhn]

BCF’s author has a lot of questionable word of god statements. A personal favorite of mine to whip out every so often is this one.

What. the fuck?

this one is a lot.

Okay, before I even break this down let’s engage with the contrast of Saint and The Dragonslayers compared to Cauldron. I don’t think they’re Cauldron in miniature, I think they’re an inversion of them. Cauldron knows that Scion is an entity but not much about his behavior, while the Dragonslayers know Dragon is an AI she is communicative. Dragon, as she is in Worm, isn’t malicious nor a major risk of becoming so, Scion snapping is an inevitable event. The Dragonslayers are run by a man with a tattoo addicted to artificial powers while Cauldron by a woman without any to her name who gives others artificial powers and tattoos. And of course the Dragon Slayers are ineffectual and ego-paranoia driven, while Cauldron keeps the world running and is coldly utilitarian facing down the apocalypse. The compare contrast between the groups is actually fairly interesting.

Now the actual comment. Jesus Christ. The most problematic line in all of this is obviously “at no point does either group step back and ask if they are really the best people to deal with the problem in front of them.”

How this is a valid critique of Cauldron, a group made of some of the most powerful capes on the planet including Contessa I’m not sure. I don’t think Congressman Terry is a valid perspective especially since they prop up the government. I don’t think random scientist seven is a great pick since once, Doctor Mother, two, Manton. I don’t see how even if they opened their doors they could find someone more competent than they already have found in the likes of their own. I just….what? Who? Josef isn’t a real worm character and no I would not put him on the list personally anyways even though cauldron would because they don’t care about their egos they care about the end of the fucking world. They don’t like their jobs.

I don’t see the first paragraph of criticisms towards the dragon slayers even applying. Cauldron naturally can’t act earlier. Telling people about the nature of Scion is a massive infosec risk as well as just dangerous to the public and capes at large and frankly it wouldn’t be productive either. Cauldron isn’t a friend group like the Dragon Slayers are it is experts and then their many vassals. The dragon slayers are with outside help barely able to manage dragon tech. Cauldron is the leading shard understanders in the setting. They are the most qualified people in the setting and are a major reason scion died. Cauldron won, folks. They wanted to kill Scion any means necessary and they successfully created the scenario. Saying it was a pure chance thing isn’t a valid detraction considering 1 they were aware of that and doing their best to inflate that chance 2 no one would have done better. Their plan was not to personally kill Scion but arrange the highest possible chance that the dies. Dragon survives, Scion doesn’t, says something about the two groups.

The “wider perspective” on Cauldron and Scion edges into meta territory and again I don’t think your oc/si is superior for having magic knowledge inserted into his brain for free that no one else can get. I think that’s a pretty simple stance but hey I’ve seen it a thousand times. Also on a moral standpoint if we’re going to judge Cauldron harshly that’s a different discussion and also again Jozef is far from moral anyways which is not intentional. But you know whatever cauldron bad case fifty three sad are there any more children Joe can make too nebulously mature to date their own age and then dump his trauma onto

[sleepingdeath-light]

white pearl cookie smut hcs ; 18+

requested by ; 🍾 anon (12/08/23)

fandom(s) ; cookie run

fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | specific

character(s) ; white pearl cookie

outline ; “white pearl! relationship and smut hcs ~ 🍾”

warning(s) ; sexually explicit content, dominant leaning switch!white pearl cookie, praise kink, overstimulation, dumbification, cum drunk!white pearl cookie, slight pet name kink, size difference and size kink, lingerie kink, oral sex, mild body worship, pet play

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

although white pearl cookie is extremely inexperienced (in fact, you’re the first person she’s ever been intimate with and sexual education in sugarcrown is incredibly limited), her natural curiosity and determination to learn everything about you — and do everything with you that a land dweller would — meant that she was quick to learn how to pleasure you and what she enjoys doing during foreplay and sex

despite this inexperience, though, once she finds her feet (so to speak, anyway) she settles comfortably into the role of soft dominant in the bedroom — she’s more of a switch, really, and can enjoy being taken care of by you but dominance is (shockingly) natural to her and will be her default unless you express a desire to dominate her instead

speaking of her dominant side, white pearl cookie tends to lean towards soft dominance above all else — of course she’s still a bit of a tease and has been known to make you beg for her attention, but for the most part she prefers praise and overstimulation over degradation and denial (hell, she can barely stand to insult you without getting misty-eyed and hugging you as she apologises — a very different story to the person she’d become much later on in life)

she can happily, and easily, overstimulate you for hours at a time (going until you pass out or cry out the safe word… whichever comes first) — and she can do this many different ways: (a) growing to her largest size and have you ride her fingers/knuckles/palm until you’re so far gone that she has to use her other thumb and forefinger to push you onwards, (b) growing larger than you and using her tongue to stroke/fuck you until you’re sobbing and squirting/spurting into her mouth, or (c) staying at an equal size to you and using her hands to pleasure you whilst she rests between your thighs, kissing your neck and whispering praise to you as she pushes you over the edge again, and again, and again

… she can sometimes go a bit too far with you, which is how she discovered her kink for dumbification, but whenever that happens she’s quick to rectify her mistake with extremely thorough aftercare and plenty of apologies

her go-to compliments in the bedroom are ‘my beautiful/handsome moon’, ‘that’s my girl/boy/star’, ‘good girl/boy/star’, ‘my precious one’ — as well as plenty of praise for your taste (she’s quick to get cumdrunk with you so be mindful of that) and encouragement to be as vocal as possible (she likes knowing that she’s doing a good job given your… very different biologies)

often times when she’s taken on a form that’s larger than you — especially if the difference is substantial — she finds herself becoming much more protective over you whilst also being much more attracted to you (it’s incredibly confusing to her, and she never actually brings it up to you, but from how flirty and playful she gets when she’s in such a state it’s clear to you that she does have something of a size kink… even if she doesn’t realise it herself)

she’d also probably be up for pet play as a dominant, and she’d make a wonderful owner/master — complimenting you, tending to you, dressing you up so you always look so very pretty/handsome/darling, and always making sure that her pet is well taken care of (both in the sense of spoiling you rotten with all the amenities being a gem mermaid can provide — with the help of her sisters that also generally consider land dwellers to be something of a strange pet to be kept, at best — and in the sense of fucking you stupid with her hands and tongue whenever you ask and she’s available to do so)

when she’s submitting to you she’s very… cheeky — not bratty, not cruel, but definitely a bit of a tease who ought to be put in her place and then spoiled until she’s no longer even able to remember her own name (or anything beyond the feeling of your hands/mouth/body on her own)

she’s a big fan of dressing up for you, especially if you tend to praise her for it: lingerie that’s more frill than fabric, tight undergarments spun from white lace and decorated with pearls, sheer flowing nighties that barely reach past her stomach — and, when she eventually learns how to take on a more human form for you, knee high stockings (always either pale pink or pure white) that match whatever else she’s wearing

(again, after she’s found a way to turn into something more humanoid from the waist down) she’s also a big fan of being woken up with oral sex, especially if you really take it slow and practically worship her pussy whilst gently massaging her thighs and breasts as she gradually wakes up — seeing you peeking up from between her legs really never gets old to her and she’s always happy to reciprocate once she’s finished all over your face

[serickswrites]

Make Me Your Villain VIII

Master list here (includes chapter links, summary, and character bios)

Warnings: broken bones, threat of injury, threat of death, asphyxiation, choking, strangulation, hurt/recovery, hurt/aftermath, hurt/comfort

The first six weeks of physical training was grueling. Both Henry and Liam were merciless in their training. Nova had never worked out as much, her body never as achy as it was now. As she tumbled into bed each night, barely able to keep her eyes open, she knew she was getting closer and closer to being ready to help Liam.

