#single cot bed size

[urbanwoods56]

Best Deals on Single Cot Beds

A single cot bed is a versatile and essential piece of furniture for any bedroom, offering both comfort and practicality. When considering a single cot bed price, factors such as material, design, and additional features like storage come into play. A single cot typically measures around 3 feet in width and 6 feet in length, making it ideal for smaller rooms or guest accommodations. A single cot wooden option is particularly popular for its durability and classic aesthetic appeal.

[urbanwood02]

[frunishop]

The History and Evolution of Sleigh Beds

Sleigh beds are a type of bed with a distinctive curved headboard and footboard that resemble a sleigh or sled. They are typically made of wood and have a luxurious, elegant look. While sleigh beds are often associated with traditional or antique decor styles, there are many modern variations that incorporate sleeker designs and materials such as metal and leather.

The origins of the sleigh bed can be traced back to ancient Roman times when wealthy citizens would recline on couches that had curved headrests and footrests. These curved pieces were called "saccus," and they inspired the design of later sleigh beds.

In the 19th century, sleigh beds became popular in the United States and Europe as a luxurious and stylish alternative to traditional four-poster beds. The curved headboard and footboard were often adorned with intricate carvings and other decorative details, making sleigh beds a symbol of wealth and refinement.

Over time, sleigh beds have evolved to suit changing tastes and design trends. In the mid-20th century, for example, streamlined versions of sleigh beds were popularized by designers such as George Nelson and Charles and Ray Eames. These modern sleigh beds featured simple, clean lines and a minimalist aesthetic.

Today, sleigh beds continue to be a popular choice for those who want a statement piece for their bedroom. They are available in a wide variety of styles and materials, from classic wooden designs to more contemporary metal and leather versions. Many sleigh beds also feature practical features such as built-in storage or adjustable headboards. In conclusion, sleigh bed have a long and fascinating history that spans many centuries and cultures. While they have evolved over time to suit changing tastes and design trends, they remain a timeless and elegant choice for anyone looking to add a touch of luxury to their bedroom.

[jar-of-ectoplasm]

sleeping w/ the mercs [NOT LIKE THAT]

sorry the formatting is shit i made this on mobile 🫤

shitty headcanons abt the mercs rooms and ur guys’ sleeping arrangements hope u enjoy like and subscribe it’s rly long so it’s under the cut

scout:

-very very messy room

-but like he knows where all his shit is so whatever works for him

-his mattress is on the floor bro 💔 just kidding but his bed frame is pretty low to the ground so it might as well be

-he’s got a smaller bed and a single blanket so you both are gonna be cuddling whether you wanted to or not

-surprisingly soft sheets, he stole some of spy’s fancy silk ones so it’s pleasant

-always has a fan/AC unit going for the noise but his blanket is pretty thin so it’s colder than you’d probably prefer

-kicks a lot in his sleep so just be prepared 🤕

-doesn’t snore very loud but does drool a lot and he usually ends up laying his face on your chest/your head so you are gonna wake up a little soggy sorry 💔💔

-usually falls asleep around 11pm or midnight but does wake up at random hours of the early morning almost nightly before passing back out

-pretty much always wakes up before you, he goes on morning jogs everyday so if you’re up for it he’ll take you with him

-does like to surprise you with “breakfast” in bed (it’s dry cereal and a tiny carton of orange juice but he tried)

soldier:

-really REALLY plain room

-it’s a little eerie, everything is very clean and the walls are bare concrete bc the rooms at RED headquarters are basically prison cells

-the only decoration in his room is an american flag, his bedside table with a lamp and alarm clock and a little bald eagle stuffed animal the guys got him for christmas one year

-sleeps stiff as a board on his back so he isn’t the greatest cuddle buddy but will do so if you ask (he prefers spooning over anything else)

-he’s got a decently sized bed cause he’s a pretty big guy, so you’ve got room to move around

-his mattress is pretty hard though so it isn’t super comfortable but it’s better than the floor or some old military cot

-goes to bed at 10pm sharp every single night and wakes up at 5am for morning training and will try to get you to get up with him regardless of when you fell asleep

-if you don’t opt to get out of bed he does wake you up again with a plate of food (courtesy of engineer, soldier’s just the delivery guy)

pyro:

-probably the weirdest room out of everybody’s

-their bed is really nice, they’ve got a pillow top mattress and fuzzy blankets so it’s very soft but it’s overcrowded with some burnt looking stuffed animals and an insane amount of throw pillows

-the other decoration is really weird though don’t pay too much attention to it, it’s kinda creepy but it’s also pyro so 🤷🏻‍♀️

-doesn’t sleep in the flame-proof suit but they do sleep in onesie-esque pajamas

-doesn’t sleep in the mask either but they do use a sleeping mask and are usually face down in the pillows

-not the biggest cuddle person either but they aren’t above putting an arm around you or something similar

-always goes to sleep after you do and wakes up before you too

-they usually already have a cereal bar or some other sweet breakfast food on the nightside for you when you do wake up though

demo:

-THE MOST WELCOMING COZIEST ROOM THE IDEAL ROOMIE

-very warm, comforting room, he’s got a fuzzy rug put down and only uses lamps because the overhead light usually hurts his eye

-very large, very soft bed with warm blankets and soft pillows

-the pillows all have a faint smell of whiskey but whatever

-very much a cuddler, sober or not. he doesn’t move around much in his sleep and is a very heavy sleeper so once he’s out he’s out and you are stuck in that bed until he wakes up

