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eupheme · 3 months ago

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k02. accidental stim + thigh-riding | just once

frank castle x f!reader

rated e - 3k

tags: hurt/comfort, references to blood/violence, wound-tending, strangers-to-lovers, implied mutual pining, accident stimulation, thigh-riding, oral sex (m rec), reader has hair long enough to tug, swallowing

You know you shouldn’t look for the handsome stranger that shows up, night after night. Should lock your window, forget you saw him. That’s the smart thing to do, after all.

But you think you might like that he needs you. That you can’t stop thinking about him. That you can’t stop wanting more.

It’s interesting how quickly you’ve become used to finding a strange man on your fire escape.

The first time it happened, it had scared you near to death. A dark smudge in the shadows, when you went to close the blinds before bed.

A sharp jab of fear, realizing there was a body propped up against the railing. Phone in hand, fingers hovering on Wade’s contact when you saw the streaks of red against pale skin.

Still not sure how you got him inside. Spent an hour afterwards scrubbing the traces of him from your windowsill. Smeared fingerprints, the scuff of boots against your floor.

Half-conscious. Blood oozing out from a wound at his temple. A clean washcloth from your bathroom pressed to it, as you started to call for help.

The stranger moved then. A broad hand curled around your wrist. Head tipping back, and you could see those brown eyes from beneath the hood.

“No cops.” He croaked, “No hospitals. ‘m fine.”

You had patched him up the best you could. The urge to help outweighing the ringing stranger danger in your head. A little soothed knowing help was next door.

The night spent awake, watching.

He thanked you the next day. Apologized.

It was in the early morning light that you finally got a good look at him, that dark hood pulled back. Handsome face, quiffed hair, pretty lips beneath the curve of his nose.

Broad, when he stands. Slipping back out the way he came. A devil at night, gentleman in the morning - even with his rough edges.

Thought it’d be the last time you saw him.

You were wrong.

That one night turns into another. Something almost like a routine, except for his timing. Twice a week and then nothing for more. Three weekends in a row, and then silence for a month.

On the second night, the stranger tells you his name is Frank.

On another night, some two weeks later, he tells you that your apartment is the only one within two blocks he can reach from the ground. Only stopped because your window was cracked open. Knew you were home.

Could smell the blend of vanilla and sugar from there. Seemed like a safe place to rest, until he could make it back home.

It should deter you.

It doesn’t.

He’s as layered as the clothes he wears. All dark - black field jacket. The splatter of white, some sort of pattern on the shirt beneath another zip-up.

And red.

Always red. Red dripping from his nose. Bruised shadows beneath an eye. Split knuckles, his hand resting against your knee as you yawn - binding them carefully.

Tucked on your couch to sleep a couple hours, gone by the time you’re leaving for work. Midnight breakfasts that always ends in a “thanks, sweetheart” that leaves you pretending that there isn’t a kaleidoscope of butterflies in your chest.

Never tells you what he does. Never lets you in, other than the slip of his last name.

Castle.

It fits him. Something as strong and formidable as he is, with the furrow of his brow. The grit of his jaw, when your needle pierces flesh.

Never complaining. Content to take what you give him. A wary eye when you pick at those layers, a fingernail digging under a chip of paint.

Always seems to be gone longer, after you do.

The last time he was here, you hadn’t seen him for three weeks. Waiting for a tap on the glass that didn’t come.

Only for your window to creak open, barely heard under the rumble of the storm overhead. Some time long after midnight, closer to dawn.

You knew it was him, in your sleepy haze. Knew the sound of his boots as well as your own. The soft rasp of your name, as you propped yourself up.

The worry quickly tempered, when he crouched to your level.

“One hell of a storm,” Frank rasped, “Just need a place to wait it out.”

The relief has sleep pulling you back under. A muttered “no boots in bed”, as you yawn, followed by a “or wet clothes.”

You don’t think you would have said it, if you were awake. It felt like a dream - something made up. Wishing he would come back to you and then he was.

A low huff. Layers peeled off, as the mattress dips.

In the morning, he’s gone.

You’d think it was a dream, if your pillow didn’t smell like him. If the bed wasn’t still warm where he lay - if you could shake the feeling of his breath in your ear, an arm slung around your waist in the night.

It had felt like something had changed.

That was, until now.

Now, your brow furrows. Blood beneath your nails from where you helped ease the vest from his chest.

His hand covering yours, stilling the shake as you gripped the straps. Your little huff of relief when it’s only bruises and scrapes that bloom beneath, instead of the scattering of fired bullets.

Now, they rests on your hips, as you stand between his spread thighs. His chest bare under the warm light of your bathroom - mottled in bruises but it doesn’t take away the breadth of him. The etched muscles that bunch and flex beneath your fingertips.

Something you’re achingly aware of. Something you’re desperately trying not to think of, as you dab antiseptic around the edge of an abrasion.

His eyes are fixed on yours, even as you concentrate.

It’s something you discovered about him quickly. Frank doesn’t shy away from eye contact. Content to keep his on you, even as you work. Skin heating from beneath his watch.

Could just be him. His work is something dangerous, he never needs to tell you for you to know that. And from the splinters you’ve pieced together, you don’t see him as a bad guy. Or at least - he doesn’t see himself that way.

But a part of you wonders if he watches because he wants to. Something greedy. Unblinking - taking you in like you wish he would.

“You’re lucky,” You muse, thumb smoothing over the bandage, “Think this is the least banged up you’ve been.”

“Lucky.” He huffs, “Suppose you could say that.”

The roll of medical tape clatters against the sink, before slipping down into the bowl. His fingers biting into your hips as you lean to grab it, shifting into his space.

“Careful.” It’s a low warning, rumbled out, “Makin’ it real hard to keep my hands to myself, sweetheart.”

Only then do you notice how much you’ve leaned into him. Your thigh pinned firmly against his spread one. A hand on his shoulder for balance, your tits pressed against his bare chest.

You shift back, but it only makes his hands grip harder. His eyes dark, under the glow of the bulb above - making you feel like you took a blow, yourself.

“Don’t have to,” You manage, “Keep them to yourself, I mean.”

There’s a sharp, inhaled breath. His eyes flicking between yours, as a mark deepens between his brows.

“Wouldn’t be right.” It’s gritted out, “This is your home-”

Your heart hammers behind your ribs, as the hand at his shoulder slips to his neck, “I know. I-, I wouldn’t let you in if I didn’t-”

“Trust me?” Frank laughs, the sound hollow, “Sweetheart-”

The word dies on his tongue, with the sudden slam of a door in the hall - ringing out like a gunshot. A loud voice followed by the pounding of footsteps up the stairs, as you are suddenly crushed against Frank’s chest.

His palm slipping over your mouth, as he shoots to his feet. Crowding you against the bathroom door, shushing your muffled yelp.

You can feel every inch of him pressed against you. Breath held as he leans into you, a thigh nudged snugly between yours. Hands flattened against his chest. Unyielding, as you give a little shove.

Something hard curving against your hip. A rough sound in his throat when you squirm against him again - the words trapped behind his hand.

“Fucking stop,” He growls in your ear, “Someone is out there-“

Your shove turns soft. Stroking up his chest until you’re touching at his jaw. Angling his face to meet yours.

His eyes are wild, nearly black. Deadly focused - their sharp edge flicking down to yours. A beat as he considers, when you point to your mouth.

“It’s my neighbor,” You manage with a gasp, when his grip loosens, “He tries to see how fast he can run up every single stair. Drives us all crazy.”

He goes still. Eyes narrowed, as if trying to figure out if he believes you.

You know what he thought.

Might now know a lot about him, but you could sense the danger he thought you were in. Instincts kicking in, as he believes whatever horrors he faced out there were brought back here.

“It’s okay.” You soothe, “You’re safe.”

His nostrils flare, jaw gritting. Fingers fisting in the fabric of your sleep shirt, knuckles biting into your hips.

“Distract me.” He husks, voice low.

Your eyes widen, “How?”

There’s a sharp jerk of his head, his own dark eyes still fixed on yours, “Any way you want.”

He’s still as stone as your eyes sweep across his face again. A million thoughts running through your head, as your thumb sweeps across a stubble-lined jaw.

Head tilting, until you can press your lips just above, against the sharp cut of a cheekbone.

You can feel his exhale against you. The tightly-strung muscles easing, even as he tugs you closer. Even as you hear the hitch in his breath, the way his head tips towards yours.

You move slow.

The next brushing his cheek.

Another, to the corner of his lips.

It’s then that he moves. A rough groan in his throat as his hand shifts to your chin. Holding you in place so his mouth can meet yours.

Something chaste, that turns hungry. His hips canting into yours, as his tongue sweeps into your mouth.

You let him. Fingers slipping against the short, velvet-shorn hair. Up until there’s something to grip onto, as his hips rocks against yours.

“Fuck.” It’s rumbled against your lips, “Been driving me crazy, sweetheart.”

You moan, as his lips drag to press against your jaw. How his thigh rocks against your core, where you’re still pinned between him and the door.

“Haven’t been doing anything,” You protest, weakly, “Just patching you up.”

There’s the rough huff of a laugh.

“Funny how that works.”

There’s the pounding of your heart, just below his lips. Fingers that trace the waistband of your sleep shorts. Slipping beneath your shirt to grasp at your waist.

Tugging, until you’re rubbing yourself on his thigh. The muscles flexing beneath you as you gasp, nails biting into his bare shoulders.

Trying to avoid the bruises, his skin hot to the touch. Another roll - again and again. A rough grunt each time you press flush, when the imprint of his cock ruts against your hip.

The seam on your shorts catch on your clit. Your breath quickens, as your arousal dampens the thin cloth. A dark patch seeping into the dark denim, but Frank only groans when his eyes flick down to see the gleam.

“Feels good.” You breathe, eyes half-lidded.

His teeth flash white, in the dark room. Pressing harder, until you’re whimpering. Until there’s a building pressure in your belly, toes curling against the worn rug.

“Frank.” It’s a plea, it’s a warning.

“Yeah, beautiful?” His knowing tone, the sweet name sends heat to your cheeks, “You close? Think you can come for me like this?”

You don’t know if you can. All you know is the feeling of his thigh nudging against you, as his boot bounces. The rasp of his stubbled cheek against yours.

“Think you can.” Frank hums, “Think you want me to hear how pretty you sound when you come.”

His name strings out. Fingers teasing, slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts. A rough moan in your ear when he meets bare, slick skin.

Another pulled when your own hand drifts. A palm cupping him, where his clothed cock ruts into your hip. The heel of your hand nudging with the flex of his thigh.

Again, and again. Sweet nothings slipping from you, a heady mix of his name and “please” and “oh my god-”, as your head tips back.

His mouth against your neck, your chin, your mouth. Your cry cut short as his body presses you flush between him and the door.

Fingers slipping down. Beneath the dampened fabric, circles pressed against your clit. Wanting to do this himself, to give this to you.

The pleasure blooms low in your belly. Liquid heat and the release of what feels like weeks of building pressure coursing through you, as he brings you over the edge.

Your orgasm pulsing low and warm, as your hands find his shoulders. Adding fingerprint bruises to one’s he already carries. Ones he’ll look at fondly, when he’s alone.

Frank’s knee only eases from you, when that tight grip on him finally loosens.

The aftershocks still honey-sweet where they thud in your core. Legs like jelly, as your back slips against the door - as you sink to your knees.

You want all of him.

You’re greedy like that - fingers itching to reach out and take. To beg, but your eyes are drawn the bruises. The shadows under his eyes, you don’t know the last time he slept.

There will be more time, later. If you’re lucky.

“Hey. Hey-” His voice is almost worried, broad hands wrapping around your biceps. The words twisting into a choked sound instead, when your hands trace up his thighs. Over the slick patch, darkening the denim.

Eye-level with his hips. Your gaze meeting his, as you press an open-mouthed kiss against the straining curve.

He groans then. Bare chest heaving, as his hands drop to his belt. No words needed, in sync from the nights already spent together - from patching him up in near-silence.

Thumbs hooking into the waistband of dark boxers, tugging down. Your eyes tracing where the dark trail from his belly thickens, hair coarse at the base of his cock.

“Don’t have to.” It’s half-hearted. A tick to his jaw, when your fingers join his.

Another sharp tug, until his cock is freed. Achingly hard, as it bobs in front of you. A pretty shade of pink that grows darker at the tip. A drop leaking from the slit, the head already glossy from where it smeared against fabric.

God, you need to taste him.

“I know.” You breathe, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you grin, “I want to.”

Leaning forward to taste him. A kiss against the shaft, tongue flattening against velvet skin.

“Wanna take care of you.”

His fingers flex, curling into fists.

Your eyes meeting his, “Think you like it when I do.”

Frank stiffens at your words, a sharp inhale through teeth. But you miss it - lips parting to take him into your mouth. A moan as you suck, feeling how his cock jerks against your tongue.

“Fuck.” He grits - the flex of his hand, as he cups the back of your neck. Fingers twining into your hair, tugging.

“Just once.”

Don’t know if he’s telling you, or if he’s telling himself. But he doesn’t need to tell you.

There’s a part of you is certain each time is the last you’ll see him.

Always hoping he will come back, of course. Looking for him, even.

But never expecting it.

You’ll take what you can get. What he gives you inching further into your mouth - the hollow of your cheeks as you suck, head gently bobbing.

He’s big. You knew he would be, could feel the heft of him beneath your palm. An ache in your jaw already, but it’s worth it - to give him this.

“Just this one time.” He repeats, hushed.

As if he’s not imaging how you taste. Knowing you’re slick and bare and dripping beneath those shorts. Knowing that’s the only layer he’d need to rip away, to find out how soft you truly are.

Wet and warm, for him. A perfect fit for his cock, though he can’t get enough of the way you hum around him.

Forgotten what it was like.

Spit strings between your lips and his cock, when you pull back. He lets you - that grip loosening, though his fingers stay twisted in your hair. Keeping you close, only slipping away long enough for you to tug the shirt from your shoulders.

Letting it pool on the floor, letting his eyes drag over more bare skin beneath. His touch following without thinking - calloused fingers tracing your shoulders. The soft curves of your tits, palm cupping flesh.

The other hand anchoring himself to you again as before. The curved weight against the back of your head - a gentle, encouraging pressure.

Urging you to his cock again. Already missing the warmth of your mouth. Working him back up to that peak again, and then further - as you take him into your throat.

His breathing grows shorter. Those same sounds that slip from him when your needle sinks too deep, knitting skin together.

Given freely now. Muscles flexing as he bucks into your mouth, chasing the pleasure that threatens to snap inside him.

“Shit, baby.” Frank rasps, “You want me to come on these?”

A squeeze against your chest. You make a low sound in your throat, in response. Eyes flicking up, sinking another inch deeper as your fingers grasp onto his jeans.

“Fuck.” The syllables draw out, “Sure, sweetheart. Anything you want.”

His fingers tug harder. The flicker of pain along your scalp blending with the heat that lingers between your thighs.

Keeping your eyes on his as his hips move just a little faster. Air inhaled through your nose as a hand slips up to curl around his base.

Easing off just enough that you can jerk him into your mouth.

Your name comes out ragged, slipped into a moan. A curl of his lips over teeth, panting breath.