“Where did you learn to do all of this,” Nova panted one day as Henry ran her through evasion drills for over an hour.

“Liam. And he learned, well you know where he learned.” Henry checked the tablet he always carried when they were outside. It was how he kept tabs on the main computer in the library that tracked Jude’s movements. “Do it again.”

“What’s the point? Even if Jude stabs me, I can heal. If he slits my throat I’ll—“

“You would die,” Liam said as he appeared at the edge of the training field that used to be a tennis court, his shadows curling around his legs. They fanned out around him as he stood watching her.

Nova glared at him. “You said I could be immortal.”

Liam frowned. “You could. With training. As it stands now, I doubt you could heal much more than a couple of serious cuts.”

“I healed you and you were at death’s door!”

“A fluke. A lucky fluke. But a fluke nonetheless.”

“How dare you!” Nova charged at him, losing her balance and falling off the fence she had been running across. She hit the deck of the tennis court with a loud thud, pain zinging up her spine. “FUCK!”

Liam crossed his arms. “Are you ok?”

“No! I think I broke my tailbone.” She glared up at him. “It’s because of you! I—“

“Heal it,” Liam ordered softly.

“What?”

“If you think your healing powers are up to healing having your throat slit, a broken coccyx should be no problem for you.”

Nova glared up at him, blinking away the tears from the pain. She concentrated on trying to knit the bone back together, summoning her healing light. Sweat poured off her face as she put all her energy into healing the bone.

“Breathe, Nova,” Liam’s voice came distantly.

“Fuck,” she took a deep breath, “you.” She lay back, her tailbone healed. But she was completely drained of energy.

“And that’s why the training. Until you are strong enough to heal more serious wounds, I need to be sure you can keep yourself safe. I won’t always be able to help you.”

Nova threw her shoe at his head, but he was already gone, reappearing just outside the house, his shadows converging on him once more. “Asshole,” she muttered.

Henry offered her a hand up. “He is right, you know.”

“Yeah, well he doesn’t have to be such an asshole about it.” Nova stood slowly. Though she had healed the bone, she was exhausted and in pain.

“No, he doesn’t. But, and it doesn’t excuse his behavior at all, I would imagine he had a pretty unsuccessful rescue for him to grill you like that.”

Nova frowned. “Unsuccessful?”

Henry tapped his tablet. “Jude got whoever it was that he was hunting for.” He started towards the house. “Let me handle him. Relax. We’ll resume again tomorrow if you’re up for it.”

Nova didn’t see Liam for another week. No morning coffee. No shared meals. Nothing. She wandered into a room in the east wing that she think Henry had called the conservatory and froze. Liam lay curled up on a love seat, his face sadder than Nova had seen him. His shadows flickered and flowed around him, as though comforting him.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered as she started to back out.

Liam sighed and sat up, his shadows retreating. “I’m sorry, Nova.”

Nova stopped. “What?”

“I’ve been a real asshole lately. I’m sorry.” He scrubbed his face with his hand. “I could say about all the terrible things I’ve seen this week, but it wouldn’t excuse my behavior. You don’t deserve me to take my mood out on you.” He looked up at her. “Will you forgive me?”

She considered a moment. “You know I’ve already forgiven you. Can I join you?”

Liam patted the cushion next to him. “I’m wallowing, but you’re welcome to join.”

“Wallowing?” She cocked a brow at him. She pulled up her fiery orange hair as she walked. She perched on the edge of the couch. “That’s a pretty fancy word.”

Liam gave a wan smile. “What can I say, I’m a fancy guy.” He watched her carefully. “Am I really?”

“Forgiven? Yeah. I was being an arrogant little shit. You were totally right.”

“I didn’t mean for you to fall.”

“I know.” She stared at him. “I do want to help you.”

“I know. But in case you haven’t noticed, it’s pretty dangerous.” His eyes darted to the door. “Right Henry?”

“I’m not getting involved in this one. You two talk it out.” Henry called from the hall.

“Coward,” Liam muttered.

“I know it’s dangerous. I’ll keep training.” She smiled at him. “And in the mean time you can make up your assholery to me by taking me somewhere fun to eat.”

“I’m kinda persona non grata in Hiraethian, so I don’t know if that would constitute fun for you.”

“You’re a teleporter. Pick a town on the map and take me there.” Slowly, Nova coaxed Liam out of his sadness. Afternoons spent in training sessions, turned to meals spent in each others’ company. Sometimes Henry joined them, other times it was just the two of them.

Slowly, she got him to spend more time at home between missions. First it started with a day to recover after being gone a week. Then it was two days. Until for every day spent away, Liam spent a day at home with Nova and Henry.

And slowly. Nova began to realize she was falling in love with him. The thought scared her at first, what if he didn’t reciprocate the feeling? She decided she would be fine with that. As long as she could stay with him, she was fine with being friends.

She still couldn’t heal grievous wounds as they hadn’t worked on building her stamina—Liam had felt it too risky. But four months after she healed her broken tailbone, Nova’s healing stamina was tested.

“Nova! NOVA!” Henry roared one day from the library. “DAMN IT! NOVA!”

She ran into the library, full expecting to find Henry profusely bleeding for him to holler so loudly. “What’s the matter? Are you hurt?”

Henry shook his head. His face was pale and tense. “Not me. Be ready in the old ballroom.”

“Why?” Nova already had a feeling she knew what Henry was going to say.

“It’s our medbay now. Liam’s coming in hot and I don’t know how bad it is.”

“How do you know it’s bad?”

“Nova just go. His comms went out ten minutes and the last thing I heard wasn’t good.”

Nova’s stomach turned in knots as she raced to the ballroom. Liam’s comms had gone out and whatever Henry heard had him spooked. How was Liam going to get himself home if he was hurt? Somehow he had managed before. He’d managed to get the two of them here when he was dying. Surely he could get himself here.

She was saved from the endless worry loop, each imagining worse than the previous, by Liam suddenly appearing in the middle of the room. “Liam!”

His face was bright red, his hands weakly clawing at a rope around his neck. His shadows were feebly rising up to his neck, as though they could tear the rope from his throat. He gasped for air as he dropped to his knees. “Hold on, hold on, I’ve got you.” Nova rushed forward, already summoning her healing light.