-does snore but it isn’t obnoxious

-takes the eyepatch off and wears a bonnet to bed to protect his hair (he has multiple but his favorite one has his family’s tartan as the pattern)

-a night owl, he doesn’t get to sleep until 2-3am and usually wakes up the latest out of everybody (around 9-10am) and he will get pouty if you aren’t there when he wakes up

engineer:

-his room is basically an extension of his workshop, he’s got a desk crammed full of random bullshit and blueprints he hasn’t gotten around to testing yet

-doesn’t spend much time in his actual room, so aside from extra tools, spare parts and papers there isn’t much in there

-his bed is actually pretty comfortable but he hardly ever makes it out of his workshop before passing out for the night so he wouldn’t know 😒

-when he DOES go to bed in his room, he is a HUGE cuddler, he will not let you go under any circumstances

-does snore pretty loud but if you wake him up he’ll readjust himself so he snores less

-usually sleeps on his left side so you don’t accidentally roll onto his prosthetic hand and hurt yourself

-no matter what time he fell asleep the previous night, he always gets up at 6am and makes the team breakfast. he’ll let you sleep more while he’s cooking and surprise you with breakfast in bed (even though he does it everyday so it isn’t much of a surprise)

heavy:

-HUGE ASS BED

-like california king

-he’s obviously a big guy but he does move around a lot so he needs a bigger bed so he won’t fall off every night

-very very warm bedding, he brought most of his stuff from russia so it’s built to keep you warm

-has a little teddy bear his mother handmade for him when he was first born; it’s pretty worn and tattered but he brings it with him anywhere he lives

-does have a little padded box for sasha at the foot of his bed

-isn’t the biggest sleep cuddler but he does like to hold you beforehand. he doesn’t mind when you cuddle him in your sleep, though, so by all means pass out on his chest if you feel like it

-does some reading before he goes to sleep and is usually in bed by 9 or 10pm; wakes up at 5 every morning so soldier doesn’t have to do his morning routine alone

-likes waking you up around 7am so the two of you can have some light conversation with engie during breakfast

medic:

-sleeps on the operating table

-just kidding, but he usually ends up passing out on his desk rather than his room

-his room is very sterile; it kinda feels like a doctor’s office, it smells faintly of rubbing alcohol and is a little drafty so it’s usually pretty chilly

-has birdcages hanging from the ceiling, archimedes has a fancier one compared to the rest of his doves but he swears he isn’t playing favorites

-if you do manage to get him to leave the medbay he’s usually pretty delirious. he’s very affectionate when he’s tired so he’s definitely down for cuddling

-is kinda blind without his glasses so he keeps them on until the very last minute before he falls asleep

-likes to tell you stories of when he did have his medical license and when he lived in germany

-usually falls asleep with his back to you but when he wakes up he’s holding you to his chest

-usually wakes up at 5am as well and goes straight into taking care of his birds, he likes to whistle littles tunes to them so that may end up waking you as well

-almost never eats breakfast but he will be pestering you about it because he’s a hypocrite

sniper:

-well

-it’s a camper van

-it’s very cramped but he’s used to it just being him in there so he never really realized

-his bed folds up into the wall when he isn’t using it and he keeps his bedding folded next to it

-very used to living in much hotter climates, and even though it is new mexico it gets pretty cold at night so he’s usually shivering his ass off under a thin sheet

-is surprisingly clingy for someone so introverted and quiet, he claims it’s because you keep him warm but he’s also just a mushy guy in secret

-usually falls asleep watching some shitty DVD on his little portable dvd player he keeps on a counter next to his bed

-keeps his kukri hidden next to the mattress just in case

-very light sleeper and once he’s awake, he’s awake. poor guy barely ever gets any sleep because soldier is usually screaming outside the van 3 hours after he’s gotten to bed

-doesn’t eat breakfast, but he will make you a cup of coffee in the morning

spy:

-ugh

-bought all of his bedding and the mattress purely based on looks so it’s pretty surprising that it ended up being comfortable

-will not let anybody have their shoes on in his bedroom, you have to leave them in his smoking room if you wanna come in

-kinda like medic in the fact that he goes to bed not even looking at you but wakes up all over you. he is kind of an asshole about it being like “aw babe you literally think i’m irresistible even in your sleep” when HE’S the one that cuddled up to you

-keeps his butterfly knife under his pillow and a pistol in his bedside drawer

-always falls asleep after you and is always awake and out of bed by the time you get up

-he doesn’t eat engineer’s breakfast because he claims it’s “too filling and unhealthy to be eating that much as soon as you wake up” so he always makes a little french breakfast for himself

-he pretends like he doesn’t do anything for other people but he always makes a plate for you of whatever he makes himself and leaves it on his side of the bed with a cute little note for you

-will pretend like he has no idea what you’re talking about if you bring it up though

[bunnysbrainrot]

No Vacancy - Day One

Relationship: Sam Winchester x fem!Reader

Content: fluff, nothing spicier yet

Summary: Separated from Dean and Castiel, you and Sam are on your own. Now paired up, you spend a few days in a motel. The only problem? The last room available only has one bed.

A/N: shout-out to all the Sam lovers, this one’s for y’all (me included tbh) **forehead kiss**

————

“Well,” Sam said, his hands gripping the steering wheel, “I think this is literally the only motel in town.”

And he was right. The two of you had scoured the area for over an hour, driving block after block for any other place to stay. This lone motel was far from where you needed to be for the case, but beggars can’t be choosers.