“Gonna make me come, honey.” It’s a warning, but your tongue only curls around the head. Waiting to taste him fully, as he groans.

Another choked breath, his head tilting back, before his cock throbs between your lips. Pulsing against your tongue, as your fist works him empty.

Your eyes close then. Senses narrowing down to the sounds he makes. Filthy, as his fingers tug hard enough to hurt, unconsciously rocking into the suction of your mouth with each drop that spills against your tongue.

“Fuck.” He mutters again.

Softer, this time. Fingers suddenly dropping, shifting to smooth over your cheeks. A low hiss, when you ease off him - only for your head to dip forward again. To catch the last errant drop on your tongue, as it flicks against his slit.

Desperate to keep him, like this, for just a little longer. Yours, if only for a moment.

“You wanna stay? Can make you a real breakfast.”

It slips from you, from kiss-swollen lips as your head tips up. His boxers still a mess around his thighs, your fingers still circled around him.

You’d taste like him, if he bent down to kiss you.

He shouldn’t.

He really shouldn’t.

“Yeah, sweetheart.” Frank rasps.

“I will.”

perhaps my imagining of a potential sugar x frank meet-cute??? 😁💖 thank you for reading!!

#frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle x female reader #frank castle smut #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle #kinktober #kintober 2024

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ultravi0lence14 · 2 months ago

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Salt & Burn

dean winchester x fem!reader

837 | hurt/comfort, spn level violence

summary: after what you assumed to be a simple salt and burn goes completely sideways, dean is there to help you with not only your physical wounds, but your mental.

*based on this request

a hiss of pain breathed from your lips, eyes slightly watering as dean’s hands made repetitive motions of the thread and needle in your skin.

what seemed to be a simple ghost hunt turned into a full moon. which then turned into a werewolf prowling the land of the cemetery. dean had put a silver bullet in it’s head, but not before it had dug it’s long and grotesque talons into the flesh of your back.

no visit to the hospital was needed, but the excruciating pain as dean hauled you from the muddy ground to the impala was something you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy. all you could recall was the feeling of a thousand knives in your back and the sound dean’s voice saying, “you’re alright. you’ll be just fine sweetheart.” coming out in murmured jumbles like you were underwater.

now, as you sat cross legged on the sink of the motel bathroom, you really cursed the moon and what it did to some people every month. you were facing the mirror, watching dean in the glassy reflection as he concentrated so heavily on the sutures you were sure his hand was going to cramp up.

you hadn’t spoken since you came back, and dean was starting to get worried. your face was passive, looking into the bathroom mirror like you could look through yourself. the look in your eyes had dean worried. you seemed like a shell of yourself. not that he blamed you, the werewolf attack was pretty gruesome.

the sensation of the thread being tied of jolted you out of the revere you were in. dean’s concern grew larger when you didn’t move a muscle as he suggested maybe ordering your favourite food and staying in. the physical wound on your skin was healed, but now dean needed to help mend the mental scar the werewolf left on your soul.

softly grabbing your arm and helping you down from the counter, the small whisper of dean’s breath on your ear murmuring ‘come here’ brought you out of whatever fog clouded your brain. your muscles were limp and lifeless as the man pulled you toward the motel bed. He could see to toll of the werewolf’s scratch on your face, and all dean wanted to do was make it better.

the plush yet dull comforter on the creaky mattress brought a semblance of comfort to your aching bones. dean sitting down beside you had the mattress dipping, a firm yet comforting hand being placed on your back and moved in comforting circles.

“everything is going to be okay.” he whispered, hands moving so his fingers were tangled in your hair. “you’re alive, you’re safe, and that’s all that matters.”

a whimper tore from your lips at the thought. you were safe, but at what cost? head turning into dean’s chest, tears fell down your eyes as a sob racked through your body. “oh sweetheart.” dean murmured in the crown of your head, arms resting around your frame and hugging you close to his body. “it’s okay. i’m here, baby no one is going to hurt you.”

“i’m so scared.” you cried out, tears stains littering your cheeks as they kept flowing down your face. “i thought i was going to die. it hurt so bad dean, i didn’t know if i was able to hold on any longer.” your words left a piercing gape in dean’s heart. the thought of you dying broke him into pieces. even the thought of you believing you weren’t going to make it hurt his heart.

placing a delicate kiss on the crown of your head, dean felt his own tears fall down his cheeks. “but you made it. you were so brave honey. you held on for me, sam, and yourself.” the sobs had halted a little, but dean could still feel the tears falling onto his shirt. “you are so much stronger than you let yourself believe.”

“i could’ve got you and sam killed.” you said, looking up at dean through tear stained eyes. he hated himself for thinking such a thing at this moment, but dean couldn’t help but stare at your coloured eyes behind the glass like shield of tears. you looked so beautiful, and he couldn’t help but wipe away a tear that fell from your eye.

“but you didn’t.” he reassured, pulling you down so you both were laying on the mattress. side by side, he grabbed your hand and held on tight as you cuddled into his side. “sam and i are okay. you’re okay. no one expected that to happen. all that matters is you getting some rest.”

you weren’t tired, yet the motions of everything you’d been through in one night made sleep cling to you like a vice. with your head delicately placed over dean’s heartbeat, you fell asleep with the rhythmic thump of his heart as white noise.

“i love you.” dean whispered in your ear as you peacefully slept. “i hope you know that.”

#supernatural #imagine #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural x reader #fluff #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean winchester one shot

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kimberly-spirits13 · 3 months ago

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Back From Hell

Pairing: Dean Winchester x witch!reader

Warnings: Details of hell, the silver knife test, shower together but nothing NSFW, angst, fluff with hint of angst at the end

Summary: After you sacrafice yourself to save humanity from demons trying to harness your powers, you die and go to hell, only to be ressurected. In the aftermath, the first thing you do is find Dean.

Word Count: 3156

Heat, blistering heat hit your face and suffocated your lungs. The hair on your face singed off and you felt your skin peel in flakes off your body and the sounds of screams deafen your ears. Something pierced your body, feeling like thousands of needles scratching blood from your flesh the moment it returned, and the singeing of your body started over once more. The squeal of a heavy iron door shrieked through wherever you were, and a tall, dark figure entered.

In a low guttural tone it spoke, “Had enough yet, witch?”

You didn’t answer, closing your eyes and ignoring the figure.

“Speak!” He raised his hand and a large blade thrust through your stomach and back out again.

You screamed in agony, spitting blood onto what seemed to be the floor, “I thought” you gasped for air, “I thought you hadn’t even started with me yet.”

The creature smiled and pulled out a large iron, lit flaming orange from heat. With slow, long strides, it approached you, running a long-clawed finger over the heated metal.

“Well, in that case, I’d like to see how you feel about your spells now, witch.”

In a swift movement, he pressed the burning iron into your skin and began writing in ancient script. You wailed curses in pain as the scorching end of the metal carved into you.

In a matter-of-fact tone, you heard his voice start again and the singe of the metal into your skin pause, “You could join us and make all this stop. Indeed, your magic would be of great value to us.” “Think about it, witch. You’d never endure this again. All for a simple commitment.”

“Fuck you.” You spat blood at the form.

A low chuckle emitted from the being, “It’s a shame really.”

He pierced your side again, “You’d do so well.”

The torture continued for what could have been hours, days, or weeks longer before you were left alone once again to suffer the same eternal cycle of struggle. You knew time was passing because the routine would stop and start over. It played on and on in the same loop as a broken record, bound to never be shut off. After every 1000 cycles of time, the figure would come in again, usually with a different introduction, but always with the same request. You had died sacrificing yourself to kill a line of demons rampaging through the human world. Using the last of your strength and the legendary magic you possessed, you died after destroying them. Now you were stuck here, in an endless loop of dread.

The day you got out was no different. You awoke with the same terror drowning your senses and making breathing almost impossible. Volcanic heat violently erupted against your skin and began to suffocate you again. The heat was unbearable and boiling tears swept down your face and into your ears. You cried and screamed against the pain and began counting down the cycle repeats until you endured whatever form of torture hell created today. Around the 200th sequence you started hearing unfamiliar noises in the distance. Your stomach churned thinking it was some new creative device to instill pain on a new level. The shrill scream of the metal chamber door opening came early this time and you looked up to see what it was. A tall bright figure stood at the doorway and confidently walked towards you. In the flash of an eye, you felt yourself being picked up and carried away.

“Whatever this is,” you mumbled, “I won’t join you.”

A strong, calm voice answered you, “Be calm, this is your deliverance.”

“What are you on about?” You looked towards what you thought would be the face, dazed and confused. The landscape around you seemed hazy and you didn’t understand what was going on.

“You maintained proper loyalties. This is your reward.” The voice came again, “Now sleep.”

When you awoke again, you awoke in a dark airtight room. You gasped for air but found little. Feeling around, your finger was pricked by the splinter of wood, and you began to understand where you were.

“That’s right.” You thought, “I died. Am I alive? How do I get out?”

With little air left to breathe, you muttered your spell in Latin, “let me out”

Violently, with sudden force, the ground around you began to shake and become disrupted. All around you, the wood disintegrated into ash and the ground piled into heaps around the grave. A gust of spinning wind lifted you and released you with a thud onto the grass next to your burial site. You gasped for air, clawing at the ground and squinting to see from the sudden change in light. Your head pounded as you laid there reeling from what had just occurred.

When some of your strength had returned, you sat up and looked around. There was a headstone with your name carved roughly into the stone and the remains of old flower stems strewn about. You wanted to scream for someone, but you knew no one would answer. You wanted Dean, but you knew he wasn’t here. There was no telling how much time had passed since you died and now, but you knew you had to get to civilization. Out in the distance, you heard cattle and followed the sound. Your legs were shaky and uneasy on the ground for the first time since who knows when. Feeling came back to your feet, and you started towards what you thought was life.

After some time, walking through thick woods, you came out into a clearing with a gravel road running around the edge of the tree line. You walked down the road and past the cattle, listening for any sort of engine or signs of humanity. Once you had walked about twenty minutes or so, you came upon a small gas station on the outskirts of a little town, complete with a few run-down cars in the front lawn piled together as some sort of decoration.

A bell dinged when you opened the door and a kind looking man looked up from his newspaper at the counter. You looked at the date and nearly doubled over. It had been exactly a year since you died. For a year, you had been enduring the torture of hell. There was no telling where Sam and Dean were at this point.

“Everything alright dear?” He asked, a concerned look glazing over his face.

“Oh, I’m alright.” You answered with a small smile, “Where are we? My car was stolen from me while I was camping.”

The man gave you your location as some small town in South Dakota that you didn’t really catch and then started asking questions about the assailment and if you needed medical attention or the police.

“I’m fine, thank you. It was a beat-up thing, nothing special. How far are we from Sioux Falls?”

“I’d say we’re about an hour’s drive. A bus comes through here heading towards there in about fifteen minutes if you want to catch it. The next one comes in the morning.”

“That’s great. Thank you.” “Do you have a bathroom?”

The man happily pointed towards it, “Of course. Down that little hall and to the left.”

Once you were in the bathroom you locked the door and threw up. There was nothing being spit out but for the feeling of adrenaline you had knowing how long it’s been and not knowing where anyone was. A few moments passed and you pulled yourself together and collected your thoughts.

You scoffed at yourself silently, “I don’t need a bus to take me to Dean. I just need a simple spell.”

With the same confidence you held so many times before, you recited your incantation and watched on as you were pinpointed to his direct location. The small bathroom you were in became Bobby’s study room. Sitting at the wooden table, you saw Dean hunched over an old leather-bound book with stacks of others piled high around him. Heavy purple bags hung under his eyes as he read. You couldn’t tell what he was reading about, but you had your guesses. Suddenly, Dean looked up, and turned to face your general direction. He huffed and returned to his book. This hadn’t happened before.

You heard him mumble, “Nothing’s watching you stupid, you’re just tired.”

Silently, you headed outside of the bathroom and began for the door.

“I’ll just wait outside for the bus, thank you!” You waved.

“That’s alright. Have a good one.”

Bus or no bus, you weren’t waiting. You ran behind the building where you were sure no one could see you and began another spell, this one to take you to Bobby’s house. A strong gust of wind blew around you and dust kicked up causing you to close your eyes. Your feet lifted off the ground and the next thing you knew, you were being knocked back onto the ground with force. You groaned, rolling over on the ground and slowly picked yourself back up. You hadn’t been this tired in a long time and you didn’t think the sudden use of so much magic was helping either.

Wordlessly, you walked towards the front door. No one would believe that it was you, especially not Bobby. On the porch you questioned how you’d enter. “Surprise, I’m alive” didn’t seem like the best option, but there didn’t seem to be a better route. You put your hand on the knob of the door and beckoned it to unlock. The click under your fingers signified the effectiveness of your deed and you silently walked inside. Closing the door behind you, you listened for noise. You heard the familiar creaking of the kitchen floor and silently crept through.

You peered into the room, not seeing anyone, but sensing that someone must be there.

Almost whispering, you said aloud, “Dean?” “Bobby?” “Sammy?”

The moment you stepped inside, a strong arm wrapped around your body and the cool touch of a blade’s edge rested on your neck.

Dean’s voice, laced with fury and hate filled the room, “What the fuck are you?”

“Dean it’s me. It’s me! I don’t know why, but it’s me!” Your hands clawed at his arm, trying to get him off you.

“I don’t believe you.” “It was you watching earlier, wasn’t it?”

Before you could answer, you heard running coming from some other part of the house, into the kitchen where you were, “Dean what’s wrong?”

Bobby came in wielding his gun and aimed it at you, “Who the hell are you?” He roared.

“Don’t shoot!” You yelled, “I’m Y/N, I’m telling you! Do the tests! Do it!”

Dean’s grip loosened just enough at the offer so that you could disarm and throw him over you. You knew Bobby was trained on you now and you had to be quick. From in front of you, Dean came swinging with the knife he had just picked up, making you duck and jump out of the way.

“I’m telling you the truth!” You swore loudly, “I’m not some demon, Dean.” “Bobby, put that down!”

“Like hell you are.” Bobby spat at you.

From where he was, Bobby threw a pitcher of holy water at you, waiting for you to ignite somehow.

You spat the water out of your mouth and blinked hard, moving from Dean’s aim as you did. With a shriek, you slipped across the wet floor and into the counter with a thud. Your hip would be bruised after that.

“Dean, hold the fort, I’m getting the flames!” Bobby ran out of the room and left you and Dean alone.

Seeing you vulnerable, Dean jumped onto you, trying to slash at whatever he could before you threw him off you again, cringing a bit when he hit the ground and got right back up to swing once more.

“Dean-” You were exasperated, “That’s enough!”

You threw your arms out and light pulsated from your fingertips. Everything froze in the room where it was, unable to move. Bobby came running back in and before he could make it inside, you sealed off the entrances to the kitchen with a clear wall. His screams for Dean could be heard from the barrier you made. He could see everything happening but couldn’t do anything.

“Give me this!” You took the silver knife from Dean’s hand and stood in front of him, your eyes welling up after getting your first good look at him in months.

He looked worse in person. His eyes were red and heavy bags sagged his skin. His undereye was stained purple and a small stubble had grown out. It looked like he’d been wearing the same clothes for more than a day now, and sleep was nowhere to be seen from him.