“Where is it?” She tried to not scream. Tried to not yell. Tried to sound patient. Liam gaped at her, and she realized her error. Of course he couldn’t talk. He’d been throttled. “Point. Point to your pain, Liam.”

He weakly pointed with the hand that was trying to pull the rope from his neck. She targeted all of her light at the point of his throat. “Lay back. I’ll get the rope off. Just lay back, Liam. I’ve got you.

It took almost all of her concentration to untangle and untie the rope. Whoever had used this to strangle Liam had intended for it to kill him. She finally pulled it off, revealing his red and swollen throat. The skin was hot and angry looking. She concentrated on the redness fading, the muscles healing, and his airway becoming whole again. Sweat beaded on her brow as she healed his throat.

Slowly, the redness faded, and his breaths were no longer gasping. Though his chest still heaved, Liam’s throat looked healed. Nova let out a sigh, both of relief and exhaustion. “You’re ok. You’re ok.”

“Thank you,” he rasped.

“I can try and fix that.” Though she was more exhausted than she wanted to admit out loud, she would try and heal his voice.

He shook his head. “I’ll be fine in a few days. Thank you.”

“How did you get yourself home?”

He tapped his chest. “I just kept thinking of here. And that way as soon as I got free, I would be here.”

She opened her mouth to ask more questions, but Henry walking in had her stopping. “Thank you, Nova, I’ll take it from here. You look exhausted.”

Liam looked as though he was going to say something, but finally nodded. Nova dragged herself back to her room and promptly collapsed in bed.

She later found out from Henry—Liam wasn’t able to speak too much yet—that Jude’s newest apprentice had tied the rope around Liam’s neck and had been dangling him off the edge of a bridge. And because the apprentice was still holding onto the rope, Liam couldn’t teleport without risking bringing her along with him. Liam had to wait until the apprentice dropped the rope, no doubt believing Liam was dead, before he could teleport.

Nova had nearly lost him and she hadn’t even been able to help him. All her training would have been for nothing. She vowed to herself to really throw herself into her training. The sooner she was ready, the sooner she could keep Liam safe.

“I’m ready to go on missions,” she said two months after she healed Liam’s throat. She could fight. And she could keep herself out of harm’s way.

Liam considered a moment. “Only on one condition.”

Nova practically jumped out of her skin with excitement. “Name it and I’ll do it!”

“You can’t help me. You can watch. I’ll keep you invisible. But you have to stay out of the way. Once I’m sure you aren’t going to get hurt, we can renegotiate you being able to fight.” Liam smiled at her. “I don’t want you getting hurt. And I can’t split my attention. But you’ll get there. One day.”

Tags: @dutifullykrispyland@jesssmolfur@parad0xical2@st0rmm@keeper-of-all-the-random-things@pigeonwhumps@gala1981@allylovessweets

[daryascurse]

Chainsmoking His Love 1: The First Cigarette

Zeke Jaeger x Reader // follow #CHLZeke for updates // nsfw mdni

POV: second person, AFAB reader, feminine pronouns Chapter tags: smoking, mild dom/ sub (Zeke dom is the overarching theme of this honestly), oral, fingering, sex Chapter length: 6k

The coils of his beard are highlighted in the moon, more ginger than blonde in the darkness, tobacco wafting down at his breath. With his other hand he gently takes the half-burned cigarette from between your lips, flicking it over the edge without bothering to put it out.

“I should break such a bad habit.”

Your mouth wavers to speak, though no words come to mind, and that’s when he kisses you.

♡ read more after the jump or on ao3 ♡ // ♡ spotify playlist♡

I have a very strict adult-only interaction policy. Ageless, blank, and clearly minor-run blogs that interact will be blocked. If you have questions about what that means, please read the byf in my pinned post.

Author's note: This takes place between seasons 3 and 4 / more towards the end of that 4 year time jump. With that, I am writing from the perspective of a fully-finished manga reader. There are no outright spoilers past the canon from the start of season 4, but there are references and hints to Zeke's plan/ overall character at the end of the story, because this piece is as canon-compliant as possible. Be warned!

Night in Marley is accompanied by whipping winds off the sea, the salt still tangible in the air even high above the Liberio city limits. It stings when you lick your lips, but you do it again and again until your skin is chapped, mouth and eyes watering against the breeze, somehow soothing on sleepless nights such as this. The wind has been picking up all day, the aroma of ozone coming thick. A storm is soon approaching this city.

A grating comes sharp behind you, wood scraping and striking, and your heart leaps in panic at the sudden sound. No one has ever interrupted you on the roof, drinking in the cold clear air behind the sweeping curtains of laundry. And you turn slowly, ready to explain yourself to any Marleyan authority, but the tall, lean, sandy haired man with a wiry beard and glasses that glint in the moonlight is not who you expected to push through the sheets.

The bravest, the boldest, the one who vanquished the island devils as best as he could. The one who stands above the sinners, encouraging good conduct, camaraderie, redemption against the injustices of history. You’ve met him a handful of times before, but never alone. And he speaks, remembering your name in greeting when you spring to automatic attention.

“It’s late,” Zeke Jaeger says, as he takes a long drag from his lit cigarette.

“Sir – I’m sorry, did you expect privacy up here?” You relax, slightly, when he shrugs.

“Nothing to apologize for, don't look so tense. It’s just a good place for a smoke.”

“Oh.” Oh. It explains the broken rolls that litter the stone ground and gutters, black circles of ash stamped into the ledge, things you’d seen nights before but hadn’t given much thought to until now. You turn back to the ocean as he steps besides you, resting his elbow so close to yours against the half-wall of the roof that you can almost feel the warmth of his skin.

“Do you smoke?” he asks, lifting the packet to you.

You consider for a moment, how you should answer. “No, thank you, sir,” you say.

“Suit yourself,” Zeke says. It was a satisfactory enough choice, and he lowers his arm. The profile of his face is shadowed, nose pointed out to the sea, crow’s feet deep against his eyes cutting black lines in the moonlight. “Storm clouds on the horizon.”

It’s merely a literal observation, but there’s a tinge of amusement in his voice, as if there’s something funny about the incoming tempest.

“How was the weather there? On – that island?”

The words sound lame, and you hear it as they come out of your mouth, but you can’t think of any way to continue this rare chance of conversation. Zeke pauses, reaching for the cigarette and spinning it between his fingers.

“If I say that the people were the true storms, does that sound impressive?”

You laugh, before wondering if it seems rude, mocking the trauma of war. “Sorry. Sir. I didn’t mean to make light of it.”

Zeke waves his hand in silence, keeping his face towards the horizon, but not bothered.

Your pride can't let the potential offense slide. “Thank you,” you say, feeling it inadequate words for the war chief of Marley, but better than leaving it at a laugh. “For protecting us.”