“That’s what you get in a small town, I guess,” you reply, grabbing your backpack from the floor of the car. Of course, Dean couldn’t fathom letting the two of you borrow Baby, so you had to get another ride. Thankfully, Sam had his own car in the garage of the bunker, a newer one with polished leather seats yet less flashy than the Impala.

Sam parked the car and cut off the engine, letting out a sigh.

You looked at him, tilting your head in concern, “At least we can rest, now. We can shower up and turn in for the night.”

Sam nodded in relieved agreement - the past few days had worn you both thin, exhausted and in need of proper sleep. The two of you stepped out of the car, grabbed your duffles from the back seat, and walked to the lobby of the motel to rent your room.

The clerk at the desk was not a talker, the silence in the room feeling uncomfortably thick. Sam nodded to the man with a terse smile and guided you back outside.

“That guy definitely wants to go home,” joked Sam. At last, you reached room 115, your final spot for the day. You stretched your aching neck as Sam unlocked the door and stepped inside.

“Crap.”

“What is it?”

“I think we were given the wrong room,” Sam continued, stepping out of the room to let you peer inside. A single king sized bed sat against the wall, with no other place to sleep. You turned to Sam, who had already made his way back to the main office. You waited for him for a few moments, seeing him return with a remorseful look.

“What’s up?”

“That’s the only room left,” Sam explained, “you wanna stay here anyway? They didn’t have a cot, but we can figure something out.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously.

You waved dismissively, giving Sam an embarrassed smile, “Don’t worry, we’re both adults here. Sharing a room doesn’t bother me.”

Sam looked at you for a moment, contemplating the next step. He shrugged and opened the door to 115 again, leading you inside.

The room was small and sparsely furnished - just the bed, an armchair, and the TV sat on a minuscule set of drawers. You placed your bag down next to the lonesome armchair, and sat down to remove your shoes.

In front of you, Sam paced at the foot of the bed.

“They, uh… didn’t have a cot, so I’m not sure how you’d want to go about this.”

You kicked your boots to the side and glanced up at him.

“Scared of sharing a bed, Sam?”

If you were being honest, you were petrified of the idea. Ever since joining this self-proclaimed ‘Team Free Will’, Sam had been the one you’d gotten closest to. Before they took you in, you had been more reserved and quiet. A more nerdy type of person; Sam was the perfect guy to buddy up with. You both had a passion for research, to Dean’s dismay.

“So we finally have a chick on the team, and we get another nerd?” He had teased.

Despite Dean giving you shit for it, you had never felt more welcome into a group. There was a sense of purpose, a motivation to save people from monsters. With your help, the world would be a safer place for those unaware of what lurks in the shadows.

Bringing you back to reality, Sam cleared his throat.

“I’m not, I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

You retorted, “And why would I be uncomfortable with you?”

He quipped, “I mean, how often have we been forced to share a bed?”

He had a point, and your brave façade of nonchalance wouldn’t last much longer. Sure, if you both kept to a side of the bed, fully clothed, it would leave the fewest issues. But the butterflies in your stomach told you that this may not be something you could handle easily.

Your mind raced back to a memory of a case three months back, out in Tennessee. It was another shapeshifter, and it was hard for Sam and Dean to gather intel about much of anything. It was Dean’s foolish idea to send you and Sam to question the local townsfolk, masked as a tourist couple to keep your anonymity to a maximum. That time spent with Sam opened your eyes to what you had been missing for a shamefully long time. Love, or at least what felt like it.

Although it had been an act, the sweet gestures Sam had to uphold for the charade won your heart. He opened each door for you, kissed your cheeks, held your hand, the whole nine. Everything he had done drove you wild. Except, the one thing he never did was press his lips to yours. It seemed like a sick game of Dean’s pairing you up like that. You made sure to give him shit for it, telling him how embarrassing it was to have two friends act like a couple. What Dean didn’t know was the secret gratefulness you had for his plan.

At one point Dean did suggest you liked Sam, to which you denied, fumbling over your words like an idiot. He had shrugged it off, but now you wondered if that interaction inspired him to cut you off from him and Castiel. You silently cursed that damn Winchester for it.

“Never, but it’s just for a couple nights, right? We’ll share ghost stories and braid each other’s hair. It’ll be fun,” you joked, having walked over to Sam and patting his arm.

You went to the bed and furiously fluffed each pillow - the ones in motels were notoriously limp. Next you shook out the blanket. You hated the way it stayed cold when it’d been pulled taught to the mattress all day. Of all fun facts about you, Sam found that the most endearing. He hadn’t told you before, but he’d always been keen on your quirks. Simply put, he loved that he wasn’t the ‘weird one’ anymore.

Getting comfortable on the bed, Sam flopped down, still fully dressed in those tough denim jeans and signature red flannel. Your eyes grazed over him as he closed his eyes from exhaustion. Your pajamas were in your duffel, so you fumbled for them before heading to the bathroom to change. The sound of the TV muffled against the door - it seemed to be one of those dramatic crime shows you and the brothers scoffed at.

Pajamas was a loose term for the oversized t-shirt and mid-thigh sleepshorts you wore to bed. If you were alone maybe you’d have worn far less. Sam had removed his shoes, at the very least. You dimmed the lamp in the corner of the room and settled onto the bed. Then that was it, the exhaustion of today had finally gotten to you. It took everything in you to not let your mind drift off to sleep.

“We gotta go into town tomorrow?” You asked Sam.

“Yeah,” his voice honeyed with a groggy softness, “we should talk to the families of the victims. Figure out if these really were ‘accidents’.”

“FBI? Police? Ooh, maybe church officials?”