You sighed and dragged the knife across your forearm, “If I were some monster, I couldn’t do this.”

Blood spilled from the spot you dragged the blade over and you softly gasped in pain, squeezing the area once you knew Dean had seen it.

With desperation, you looked at Dean, “Good enough?”

While he was still frozen in place, tears streamed down his cheeks and you released him from the hold, still maintaining the walls to keep Bobby out. You wanted to see him, but you needed Dean first.

Dean released from his frozen state, throwing himself forward at you and pulling you to your knees. He wept as his body shook, arms wrapping in a death grip around you. You cried too, not minding the blood that was now dripping onto the floor. Dean pulled back after a few moments and looked you over. His hands went from being tangled in your hair to wiping the tears off your face and dragging his fingers along your jawline.

“It’s really me Dean.” You cried, “I told you I’d always come back to you.”

“I tried to find you.” He sobbed, “I promise, I tried to find you.”

You raked your fingers through his hair, “You’re okay Dean. You did a good job.”

“Sammy. He left a little while ago to get food.” Dean started rattling things off out of pure shock, telling you about things you hadn’t asked him for, gauging your every reaction to see if you were real.

“Y/N!” You heard Bobby call from the other room, “Let me in damn it!”

The boarder dropped between the kitchen and hall, and he came barreling in, scooping you up into a bear hug and wiping away his tears.

“We haven’t stopped looking for a way to get you back since you died.” He said, “It’s not been the same.”

You talked for a second before turning back to Dean who grabbed you once again, not letting you go this time. The two of you stood there forever, basking in each other’s presence. There was little to say but for the occasional “I love you” and “I missed you”. Sam had come back and fondly dropped all the dinner he had just picked up in shock.

Hours came and passed, and the day turned into night. You were disgusting from being in a casket from a year and smelled like dirt and grime. Dean hadn’t left your side all day and wasn’t planning on it anytime soon.

You mumbled against his chest “I need a shower.” The two of you were laying on the sofa in silence.

Dean sighed and pulled the two of you off the couch, wordlessly walking you upstairs into the room he was staying in and shutting the door behind him. He kept constant watch over you to make sure you were still there. No matter what you were doing, he was there. It was impossible to do anything alone, even use the bathroom. Dean was convinced you’d slip away, and he’d never see you again. The sound of the shower’s running water pulled you out of your thoughts. Sincere green eyes looked in yours as he hooked his fingers around the hem of your shirt.

“You’re fine.” You said softly.

With permission to proceed, Dean pulled your remaining clothes off and did the same for himself, guiding the two of you under the hot stream of water. You flinched feeling the water for the first time in what felt like 100 years, startling Dean.

He searched for an obvious indicator of what was wrong, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You answered, “Just not used to this.”

Dean nodded, “tell me if you get uncomfortable.”

From the corner of the shower, Dean grabbed a bottle of your shampoo and lathered it in his hands after you had washed the dirt off your body.

“You kept that?” You asked astonished, tears welling up again.

“Smells like you. I couldn’t get rid of it.” “The day I got rid of it was the day I accepted that you were gone.”

Dean held you close to him and washed your hair as warm tears streamed down your face. You sniffled and Dean looked at you again, wrapping you in a warm embrace and letting his own tears flow.

“I didn’t know what to do without you.” He said honestly, “I can’t function without you.”

“I’m sorry Dean.” You said into his shoulder, “I never wanted to leave you.” “I had to.”

“I know. It’s our job.” He sniffled, “You did a good thing.” “Let’s just not do it again.”

“Agreed.” You chuckled, feeling the last of the conditioner he had run through your hair rinse out.

The two of you dried off and changed. He gave you a set of sweatpants and one of his t shirts you always liked to wear. Wordlessly, the two of you fell onto the bed and held each other closely. His breath fanned against your skin in a warm sweep.

“Hey. Look at me.” He said, his fingers resting under your chin and pulling you to look at him, “Are you okay?”

You hadn’t thought about this yet, only being concerned that you were breathing and with Dean. The flashes of what you currently remembered from hell blipped against your memory and the spaced look you gave Dean told him what he needed to know before you said it.

“No.” you answered calmly, “But I know I will be.”

Dean looked at you and spoke sternly but softly, “Don’t hide anything from me. If you have a nightmare, wake me up. If you start feeling all weird about it tell me. I love you Y/N. I don’t want you to hurt.”

“I promise.” You answered, “I love you two.” It was a little while before you felt yourself drifting to sleep, but after a while you managed to. You’d deal with the nightmares and daydreams about hell later. For now, all that mattered was that you were back where you belonged. You were back with Dean.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x y/n #supernatural x you #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

Text

Run Away To Me (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Blacksmith!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Runaway Bride!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.8k

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, being hunted/chased, medieval period-esc standards, arranged marriage insinuations, toxic family insinuations, angst, protective Johnny?, etc.

A/N: This series is so Lord Huron coded

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You rush through the low-hanging branches of the reaching pines, their green arms tearing at the once perfect and virginal white dress clothing your body; waves of delicate fabric like bird’s wings. Shredded and torn, you sob in large gasps while the shouting gets louder behind you—the pound of vile hooves along cobblestone.

“After her!” Blood was rushing down a long slice in your palm, dripping to the verdant grass as you traversed the off-trial paths, the roads of animals and bandits—monsters in the night.

Flashes of torchlight had gone out long ago, the rain slamming the ground with ancient purpose as the storm got angrier. Tree trunks slam into your shoulders, the wedding dress ripping away in strips as pine needles pierce the bare skin of your feet. Your shoes had slipped off as soon as you had started this mad dash.

“She went this way! Quickly!” You run faster, shuffling down a long hill as mud gets packed into your flesh; infecting wounds with its slimy make-up.

“Please,” your voice begs lowly, hiccuping out vowels as you drop to your knees at the bottom of a ravine before you sob and grit your teeth. Wading through the stream of chilled water, you dig into the ground and shove yourself up on shaking legs as rain pelts your head. “Please, I can’t go back.”

Even your thin clothes are heavy on you—body weighed down by terror and a desperate plea. Because what you said was true. You can’t go back. Can’t go back to the search party, can’t go back to the ceremony…and you can’t go back to the man you were supposed to marry. No, you’d rather face the woods.

Scaling up the other edge of the ravine, you slam a bloody hand down to the rocks atop, pebbles flying past your face as a flash of lightning momentarily illuminates your field of view. Noises reminiscent of an animal carve their way out of your esophagus, teeth gritted as feet slip and strain.

You heave yourself over and fight the weakness in your arms. Coughing, you pray the storm will wash away any trace of your charge to freedom—the blood and the tracks. With any luck, the hounds won’t be able to pick up your scent even with the strips of your dress left behind in the branches.

Pushing away the water from your forehead, you stumble onwards on unsteady feet that pound with pain. Grasping at your gushing palm, you cry out as the burning pain echoes up your forearm.

“Whatever God is out there,” You speak in gasps, slurring the words as your dry throat grates. It’s all but lost to the wind in its great bouts of staggering attacks through the trucks of the trees. “Please, offer me sanctuary.”

Lightning is the world’s answer, more streaks of light that make your soaked body flinch and shake even more. Yet, in that tiny second of light, there had been something in the far distance—a shadow.

Your eyes peer harder, the calls from the riders suck in the back of your mind as they taper off as the search is re-routed.

What was…?

Wooden sides, three separate rectangular shapes that stand firm in the rampaging elements. Your feet slide over the ground as you limp in the direction you’d seen them, the flesh of your body so cold that you had gone numb in the sheets of rainfall.

A heart fills with senseless hope.

A homestead! With no other option, you take a deep, ragged, breath and continue on as quickly as you’re able; dress hanging off one shoulder. When you reach the front door some ear-ringing minutes later you’re barely standing upright—legs teetering and thighs shaking with dying vigor.

Panting, your first banging to the wood is weak at best, barely a sound above the thunder and the slap of rain. You strangle a sob and wrench your shoulder back, landing three hard hits that act more like punches. Pain blossoms in your hand, but you continue striking the wood.

There’s a loud ruckus from behind the blackened barrier, a yell, and before your knuckles can make themselves bleed from fear-filled adrenaline, the door is whipped open. A dim firelight spills out from a low hearth and you find yourself staring into the narrowed eyes of a man and his exasperated expression.

There’s the beginning of a growl, heavy with an accented voice, “Now who in the hell is—!”

A strong jaw goes slack, brunette stubble stilling. Blue eyes like cobalt instantly peel back to show the whites, words strangled away in a sharp inhale.

The man is in his late twenties, stocky, and clothed in a loose sleep shirt made of thin linen with black pants. His shoulders were near large enough to knock on the frame of the door as he stood in it, built with the strength of a boar and then some. His large, lightly-tanned hand on the door slackens as his eyes speedily dart down your disoriented form. Biceps the size of your skull.

Heart hammering, you stare for a moment longer, rain pelting your back and looking like a wet dog. It’s as if you’ve forgotten to speak beyond gasps for air, but your eyes implore enough for you. The stranger recovers from his surprise at seeing such a beautiful lone woman at his door with a clearing of his throat.

“...Christ, Dearie, you’re soakin’ wet out here.” He shoulders the door open wider without another question. “Inside, now, quickly.”

You wrap your arms around your waist and speed into the shelter of the home, water dripping down to the wood as you shiver and your teeth clatter. Not for a second did you think if this might be safe or not, too scared of the riders and their hounds than anything. You wouldn’t allow them to drag you back to your husband-to-be. Not in a million years.

Your voice is hiccuping as you speak.

“I…I don’t mean to i-intrude, I’m very sorry, Sir.” The man looks around his home before he spots a large bear fur by the messy bed in the corner—he rushes over and grabs it. “I ask forgiveness for w-waking you at such an hour.”

“Jesus, is that what you’re worried about?” Blue eyes crease at you as the heavy fur over your shoulders; your hands snap to catch it, the entire thing swallowing you as gaze up in confusion. The man frowns, staring back as water drips from your nose. “Let’s just focus on gettin’ you dry, yeah? You’ll catch your death like this, Little Lady.”

A wide hand presses to the expanse of your spine, prodding you forward as you squeak at the sudden contact. You’re guided to a small chair in front of the hearth, plopped down and the sides of the fur are hiked up to your neck quickly.

The stranger kneels down in front of you, focused, and his tired eyes alight with worry. He makes sure the fur isn’t going to fall as he blinks over the state of your hands. He pauses, his large grip stalling at the sight of spreading blood.

Your wound—you’d almost forgotten.

“Now what’s this, then?” The brunette's words are quiet, very in-tune with your state as you try to catch your breath and shiver. It was like coaxing a wild animal.

Blinking, you shift your hand farther under the bear's fur, bringing it to your chest.

“I won’t be here long, Sir. I promise,” you try to change the topic, but quickly jerk your nose into the crook of your arm as you sneeze, bending over slightly as mud and blood stain your skin.

Lips tighten along a square face.

“It’s Johnny, Miss.” The world outside rages on, blocked out by the four walls of this nicely sized home of wooden logs and boards. It was well-made with pine and cider, the large hearth in the back wall with inlets near the shuddered windows and various crudely carved pieces of art.

Weapon displays lined the walls, various makes and models hung on pegs. Axes and swords, spears with red-leather shafts set next to halberds of black steel. You blink at them in slight concern, not used to being around weapons.

Johnny, as he calls himself, sees this and quickly explains as he rubs at the back of his head, eyes crinkling.

“Ah, Johnny MacTavish, the blacksmith, that is,” a small, rough chuckle echos out.

You ease at that.

“Mr. MacTavish,” you give your name and offer a kind, yet still anxious, smile. “I give my thanks for allowing me shelter. A-and the fur.”

His gaze slips down to your hidden hand once more, face swirling with an unidentified emotion before studying your torn wedding gown.

“Well, I’m not one to leave a person out on my doorstep in weather like this. Certainly not a Lady.” His brow raises, head tilting. “You going to let me clean that wound a’yours or am I going to have to fish it out myself?”

Your body tenses slowly, bare feet shuffling over the floor. Staring at Johnny, you gaze at the strangely cut hair atop his head and the messy strands that speak to a night of shifting on his bed. His face is honest and open to you, blinking in soft question as his head angles to the side with an easy twitch of his lips.

“It’s really not necessary,” you try to chuckle but it falls flat, eyes red and heart still speeding.

Johnny sighs and glances at the fire, blinking before he shifts to grab another log and toss it in with no concern for the heat of the flame that lap at his fingers. You watch his muscles bunch under his shirt and quickly look at your lap.

“I’m not the greatest doctor out there, Dearie, but I can do good with washin’ out a cut an’ wrapping it.” You study him and nervously tighten your lips. Johnny’s face seems to soften, hands going up and wrists tilting as his knee stays connected to the floor; firelight on his face. A small smile blooms. “C’mon, I’m not that scary of a bastard, am I?”

You spare a tiny chuckle, shoulders jumping as rainwater slips down your chin. Your shivering was still going on, and would until you got a change of clothes, but the warmth from the fire was helping tremendously. Already feeling was returning to your limbs.

“Ah,” the blacksmith huffs a laugh, “there’s a smile. Now, let's have a little look-see shall we?”

Under the fur, your hand lightly shifts, coming back into view, slit palm and all. Johnny’s eyes darken, face going serious behind his stubble. Brown brows turn in.

“Now where in the hell did you get a—” Just as his gigantic hands were about to circle around yours, there was a violent knock at the door.

You shoot up in an instant, jerking away from the blacksmith as he snaps his head to the front, eyes lighting. He stands up slowly as you back up a few paces, eyes frantically darting back and forth. The knocking starts up again and thunder peels from outside.

Your form flinches.

“You can’t let them take me back,” you say quickly, breathing catching up in speed again. Fear burns your lungs and suddenly you’re ten times colder than before. “Mr. MacTavish, please, I can’t go back.”

Another round of knocking shakes the barrier. Blues eyes stare at you blankly, half-turned face pulled in visible confusion as Johnny’s jaw clenches.

A voice echoes from under the door as the blacksmith once more lets his eyes linger down your battered frame; taking in cuts and the limp you carry. Muddy feet and water stained red. His hands twitch at his sides.

“These are the guards of Lord Wilkin, would anyone in this home come to make him or herself known? It is of the utmost urgency!” You grow more fearful, head darting to find any other exit in this home but you land on nothing besides the windows. Your fingers shake with panic.

No, no, no.

Confusion gives way to deep concern.

A hand grasps your upper arm and you’re being hurried to the corner wall by the front door with fast feet and a firm, iron, grip. An accented voice mumbles quietly by your ear, “Keep quiet for me, Dearie. It’s alright, you let me take care of it.”

He stands you there and takes one last look at you, blinking, before grabbing the bear fur and pulling it above your head in a swift motion. There’s a quiet chuckle as you tense and slam a hand up to the brown material instinctually before Johnny darts around the corner and opens the door. You hold your breath and listen.

“Well, steamin’ Jesus, you bastards have any idea what time it is?! And in this damning weather, you show up at my door reamin’ on the wood like you’re the one who has to keep it anchored to the frame.” There’s a fast conversation of apologies and explanations that you can't catch above the yell of the rain.