He smiles, turns his head down ever so slightly. Moonlight reflects against the thin lens of his glasses as he regards you with a side-eye glance. His mouth opens a little wider than necessary to blow out the next puff of smoke, angled just barely out of way of your nose. It still stings your eyes, and you’re blinking furiously up at the stars even as he stubs out the cigarette and lights another, casting the match to the rocks below.

“The prices we pay to secure that future.”

Zeke speaks with soft deliberation, with the same weight as his official declarations and updates. But the quiet words are chilling right in your ear. This man, smoking so innocuously besides you as if it’s an everyday occurrence and the two of you are as thick as thieves instead of near strangers – it’s fascinating, uncannily so. His dry wit, his charisma, feels so suddenly familiar and inviting.

You could step down and leave him to his cigarette, but something in you yearns for this company, unwilling to cut it short even as the conversation slowly lulls with his strange words. In the distance, waves crash. Some sleepy gulls stir and coo once or twice in the darkness, and you shiver, turning your head directly to him.

“It’s cold,” you say.

“I have a bottle of wine in my quarters for that,” Zeke says, carelessly. “But if you want to enjoy the ocean and stars longer…” he extends his arm out again, flipping the packet open before you can let your mind dwell on that passing sentence, “have a cigarette.”

You still aren’t sure what the right choice is, but you watch your hand open, his fingers brushing against yours as he slides a cigarette into your grasp. You roll it between your thumb and forefinger as you lift it to your mouth, before realizing you have no matches. You turn to Zeke. “May I have a light?”

He says nothing and doesn’t move, casting his lashes down and inhaling deep, the red flame sparking.

Hesitantly, you press your cigarette to the end of his. Inhaling, you find it strong – remarkably so, and your throat convulses in efforts to mask the coughing as you lean back over the wall. Crumbs of tobacco coat against the edge of your tongue on the next puff. You can’t hide it when you gather it behind your lips and spit, messy, over the ledge.

You look at Zeke, and his lips twitch in a smile as he indolently lowers his cigarette. “Sorry. I rolled them myself. Go on, suck it, if you can take another drag.”

“I can, sir. Just a little strong,” you say, trying not to appear overwhelmed. You suck on the cigarette a little more lightly, and it’s less sickening just to hold the air and puff it out. Soon, your inhale is more eager than reluctant. “Remarkable, that this habit doesn’t slow you down, sir. You’re the best we have.”

Zeke leans down into the ledge, taking a step back to lower his chin to his rested elbows. He’s shorter than you at this casual angle now as he shifts his weight from foot to foot, and looks up, glasses glinting in the moonlight, as he grins. The flash makes your head spin as the smoke begins to creep through your senses. “Are you marveling at my physique despite this filthy habit?” He speaks through the roll gritted between his teeth.

Your laugh is uncomfortable now as you lower the cigarette, unsure if you should literally bend to the war chief’s level. “Sir, I didn’t say it’s filthy.”

“But it is a bad habit,” he says, almost musing.

The cigarette burns between your fingers, and you lift it shakily back to your lips, unsure of what to say.

Zeke straightens, draws himself up to his full imposing height. He drops his cigarette, crushing it into the stone with a step closer to you. You don’t realise he’s come that much closer until his hand comes down on the other side of you, and your head is tilting back in order to make eye contact. The coils of his beard are highlighted in the moon, more ginger than blonde in the darkness, tobacco wafting down at his breath. With his other hand he gently takes the half-burned cigarette from between your lips, flicking it over the edge without bothering to put it out.

“I should break it.”

Your mouth wavers to speak, though no words come to mind, and that’s when he kisses you.

His lips smear yours with tobacco, tongue disgusting with that earthy cloying taste, and he had been right even when he put the words in your mouth – a filthy habit, fucking filthy. You hate how it fills your senses, the nicotine in your own head already clouding enough, but you kiss him back, smoky saliva entwining with tongues. He pushes his deep into your mouth, the hand that had taken your cigarette returning to cradle against your jaw, thumb stroking down to your throat and traveling down again. You gasp into his mouth, almost breaking the kiss, as he slips it between your legs. It’s a reflex when you clutch his hand between your thighs, but you can’t force the muscles to relax, as pulse after pulse of heat begins to come up within you. Your head is dizzy, starved for oxygen, throbbing in time with his stroking, searching hand.

Those pulses are what bring you back to the cold rooftop, your eyes fluttering open - when had they closed? - with heat beating through you. The curve of his glasses press against your temple, the purple of his undereye bags meeting your eyes, and you break your lips from Zeke’s.

The war chief. The savior of Marley, with his hand between your thighs.

Your heart hammers. He must hear it.

“Are you – scared?” Zeke asks, tilting his head slightly as his hand creeps slowly, so slowly, higher. His tone isn’t mocking, isn’t leering, but curious, and you can hear the smile in his voice. His fingertips curl against your inner thigh.

You can’t keep your eyes on his, shaking with burning arousal and shame knit together, and look away, look down.

“No,” you force out, and it isn’t a lie when you say it. “But, sir – ”

“You know no one will come up here. If they do, I’ll bear the blame.”

His words carry a casual determination, the great warrior with his hand hunting up over the fabric of your clothes, and it’s the assurance that makes you shake with an emotion you can’t quite name. No, it’s not fear. It isn’t really shame, either. Your eyes, unable to meet his still, rest on the bulge of his crotch.

Zeke knows he’s reached your cunt when you shake harder between the cage of his arm and the brace of the ledge, and you lift your face to his with a short gasp. He brushes his hand over, and back, and he catches your lips in a kiss once more. He smiles again, hard against your mouth, beard scratching against the edge of your cheeks and down to your chin. The pace of his kisses increases slightly, just as his hand massages over your clothes, moving roughly up to find a fastening.

An indecent sound escapes you, raw in your throat and aching not from the burning remnants of cigarette smoke, but it makes Zeke break the kiss now to let out his own soft groan of satisfaction. His thighs press against yours, and he rocks his hips, pushing his hand harder against you.

“Get down,” he says, and there’s a command in the words, a military order that has you sinking to your knees. It leaves you buzzing, to be so suddenly without his touch, and you pause with your hands on your thighs, trying to anchor yourself through the smoke in your head. The shadows reel, either from the cigarette, or the murky depth of darkness. Above you, Zeke lowers his trousers.

His nicotine stained fingers stroke his cock, already half-hard as you kneel between his parted legs. When you lift fingers to it, shaking despite yourself, he closes his hand around yours. You finally meet his eyes again, and as he rubs your hand over him, there’s no trace of that warm smile any more.

“Suck it,” Zeke says, his voice low and grating, a whipping command in the cold air.

You move your hand almost experimentally, to see if he’ll let you, and he lets go as you open your mouth to take him in. He moves the hand to the back of your head in a large, open grip, as if he’s testing, waiting to see how you proceed next. You keep your hand along his shaft, rolling down, massaging along the length that your mouth can’t reach yet, even as your fingers drag more and more saliva down. His cock becomes firm, hard muscle under your fingers and in your mouth.