Sam let out a breathy laugh at your joke, the husk of his voice reverberating through you. God, it could be absolute torture to be around him at times. When the stress of hunting melted away, and you two could be your real selves.

“Just FBI, Cas is on standby as our ‘supervisor’.”

You looked to him fully, “Cas is our supervisor? And Dean actually trusts he can do that? Cas doesn’t know the first thing about the FBI.”

“Eh, Dean thought it could be good for the ‘people skills’,” Sam replied, finally opening his eyes at turning his head to you. Suddenly the two feet between you felt like mere inches. Your breath caught in your throat; you couldn’t reply even if you tried, so you opted for a small smile. Sam countered it with one of his own - the flashy grin that melted your heart more each time.

“We’re gonna have to get up so early. I’m not too excited for that.”

Sam’s face softened, his voice lowering, “We should get some sleep, then. You good with that side of the bed?”

You nodded, rising out of bed to switch the lamp off. The light from the TV drew Sam’s sights to you, loosely shrouded by your shirt and shorts. His eyes raked over your bare legs, wandering up your thighs until your shorts stalled his imagination. Sam followed suit and stood, but walked to the bathroom with a handful of clothes plucked from his bag.

A moment later he returned to see you under the covers, hunched over from the cold. Whatever those shitty detectives said on the TV drowned out as you noticed Sam. Just then you realized you had never seen him wear anything but a suit or his regular garb. Even in boxer shorts and a black t-shirt, he managed to catch your eye.

He caught your eye contact and smiled once more, that familiar ache in your chest growing stronger. You reached over and lifted the covers for him, letting him settle on his side of the bed.

“Do you sleep with the TV on?” You asked softly.

“No, do you?”

You gave him a small laugh, closing your eyes, “Nope. Keeps me up too late.”

Sam smiled. A part of him was relieved that he could get some proper rest with you here. Dean had the habit of leaving the TV on, depriving him of countless hours of sleep.

Even though they were rare, Sam appreciated these moments alone with you. It was easy to be with you. It was easy to laugh, to open up, to ramble on about whatever lore he had obsessed over. He loved the way your eyebrows tugged together when you didn’t understand something, and the way you tried piecing words together before asking your questions.

The A.C. unit cranked on beside the bed, pumping freezing cold air on your back. You shivered, curling into yourself to keep the warmth in.

Sam’s eyebrows raised slightly, “Hey, are you cold? I can turn the A.C. off.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I’ll warm up in a minute,” you insisted. Sam sighed, knowing you wouldn’t say yes, and turned the unit off.

He quickly settled back into bed, letting out a shuddering exhale. You waited until he shifted under the covers to speak.

“You cold, too?”

“Maybe just a little bit.”

In the faint light of the TV you could make out his smile. A part of your mind drifted off to a place where that smile met you every day, lounging around in bed. Sam’s hands would run across your skin and tangle into your hair, pulling your mouth to his before making you breakfast.

The room dimmed as the television went silent. You and Sam shifted under the covers for a moment before getting fully comfortable, the silence of the room felt like a bated breath.

Sam broke it first, “These blankets don’t really do their job, do they?”

You replied to him, “Not a damn bit. It’s freezing in here.”

“You can, uh… move closer if you need to,” his voice wavered. The silhouette of his form moved to face you, dimly lit by the light from street lamps in the parking lot. You could make out his sharp cheekbones and the chestnut brown hair draped around his neck.

When another shiver won your body over you took the offer, moving closer to Sam until your arms touched. Now inches from one another like you’d wished, your mind went blank.

It took everything you had to remind yourself what this was, well, wasn’t. This wouldn’t be the lust-driven breakthrough you had hoped for. Nor would it be the time for Sam Winchester to take you the way you ached for. An awkward, strictly business sleeping situation.

You let your mind wander off, the waves of exhaustion turning into the gentle lull of sleep. You could’ve sworn you felt Sam’s arm wrap around your waist, keeping you warm.

————

By the time you woke up, Sam was still fast asleep. You had never seen him like this up close, with his eyes fluttered shut and breathing slowed. The image painted itself into your memory.

You were right, though, Sam had laid his arm over you. And now both had enveloped you close to his chest, rising and falling steadily against your ear. It took twenty more minutes for Sam to wake up.

He stirred until he noticed you flush against him, and he stilled completely. You wiggled in his grip to look up at him.

With a groggy smile you greeted him, “G’morning.”

“Hey,” he said, voice still thick with sleep, “sleep okay?”

You gave him a simple nod, regaining your composure. You scooted yourself away to give him the space that should’ve been there all night. Even though a part of you crumbled as you did, you padded out of bed to the bathroom.

“At least we know to turn off the A.C. tonight. Maybe a room with two beds will open up while we’re out, and we can switch.”

Sam opened his mouth to speak before you closed the bathroom door. What he was going to say escaped him.

He just hoped no other rooms opened up before the evening.

Thank you for your support, everyone! Day two will be here soon

- Bunny

[twola]

Lonesome Dove

If you want any one thing too badly, it's likely to turn out to be a disappointment.

Smut/MDNI ➵ Gift ficlet, Redbird universe ➵ AO3 Link

For my dearest @redwritr, whose words weave the tapestries hung in the hallways of my heart.

The room felt big; empty. It was almost cold, even with the fetid humidity of south Lemoyne. Everything was damp, a sheen of moisture that never left in the bayou. 

She came to him again tonight, a flash of red hair and the hint of that pretty little smile and the sway of her hips in those damn trousers - alluring and sensual even when she didn’t mean to be. The weight of a Springfield strapped ‘cross her back, the leather band parting her breasts in her shirt.