“Does it look like I give a shite about a lost bride? Not my fuckin’ place to keep ‘er…I’ve seen nothing besides you…anyone out in this storm is as good as lost…” You listen and stay completely still, holding your breath as if it’s a prisoner in your lungs.

You can hardly believe it. Why was this man…lying for you? A wounded stranger that had shown up at his doorstep in nothing but a tattered gown and babbling through tears. Anyone else would have turned you over—especially to your betrothed, Lord Wilkin. He owned these lands and held fiefs by all who lived here. Not a man to mess with, if your slit palm was anything to go by.

“Go on!” Johnny calls loudly, and the door closes a second later, the latch locking. There’s a moment of nothing, before the clearing of a throat and a soft call. “Well, they won’t be back, least.”

He pops around the corner and smiles comfortingly.

“Sorry about the yellin'.” You part your lips in innocent awe and you take a deep breath before speaking slowly.

“Why would you do that?” His expression tightens, crossing his arms over his chest. Under him, his large hips shift.

“Ya asked, didn’t you?” Your blank expression only serves to make him chuckle heartily, head shaking. Johnny hums, “I won’t press you about it all tonight, though I well should. You’re in no shape for it.” Cobalt eyes glance at the food before looking back up. “But I’m guessin’ you have a good enough reason to sneak off as I hear you did.”

The very blood in your body heats with warmth.

You’re waved back over to the chair by the hearth. “Let’s get that injury looked at and I‘ll get you a change of clothes. You can take my place for the night,” eyes twinkle, “there’s no bed bugs in it, Dearie, knight’s honor.”

“What about iron shavings?” You call back softly, lips jerking up momentarily. The man’s actions had given you a large amount of trust in him. Johnny blinks in surprise at your joke, but a large grin grows moments later as you walk over delicately.

“Can’t say for certain, but I promise there’ll be no weapons under the covers. If anyone breaks in they’ll find my fists to be the first iron they get a touch of.”

Your laugh bounces off the walls, hand coming up to cover your mouth in the picture of a cultured upbringing. Johnny chuckles in turn, looking smug. He liked your laugh, it seems.

“That was detestable, Mr. MacTavish.” You sit down, and Johnny kneels where he had been before—his hand outstretched where you carefully place your wounded limb.

Immediately you feel the scrape of old burns and calluses, hands hardened by long hours of labor and intensive demands. You’re certain these are the hardest hands that have ever touched your skin, but it astounds you by how gently you’re being caressed and turned. People with far fairer flesh have never handled you like this. As if you would break apart with the barest of pressures.

Your breath stills as the blacksmith, with all the care of a butterfly, tilts your cut into the light and studies it, thumb absentmindedly brushing up and down your wrist. You hold back a shiver.

“Ah,” he grumbles, still smiling yet more focused on your injury now. “It wasn’t that bad.”

You hum under your breath and try not to flinch when he wipes away a stain of mud near your wound. The blacksmith grunts to himself, gentle pressure at your flesh like the scuff of tree bark. But it wasn’t unpleasant. No, you thought, not at all.

The two of you fall into a hole of soft silence, Johnny leaving for a moment to grab a bucket of water and bandages, saying in a mutter that he had plenty of the former to go around.

“Have a habit of burnin’ myself on my bad days, y’see,” he shimmies past, pausing before pulling back up the bear fur from where it had slightly slipped down your neck. “Comes with the job.”

Your face burns as he grabs what he needs, eyes stuck on your lap. You were astounded by the man’s ability to put away his obvious confusion for your care, how he was content to wait for answers until you were rested. It was honorable of him.

Thinking back to Lord Wilkin’s guards at the door, your thighs shift over the chair. They’d be looking for you until they found you—be that days or months, it didn’t matter. The Lord wasn’t someone to let what he wanted get away from him. Like senseless beasts, your family would undoubtedly help. Your chest is stiff with worry. How would you get away with this?

The scene you’d made at the wedding wasn’t exactly subtle.

Johnny comes back carrying a small bucket of fresh water, ladled from the wash basin, and a bundle of clean white cloth.

“Alright,” he huffs, “let’s get this sorted, eh, Dearie?” The wound was very obviously a slice from a knife, anyone could see it.

Johnny takes your hand once more and holds it in his palm, glancing up at you before dipping one of the cloths into the water and beginning to clean the cut.

“Is it…bad, Mr. MacTavish?” You ask, worried about the likelihood of scarring. That would be the last thing you would want. The blacksmith looks up from where he pats the edges, the fabric already going red.

“Just Johnny, if it pleases you,” he smiles, hulking form seemingly all a facade to hide a cheeky and loyal Scot. “And…no, not bad. If you’re worried about a mark, don’t be—it’s deep but only at the beginning. A slight discoloration, no more.” His brows pull back, teasing, “You’ll not end up like me, at any rate.” Your shoulders ease back, and you let him work with a thankful comment and a giggle.

You watch and take in the way his jaw clenches and loosens as he works, completely focused as if he was fashioning an axe and not helping a complete stranger.

“There’s no harm in scars,” you settle on saying, thinking over his last comment. Blues lock with your eyes, head tilting like a hound. Your face gains a slight heat to it and you stutter, “It’s just this one I’d rather not carry, Johnny.” Smiling warmly, you see the man’s lips part, his motions stalling for a moment as he looks up at you and blinks. “But yours suit you if…I’m allowed to say.”

It’s then that you realize that a slight flush has come to his cheeks, starting from under his stubble and leaking out to his cheeks like a red blaze—his gaze burrows deep with hidden fire that rivals the dancing shadows from the hearth.

Noticing, your own face burns all the hotter as the blacksmith quickly clears his throat, snapping his eyes away. Fingers once more cleaning your cut, he grunts out, neck now shifting to a blush of crimson, “...Thank you, Miss.”

You stay in silence for the rest of the delicate process; the air heated and rolling with something. Electricity sparks when Johnny’s hands rub across yours, large enough to break you in an instant but acting like moss over a stone. You find yourself falling into a sort of comforted state you hadn’t felt in a long time—the fur over your shoulders and the tingle of skin-on-skin contact that expects nothing but offers all.

“There,” Johnny says at last, and a part of you wants to cry when he pulls back, standing slowly. A firm but malleable wrapping is over your palm, a tiny knot tied in the middle to keep it from falling off.

You bring it to your abdomen and blink, the other hand going to run over the material.

“Thank you, Johnny. Truly. If I hadn’t found your homestead, I would have been lost.” The man rubs at the back of his neck, tunic bunched up by his elbows.

“Gah,” after a second of bruising off the comment, he waves a hand while his wide chest puffs with pride. “It’s no trouble, really. Keeps me on my toes.”

Outside the storm continues to beat the walls, and the blacksmith can’t help but feel his eyes drawn to your dwarfed form under the large fur, the dripping water, and the weight of your gown. Based on the information from the guard, he had a decent story already forming in his head.

A runaway bride and an angry Lord. By his own role as the fiefdom’s accomplished blacksmith, he should be turning you over. But your eyes had been flooded with tears when you’d pounded on his door; soaked in rain and mud—blood. No shoes. Freezing.

You had looked so afraid, his heart had hurt for you, a strong need to shelter you stuck like a knife into his ribs. Johnny had seen much in his life, war, and death, but your desperation had stuck a cord in him.

He’d keep you here with no charge, offer food and shelter, and do what he can to understand your situation. If not for simply hospitality sake, then because he had heard your laugh and had found it to be like a bird’s call in the wake of a dew-coated morning. Your soft skin like the wisps of fire from his forges. Your voice like a rippling spring. There was no way to describe the way he wanted to help besides to admit to himself that he was a good man.

And, while cocky, the blacksmith had never once been self-absorbed.

He watches you rub at your damp cheek and starts out of whatever trance he had been sucked into.

“I’ll…” Johnny rubs at his neck again, “I’ll get you that change of clothes, Bonnie. You just wait right here.”

You stare at his back as he strides over, the fatigue washing back over you now that the adrenaline leaves in its stupendous sweep of heavy heartbeats. Anyone else would have given you up. Your face softens, seeing the quick dig of hands into the stack of clothes in the dresser.

“Fuckin’ hell,” the man huffs, looking over his shoulder and shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Dearie, all I’ve got are my tunics and pants.” Black and pale cream linen is held up on display.

“Oh,” you mutter, “I don’t mind,” your chuckle makes his lips twitch with care. “I would just prefer to be out of this…thing.” Your eyes glare down at the tattered gown, breathing softly. “Anything is perfect.”

“Well, then I hope you don’t mind the smell of fire,” Johnny hums. “Here you are.” As much as his insides twist to understand the story, making sure you don’t run a cold was more important.

Your legs push you up and you walk over softly, gliding over the wooden floor to take up the articles and dig your fingers into the warm and easy texture, thin stitching, and cuffed wrists. There was a cut down the neck with a tied cord looped through, making up an ‘x’ pattern.

“I would say thank you again,” you begin, “but I think you’ll be getting annoyed with how many times I’ve already said it.”

Johnny laughs, crossing his arms over his chest and setting his feet.

“Ah, perhaps only a little.” Silence laps into a minute, and you study him with slow puzzlement, tilting your head. For a moment, the man wonders what he’s done. The blacksmith’s dark brows furrow, lips moving back. He looks down at the clothes again and starts with a wild blinking of his lids.

“Oh! Hell’s bells, right,” Johnny walks to the other side of the room and swiftly turns his back to you with respect and a burning neck. He cringes. “Christ.”

You laugh brightly, letting the fur fall to the floor as you undress and shimmy into the borrowed clothes. Your nose takes in the scents of metal and fire—fatty linseed oil used to protect a blade against corrosion. With the crackling fire, you slip the large tunic above your head and find that it falls heavily over you; far thicker than it seemed and very comfortable, ending at your lower thigh.

But those scents make your head spin, rolling up the cuffs as you bring your nose to the collar and once more take it in with a slow breath. You hum and move, throwing the bear fur back atop your shoulders and grabbing your ruined garments from the floor before calling out to the rod-straight figure.

“Johnny?” His arms lightly jerk, as if he’d been unfocused, but he doesn’t turn around. “Where would you like me to throw these?”

The blacksmith delicately tilts his head to the side and utters with his eyes stuck to the side wall. “Bin by the door is just fine.” You look to the container holding scraps and other garbage to be taken out and drop the gown in before rubbing your cheek.

Wide cobalt eyes stare at the clothes you wear heavily, jaw loose before he re-set it and averts his gaze. Johnny chuckles to ease himself and loops his thumbs into his waistband, embarrassed.

“Do you need anything else, then?” Your eyes blink with fatigue.

“No, I…I don’t think so.” Gazing at the home, your lips thin. Your family would have a heart attack if you even mentioned that you were staying the night at a complete stranger’s homestead. No protection, no way to beat off a blacksmith beyond a well-placed punch, and running from your betrothed. To say that you’d cause anything less than a heart attack would be generous. But Johnny felt different. Firmer in his emotions and intentions. Far more than the Lord.

That was really all that matted.

“Are you really sure this is okay,” you still ask hesitantly, gargantuan clothes atop your frame. Johnny is already nodding firmly.

“It’s my pleasure. I won’t be turnin’ you back out to the woods in a storm like this.” For whatever reason, the next words fall from his lips like an oath. “There’ll be no harm comin’ to ya as long as you stay under my roof.”

Your hand burns with the memory of his gentle grip and your heart skips beats. You feel as if a great weight is lifted, even if only for a night.

“Alright,” your words barely make it to air, and you grip the bear fur harder to stop yourself from kissing this man’s cheek, wanting to take him into a tight hug.

Johnny takes a blanket from the bottom of his bed and shuffles over to the inlet below the shuddered window, sitting down while you slowly walk forward.

“But, Little Lady,” you rest on the edge of the bed and look up to find him watching you intently, leaning back with a hand behind his head and the other on his stomach. The fire still crackles, the storm still dances outside, and the room is still tight with something you can’t put a name to. Like you’re caught in a trap of soft pillows and the scent of metal, you listen to the blacksmith with bated breath. “I’ll be needin’ answers…you hear?”

Licking your lips, you nod tersely. “Tomorrow,” you agree.

Johnny gazes off into your eyes, the runaway bride that had shown up on his doorstep and captured his attention like a bird made of a white wedding gown and panicked breath. He sneaks a peek down at your wrapped hand as you settle on his bed, burrowing into his furs and his covers—wearing his clothes.

For some unknown reason, the smallest of blood stains makes his chest roll with bright anger.

“Tomorrow,” he grunts through a tight jaw before he fights to turn his head away from you. It’s a long while before he sees any type of sleep, listening to the sound of your soft breath and the crackle of the fire.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

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a-ikuoliver · 4 months ago

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w/c: 1.1k tw: needles, at home piercing (DO NOT PIERCE UR TONGUE AT HOME FOR THE LOVE OF GOD), pet names (baby doll, gorgeous) notes: inspired by this thirst hereeeee + thank u my love @ghostbeam for always helping me ilysm

"hold still."

"schorry."

"that means don't speak, idiot."

you roll your eyes in response, pointedly staring at your best friend after you do. his own tongue bar clacking against his teeth when he bites his tongue, concentrating on yours, stuck out over your lips for him to inspect. dyed black hair was all you could see as he dipped, twisted, turned and tilted his head, latex all you could taste as he lifted your tongue with a gloved hand, adjusting the muscle as necessary.

"stick it out as far as you can." you follow touya's instructions, adjusting yourself in the bathroom sink, touya subconsciously stepping further between them when your thighs slip apart, his eyes still focused on your mouth as he stares, his eyebrows drawing further down his face.

you lick your lips as soon as he turns away, attempting to ease the discomfort of your dried lips and pooling saliva from holding your tongue out for so long. touya flashes you a playfully disapproving glance, reaching for the pile of tools sat beside you on the porcelain sink.

"think you can do it?" you study your face like he'd studied your tongue, mapping every freckle, mole, vein, scar and piercing marring the face of the little boy you'd met, you love him like this, you think. so perfectly touya. just as much your touya as he'd been as a hot-headed tween, dragging you by your hand into his room to show off action figures, just as much your touya as he was at sixteen, after his first piercing (well, technically first two, he'd gotten both nostrils at once), when he'd snuck into your room after his mother had seen the gems flash the moment he walked through the door, promising he'd go back home if you watched a new horror movie with him.

"'course i can, gorgeous," you begin to fidget, growing more and more nervous the more he toyed with the tools, gathering what he needed; preparing iodine, lubricant, the needle, the taper and of course the titanium bar. picking up a tissue and something else you can't see, he turns to face you again, inching closer once more, his hips nearly bumping your own on the sink, "that's the point of being a bad influence, isn't it?"

grinning, he pokes his tongue out, metal flashing under low lights, making you hyper aware once more of what you're tucked in your bathroom to do, "alright, out all the way again."

"is that the needle?" you think your voice shakes, staring at the tool he grasped in his left hand with wide eyes, a quiet, wobbly tone like a scared child.

"marker, baby doll, gotta make sure i pierce your pretty tongue nice and straight." touya's smile is crooked, a tiny flash of pearly teeth behind pierced, pink lips.

"oh, okay." still with a wobble in your speech when you begin to fiddle with your fingers, you try to focus instead on the multitude of misshapen chips in your nail polish, trying to decide what colour you might paint them next, wondering if touya will match you with a navy blue, or if the matching tongue bars will be enough.