Your thumb strokes up along the underside of his cock as your hand stills at the base, and he groans above you, deep and guttural, something – something that you want to hear again. You move your tongue along him, around and up to find the sensitive tip of the head and flick right underneath there. Zeke’s hand tightens, not threatening, but encouraging, and as you flicker your tongue back and forth there again and again, you begin to taste heavy, bitter droplets beading in your mouth.

Inhaling through your nose is too shallow, and you try to relax your lips and hiss some breath through your smoke-smothered lungs, and that’s when Zeke’s fingers clamp against you in an unmistakable control. It forces you forward, his cock further down your throat. You do your best to match the movement of your lips and mouth to the growing rhythm of his guiding hand and hips. He grunts, a confirmation of your efforts, and thrusts faster.

But he does not fuck your mouth roughly, still letting your keep your agency. You do the work on your own as more of his bitter fluids begin to mix with your own drool, leaking down the side of his shaft and dribbling down your chin despite your efforts to keep your lips a seal around his cock. You almost choke at the effort, his cock growing firmer and bigger in your mouth, hitting right at the back of your throat. Your eyes flutter and roll in reflex.

“No – look at me.”

You force your eyes up to Zeke just as his hand pushes down to the back of your head, through your eyelashes and beyond his shirt whipping in the breeze. It makes your eyes sting and water, his cock heavy on your tongue. His hips thrust into your mouth stronger, and you gag at the movement.

Zeke looks at you, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, stray hair sliding down across his forehead, and his lips are parted, his breath as ragged as your own. The tightening of his cock in your mouth should have been your hint but his strained words show you how close he is.

“That’s – yes – ”

You’ve never seen him at such a loss for words, in all the public appearances, in any aside of conversation. You struggle to keep your eyes on his, not out of abashment now but physical strain. Your body is in acute discomfort even as you urge him to pleasure, the stone hard against your knees, your frozen hand heavy and elbow near buckling as you keep yourself upright, the hand against his base flexed back to cup his balls in short, clumsy motions. And beneath your clothes, where he had touched you, something hot and throbbing even without his hand screams for attention.

In fact, you’re close to sliding down against the stone to feed that desire with shameless grinding for friction, but Zeke’s next guttural moan is close to a cry that could rise and ricochet alarmingly through these towers, and your tongue rises against him to attention.

You hollow your cheeks and suck as much as you can in the short bursts of air you can manage into your lungs, finding the strength in your hand, tacky with saliva and drips of precum, to massage firmer against his balls. Zeke trembles, every bit of his body against you and in you shaking, his cock hot and throbbing in the vacuum of your mouth. With a hoarse sound, he holds your head down against him, and comes hard.

“Fuck,” he gasps out, and the bitter spatter floods in your mouth and down your throat. You almost choke against the taste, worse than the tobacco, but keep your lips around him until he softens, swallowing every drop. When he’s empty, he lets go of your head with a satisfied sigh, and you let him fall from your lips, your hand away from him.

Silence.

You massage the front of your knees in this swelling pause, turning your head to the billowing curtains of laundry. The thick fog through your mind begins to dissipate and allow shame to return as you contemplate your exit, begin to fabricate extravagant fantastical scenarios of seeing him again in these halls, in the city, and how you would excuse yourself, you the simple whore on your knees who just sucked him off on the roof –

And Zeke kneels, catching your chin between his fingers to interrupt the panicking “what-ifs” and coax your gaze back to him. More accurately, you look down to the dip of his collarbone and the thin wiry hair poking from between the folds of his shirt as he kisses your forehead and wraps you in a one-armed embrace.

“I should – ”

“No, no, I’m not as selfish as that,” Zeke says. The murmur is convincing, his tone so soft that it makes you close your eyes and shudder into him as his other hand leaves your face to stroke almost comforting along your back. He eases you down against the stone that way, kicking his pants fully off along with his boots. Strong fingers nimbly work at the fastening of your clothes faster than you could undress yourself, and with an attentiveness to every piece of fabric, down to the unlacing of your boots. He peels your undergarments away, already wet and clinging to your skin.

It makes you flush as the cool air hits those embarrassingly hot areas, damp right where your thighs meet, and you start to instinctually prop up on your elbows, to cover your vulnerable, exposed self.

“Are you running away after all?” Zeke asks, leaning up over you, the moon reflected in his glasses, the edge of amusement in his voice somehow sounding dangerous.

Your response of “No” comes a little too fast, too breathless, but it’s good enough to merit a quick, closed-mouth kiss against your lips as Zeke shifts his position between your legs. He pulls back, and you catch the smirk winding across his lips as he slides down your body before he’s lost in the shadows. He releases his touch on you for a moment to unbutton his shirt, leaving him as naked as you when his fingers dance across your skin again. His hands are strong on your calves, pushing your legs higher, and the kisses down your skin from your bent knees prickle with the coarse hairs of his beard moving southward with his lips, alternating from thigh to thigh.

You hiss, a broken, “oh” as your legs slink to the stone, sprawling on either side of him as he lowers himself to the ground in a show of equality and runs his tongue up along your clit. Your body jerks up.

The building, budding desire is overwhelming now, your cunt slickening and swelling from just that first bare touch. He doesn’t linger long or move slowly, letting his mouth open right there, licking over you as his fingers reach up against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs to grind against your entrance, prodding, searching again.

Zeke’s fingers move faster than his tongue, as he breaks away with a groan. He finds your entrance, but does not slip past it yet, roughly rubbing against your folds as if to find all the slickness, the sweat, the arousal, already gathering through you. He slows then, tracing the shape of your cunt entirely before moving back down and up into you at an angle that your own masturbatory explorations cannot reach, something that makes you cry out sharply.

He thrusts what feels like two fingers in so hard, so immediately, that your hips lift as high as they can and slam back to the stone. You swallow and gasp, the last sour tinges of his cum at the back of your mouth even as your mouth waters again at his ministrations.

“Oh, fuck, fuck- ”

You almost call his name, intimate, without a title or honorific, as he drags his fingers out of you, slick against your folds before the heat of his face comes again to your thighs. Zeke kisses right where your leg meets the curve of your hip and down to your cunt, the scratching of his beard teasing. When he thrusts his tongue inside, it’s not enough, not reaching as deep as you need, but you’re throbbing badly at his touch, the sensation so soft in contrast to the violent actions of his fingers.

This is more than the first licking prelude, his mouth open over all of you, tongue hungry and running in circles around your entrance before scooping back in to taste every dripping place of you. His top lip, the bristling of his facial hair, moves achingly against your clit, rubbing you swollen and raw. It’s endless, the circular motions open and sloppy and ever repeating. Your knees shake up again, almost closing against his skull, and his hands, free, fingers still damp with you, hold you there with a clamping grip at your thighs.

You could hold yourself back – just barely, but it had been possible – from screaming his name so disrespectfully at that urge, but you cannot stop your grasping hands from reaching down to knit anxiously between the strands of blonde hair you know you’ll find.