For the umpteenth time in months, Arthur wakes alone in his bed, in his cot, in his bedroll. Collarbone damp with the sheen of sweat and his cock annoyingly hard.

He’s thought about it, of course. Undoing the buttons of his union suit and coaxing his half-hearted erection alive, fucking into his hand thinking of her. But he’s done that before. Thought of a woman no longer his while he thrusts into his hand, the sorry bastard that he is. One would think he would have learned his lesson. 

Mary Linton’s dark eyes. Nell Riordan’s pink lips.

And Arthur Morgan, alone. As always. Probably deservedly so. A mean, terrible old bastard like him was never deserving of a woman - much less one that struck him down like a flash of lightning in the night.

Staring at the water-stained ceiling of the room, his cock throbs, half-hard, against his thigh, brushing against the worn cotton of his union suit. Sweat pools across his clavicles. Even in just his union suit, it’s too damn hot.

Why’re you even wearing that?

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to banish the lilt of her voice in his head. The teasing nature, the sly tone. But he heeds the unasked favor, in the dim light of the oil lamp in the corner of the room, he slowly works the union suit from his body. Down his arms, biceps sore from chopping wood earlier. Down his chest, his abdomen, his pelvis. 

As he pushes the cotton over his member, he stifles a groan working its way out of his chest. Once released, his cock smacks against his stomach, hard to the edge of painful.

She’d give him a sly look if she were here. She’d wrap her fingers around him and slowly stroke. As he grasps himself, he fully gives in to the fantasy, letting go of his battered pride for the night. It's all wrong, of course, his hands too big, and the calluses on his fingers are in the wrong spots. The one on her thumb - he remembers that, clear as day, as she would stroke and fondle him.

What a goddamn miserable fool he was. Letting out a long breath, Arthur’s fingers tighten around his shaft as he begins to pump himself, the head of his cock appearing from his foreskin. He grits his teeth, closing his eyes and imagining her - that flash of red hair, the allure of her skin, spread out next to him on this little bed.

She’d be ready for him, with a single swipe of his finger up her slit - she always is.

The outlaw stifles another groan as he lays his forearm across his eyes to block out any kind of light. Any kind of reminder of the truth - that he was alone in this bed, jerking himself off to a woman gone - one he loves, one he hates. One he left on a mountainside after he broke his damn heart.

One who still has his damn heart.

She’d fight back when he pushed her to the mattress, the spark of contest in her eye. Wouldn’t go down without a fight. He’d have to use just a bit more of the force he so oft wields outside. He’d hold her down, with a smirk.

He’s unabashedly jerking himself now, sitting up from his laying position to chase some sort of vision - some hazy dream just out of reach. 

But oh, she’d eventually give in.

Arthur leans up on his knees, gritting his teeth as his hips thrust forward, his cock swallowed by his fist pumping it faster and faster.

She’d be underneath him, making some wisecrack about the size of the bed but still opening those pretty legs for him.

It’s everything he has not to groan aloud, one hand right around his cock, pumping at a dizzying pace, the other gently squeezing his swollen balls, full and ready to spend.

Her breasts, heaving with every thrust he gives her. Her bottom lip is bitten red, trying to keep herself quiet as Dutch is just down the hall. Her legs over his shoulders and her eyes glazed over as he pounds her hips into the rickety bed.

The smacking sound of his wet palm on his shaft is unmistakable should someone walk by,  but he’s beyond the point of caring. He’s in another world entirely.

Fuck, the sight of his hard shaft disappearing into her cunt, wet and well-glossed with her slick after each stroke. The sight of the dark curls at the base of his cock intermingled with the pretty little auburn thatch of hair over her cunt. The clench of her body on his when she comes, a rapture as if she was a goddamn angel.

The feeling in the pit of his gut shifts, the burning bursting into flame, and he knows he’s approaching that point of no return.

He grunts under his breath-

She convulses around him-

His hips jut forward-

Her pretty little cry beneath him-

He’s so goddamn hard-

Arthur - she gasps - Come in me-

His eyes screw shut and his eyebrows furrow.

And he comes-

And he comes.

He spends all over his palm, emptying hot as his release seeps between his fingers. He lets a long breath out of his nose as he slowly sits back down from his knees, the sickening, roiling feeling in his gut returns with a vengeance.

Her whisper in the night - Do that to me again.

As he wipes his spend-covered hand on an old bandana and throws it to the floor in a flash of indignation, Arthur hates himself.

In the end, nothing’s changed.

He’s just a lonesome miserable bastard, fucking into his hand, dreaming of a woman no longer his.

[ihavemanyhusbands]

The Assassin's Apprentice

PART ONE: RELUCTANCE

Mini-Series Masterlist

Also on AO3

Pairing: Duncan Vizla x Fem!Reader

WC: 2.6k words

Summary: A reluctant mentor gets assigned a reluctant apprentice to learn the ropes of the hitman business... Eventually. The result? Various situations for them to bond and play nice with each other, even if it's not always easy.

Warnings: one bed trope wahooooo, sort of implied mutual pining, assassin!reader (in training), swearing, lots of tension, slight power imbalance, eventual smut, beginnings of fluff, eventual angst, slight age gap (reader is in her 20s), smoking, and I think that's it right now but lmk if anything else!

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

“How long until we’re there?” You asked, glancing over at him.

He glanced back at you with a raised eyebrow. “We’ll get there when we get there.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms and turning back to the passenger side window. You tried to discern anything in the endless darkness of the highway, but you couldn’t see beyond the occasional road sign illuminated by the truck’s headlights.