"i can get you a towel to squeeze? if you're scared?" his voice is low, hushed as he pats your tongue dry, glancing up to your doe eyes as you shake your head, attempting to say you were okay with your tongue out. touya had countless piercings, certain there's more than you can see right now, countless times he'd gone through this process; sanitising, marking, piercing, and not once can you imagine him squeezing something soft in his hands for comfort, digging blunt, painted nails into a plush, imagining a curious face instead, sharp eyes following the needle as you avoided it, maybe crunching his eyes closed in a wince at the very last moment, when the sharp, unforgiving needle tip forced its way through squishy flesh.

"you sure?" he taps the pen on your thoroughly dried tongue, a tiny purple dot staining the centre of your tongue, the fine marker tip making you jump, overly sensitive with adrenaline pulsing through your body, waiting to nod until after he placed the pen aside.

"if you say so, baby doll." you feel the smooth latex of the glove on your tongue again, adjusting his hold on the tip of your tongue to hold the twitching muscle still, looking up to your eyes once more, noticing how you squeezed them shut the moment his muscles twitched to reach beside you for the sterile needle.

"ready?"

"uhuh."

"breathe in." your hands twitch in your lap as you suck in a deep breath, holding it in your chest even as he chastises you for it, muttering a quiet, gentle, "you have to breathe out, too, idiot."

your hands fly to his hips the second the needle touches your tongue, not even quite piercing it yet, gripping him like your life depended on it, a soft whimper echoing from the back of your throat as the needle came out through the underside, your exhale shaky as you clutch touya's hips tighter, your body tense as he whispers soft encouragements for you to keep breathing, "go nice and slow, gorgeous, like that."

you listen as best you can, focusing on the sensation of the denim underneath your fingertips, how it feels to drag your nails over the material, how your lungs inflate and deflate, how touya's voice sounds in the shell of your ear as he comforts you, praising your stillness as he places the bar at the end of the taper.

"i'm gonna put the bar in now, baby, you ready?" you don't nod, not risking moving, instead shifting your fingers to slide under the hem of his shirt, gently tapping thrice on his hot skin, y-e-s, before tucking your fingers securely into his hemline, holding him as tightly as you could when he instructs you to breathe again, "in, 1-2-3, out. did so perfect, baby."

touya doesn't move, doesn't step out of your gravity, out of your hold on him, back three steps into safety from whatever was blooming between you the longer you held him between your thighs with saliva gathering on your swollen tongue, a minuscule amount of tears gathering in your waterline with your wobbly exhale. you make no move either, keeping your hands tucked into the hem of his faded jeans, your tongue out and your eyes closed, cracking one open only when he rests his hands on your thighs, "you will not live it down if you drool on me."

closing your mouth, you giggle before wincing, resting your head on his chest as you whined out at him, "ow, touya, don't make me laugh."

© all works belong to @a-ikuoliver, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost, feed my works into ai or recommend my work on other platforms, or bind my fanworks for sale.

#touya todoroki x reader #toya todoroki x reader #todoroki touya x reader #todoroki toya x reader #dabi x reader #「mercury writes」#「touya <3」

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idontcare4urmom · 4 months ago

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“matt likes a sweet book girl” • 691 words

: ̗̀➛ explicit content,oral sex (f!receiving),dirty talk,etc.

masterlist!🎀

"lift your hips up for me baby" matt coos quietly,his gruff voice laced with impatience while his warm breath is fanning over your delicate bare flesh on the column of your throat,fingerprints greedily attempting to distract the light waistband of your pants down and off from your body.

you immediately obey ruthelessly,your pelvis rolling upwards leisurely above the smooth silky sheets so he can take advantage from it,your calloused hands clutching tightly on the cardboard covered in cloth that belongs to a book you recently purchased.

your blissed brain recalls his earlier commanding of you to voice a chapter out loud at the same time he will pleasure you,but it's incredibly hard for your senses since his plump lips slowly travel down your skin,landing dangerously close to your inviting heat,

"come on sweetheart..i wanna hear you—-but you have to be a bit quiet if you mind chris hearing on the other room,hm?"

your head automatically jerked in a shaking motion,your last desire being chris' possible taunting if he was familiar to the fact that his brother's dimpled nose is currently buried in between the v-shape of your wide spread thighs.

the resistance of your suggestive compulsions was non existing a few momemts ago,when the engaging giggles echoed from your screen device,observing silently one of the live streams of your boyfriend gaming with his twin on twitch,a specific topic perking your interest instantaneously.

the conversation was odd in opposition to their habitual subjects,it was about each other's personal type in searching of a relationship,and the stable grin twisted on chris' bottom lip was visible when he stated confidently a one single phrase, "matt likes a sweet book girl"

despite the other blue-eyed man claiming the opposite in the back and forth bickering with his sibling,it wasn't in the slightest a surprise to you that your partner with private status had a rather preference to women who would just spend amount of their free time reading all those instructional pages,

and at that moment,a tempting text from you notificated his phone that vibrated inside his pocket was the last drop before his lukewarm compulsions to take over when he observed it,escalating somehow to the current position,

your tight shorts were pooled into the hardwood floor,your legs unabashedly semi bucked against his fully plump mouth while you pathetically whined,eager for any pleasure besides his pecking on your inner thighs,his intensively pierced glance never separating from your own pupils.

“look at you baby——fuck..so perfect,gonna treat you so well,just how you enjoy it”

his thumb lazily tousled away your underwear that had an obvious numb stain drenched against the material,his tongue forthwith attaching the sensitive bud of nerves with a delicious swirling motion,his index rubbing and massaging your swollen clit non stop,

his quick actions caught you completely off guard but you weren’t complaining at all,a suffocated gasp escaping deep from your throat that boiled down straight to his already painfully aroused dick.

your grip on the book flattered,almost nearly drowning off from your hands while you shakily struggled to manage reading and wording phrases on the paper in front of you,barely making out his praises since his croaking utter was muffled against your sweet cunt,

“doing so good for me sweetheart..come on—you can continue for a little longer”

you miserably sobbed when his needle sharp teeth sucked on your most sensitive place,his tongue slowly entering to encircle your insides,coaxing every dribble of your juices and hugging your walls perfectly,

“matt! close..please,please—need to cum”

the disappointment escalated when there was an empty lack in your guts when he popped his mouth off from you,but the discovering view of his flushed rosy cheekbones in combination with his words were more than enough to finally crash you to your orgasm of pure ecstacy,

"mph..alright angel,finish all over my face..let me see your pretty self cumming"

and you did,your entire figure quivering while you spurt into white jets of gooey liquid,only mumbling a dumbfound "shit" before submitting into a still position,breaths uneven and smoggy as you battled to come down from your high

"baby can you pass me that? i am kinda curious to find out what happens next"

Ⓡ idontcare4urmom

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #evelyn’s posts #sturniolo fandom #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt x reader #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #blurb #smutty #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #sturniolo smut #fanfiction

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navybrat817 · 1 month ago

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It's Cold Outside

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky reflects while standing out in the snow and meets an angel... you.

Word Count: Over 700

Warnings: Slight angst, Bucky remembering the past, instacrush of sorts, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: For @the-slumberparty's December Daze Challenge: the first day of snow. May do a few more ficlets for them ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he was happy to see snow. It reminded him too much of that fateful day on the train. The snowflakes falling from the sky was as if he was falling again, this time in slow motion. The crystals were beautiful, but fragile. They could easily break or spell doom for people who weren’t careful. And it was cold. Very cold.

He rubbed his metal arm absentmindedly under his coat. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine warm flesh instead of an instrument of destruction. Maybe he would’ve gotten a tattoo to honor his unit or family. The needle piercing his skin would’ve been pain he welcomed instead of the pain he didn’t ask for others to inflict on him. He didn’t just lose his arm when he fell. He lost himself.

The life of Sergeant Barnes ended, and the Winter Soldier began.

Tilting his head toward the sky, he couldn’t remember why he went outside to begin with. Maybe the bitter cold would freeze over the gaping mental hole in his heart long enough that he’d stop bleeding. Or maybe he wanted to feel the sharp wind blowing in his face to prove that he was still alive and standing. That no matter how many times the world knocked him down, he’d get up again.

But, God, why did it have to be so cold?

And why did he have to face it alone?

“Hi!”

Snowflakes gently fell around you and made you shine like the brightest star in the sky. So did your smile. It was so blinding he almost looked away, but he was afraid if he did so that you’d disappear.

A beautiful voice drifted to his ears and he was certain his heart stopped, but not in a way that made him afraid. Turning toward the source of that sound, he found himself staring at you. And his heart never beat faster.

Where did you come from? Were you an angel who landed safely from heaven? Did angels exist? He was ready to become a believer.

And it was the first time he felt warm all day.

He grudgingly tore his gaze away to make sure you weren’t looking at someone else, but he was the only one on the sidewalk. “Hi,” he croaked.

“Do you live here? I’m moving in,” you said, nodding to the building behind him. “Figures the day I do would be the day it snows and no one can make it out here to help,” you added teasingly when he didn’t answer right away.

He was too captivated by you to speak.

Blinking and telling himself not to gawk at you like a creep, he then noticed the box in your hands. “Yeah, I do,” he said, his feet moving on their own accord. “Can I help?” he asked, offering to take the box. Any excuse to continue to be close to you.

“Oh, thanks,” you smiled, making him lose his breath. “I really appreciate it, um…”

“Bucky. I’m Bucky,” he said, wishing he could shake your hand.

You gave him your name as a snowflake touched the corner of your mouth and melted. He no longer wanted frost over his heart. He wanted your warmth to fill his heart instead. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” he smiled back, spotting the small truck nearby. He understood why the weather might keep people away, but having to move by yourself? He didn’t want you to freeze or risk you falling with the many trips. “And, listen, if you need help with more of your stuff, I have time.”

“Really?” The next smile you gave him was a bit shyer than the previous, but was just as beautiful. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all,” he promised.

You briefly touched his left hand, and he could blame the gasp on the chill in the air if you asked. He didn’t have to close his eyes to imagine the warmth. It moved from his fingertips to his shoulder and he wondered if you really were an angel.

“That would be amazing. Thank you.” You turned around to get another box. “I’ll have to find a way to repay you.”

Maybe you’d join him for dinner one night. That would be repayment enough for him. And seeing you smile over your shoulder, for the first time since he could remember, he didn’t mind the cold. Or the snow.

Lovelies, I think Bucky deserves some love for Christmas. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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rueclfer · 6 months ago

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casual // touya todoroki

when the boy you're in love with wants to keep it casual.

a/n: give me a gun. pt 2? or should we leave it here hehe

part 2

"You sure you're qualified to do this?" Touya eyed your concentrated expression through the mirror to your right. His head rested in your lap as you mark his ear, making sure it was as lined up and even as it could be next to his existing piercing.

"Of course I am." You say in a hushed tone, wiping off the needle with a cotton pad soaked with the rubbing alcohol you found under the sink. "You know, I pierced Toga's ears?"

"What? When was this?" He jokingly pouts. "So I'm not the only one you're putting needles through?"

You smiled at this hint of jealousy. You two had been close friends for a while- more so in the realm of friends with benefits, but of course you wanted more of him than he was willing to give you.

"Unfortunately not, pretty boy." You chuckle.

It was a late and quiet night, but of course you two couldn't sleep. Last week it was you padding away to his front door, which was left cracked open for you. This time, it was him that came knocking on your window.

"Why did I agree to this again?" He mutters in annoyance.

"You're the one who came down my fire escape remember?" You cock an eyebrow.

"Yeah, and last time you came to mine, I got an undercut. So shouldn't it be me terrorizing your appearance instead?"

"You're acting like the undercut was the only thing you received." You meet his glance in the mirror, which he returned with a knowing wink. A faint blush brushed over your cheeks, causing you to avert your gaze.

"Besides, it looks hot, and you'll be okay." You lean in to whisper in his ear, planting a soft kiss on his sideburn. "It'll only hurt for a second."

"You are dangerous. Absolutely no good for me." He sighs in defeat. "No countdown, okay?"

"Say less." You instantly pierce through the soft flesh, watching his face scrunch in discomfort. "Needle is in." You say with content.

"Let me see." He sits up, and scoots forwards towards the mirror, looking at the needle sticking through his lobe. "God that looks freaky."

"C'mere and let me put the jewelry in."

"First, One more kiss, for being so brave."

Your cheeks flush as you lean in, letting him close the space between you two. His hand finds his way to the nape of your neck, letting himself lean in deeper.

"Wicked, dangerous, captivating, beautiful thing." He mutters against your lips. "The things I let you do to me."

"Be careful or else I'll start thinking you like me." You put your hand on his chest to lightly push him back.

"You know I do, silly girl." He quickly presses another kiss to your nose.

"Shut up." You smile and reach up to grab his chin, angling his ear towards you. With the clean earring, you swiftly replace the needle with the stud.

"And done. Not so bad, huh?" You looked at your work in pride.

You stand up to throw out the bloody q-tips and safety pin. After tossing the biohazards, you turn around to see him throwing on his coat and take one last look at his fresh piercing in the mirror.

"Are you leaving already?" A twang of disappointment twists in your stomach. "No sleepover?"

"Nah, gotta sleep in my own bed at least once this week." He huffs out a chuckle, running his hand through his messy hair. "Gotta make rent worth it, you know?"

Oh.

"So true." a deflated chuckle exhales from you. "See you around then, Touya." You follow him to the window. The cold breeze rushed through, sweeping your hair out of your face.

"I'm having our people over tomorrow night for a little kickback. Of course you're invited. See you there?"

You force a light smile on your lips. "Yeah, maybe."

"Sweet. Goodnight, Y/N." He begins climbing up the fire escape and leaves you with a pinch on the cheeks and a bitter taste in your mouth.

#is it casual now?#screaming!!!#bnha #mha #mha x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #dabixreader #dabi #dabi x reader #todoroki touya #touya todoroki #dabi todoroki

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evieelyzabethh · 1 month ago

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I love so much how you write ekko and I was thinking a scenario about the parallel universe thing (ep 7)

What if ekko and reader were dating and met thanks to the firelights but then the whole thing with the hexcore happened and got teletrasported in the other universe finding out that he was dating powder instead and he never got to meet reader and maybe he see her in the street of piltover looking different and all

Idk just thinking about how he will react

Ekko knows something is off immediately. Things just feel differently in his chest. Maybe it's being pushed into a parallel universe, but he's convinced that if you were with him, it wouldn't feel so different. It feels like the same soul, but a different body. His hair is different, his clothes are different, who he's with is different. As soon as he looks over and sees that blue hair, he's on guard, even more so when he realizes the change in relationship. He's dating...Powder?

Honestly, that's how he knows he's not where he should be, because he's not with you. And he does feel a bit bad not allowing himself to appreciate what's around him more, but Ekko is very aware with give and take. The Firelights don't exist here, his community never existed, his friends, Scar, everything he poured years of his life into aren't here, but they aren't here because they weren't needed. The people of Zaun can breathe. Vi is dead, but this is the first time since they were children that he's seen Powder. Even better, the first time he's seen her, and she hasn't looked gaunt. Hextech seems to be foreign here, and shimmer doesn't even exist. It's nice, he can admit that, but it's not home.