The chants of “fuck, fuck, fuck” that rock out of you mix with the whistling of the wind, coming without your own conscious desire to speak, just at the need to express your elation as Zeke brings you closer and closer to orgasm. One of your hands falls, fumbles down, when his mouth moves lower still, fucking you with his tongue as your frantic fingers take over rubbing your clit yourself. It's close, it's so close. When it strikes and the coil behind your belly springs open, hotter than you can bear, you buck your hips unevenly, unable to hold it back without any more warning to him. You come hard on his tongue with a choked cry, furiously rubbing yourself and pushing down to his mouth. It roars through you, sparking through your veins. You let go of his hair only to crash down across your forehead in exhausted spasms of euphoria, the heat rippling down from your core to Zeke’s mouth waiting to lap it all up from your cunt.

Not all. He ruins it by pulling away even as your body pulses, stomach and thigh muscles contracting erratically around nothing, your cramping hand moving up rest on your stomach. Above you, stars swim above your half-sightless eyes. The sound you make is garbled and incoherent.

When you offer nothing else, Zeke lets out a short sigh, almost of disappointment at your sudden lifelessness.

“I didn't think that was all you had in you,” Zeke says, and his hands coax your legs flat against the ground, spread achingly wide on either side of the expanse of his body. You force your eyes down to him, spinning with final dregs of nicotine and the echoes of your orgasm, to watch his dark sandy head bend over you once more.

“It’s… not,” you force out, and he lifts his face, another twisted smirk flashing across his lips. It’s a wicked smile, it’s…

Devilish, is the word that comes to mind, and the shiver that comes straight down your back is cold, uncomfortable.

Maybe his insistence of selflessness was a lie. Maybe he’s been waiting for something more since you sucked him dry the first time.

He spreads you with his thumbs, and spits. You shudder against the sharpness of it against your sensitive, raw folds, arching your back, the splaying of his hands into your thighs keeping your hips firm against the stone. The cool slick of his saliva mixes with the dregs of your arousal as he pushes it in with a thumb, moving into you before you can even gasp out, partly in elation, partly in pain. He fucks it into you with his fingers, stretching you deep.

“Fuck…”

Your thighs tremble, knocking into the ground. His thick fingers are teasingly painful, stirring you again without bringing any hint of satisfaction. You can feel it pooling from you, the remnants of your orgasm with his saliva and a rush coming anew.

He adjusts, kneeling with his twisting thumb almost dipping out of you, and the smooth head of his cock comes nudging against your inner thigh, hard again. He’s trembling too, breath heavy in the air over you, his own want so close to overtaking his actions. His thumb slips out as his cock begins to push in, keeping you open.

And then he doesn’t move.

Zeke’s hands are strong, keeping your thighs open as he rests over you, the moonlight casting long shadows over his face, and you whimper. He moves his hips, not enough to thrust inside, just edging the tip of his cock no further than his fingers have reached. Your breath catches in your throat, and it seems an excruciatingly long time before he moves out, and back. He hasn’t come any deeper, and your muscles twitch, begging for him to give in to that animalistic desire and - just fuck you now.

“Please,” you whisper, the word rough and catching in your throat.

Zeke’s eyes, glassy in the dark, shine, and he does it again, that teasing thrust that just prickles and pulses through you. He holds you down, watching you clench, breathing shallowly and struggling as your body quivers. If he just wanted to turn that arousal back on, your sore cunt is more than ready despite the thudding pain of overstimulation. He thrusts halfway once more and back out, leaving you aching, hot, and empty.

“Please,” you say again.

And Zeke almost growls, the throaty sound so gruff and raw you shake at the sound of it. Your hips move desperately back and forth, trying to push him deeper. “You’re teasing… stop…” is all you can force out, pathetic, frantic, grinding upward again.

“Your body is so impatient,” he says, hoarsely, and the sound you make in response is just that. “What happened to all your anxiety? Where did all that go?”

You whimper once more, unable to offer any argument, your dignity long gone in tatters.

He smiles, lefts one weighted hand from your hips, and pulls his glasses from his face. You can’t see where he puts them to rest, keeping your eyes now locked so firmly on his face, the shadows cutting sharp across his cheekbones and rippling when he moves his fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose and exhale sharply. A waft of tobacco, stale on the air, drifts to you.

“I have been cruel,” Zeke says softly, strained and his eyes, smaller without the magnifying power of the glasses, are unreadable as they fix on you. “I suppose it’s not fair to either of us, is it?”

You let out a strangled, desperate sound, and that’s when he finally thrusts into you, sinking his body down and splaying his legs hot against yours. The hand on your hip still keeps you down, but you cry – unable to stop yourself now, a shrill, euphoric, “Zeke!” as he moans your name in familiar, dishonorable tandem.

There’s no possible way he could feel better than you do, burying himself in your core, as fucked out from his tongue and fingers as you already are. This is a new satisfaction, deeper than before, and you grind against the stone as best as you can, flexing your fingers as your arms fly up around his neck to dig down into his back. The moans, the cries, that come from you, are drawn from deep within your core, pushed out with every stroke of his cock.

All his teasing, all the drawn out agony of aching, has left you wet again, so wet that his thrusts slap loud against your skin. Zeke fucks you hard and fast, rolling his hips in perfect circles as your fingernails drag down his back, not deep enough to draw blood against your touch, but desperate, raking down again and again as your fingers slide in time with his thrusts. Your entire body ripples around him, eyes rolling up into the stars. Your sounds are almost wild. His are feral.

He’s barely holding himself over you on one arm, legs tangling into yours, and the thrusts come erratic as he fucks you hard, fast, deep, into the stone roof, against the mix of crumbled and smashed cigarette remnants. His hand slides from your hip at last, letting you move in your own clumsy circles to match him. A fresh cold sweat breaks out over your skin, and you forget to breathe for a moment right when he pulls out and thrusts so deep it aches straight down your thighs. You whine when you can gather the air again, gasping his name, so delicious on your tongue that you feel intoxicated saying it over and over –

“Zeke, Zeke, fuck – ”

Zeke’s forehead presses into yours, your neck straining up, the filthy stone ground hard beneath your skull and shoulders, and he breathes just as heavily as you, ragged into your mouth, slipping your name and curses in his own chanting mix between breaths and kisses. His hips thrust against yours, faster, deeper, and you tilt your chin up to catch his lips in a kiss as your arms knot across the back of his shoulders.

He slows for a moment, and you feel yourself throbbing deep within your core, the rising heat of a second orgasm close. You clench over his cock, spasming on your back, and when he pulls out and sinks so deep, slowly inside you, it almost makes you topple over the edge.

“I’m – Zeke, I’m – again -”

He nods, brusque, short, half-listening and really just sliding his face against yours, but after a moment, he understands and nods again, moving deep inside you with long strokes that leave you breathless. He leans up and breaks the close contact of your faces, raising his forearm to rest on his elbow. It makes him higher over you and as his thrusts slow in an exerted control that comes through hissing, gritted-teeth breaths sour across your face, you can almost rut against his body pressed up against yours.