You’d been on the road for hours, with no real idea of where, or when, Duncan — the so-called mentor you’d been paired with — was planning to stop. Your next assignment was somewhere in the midwest, between Illinois and Indiana, but he’d kept most of the other details to himself. 

You weren’t sure how he expected you to learn anything about the business if he wasn’t willing to share what he knew. You could barely even call him a teacher, really, but you found it was more due to willful negligence rather than outright incompetence. If anything, you’d think it would help the mentorship end faster, especially since you knew he was just as unhappy being stuck with an apprentice.

You’d only been working together for a couple of months, but you didn’t feel like you’d progressed all that much. Sure, you were getting a much better handle on weaponry, but you still had a long way to go. Guns were especially difficult, but that was yet another lesson he had neglected to teach you. 

Still, there was a small part of you that didn’t want to call the agency about a replacement. At least, you had gotten to know him enough to predict his moods and some of the decisions he took. Starting over again with someone new just seemed too tedious at that point. 

It was as they said, after all, better the devil you know than the one you don’t…

You sighed, wishing you could just go to sleep and forget everything for a few hours. Finally, as if your silent prayers were being answered, he pulled off the road into the parking lot of a dingy-looking motel. Surprisingly, it was relatively full, but there was a vacant spot right in front of the main office that Duncan pulled into.

“Let me do the talking,” he said, switching off the ignition. 

You rolled your eyes. “What, you don’t trust me not to give us away or something?”

“No, but I don’t want any sort of unnecessary back and forth, like right now,” he said pointedly. “We’ll take whatever room they have, we’ll sleep for a few hours, and we’ll leave early in the morning. That’s it, nothing more to it. You understand?”

“Whatever,” you muttered under your breath, following him to the main office. 

The reception had a rustic feel to it, with sparse decorations that had probably not been changed since the eighties. A small, old TV was playing Jeopardy, the voices indistinct and low. You hung back and pretended to leaf through some old pamphlets while Duncan went to speak to the manager, an old man who had been dozing off in his chair before you entered.

The manager looked through his yellowed logbook and smiled with what seemed to be relief.

“You’re in luck, this is our last room available,” he said.

“Two beds?” Duncan asked.

He shook his head. “Just a single, king-sized bed.”

At this, you couldn’t help yourself — your head snapped up in horror, eyes wide. “But you have extra cots, right?”

“Unfortunately, we are currently out of them. We have some larger families staying here right now.”

Duncan shot you a warning glare over his shoulder and you pursed your lips. You nodded tightly at the manager, who was confused at your slight distress. 

“I-is that alright with you? I’m sorry I can’t do more,” he said, eyeing Duncan, clearly intimidated by his size.

“It’s fine, we’ll take it. How much?” Duncan said, his voice starting to become haggard with exhaustion, and took out his wallet.

“Forty-five.”

He handed him the cash and practically snatched up the key. He jerked his head towards the door so you’d follow suit and you left the pamphlets back where you’d found them. 

“Room eighteen, at the other end of the lot!” The manager called out as the two of you were halfway out the door. 

You shot him an apologetic glance and mouthed a quick thank you before closing the door, the bell overhead jingling. 

Outside, Duncan immediately lit a cigarette and exhaled a plume of smoke. You gathered what little belongings you’d brought from the truck and followed him toward the room, silently cursing your luck. 

Your mind was racing with possibilities, but the one that kept coming up was making him sleep on the floor. It was only polite, after all, but you doubted he’d give in without a fight… If he gave in at all. Another option was to sleep on the floor yourself, but the consequences would not be pretty for him in the morning. 

You were struggling to come up with much else, but sleeping in the same bed was absolutely unthinkable. You wouldn’t even consider it. But still, heat traitorously crawled to your cheeks at the thought.

When you got close enough, you had to shake yourself out of your thoughts as he tossed the key at you. You barely caught it, blinking in surprise, but then you shoved past him with a huff. Dickhead.

“I’m gonna finish this,” he said, referring to his cigarette. 

Wordlessly, you shut the door behind you and dropped your bag on the bed, irritation still looming like a dark cloud over you. Before you could really think about it, you grabbed some sleep clothes and locked yourself in the bathroom to shower. 

The hot stream of water did seem to help ease some of your tension, and so you lingered for perhaps a little too long. You scrubbed thoroughly to wash the long day off of you, trying not to think of what would come next. 

What you didn’t know was that outside, Duncan had lit another cigarette, plagued with his own spiraling thoughts. He could never have predicted the day would end the way it did, and that threw him for a loop. Feelings he so carefully concealed warred inside him. He was not totally put off by the idea of sharing the bed, but he certainly would prefer not to. At least, not then.

He was already on edge from your biting remarks and scathing looks, but he wondered if that flame inside of you ever flickered with other emotions. Or if it was even possible, but perhaps he was just projecting. He was not the most patient of men, and he certainly did not know how to take care of – much less guide – someone. He’d always worked alone, and that was a fate he’d accepted long ago.

But then, there was you, shaking him out of his routine and somehow coaxing him into a state that seemed more present. Like he was finally disengaging autopilot, the days no longer blending into each other. Even if things were not necessarily smooth between the two of you. 

You took your time toweling off and getting dressed, too, just stalling for a little bit longer. Then you heard insistent knocking that immediately broke through your serenity. With another annoyed huff, you stomped over to the front door and yanked it open.