To him, it's almost like some utopic, drug induced hallucination. His head feels heavy (definitely an after effect of messing with the Arcane), his tongue is dry, his heart is pounding in his chest as he looks around him, convinced that Powder can hear it trying to beat out of his ribcage. Despite it looking pretty, it feels like a bad trip. He stumbles out, leaving Powder to chase after him until he disappears into the now unfamiliar streets. His feet fly in front of him, only barely managing to catch him and propel him further, too dazed to notice the concerned onlookers debating on if they should offer him help.

It's strange being known. No longer known within his found family for what he's created for them, but rather who he's become with his previously dead one. Claggor grew out of his baby fat, Silco and Vander grew closer than before, Mylo grew a god-awful mustache. He's an inventor here. It's almost haunting, the idea that he could've been using his talents for lighthearted fun. The idea that there exists a place that is not in dire need of saving. The fact that there even exists a place where those he's mourned and been changed by, live happily. For a second, he wonders if this is what Jinx felt like, constantly seeing faces despite knowing they weren't there.

He's hyperventilating, back pressed against a harsh brick wall, overstimulated by the way his jacket now seems to constrict him tight and tighter, feeling like a needle is going back through the already pierced flesh of his ear. He could be convinced there are millions of tiny rocks in his shoes as the more he shakes the harder they prick into the soles of his feet. He feels like his very soul is being pricked and prodded at. He feels like he's going insane

But he feels you before he sees you. His breathing slows, the hole in his chest seems to close, his lungs seem to fall back into a rhythm. He breathes you in before he reaches for the hand you have reached out to him. You look different here, like someone who he would never meet in this body, but of course his wandering soul found his way to you. You looked warmer, you fill out your clothes more, you might be a bit taller. Its wonderous what clean air and constant access to food can do for a person.

"Are you okay?" He leaps into your arms, nearly throwing you back and certainly catching you by surprise. Unsure of what to do, you hold the unfamiliar boy, stroking his back awkwardly until he slips from under your arms. He looks familiar but in a surreal way. You can't say for sure if you've seen him physically, but he very well could be the mystery man you see in your dreams sometimes, though much firmer.

"I am now." and you really don't know how to react other than to just smile and nod your head. As he watches you disappear into the crowd, the ground beneath him finally feels solid. If anything, he's more determined than he was before to find his way back home. This place is almost saccharine, too sweet, too bright, too much. It's not his world for a reason; his world wouldn't be complete without you in it.

#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane fanfic #arcane x you #ekko arcane #ekko x reader #eviesmadness🪻#arcane imagine

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robolvrr · 2 months ago

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attention-seeker ミ⁠●﹏

transformers reactions to human modifications. (tattoos, piercings, hair-dye.) headcanons!

optimus prime, bumblebee, prowl. tfa.

sfw / suggestive under cut.

may do more of them, i love this show to death.

optimus prime

"you do this stuff... for fun? huh."

try as he might, he does not understand the point much.

don't get me wrong, i see animated optimus to be the closest to a mid-twenties rascal as you can get. modifications aren't unheard of for bots. he's not a nun.

however ...

he sees humans as still pretty fragile. so the idea that you like going and having needles shoved into your flesh and jammed through your muscle isn't something he can wrap his helm around at first.

primus forbid you have lots.

imagine him trying to process you explaining that yes, your entire back is covered in ink and you're planning on about five different piercings in the next year.

"so you. you plan on getting two on your back. just because?"

"that's the plan, big guy."

poor mech is lost. though he does enjoy learning more about humanity when he isn't stressing too much about saving it.. so expect questions.

when you suggest getting one of the autobot emblem, his circuits nearly fry.

prowl

"so, what's the significance?"

i see prowl not writing off the behavior as weird and instead digging for why you pursued this journey.

yes, he sees your tattoo and piercing collection as a journey, because that's what it is, isn't it? years of work and pain to adorn your body to your liking.

he knows that humans are bundled with nerves. there's respect earned. he finds humans to be eerily resilient.

will ask you the meaning of each and every one. piercings less so.

"what does this bird represent?"

"mm.. my sense of liberty."

"a visual representation of the wish to stretch to new horizons. how fascinating. being small in a vast universe with the urge to still explore."

"i also just like hummingbirds."

"mm. i see."

will get onto you once he finds out about the "makeshift" work. finds the mistakes or even forgettable craftsmanship to make you endearing.

bumblebee

"whoa! sick paintjob, human!"

he LOVES human culture. and you guys can just... change your appearance? count him impressed!

you had dyed your hair to a nice golden yellow to match his frame and he almost jammed his intake shut.

"you can just. do that?!? b-but your helm used to be-"

"hair, bee."

"right, right. it wasn't always that color though!!!"

he thinks it's so cool. real dork about it. totally buzzed out once you spoke about the chemistry that it went to the process though.

he thinks piercings are cute. after all the fusion of metal and organic is kiiind of taboo. you pull it off great.

tattoos make him beg ratchet to let him upgrade his paint. poor old mech is grumpy and over bumble whining him to just let him "get some flames and that's it."

you draw a lot of inspiration from him. will gladly brainstorm your next big change and puff his chassis out like a lil peacock knowing you're willing to get something permanent done in his designation.

nsfw.

optimus prime

"you look like a painting. primus above, you're gorgeous..."

optimus prime enjoys tracing your tats. he kisses the patterns and images as if the pain of the needle remains, glossa licking along thick and thin ink with shuttered optics.

he likes to see goosebumps trail after. kind of a weird fetish (?) but he mostly enjoys how reactive you are and how your inkwork ripples with the movement.

when he finds out your piercings can make you sensitive ...

well, good luck.

optimus at his spark of sparks is such a tease. when you continue to surprise him, it's nice to be in control of that mutual fascination for once.

"you enjoy when i tug.. these?"

nipple piercings.

expect his glossa. he takes special care to even lubricate each of his digits just to toy with your sore nipples.

prowl

"that's it. fall apart for me. just like art..."

prowl is observant. so when you let it slip that you've been holding back on some of what's on your body...

you're on his berth and naked. his optics are hidden behind his sharp visor.

"holding back on me? that's a shame. i thought you knew better than to do that."

is he angry? hardly! but his processor is about to work overtime when you stammer just why you hadn't gone into depth.

genital piercings.

he doesn't say anything for a long time. doesn't ask the millions of questions bombarding his thoughts. his servos do that speaking before he can.

let's just say you start to understand why he deals with tedious and delicate situations. those hands are built for... meticulous attention.

bites. all the areas with piercings. focuses carefully damn near to the square inch of sensitive flesh where it drives you wild.

tattoos? he loves to scrape his digits down em.

loves to doll you up in lingerie that accentuates everything you hide. crotchless, cut-outs exposing yourself until he can't see where the inkwork begins and ends.

robolvrr 2024.

#first contact au #transformers x reader #transformers #transformers optimus #optimus x reader #tfa #bumblebee #bumblebee x reader #tf prowl #prowl x reader #transformers animated #valveplug #maccadam #headcanons

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nethhiri · 3 months ago

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Little Red Riding Reader

Werewolf!Killer x Reader x Huntsman!Kid

Warnings: MDNI!, noncon, knotting, dp, no holes barred, forced orgasms, virginity loss, breeding, forced pregnancy, dark themes

One minute you were on horseback, headed towards the small village that your grandmother resided in. The next, you were on the ground pinned under your horse, screaming for help. Something had spooked it, causing you both to fall. The horse was able to get up and sprint away. You were left on the ground with a broken leg. It was dark, your own fault for leaving too late. You couldn't see very far ahead of you, the only light coming from the full moon. You heard your horse scream in the distance, a noise that was choked off swiftly. Something was out here.

There was no way you could stand. You could feel your lower leg beginning to swell. Maybe you could pull yourself from the trail deeper into the woods to hide. If you could do that, and get away from whatever scared your horse, maybe you could make it til the morning, when people would surely be out and able to help. You sucked in a breath and dragged yourself by your elbows and good leg, crawling into the edge of the trees. You could feel your clothes snagging on branches and tearing. You bit your lip, trying to make as little noise as possible, but whines of pain and the labored breathing of your effort made it futile. You clawed at the ground, desperately trying to pull yourself under one of the larger bushes to hide. You made yourself as small as possible and curled up on the ground within the safety of he branches. Your hands covered your mouth and nose to muffle your breathing.

Something large was crashing through the brush. You heard branches snapping and loud snarling. The sniffing of the beast grew closer and you heart felt like it was beating so hard that the creature, whatever it was, would be able to hear it. You held your breath, silently praying to whoever would listen that the beast would move on and leave you alone. The sniping twigs seemed like they were right next to your head. The low growl of the creature was so close that you could imagine you felt the heat of its breath. You wouldn't even let yourself cry, for fear it would smell the tears.

It started to move away. Its fur brushed against the leaves of the bush you were hidden in. Without warning, there was a blistering pain in your leg. It was already broken and now it felt like the flesh was being torn from the bone, like hundreds of molten hot needles were sinking into the skin. The scream that ripped from your throat was cut short as you were dragged violently out of the bush and something heavy pressed on your windpipe.

There was a massive wolf above you, but it was much bigger than any wolf you'd ever seen before. Its fur was light in color and its eyes seemed to glow red. Why did it feel like the paw on your neck was choking you instead of stepping on you? The creature's muzzle dripped saliva as it sniffed you, and licked the blood from the wounds on your leg. Its tongue was long and hot and dragged up your body until it got to your face. You didn't realize how much of your clothing had been torn until you felt the wet saliva cooling your skin where the tongue had been.

In a moment of clarity, you gathered your legs under its belly and kicked as hard as you could. All that did was make it angry and make your hurt leg scream with pain. The paw was removed from your throat and was replaced with teeth digging into the skin. If you moved at all, they would pierce you. It seemed like the beast was toying with you. Why didn't its jaws snap closed on your neck already? Tears streamed down your face and your body shook with fear. A noise like a husky laugh left the creature's maw. You were so afraid, you must be imagining it.

In the blink of an eye, the weight was lifted from you and the wolf was gone. You didn't ask questions, you tugged yourself up to your good leg and started to hop away as fast as you could. You were doing well, too, until your foot caught a branch and you face-planted. Branches snapped behind you and you were too frozen by fear to turn. You hoped the wolf would bite the back of your neck and end your suffering.

"Are ya still alive, little lass?"

At the voice, you pushed yourself onto your back. There was the figure of a large man with an axe. Your eyes were fixated behind him, waiting for the beast to appear.

"Don't ya worry about the beastie. I took care of him."

The man bent down and picked you up a little rougher than you would have liked, and flung you over his shoulder. As he walked toward the trail, he passed a large bleeding shadow that you recognized as the wolf. You glanced at the axe to see blood dripping from it. He must have really taken care of the wolf as he said. Something heard your silent prayer it seemed.

The man brought you to a cabin not too far away. He probably heard your screams. They were certainly loud enough to reach this far. He took you down a flight of stairs, a basement maybe, and placed you on a bed. The man looked at your leg and brought some bandages to cover the wounds.

"Th-thank you," your mouth was dry and you were still shaking. You managed to get the words out. "My h-horse..."

"Sorry to tell ya but your horse is wolf food." The man continued, "It's okay though. This is my guest room. You can stay here as long as you need. " A smile touched the edges of his lips. You found it odd.

"I'm Y/N." You said. "I'll be fine. I can leave in the morning."

"Don't be so sure." He was grinning in a way that would have scared you more had you not already been shaken up. He patted the bandaged leg. "These injuries don't heal well." As he went back up the stairs, he called back, "Call me Eustass."

On the bed, there was a nicely folded nightie. Did he put that there or had it been there already? You must not have seen him put it there. How would he know he would have a guest? Why did he have that in the first place, though? He was handsome in a burly way, you could imagine that he may be the type that had guests often. You left it there. It would make you uncomfortable to put it on in someone else's home, even if your own clothes were shredded in places. You got under the sheets to stay warm but your leg throbbed and kept you awake for some time.

When you awoke, Eustass was sitting on the stairs, watching you. A grin split his face when he noticed your eyes were open. He came over to you. Now that there was light, you could see how massive he was, and he had bright red hair. His amber eyes raked over your body and he picked up the nightie.

"Didn't wanna put this on?"

"I- it felt strange."

"Put it on." He looked at you intently. "It's rude not to oblige someone when you're a guest in their home, especially when they saved your life."

You swallowed and stared at him. What?

"If ya can't do it yourself, I'll help ya." He grabbed the front of your shirt and ripped it off you, and did the same with your bottoms.

"Stop!" You kicked at him and instantly cried out when you made contact. You forgot about your injury.

He laughed. "Oh I can't wait to hear more of that." He cut through the center of your bra with a small hunting knife that you didn't notice before. He made a sound of approval as your tits were freed.

You clamped your thighs together as he ran has hand down your center, toying with the fabric of your panties. Tears started to form.

"I like these on." He left them alone and tossed the nightie to you harshly. "Ya better be wearing it when I come back."

Your voice shook. "What are you g-gonna do to me?"

"Nothin ya won't enjoy... eventually." He laughed again as he left.

You were in more trouble than you thought. You threw the nightie over your head, just to have something to cover you. It barely had substance. You might as well be naked. You tugged the sheets over you. The tears flowed freely now. There was no way you could get out of this. There was one exit and you were sure he either locked it or was watching it. He probably wanted you to try to escape so he could treat you more roughly. Would it be better if you told him you were a virgin, or would that only stir him up more? He didn't seem like the type to be gentle.

The door opened and Eustass appeared, followed by another man. Your heart dropped. This man was almost equally as large, though leaner. They were going to rip you in half if both of them took you. You felt lightheaded, as if you were going to pass out.

"Good girl. Ya listened." Eustass put his finger under the thin strap of the nightie. "Ya picked a nice one, Killer."

He was talking to the other man. That was his name? Killer? That didn't bode well for you. The second man had long, full, sand-colored hair and wore only jeans, with a tuft of the same color hair poking out from the waist. Across his torso, there looked to be a freshly healing scar.

"If I h-had known this is w-what you would do, I would have let the wolf eat me." You pulled your knees into your chest, attempting to mentally leave your body.

The second man, Killer, laughed. "He still might."

His laugh sounded familiar, husky, distinct. Before you could think about it too much, Eustass started unbuckling his belt. You turned away and heard the metal buckle hit the floor. A hand grabbed your chin and pulled you to face him.

"Look at me. I want to see that cute face."

You were forced to look at him grinning down at you. Then he pushed the back of your head until you were face to face with his cock. It was still half flaccid and already intimidating. Your heart was beating so fast you thought you would pass out.

"P-please don't do this." You weren't above begging. Tears were streaming down your face. "I'll do anything else. Please."

Eustass seemed to consider it, glancing back at Killer. "Fine."

"Thank you! Oh, thank you."

"Suck him off," Eustass pointed his thumb back to Killer.

"Wh-what?" You went cold. "But you said I c-could do something else."

He pet your hair condescendingly. "Yeah. Ya we're going to suck my cock, and now ya can suck his instead. See? I'm nice like that."

You looked at your knees as you knelt on the edge of the bed, questioning where you went wrong.