It’s not quite enough to grind yourself to satisfaction, but your legs go limp as the sensation brings you ever closer. “Yes -”

Zeke groans, a sound that snaps vocal and rough as it comes from his chest, as if he’s at the limit of his control, but it’s the sound and the friction of your legs against his that does it as you grind into him, desperately squeezing your muscles. Your head collapses into your neck and you convulse as the second orgasm roars through you – shorter waves than the first, the ripples somewhat weaker, but your body shakes uncontrollably underneath his. And Zeke picks his rhythm up, fucking you through it, curving one hand between your head and the stone ground, pushing your face back to his.

“Me – too – ” he says at last, the words broken and jagged, and he kisses you, harsh, open-mouthed and sloppy with drool.

You moan, feeling it all subside into a dull throbbing, his cock still splitting you apart with the growing ferocity of the thrusts. He sucks on your lower lip, letting go, and with a muffled groan he leans his head back, the contours of his neck muscles tightening in the moonlight. Just as your inner walls begin to ache sharper, so exhausted, so over-worked, Zeke pulls out and leans back, kneeling and panting. His hair is fully loose, sweat pasting some strands against his cheeks and neck, and his eyes burn as he takes hold of his cock, letting out a few furious pumps before coming again, this time down across your chest and stomach, with a raw, rough, “Fuck…”

His name dies on your tongue as you let out one last broken whimper, and you wince despite yourself as the fluids across you cool uncomfortably. A gust of wind, sending the laundry billowing doesn’t help, and you stare up at the dizzying stars for a moment as everything throbs to a sobering clarity.

Tobacco and salt and sweat hang heavy in the air. Zeke rocks back on his heels, exhaling loudly. You force yourself up on your elbows, feeling the scrapes and aches now that you separate your body from the stone ground.

“Here.”

Zeke’s reaching up, tugging a sheet free of the poles, and offers it to you. You take it cautiously.

“Can – is it okay to use -”

“It’s laundry, isn’t it? What’s the difference?”

You can’t look at him as you clean your skin of his sweat and cum, but you have to turn your head back and sit up properly to reach for your clothes, wherever he’s dropped them. In this undignified moment, at least he isn’t turned to you, as he swipes his glasses clean against another of the laundry sheets.

You gather your thoughts as you feel your body throb and leak, a heavy reverie shivering in the night air. He says your name after a moment, and you blink back.

“Let me leave first,” he says as he slides the glasses on. You clutch the sheet back to you, feeling almost sheepish, but Zeke looks so placidly unbothered as he reaches for his garments, as if being naked is barely worth remarking. “Just in case there’s anyone downstairs. At least five minutes should be fine, even if I need to talk away any guards or officials.”

“Thank you… sir,” you say. The word feels uncomfortable, heavy in your mouth, but it would have felt just as strange to leave it out.

Zeke’s lips twitch, a gentle, amused smile in your direction, and he stands to pull his trousers back on. “I think in private, there’s no harm in being familiar. I’d say we know each other intimately now.”

You flush, unable to meet his eyes as he looms over you. “Yes,” you say, his expectant silence pressing in the darkness.

“Then I think I just may see you again up here some night. Or for that wine, if it proves too cold.”

He stoops to gather his boots, his shirt, and takes a step back towards the rows of laundry. Then he stops, fishing in his pockets to fling something your way.

“In the meantime, maybe I’ll corrupt you into picking up this bad habit of mine, hmm?”

You look down at what’s landed deep in the folds of the sheet still pressed around you, hidden from view in the dark. When you look up, Zeke is gone, with only one parting remark ghosting through the laundry.

“Or at least bring them back to me.”

You wait, but he doesn’t offer any other words, the footsteps receding down the steps with a jaunty whistle rising faintly on the wind. When you’re sure he’s not coming back, you let the sheet fall and cautiously dip your fingers into the folds of fabric, and pluck out a small matchbook and packet of cigarettes.

chapter 2

[hyuld-story]

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Since the hunger in your belly has mostly subsided, you decide to explore your surroundings more. The pond is small enough that you can see most of it, so there's little left to find here. As you swim closer to where the edge of the pond meets the stream, you can feel strength in the current.

Lurking on the edge of the pond, you see a small- no, big fish? Its certainly a good bit bigger than you, why did you think it is small? Confused, you hover in place for a moment. The fish, regardless of size, seems pretty unaffected by the current. It easily keeps its place amidst the flow, facing upstream. The stream looks a lot like the pond, clear water, mud, rocks, and algae, as well as some leaves and grass dipping into it here and there.

Bam! The fish charges towards you with frightening speed. Moving with all the strength you can muster, you manage to narrowly avoid its sharp teeth. A bite would be fatal. You need to escape, barely have time to recover. It's about to charge again.

Every fiber of your being screams at you to run, to hide, but there's nowhere to hide. The pond is empty except for you and your enemy. The swift current of the stream will certainly sweep you away. But even if you don't know where it will take you, it seems better than certain death. With a flick of your tail, a choice is made.

You roll and fumble for a moment, unused to the speed with which the stream carries you. As the current puts the danger further and further behind you, so too goes the fear that had begun to overtake you.

All too soon, the peaceful trip comes to an end.

Not far ahead, the stream seems to pass though a bunch of debris. There are a number of long straight branches interlocking with each other, a grate? The ends of this "grate" are buried deep into the earthen banks of the stream. Above it, there seems to be a bunch of weirdly uniform rocks. One of them must have fallen, because it now lays against the grate and the bank, with a small space underneath. The grate itself is partially covered in piles of leaves, sticks, and mud. Beyond the grate, the water is black, like night. night? Anyway, you are pretty sure you wont be able to see in there.

Swimming upstream is truly not an option. And to make matters worse, the fish has appeared again. There isn't much time. Aided by the current, it's closing in. Swept up against the grate, you are left with two choices:

Swim through the grate

Swim under the rock

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Our first action scene!! How'd I do? Maybe don't answer that haha, I'm not entirely sure how to feel about it

I think I'm pleased, since this project is the first time I've really stretched my writing muscles in a while. For the past few months (or even years) most of what I wrote was just lore dumps and character profiles. Also It's been years since I wrote anything episodic. Anyway, sorry it's kinda late and I hope you enjoy!

What do we think about the four navigation options? This would mean five options if half episodes continue to not be considered the "next" episode. Half episodes being primarily art pieces and technically skippable.

[the-ninja-legacy-whip]

If it's not too much of a spoiler but which em are going to end up more on the antagonistic side and which will end up taking more of an ally stance?

Some characters are definitely going to have a similar role like in season 4 I imagine but considering you will give more depth to a lot of them (like for example tox who completely drowned out in the show), which roles will slightly change/more focused on?