Duncan shouldered his way in, giving you a quick glance over that you chose to ignore. For a moment, you both stood there, unsure of how to proceed. You opened your mouth to say something, but he beat you to it.

“You can take the bed,” he said gruffly, deciding as soon as he saw you.

You gaped at him, stupefied. You had been braced for an argument, almost eager to defend yourself. But this was the first time since you’d met him that he’d truly taken you by surprise.

You relaxed your posture, clearing your throat as you looked away.

“Are you, um, sure?” You asked mostly out of politeness.

“Yes,” he said.

You nodded slowly, reluctantly muttering, “Thank you.” 

“What was that?”

“I said thank you,” you said louder, your jaw clenching.

He smiled a little in satisfaction, a teasing edge to it. “Nice to know you still have some manners, after all.”

You frowned, glaring up at him as you sat on the edge of the bed.

“I could say the same to you, what with you suddenly being so generous.” 

He grunted in response, which could be taken as a touché. You tossed him a pillow and the thin extra blanket that was folded over the comforter.

“I’m exhausted, so I’d advise you not to test me anymore tonight,” you said, sliding under the blankets. 

“Or what?” He raised an eyebrow in challenge.

You held his gaze pointedly. “Do you really want to find out?”

He shook his head, observing you for a moment longer before he let out an amused huff.

“That smart mouth of yours will get you in a lot of trouble someday. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, not the first time I’ve heard that. Doubt it’s gonna be you that does anything about it, though.”

He let out a wry chuckle. “Oh, yes. When trouble comes knocking, I’ll steer clear.”

With that, he dropped what you’d thrown at him and went into the bathroom to shower as well. You pressed your pillow over your face and let out a long groan. He really knew how to push your buttons, but it was especially frustrating that you didn’t think anyone had ever affected you in such a way before.

You pulled the covers up to your chin and turned away from the door, grumbling to yourself. But as you listened to the muffled sound of the water running, exhaustion got the best of you and you drifted into sleep without realizing it.

When Duncan was done, he saw your prone form and tried his best to tiptoe around the room so as not to wake you. He peeked over the side and found himself smiling softly upon seeing your serene expression, which was a rare sight. 

The life you had signed up for was not an easy one, he knew that well. Perhaps he was stalling because he wanted to spare you the worst parts for a little while longer — the loneliness, the constant paranoia and vigilance, the lack of trust.  

Or perhaps he liked having some company a little too much. Even if you always seemed to be ready to chew his head off, he still enjoyed having someone with him on all his travels. The lack of silence was a welcome reprieve.

He slept shallowly for a few hours, but he was woken up by the sound of your shuddering breaths. You’d been woken up by the cold that had crept in as night reached its darkest point, the measly motel sheets too thin for you to generate heat properly. 

He heard you tip-toe towards the heater, cursing under your breath when you realized it was broken. You realized you’d left your jacket in the truck, as well, but you wouldn’t dare venture out there into the freezing night for it. You wanted to punch something in frustration, but you clenched your fists tightly instead.

He shifted on the floor, looking up at your silhouette. “Trouble sleeping?” 

“Aren’t you freezing?” You asked, teeth chattering slightly.

“A little,” he said, already used to finding ways of maintaining body heat.

You stood there for a moment, trying to rub warmth onto your arms. A part of you already knew the solution to your problem, but you didn’t want to voice it. You didn’t think he’d let you live it down if you did.

And yet, he was the one to speak up.

“Do you want me to…?” He trailed off.

The word no was immediately on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. All you wanted was some goddamn rest for at least one night, and if you needed to sacrifice both your pride and your dignity for it… then you would deal with it when daylight came. 

You sighed heavily, resigned. “Not really, but also… yes?”

He stood up with a grunt, tossing his pillow and blanket back on the bed. His heavy footsteps thudded to the other side of it as you reluctantly slid back under the covers. His weight sank his side of the mattress as he lay down and you almost rolled into him.

Quickly, you scooted away as far away as possible, your back nearly hanging off the edge. 

“Alright just – stay on your side, okay? No funny business. I mean it,” you warned. “I’m not afraid to cut your fingers off if you try anything.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “I don’t doubt it. But what if it’s you who tries something instead?”

“Oh, you wish,” you huffed, turning away from him. “Good night, Duncan.”

He hummed in response, smiling to himself as he settled on his back. Luckily for the both of you, his presence was enough for the bed to warm up properly. You fell back asleep without much more protest and in your unconscious state, you sought out more of his warmth. Your body inched close to his, and his body involuntarily found itself rolling to one side and enveloping you.

It was almost natural, the way you fit just right in his embrace. It was foolish to pretend you didn’t, in some subconscious way, expect to end up like that. Both of you slept more soundly than you had in a long time.

Early the next morning, when pale tendrils of light filtered in through the thin curtains, you began to wake up to find yourself flush against him. In your half conscious state, you hummed and nestled against him more comfortably, not quite wanting to get up yet. Then slowly, you began to remember just who was holding you. From there, more and more details started to sink in – the top of your head under his chin, your back against his chest, your butt pressed to his…

Your eyes popped open and you drove your elbow back into his chest. With a groan, his arms untangled from around you and you hastily wiggled away from him. He blinked up at you blearily as you glared down at him, noticing that his smell lingered on you. Your face felt like it was on fire. 

“What are you doing!? I told you to stay on your side!” You hissed, still reeling from shock and outrage. 

“I-I’m sorry, I just didn’t notice. Guess we slept pretty deeply,” he said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with one hand. “What time is it?”

He rolled onto his back and it was then that you noticed something bulging underneath the sheets. 