"Darlin' don't be scared." The other man spoke. "Be sweet for me. I don't wanna hurt you."

Killer leaned down to grab your hands and put them on the waist of his jeans.

"Go on, then. You're a big girl. You know what to do."

Your hands shook as you unbuttoned and unzipped the jeans. If you complied, maybe they would let you go. You didn't want to be killed, or worse, kept. Your hands looked so small next to him as you tugged his jeans down. You were expecting to find another layer before you were confronted with his cock, but that was not so. It bobbed in front of your face. You closed your eyes and tried not to think about it, just pretend that it wasn't happening.

You shyly opened your mouth and moved forward, lips coming into contact with the head. A salty taste hit your tongue as you took him in your mouth. You knew you were to move your head and keep your teeth off, but that was as far as your knowledge went.

He grabbed the back of your head by the hair and pushed you down farther on his cock until you choked and gagged. You pulled away coughing.

"Use your hand, too. Don't act like you've never done this before, you little slut."

You refused to meet his gaze, face heating up fiercely.

He laughed his husky laugh. "You have sucked dick before, right?"

You shook your head ever so slightly, tears reappearing at the corners of your eyes.

A more boisterous, loud laugh rang out from behind you. "Yer kidding me. Killer, ya picked up a virgin?" He laughed again. "Yer lucky, girlie. We're great teachers. Ain't that right Kil?"

"You're in good hands, pup."

What a weird choice in words. You shivered in the skimpy outfit they made you wear and your leg throbbed.

"Relax, lass. I'll have ya off that leg in a minute. In fact, I'll hold it on my shoulder for ya. How's that?"

You felt the bed dip behind you, but dared not look. You didn't want to know what Eustass had between his legs. You were sure you couldn't take him even half-hard. His hands grabbed your hips and pulled them up so that you were on all fours.

Eustass brought his hand down on your leg, shoving his fingers in any tooth holes he could find, squeezing it until you cried out, which didn't take much. The second your mouth opened, Killer took his opportunity to shove his cock back into your throat. Maybe if you made him cum, he wouldn't get it up again to fuck you. You put more effort into it, trying your best not to gag.

"Hm? You like it now, pup? That's right. Good girl. Nice and deep." Killer groaned.

Suddenly you felt a thumb press into your slit, rubbing over the panties. It made you squeal in surprise. You couldn't say anything to tell him to stop, mouth full of dick, not that he would listen anyway. You pressed your thighs together. You heard Eustass spit behind you.

"Keep pressing those pretty thighs together for me."

You felt something slip between your thighs. An arm? No. To your horror, you realized it was his erection. He moved it in and out of your thighs, rubbing it up against your slit. You felt your panties get wetter the more he rubbed. It was hard to concentrate on what was going on when you were so focused on not gagging. Killer put both hands on your head, gripping your hair and forcing your head to stay down as he fucked your mouth.

"Sorry, darlin'. Can't help myself when your sweet lips feel this good wrapped around me." Killer moaned. "Swallow it all now, little one."

The same salty taste poured into the back of your throat, nearly suffocating you with its stickiness. You thought you would pass out until he finally took his cock from your mouth. Snot, drool, and tears stained your face. You gasped for air and nearly gagged as the rest of his seed clung to the sides of your throat. You coughed, trying to clear it so you could breathe.

Eustass held your hips in a bruising grip, fucking your thighs at a pace that had you very concerned about what he was going to do to your cunt. You cried out as a hand fell heavily against your backside. The larger man rutted his cock against you with increasing fervor. You felt your panties be pulled to the side, exposing your pussy. You tried to pull away from his grip out of fear. There was no way you could take him.

"Don't move like that or it might accidentally slip in." He said in a taunting voice.

You whimpered but stayed completely still as the tip of his cock abruptly pressed between your labia. It didn't go any further, but you felt something hot and wet coat you and drip onto your thighs. Eustass pulled your panties back in place and rubbed them into the mess he had made so that they were uncomfortably wet and sticky.

They didn't let you have a break, swiftly flipping you on your back. Killer replaced Eustass between your legs. Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. What was he going to do if he wasn't hard anymore? Killer pushed your thighs apart further and lowered his face between them, taking in a deep breath. He looked like he was practically drooling.

"Wha- What're you doing? Don't do that!"

"No need to be embarrassed. Gotta get you ready. We don't want to break our new toy so soon."

You strained your neck watching Killer lick between your folds through the fabric of your panties, squirming at the foreign feeling. Killer had a firm grip of your thighs, not allowing you to pull away from him. Your view was soon blocked by Eustass straddling you. His golden eyes stared down at you like a predator with his prey. It made you shiver. The grin splitting his face brought tears to your eyes.

"If ya think cryin will get ya out of anything yer mistaken." He laughed and slid his hands under the silk of the nightie you wore. "A virgin and great tits. Mmph Killer ya have outdone yerself."

Eustass tweaked your nipples harshly, causing you to yelp. That seemed to spur him on, grabbing you with more force. His limp dick was still leaking cum onto your chest where it rested. Every so often it would twitch, like it would become hard at any second. At the same time, you felt your panties tear. You barely had time to register it before you felt link you were being licked once more. An involuntary gasp pried past your lips as you felt the tongue push past your labia and into your entrance.

"Stop! Don't lick there!" You weren't sure about the feeling and it felt wrong for a tongue to be inside you. "It- feels weird."

"Baby, if you'd rather have cock just say so", Killer teased.

"No! I want to leave! Please let me go!" Fresh tears coated your face.

Your pleading and tears seemed to have the opposite effect on Eustass, whose erection was growing by the second.

"You're sick! You know that?" You yelled at the man looming above you.

"Keep telling me how sick I am, lass. I like that shit."

He pushed up the nightie and spit between your breasts, smearing it with his hand. He snickered and dropped his heavy cock onto your sternum, grabbing your tits and holding them together around it. He thrust between them, the tip reaching as far as your face. You turned away and he gripped your hair, roughly turning you to face him.

"Open yer mouth."

Your lip trembled and you were unable to open your mouth until Killer forced it open with a moan. At that moment, his tongue felt a lot deeper than it had been a second earlier. Your cheeks burned red, mortified that a noise of that nature was forced from you by these brutes.

Eustass seized that opportunity to force your mouth wider and slide the glans past your lips. It was only the tip and your lips were stretched tight around him. The only silver lining was that it muffled any other noises you might have made. Eustass continued to thrust between your breasts and into your mouth while Killer was determined to taste every inch of you. His tongue was unrelenting as it bullied into you and it only stopped when he turned his attention to your clit. Your eyes went wide as he licked and sucked it, never having experienced that feeling.

"Oi, Killer, keep doin whatever yer doin. I think she likes that."

Your protests were muffled and you stopped as soon as you realized Eustass was enjoying the vibrations on his dick. A warmth formed in your lower belly and something there felt like it was being twisted into knots. It was such a strange feeling and you weren't sure if you should run from it or go towards it. The feeling intensified when you felt something slide inside you. Something moved in and out of you, pressing into an area that that made you unconsciously buck under Eustass's weight. You didn't know what was coming over you. A wave of heat passed through your body and it arched against your will as something happened that you couldn't explain. You didn't even realize that Eustass had pulled his cock out of your mouth until you heard your own voice crying out. You were ashamed and embarrassed that you were getting pleasure out of this ordeal. How was that possible when you didn't want any of it?

Something salty and warm hit your face and dripped into your mouth while you were still reeling from your first orgasm. Your hands were gripping the sheets, but uncurled to wipe whatever it was from your face.

"Meant to get it all in yer mouth, but I wanted to hear ya cum."

You shook your head. "N-no! I didn't! I didn't."

He laughed loudly again. "Oh, sweetheart, yes you did. Came right on Killer's fingers."

Eustass moved off you and Killer leaned over you, bringing his fingers to your mouth.

"Taste yourself," Killer prompted, before becoming impatient and shoving his fingers in your mouth. "Suck."

You did as he commanded, all the while trying to project yourself out of your body. You didn't miss that Killer's cock was hard again, and he certainly would want to use something other than your mouth.

"Ya wanna take her ass or cunt?"

"Tough choice."

You felt like you were about to pass out again. "No! Not there. Please not there." Bile rose in your throat.

"Your choice, lass. Ya can have one in each hole or ya can have us both in yer cunt."

All the hope you had of avoiding any of this was swiftly snuffed out. You had seen both of them fully erect. Just one of them would rip you, so to take both at once was out of the question.

Your lip quivered as you answered. "First one."

"Uh-uh. Say it," Killer ordered.

You looked down shamefully. "O-one in my- my front and one in m-my back."

"Say ya want us to fuck yer ass and yer cunt." Eustass grinned.

"I can't."

"Say it or I'm gonna make it hurt."

You began to sob. "I want y-you to f-fuck me in my- in my- ass and my c-c-cunt." You covered your face with your hands as you cried into them.

"That wasn't so hard now, was it, lass?" He nodded to Killer.

The blonde man replaced his fingers in your pussy, adding another as he did so. Your knees pulled together at the uncomfortable stretch. He held one of your thighs almost to your chest while he worked you open with his fingers.

"You say you don't want it but you're so fucking wet. I think you like it. Maybe if you're a good girl, we'll keep you. You have nice, wide hips. I bet you'd look so good with a big, round belly."

He cursed under his breath as he pulled his fingers out and rubbed the tip of his cock against you. His, now free, hand went to your other thigh and pushed that one to your chest as well. Then he sank his cock slowly between your folds. The burning stretch brought more tears to your eyes. You sucked in a breath to stifle the pain, yet a pathetic mewl still came from you, to the delight of your captors.

"That's right darlin'. Keep whining for me," Killer leaned down to growl in your ear.

At least he was merciful enough to start slow. That didn't last long. Soon, he was pressing his full weight into you and fucking you at a blistering pace. It hurt, yet there was a pleasure there too. He pressed his thumb into your clit, trying to force another orgasm out of you.

"Why don't ya relax? Let go. We can take real good care of ya if ya let us," Eustass taunted.

Killer pulled out briefly to flip you back on all fours. Eustass pulled you on top of him as Killer slid his cock back into you. As Killer fucked into you, Eustass grabbed at your breasts and forced his mouth against yours, sliding his tongue into your mouth. His hand was tangled in your hair, preventing you from pulling away or catching your breath. He ripped the nightie away from your body. He was unrelenting as he bit your lip, your neck, your breasts. He liked making you squeal. You weren't even sure if you were crying out from the pain of his bites, or Killer beating up your cervix with his thick shaft.

"Put yer hand on my cock. Feel how hard ya make me." Eustass took one of your hands and guided it to his shaft, helping you jerk himself off. "Tell me where ya want it."

You shook your head.

Eustass repeated his command and brought his hand to your throat. "Don't piss me off, sweetheart. I can make it hurt worse than it already will."

You gasped trying to take in a breath past his grip. "I w-w-want it in my- my..." You were starting to devolve into sobs again and you clawed at his hand to pry it off.

Suddenly your head was jerked back by Killer grabbing your hair. "What is it, pup? You want my fat cock there instead? C'mon, now, tell us."

"Just get it over with!" You desperately pleaded. "Put it wherever you want! I don't care anym-"

Your voice was cut off as Eustass squeezed your throat again. This time he gripped it so tightly that you couldn't make a sound. The edges of your vision turned black and the blackness spread inward. Your head flopped forward as you gradually became unconscious. Vaguely, you felt him release you.

"Alright, Killer, quit playin' around. Finish what ya started."

Your vision was blurry as you gasped for air. Strangely, you felt your cunt tighten. The breath on your back grew hotter and saliva dripped on your skin. There was a sharp pain on your hips, like claws digging in to the flesh, and you swore you felt blood drip down your body. You grit your teeth in pain. Your cunt wasn't getting tighter, Killer's cock was getting bigger. How was that possible? An animalistic growl reverberated against your back. It didn't sound human.

Abruptly, you were rag-dolled around until Eustass pinned your back to his chest by slipping his arms under your thighs and pulling them apart. You screamed in agony as your broken leg shifted in the process. Then, your eyes settled to the sand-colored abomination in front of you. It was the wolf that had attacked you, except it was Killer, too. This wasn't possible. There was a fresh scar where Eustass had gotten him with the axe. This was all a set up. This was their plan all along.

The werewolf leaned down and slid its slimy tongue from your cunt to your neck, then stuffed it down your throat to stifle your screams when he resheathed his leaking tip back inside you. Even its penis was no longer fully human. It was no wonder it felt like it was growing inside you. He was at least a half a size larger than he was when you saw him before. Eustass's grip prevented you from shutting your legs and getting any sort of relief from the tearing pain Killer caused you. And Eustass's erection was prodding into your backside, as if he was threatening to shove it in at any moment. They were going to rip you in half after all. The pain was causing blackness to tickle the edges of your vision again.

Eustass used one of his hands to rub your clit as Killer's massive clawed hands took over holding your legs apart. You heard that same eerie laugh come from his maw. That pressure from before lingered in your lower belly and tightened with every thrust that Killer made. How could your body betray you like this?

"Your cunt is so tight and wet. I can feel it milking me." The Killer-creature's voice was distorted. "It's begging to be filled with my cum. I'm going to breed you full of my pups."

"No! Please don't. N-not inside."

Eustass laughed darkly behind you. "If ya want to live, ya better beg him to bear his pups. Otherwise this ends messy." The man nipped at your ear. "The whole pack will have a turn with ya, but they always fight and end up tearing the poor girls limb from limb. Why d'ya think we're so good at this? We've had lots of practice."

The situation was impossible. Every ending involved you suffering. Maybe if you played along like they wanted, they would ease up like they said they would. If their goal was to break you down, it was working. You decided that this was the way you would survive.

"Try again, little one," Killer sneered.

"Breed me, please! Fill me with your cum. I promise I'll carry your- your p-pups. Just let me live!"

Hearing your own words was having an effect on your body, making you feel hot. The beast growled in pleasure and bit you hard on the neck. You felt pain as the sharp teeth punctured your skin and you felt the blood drip along your skin. Killer lapped up the blood with the flat of his tongue. The pain you were feeling had dulled somewhat, though you didn't notice right away. The only thing you noticed was your own pleasure growing as he fucked into you.

"M'gonna pump you full and you're gonna cum on my cock. Understand?"

You nodded, unable to speak, unexpectedly swallowed whole by the pleasure you were now feeling. The way he was grinding his hips into you sent you over the edge. You felt your walls tighten and flutter around him and you let out a guttural cry as you came hard on his cock. He made something akin to a howl as you felt something hot fill your belly and leak from the sides of your cunt. Then you felt that growing sensation again, stretching your pussy out. You expected him to pull out but he flipped you so you rested against his chest. You moved to readjust yourself but found you were stuck.

"Killer's gonna hold ya still with that knot while I have my fun. Ya didn't forget what ya wanted me to do, did ya? Killer got to fuck ya full in that virgin pussy and now I get to do the same with this pretty little asshole."

Killer held your wrists and pinned them to your back in a bear hug. Your eyes about crossed when Eustass slid a spit-coated finger into your ass. You were ashamed that, past the pain of insertion, the pressure of it against Killer's cock filling your cunt felt sort of good.

"See I told ya if ya were a good girl, we would take care of ya."