What I'm personally guessing right now is that chamille and ash are more on the antagonistic side, skylor stays the way she was in the show while karlof might be more of an ally (since he is kai's teacher in school) as well as tox. And with the rest I absolutely don't know

-nerd anon

With Skylor, she does lean a bit more into her ~evil upbringing~ at first cuz I think there's a lot of potential there that can be explored, along with how she grows to adjust to life beyond the Archipelago, but otherwise yes she's basically just like the show.

Chamille of course is antagonistic (especially towards Lloyd for hopefully will-be-if-not-already obvious reasons) as that's been her schtick for a while (though we don't really get to see much out of it), but she definitely ain't using that power of hers for anything good.

Karlof and Tox stay good through and through, although Tox may be tempted otherwise a little ways down the line, even if only temporarily. Karlof, however, stays a good bean ;w;)/

Paleman's definitely getting fleshed out more! As mentioned on a previous ask he actually gets to have a fight in the tournament (primarily due to the inclusion of Jesse), on top of his complicated background and potential connections with Sunni :3

Griffin's already got some of the biggest spotlight out of all the "Side EMs", and I'm aiming to make him more of a (eventually friendly) rival character than a straight up antagonist. Just someone to keep the gang on their toes, mostly.

Ash isn't outright evil, but due to me rebranding him as an assassin, he definitely doesn't have the best morals all the time. Still kind of fidgeting with his character due to the fact he doesn't ever say a word (maybe I'll make him selectively mute, there's an idea) but for a wispy guy he's rather sharp around the edges *ba dum tiss*

Jacob won't have a grand role or anything, but he does get a lot of interaction with the likes of Jay and Jesse that I'm looking forward to. And in later seasons when the EMs are called upon to gather, I do plan to have him, y'know, not be missing, because unlike Chamille he does't have an excuse. C'mon man, you're part of this crazy crew too!!! (And no, I refuse to believe he was eaten by Chen's pet snake, hmph)

Gravis...I'm still workshopping. I do somewhat picture him as a neutral party when it comes to conflicts, and probably mediates when necessary, but right now I don't have him doing anything outside of the box. Yet. I'm sure once I dive more into his character I'll come up with something, haha

Shade comes off as antagonistic, but he's just an anti-social extravert hgfkjhjgfdsgfd. And this started as a crack idea (of course) buuut I thought it'd be hilarious if Sunni and/or Miranda wind up making him break his hardass facade askljhghfhgfd

Neuro generally is someone that has good intentions, but he will play both sides if he thinks it'll benefit him in the long run. Which is very easy to do when you're a mind reader. Most of the time, however, he is actually quite eager to help, and I kind of think it would be fun to have him work under/for/in relation to Borg in the future like Julien used to. But, we'll see, I'm not totally committed to the idea (I just want an excuse to see him more)

Bolobo is just out here doing his own thing to his own vibe and thriving with it skklslkslkfg. He's got some good insightful moments coming his way though~

Jesse absolutely doesn't go full antagonist whatsoever but he does have a lil' rebellious phase at one point snksnksnk

But also every EM gets a chance to kind of talk about themselves and their pasts before or after being eliminated from the tournament (preferably before but I'm going to be realistic for now), and I'm really excited to expand on the EMs dynamics with the main ninja and each other! <3

[singular-yike]

Is there much information on the Sanctuary, where most of the characters we know about already live?

Hmm, you'd be surprised how little we know actually, but nevertheless, we can take a look at what we do have on the Sanctuary.

Overal Information

The Sanctuary is defined by JynX as "the geographical area around the Senri Shrine", and that's really all we know about the location concretely.

The Sanctuary doesn't really have a unified government of any sort, and is a rather backwater place, especially compared to the only other major geographical area we know of: The empire of Devanagara.

Sub-Locations

Contrary to the overall area, which we can't really say much on concretely, we actually know a good deal of information about the specific smaller locations within it.

Here's a non-canon map of Mugenri that I made, demonstrating the relative positions of things. Please note that:

I'm only guessing as to what and where the river's source could be.

The shapes of the continents/islands are completely made up.

We don't know where the Ritual Site and the Dragonfly Castle are in relation to one another, though they are both in the woods.

I left out the Road Traveled by Light, there's not much information to really figure out where it is relative to everything else.

We now know the Shitodo House is not in the Unlost Woods, but in a separate forest near the village.

From what we know, everything in EMS, RMI and the Haze Route in BPoHC takes place within the Sanctuary. So that's:

EMS Locations

Senri Shrine

Senri Shrine Road (At least the parts that we see)

Path from the Shrine Road to the Human Village

Human Village (or just "the village")

Shitodo Home

Unlost Woords

RMI Locations

The River (it doesn't actually have a name, per se)

Withered Grove

Road Traveled by Light

BPoHC Locations

Unlost Woods (Again)

The "shrine run by youkai" (mentioned; location unclear)

Other than the above, there are also other mentioned locations that are likely within the Sanctuary as well, namely Fumikado's estate and Sukune's (& Yaorochi's) home.

Relationship With Devanagara

Despite not being a concrete entity, Devanagarans (or at least the ones we've seen) seem to not be a big fan of the Sanctuary. They specifically seem to take issue with its lack of development, calling its inhabitants "inhuman" and "barbarians".

Devanagara even once attempted to invade and conquer the Sanctuary, using Masakado's revival as their pretext for it. This was, of course, what started the Heaven-Shadow War in BPoHC.

At the same time, we see that this prejudice against the location does not completely blind them towards the facts, that they do acknowledge talent even if it comes from the Sanctuary, as we see with Sukune Katano providing the model for the Gloomy Sea Bridge.

Politics Within the Sanctuary

So far, the "Sanctuary" seems to be a purely geographical term and nothing else, as no authority, political or otherwise, really seems to attach itself to the name.

The closest contenders we have are the Senri Shrine, which likely gave the location its name, and the Youkai Alliance/Dragonfly Army, the group that defended the Sanctuary against the Devanagaran invasion during the war.

However, as Tenkai seems to imply, the Senri Shrine is "above" such matters, and is concerned with Mugenri as a whole rather than the local matters of the Sanctuary.

As for the Youkai Alliance/Dragonfly Army, they were specifically formed in opposition to the Devnagaran invasion, and not for the purpose of claiming rule over the Sanctuary.

So it would seem that politics and rule within the Sanctuary are indeed relegated to even smaller local powers, like how the Human Village has a village elder as their leader.

Final Thoughts

Despite everything we've discussed, it's undeniable that the Sanctuary is important to Mugenri, if not purely just because the Senri Shrine is there.

Another curious point that I'd like to point out, is that the Sanctuary may actually be near the "edge" of Mugenri, considering how Lumen's "Blitz Spark" was actually able to break the Mugenri Barrier, which should in theory encompass the entirety of Mugenri.

And that concludes everything I have on the Sanctuary, like I said in the beginning, there's unfortunately not much I could really say on the overall area.

Nevertheless, some of these smaller locations, like the Unlost Woods, Senri Shrine or even the Human Village are very curious indeed, and would be fun for future analyses.

Until then, I hope you enjoyed~! :)