You flinched as he added another finger and massaged them in and out of the muscular ring. He added a third, which had you squirming to get away, but Killer's knot held you down just as well as his grip. Tears fell down your cheeks and you gritted your teeth as you felt him press the tip against you. It hurt. Your cunt being abused for the first time was one thing, but this was another level. You cried out as he pushed deeper.

"Sorry, lass. Ya cumming on Killer twice has me a wee bit jealous. I'm impatient." Eustass sheathed his full erection in your ass with some help from his spit and the cum leaking from your cunt. "Fuck I wish ya could see how stretched out ya are, taking both of us at the same time."

Eustass started to move, making the burning, sore pain more evident. Hot breath hit your face as Killer licked the tears from your cheeks. It felt like you were being split in two, yet at the same time your clit was being pressed into Killer's abdomen and every thrust from Eustass into your ass was making it rub against him in the best way.

It wasn't long before you were crying out in pleasure instead of pain. Eustass was railing your asshole and Killer's knot had even deflated just enough so that he could rock within your walls. There was a molten ball of pleasure building in your core, burning so hot you didn't care what was happening to you. All you wanted to do was to reach it.

Eustass gripped your asscheeks and pounded into you. You felt your cunt squeeze and twitch around Killer. The pressure inside you was building and every thrust was sending you closer to unleashing it. Now they were both fucking into you in a matching rhythm. Killer's cum was coating the inside of your thighs as his knot deflated. They were rubbing against your sweet spot and bringing you so close. You bit down on Killer's chest and screamed into it as your orgasm was unleashed. A gush of liquid splattered against Killer's abdomen and made sinful squelching noises as Eustass chased his own release.

"Oh fuck, ya little slut. Ya squirted. Fuck. I knew ya wanted it. It's like ya were made to take us."

With a grunt, Eustass made several more pumps into you and then sprayed the rest of his load over your back. As you lay on Killer's chest panting, you licked over your lips and tasted blood. There was a small semi-circle where you bit him. He didn't seem angry with you though, he was beaming at you for some reason, petting your hair.

After another few days, they let you go. They filled you up a few more times, but you were more compliant with the promise that you would live. By the time you were able to return to your home, your leg didn't hurt anymore. Maybe it was never actually broken.

_______________________________________________

A month passed with no further contact from your abductors. Every time you heard a wolf howl, you jumped, and you no longer went out at night. In the past few days, however, you had begun to feel ill. On this night, when you heard the howl, you howled back. And on the following day, you woke up to discover that your village had been decimated, everyone slaughtered. Everyone except for you, who was covered in blood that was not your own. The place on your leg that was bitten a month prior began to throb and before you knew it, your legs were carrying you back towards the cabin in the woods, where it seemed like the sand-colored wolf was waiting for you.

#idk if this counts as a halloween fic but fuck it its my birthday month and I do what I want #The Pussyhound And The Cuntsman #one piece #eustass kid #massacre soldier killer #x reader #eustass kid x reader #massacre soldier killer x reader #kid x reader x killer #werewolf killer #werewolf AU

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redvdress · 3 months ago

Text

TONGUE PIERCING

A/N: i found this prompt everywhere here so i thought about doing my version of it, i have already a few piercings and i’d love getting a tongue one (dabi i’m waiting for you). this is my dabi masterpiece i swear. mention of blood and pain liking

The room was dimly lit, cast in a pale orange glow from a single, flickering lamp. The lampshade itself was cracked, giving off a sickly hue that left the edges of the small apartment in shadow. Dust clung to the air, swirling lazily in the faint light. The walls were stained with the passage of time, watermarks snaking down from the ceiling where the plaster had started to crack. The floor was no better, scuffed linoleum in a faded pattern that hadn’t been recognizable in years.

It reeked of cheap cigarettes and burnt flesh—Dabi’s permanent scent.

He leaned against a rickety table, one arm slung over the back of a chair as he stared at you from across the room, his cigarette dangling between his lips. The cherry of it glowed faintly in the dark as he took a long drag, eyes narrowing slightly.

“You sure about this?” His voice was low, gravelly, the kind of sound that made you wonder if he’d ever spoken softly in his life. Smoke curled around his words, and his eyes—those intense, blue eyes—bore into you with an unnerving stillness.

There was something about the way he looked at you that made your stomach twist, a heady mixture of fear and thrill.

Dabi was dangerous—more dangerous than anyone you’d ever known.

The kind of danger that made your pulse quicken, that pulled you toward him, even though every rational part of you screamed to stay away. But you weren’t here to play it safe.

“Once I stick this metal in you, there’s no backing out, dollface”.

His smirk tugged at the scar tissue around his mouth, the charred, stitched-together skin pulling unnaturally with the motion. The staples in his face caught the light, glinting in the dimness, each one a testament to the pain he’d endured—and the fact that he clearly didn’t care about pain. Not his, not anyone’s.

You swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry as the reality of what you were about to do hit you. The idea of a tongue piercing had come up in a haze of excitement, after too many nights spent watching Dabi’s fingers dance over his own piercings, those rough hands handling metal and flesh like he knew them intimately. He lived with metal embedded in his skin, after all, more a part of him than anything else.

You wanted a piece of that. Wanted to feel what he felt, wanted him to be the one to give it to you.

“I trust you” you said, and though your voice came out softer than you intended, there was an undercurrent of truth in it. Dabi might have been rough, sarcastic, and dangerous, but you trusted him with this. He knew what he was doing. He always did.

Dabi’s lips curled into a snort, smoke billowing from his nostrils like a dragon amused by some foolish human. “You really shouldn’t” he muttered, shaking his head as if the very idea of someone trusting him was a joke.

Maybe it was.

Trust wasn’t something Dabi traded in—pain, though? Pain, he knew.

“But alright, your funeral.”

He shifted, stubbing out his cigarette in a chipped ashtray with an almost lazy flick of his wrist. The glow of the room flickered as he moved, the shadows deepening. His lean figure, clad in that familiar tattered coat, loomed over the small table beside him.

He’d set up everything with a casual sort of carelessness, the kind that came from someone who knew their way around sharp objects but didn’t need to flaunt it.

His hands—gloved, rough, scarred—worked with a certain precision, though.

As he laid out the needle, the barbell, and the alcohol wipes, he moved like this wasn’t the first time he’d done something like this. You’d seen him handle plenty of things with practiced skill—he knew his body, his pain, and his scars. Piercings were no different.

He caught you staring as he picked up the needle, an eyebrow quirking slightly. “You getting cold feet already?” he teased, his voice cutting through the heavy silence. “’Cause if you are, I can think of better ways to kill time than jabbing a needle through your tongue.”

You shook your head, feeling the heat rise in your face. “No,” you insisted, sitting up straighter on the couch. “I want to do it.”

There it was again, that smirk.

The one that made your heart do a weird, uncomfortable flip in your chest.

He set the needle down for a moment, coming over to stand in front of you, looming like a shadow. His presence was overpowering, the heat from his quirk lingering in the air like a barely restrained fire. It made the room feel smaller, suffocating in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

He crouched down, eye-level with you now, his face inches from yours. His gaze raked over you, assessing, maybe even a little amused. “Open up,” he said, voice still rough, like he was talking about anything mundane, not about to drive a piece of metal through your flesh.

You did as he asked, sticking your tongue out as far as you could. It felt awkward, vulnerable, with his gaze on you. He leaned in closer, inspecting your tongue with the kind of scrutiny that had your nerves spiking.

“Tch,” he clicked his tongue against his teeth, fingers grazing your chin as he tilted your head slightly. “Tongue’s kinda thick, huh? Bet you could do some real damage with that.”

The casual vulgarity of the comment caught you off guard, and you nearly pulled back, but his grip on your chin was firm.

He didn’t let you move an inch. You caught a glimpse of his sharp smile, his mismatched eyes gleaming with something dark. His touch lingered for a moment longer before he moved his hand away, leaving you cold in his absence.

He straightened up, reaching for the needle again, you could see the gleam of metal as he rolled it between his fingers, his expression indifferent. “Try not to squirm too much. I don’t wanna fuck up your pretty little mouth.”

The warning sent a shiver through you.

You knew he wasn’t bluffing—he didn’t sugarcoat anything. He wouldn’t hesitate to tell you exactly how bad it would hurt if you screwed this up for yourself. Dabi was a man of few soft words, and the ones he did offer were more like sharp edges.

Dabi’s hands were steady as he pulled your jaw down slightly, guiding you into position. His gloved fingers pressed against the sides of your tongue, holding it in place, and the cool touch of alcohol wiped the surface clean, leaving a sharp, antiseptic taste in your mouth.

The cold press of the needle against your tongue was the first shock. It didn’t hurt, and even if it did, you wouldn’t mind.

You tensed despite yourself, feeling the muscles in your jaw clench.

“Don’t move,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. It wasn’t a request—it was a command. “You move, and this shit’ll hurt way worse than it needs to.”

You gave a barely perceptible nod, holding your breath as Dabi aligned the needle with precision. Then, in one swift motion, it pierced through.

The pain was sharp, bright, and immediate.

But it was the kind of pain you liked, because you wanted to feel it.

You tasted blood, metallic and bitter, as Dabi worked quickly, threading the barbell through the new hole. His hands were deft, almost clinical, but there was something intimate about the way he handled you.

He screwed the ball onto the end of the barbell with a final twist, and then it was done. You blinked, dazed from the rush of adrenaline, feeling the weight of the new piercing in your mouth. Dabi pulled back, taking a step away to admire his handiwork, wiping the blood from your chin with his thumb.

“There. All done.” His voice was casual, like he hadn’t just pierced your tongue with a needle. He tossed the bloody cloth onto the table and stepped back, his smirk widening as he took in your expression.

“Told ya I knew what I was doing.”

You ran your tongue against the cool metal, testing it, wincing at the soreness. The sensation was foreign and strange, but not unbearable. Still, the dull throb was a constant reminder of what had just happened, and more importantly, who had done it.

Dabi’s eyes flicked down to your mouth, then back up to your eyes, his smirk growing wider, more self-satisfied.

He tapped a finger against the fresh piercing, making you flinch.

“Looks good on you,” he muttered, his voice low and husky, dripping with that dangerous, teasing edge. “Might even be worth the trouble.”

His touch, though brief, lingered like the burn of his quirk. Even in something as mundane as a piercing, he had control over you, and he knew it.

“You say that like you didn’t enjoy it,” you teased, your voice muffled around your swollen tongue. It wasn’t your best comeback, but your nerves were still on edge from the piercing, and it was hard to think clearly when Dabi was staring at you like that.

Dabi chuckled, the sound low and dark, as he flicked his cigarette into the ashtray.

He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. “Oh, I enjoyed it, alright,” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

“But don’t think I’m gonna go easy on you just because I stuck a piece of metal in your mouth. You’re still mine, and that tongue of yours better be ready to put in some work.”

The way his voice dropped at the end, laced with dangerous intent, sent a shockwave of heat through your body. You couldn’t help but feel the tension between you tighten like a wire ready to snap.

He pulled away just as quickly as he’d closed the distance, leaving you breathless. He stretched, arms above his head, like he hadn’t just spent the last few minutes working a needle through your flesh. His movements were casual, careless, but there was something in the way he glanced at you, over his shoulder, that told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Clean it, don’t be an idiot, and maybe it won’t get infected,” he said, voice flippant. “Or don’t. Not my problem if you can’t handle it.”

"Still think it's a good idea?" he asked, his voice low, gravelly. "Bet it hurts like a bitch."

It did hurt, the sting radiating through your tongue as the pressure of the piercing settled in, but you weren't about to admit that. Not to him. You gave a slow nod, your breath catching as his fingers tightened just slightly around your jaw, his touch sending a shiver through you.

Dabi's smirk widened, his eyes glinting with something dark and dangerous.

"Yeah?" he drawled, leaning in closer until his breath ghosted over your lips, smelling of smoke and heat.

"Let's see how tough you really are, doll."

Before you could respond, his mouth crashed against yours.

The kiss was rough, nothing gentle or patient about it. His lips pressed hard against yours, his hand holding your jaw in place as he deepened the kiss without hesitation. The sudden pressure made your tongue throb, the fresh wound pulsing painfully, but you didn't care. If anything, the pain only heightened the intensity of the moment, your senses overwhelmed by the sharp contrast between the sting of the piercing and the heat of Dabi's mouth.

Your body tensed, instinctively bracing against the pain, but Dabi's hold on you kept you grounded. His other hand slipped around the back of your neck, pulling you even closer, refusing to let you pull away.

He was testing you, pushing your limits, daring you to flinch or complain.

But you didn't.

Instead, you leaned into the kiss, the burn in your tongue fading into the background as the taste of him filled your mouth. His lips were hot, demanding, and you responded in kind, letting the pain mix with the pleasure until they were indistinguishable. The cold metal of the new barbell rubbed against your teeth, and every movement of your tongue sent a fresh jolt of pain through your nerves, but you welcomed it, savoring the intensity.

Dabi chuckled darkly against your mouth, the sound vibrating through you as he pulled back slightly, just enough to let his mismatched eyes meet yours.

"Didn't think you'd like it that much," he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. His thumb brushed over your lips, tracing where his kiss had just been, smirking at the way your breath hitched under his touch.

"You like the pain, huh?"

You bit your lip, wincing slightly as the motion aggravated the fresh piercing, but you didn't pull away. Instead, you gave him a defiant look, your heart pounding as you whispered, "Maybe I like it when it's from you”.

That made his eyes gleam with something darker, something primal. He leaned back in, brushing his lips over yours again-this time slower, teasing, his breath hot and full of purpose.

"Is that so?" he murmured, his voice rough with amusement. "You're full of surprises."

He pressed his lips to yours again, but this time, the kiss was different. It was still rough, still full of that dangerous intensity, but there was something more to it-an edge of control, of dominance, like he was claiming you all over again. His tongue slipped past your lips, brushing against the metal barbell, and the pain flared up again, sharper this time, but you welcomed it, leaning into him as the heat between you spiked.

His hand tightened at the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.

The kiss deepened, growing more feverish, and your mind buzzed with the sharp mix of pleasure and pain. The barbell clicked against your teeth as his tongue moved against yours, the cold metal a stark contrast to the burning heat of his mouth.

When he finally pulled away, you were breathless, your heart hammering in your chest. The pain in your tongue was a dull throb now, but it was overshadowed by the heat coursing through your veins. Dabi's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he studied your face, watching the way your chest rose and fell with every ragged breath.

"Not bad," he muttered, wiping the corner of your mouth with his thumb, smirking as he glanced at the faint streak of blood that had appeared from the fresh wound.

"Told you it'd hurt. But you didn't back down. Gotta give you credit for that."

You smirked, your tongue pressing against the new piercing, wincing at the ache but not regretting a thing. "I can handle it," you murmured, your voice soft but steady, even as your heart raced in your chest.

Dabi chuckled, his hand slipping away from your neck as he straightened up, that self-satisfied smirk still playing on his lips. "You better" he muttered, his voice dark and teasing.

#mha x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #dabi touya #mha dabi #dabi todoroki #bnha dabi #dabi my hero academia #dabi x reader #dabi #touya x y/n #mha touya #bnha touya #touya todoroki #touya x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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