“Oh god… oh my god,” you whispered panickedly, quickly looking away even if the image had seared itself into your mind. “I, um, I don’t know, just get ready okay!? Please let’s just get the fuck out of here.”

He frowned for a moment, confused by your hysterics, but then he noticed his own predicament and tried to cover himself with one large hand. He found himself blushing a little, too, and he grabbed a pillow for extra measure. 

“U-um yes, yes, go ahead and use the bathroom first if you need,” he said. 

You didn’t need to be told twice, running inside and locking the door behind you. You looked at your wide-eyed reflection in the mirror and let out an exasperated breath. You internally cursed yourself for having been weak willed, even if for a moment. Sure, the rest had been worth it, but what about everything else? 

Well, maybe if neither of you mentioned it again, then it would be like it didn’t happen at all… right?

---------

[covetyou]

is there any Santa/Cupid Joel lore you'd be willing to share?

it's a totally normal question i'm not unhealthily obsessed with him or anything

lore you say? I have baubles and stupid cupid lore. more in egg hunt at the end of March too.

word count: 722 warnings: sex toys, brotherly shenanigans, these two things are related but very much not in an incest way don't worry. summary: What started as a simple joke from the youngest Miller brother quickly turned into a... beloved brotherly tradition.

The first time he'd gotten one of those gifts it had been his birthday. He never got anything, from anyone, so when he opened his front door to see a present lying there with his name on it, he'd been wary. When he saw it was from Tommy, he was even more apprehensive. So, he did the only logical thing and left it in the garage until he could open it in a disposable coverall later that night, just in case.

Of course, he looked like a total dick stood in his garage in a coverall at midnight holding anal beads of all fucking things, staring at a chicken scratch of a note from his dearest fuckin' baby brother:

if you won't bring someone into your bedroom, maybe you gotta bring something. hbd brother.

Tommy may have been right, but Joel didn't think anal beads were that thing he was looking for. By the next afternoon, the beads were carefully hung from Tommy's rearview mirror.

And so began the long, tiring, tradition of gift giving and gift returning between the Miller brothers.

On Thanksgiving, Joel slipped Tommy a baggy of finger cots, giving him a heavy slap on the back and telling him he found his size. The next week, the tiny white condoms were neatly pulled over the ends of every single one of Joel's tools.

That Christmas Joel was the not-so-happy recipient of an edible chocolate Clone-a-Willy kit. He was almost tempted to try it out - to cast his cock in the tube just so he could take it out and look at it properly from every angle. He cast his middle finger instead, handing it to a gleeful Tommy on New Years Eve.

For Valentine's day, Joel damn near gave Tommy a heart attack, and ruined the end of what was, until that point, a very good date. He knew he should've kept it to the couch, but damn if his date didn't deserve the full Tommy Miller Experience. Apparently, that also included seeing the blow up sex doll tucked neatly into his bed. He never did hear back from her after that night.

Of course, what Joel didn't know is Tommy had stashed a pink heart shaped butt plug on his dresser, only noticing the thing weeks later when Sarah pointed it out before Joel could sweep it into a drawer and tell her to get going or she'd be late for school. Tommy groveled until Joel didn't quite want to kill him any more, and the butt plug lay forgotten in the bottom of his sock drawer.

Tommy's birthday brought him some vibrating nipple clamps - clamps that Joel never saw or heard about again, save for a thank you and a thumbs up from his brother one day on a job.

For his birthday that year, a full 365 days since this whole thing started, Joel received maybe the most baffling gift of all. A dildo for his balls. Apparently. Now, Joel wasn't a church going man - hadn't been since their parents had given up with it all when they were kids - but he couldn't help but think that maybe his brother needed Jesus.

This one, he was almost tempted to keep. Not that he had anyone to use it with, and it most definitely was not a solo use gift. He opened it, tried to figure it out, even watched the instructional video, before settling on sticking it on top of Tommy's Christmas tree at the end of the year.

But, when he pulled up outside Tommy's place on Christmas Eve it looked, and sounded, like he had company. Not one to cockblock his brother again (at least one of them was gettin' laid) Joel headed back home, toy hidden away in his Santa sack. It was still the right side of midnight when he drove down his street, noticing once again that house with the sparkling Christmas tree, totally bare of any decorations. One look to the back of his truck, ornaments from a house clearance still stashed in a box that he had yet to find a home for, and he made up his mind. Parking up and walking down the street, draped in red velvet with a bag filled with jangling plastic ornaments, he stepped up to your door...

[mixreality]

"Good girl"

My inner psychopath can't handle it anymore, so... there it is. English is not my native language! So sorry for mistakes!

Asa Emory with Fem!Reader who becomes his little puppy.

A bit of NSFW in the end

You love animals so much! In your spare time, you work part-time as a dog walker. It was a sunny summer day when HE saw you walking in the park surrounded by several four-legged barking creatures, jumping around, asking to throw them a toy.

Your big eyes, your smile, and your pale (or dark), clear skin glowing in the sun. Perfect. A perfect one to his collection. He's been watching you for quite too long… It's time for the little dog to learn her place…

Asa would be mad at himself it if there was even a single mark on your beautiful body from his instruments or other stuff. So, instead of intravenous anesthesia, he has to make do with a chloroform rag that was securely fixed on your face while you slept in your room. I hope you had a good night's sleep on the way to your new "home".

A nasty white, cold light stabs you sharply in the eyes. Surprisingly, you're not sitting like Gollum in a cramped box, but lying on a creaky bed. The room looks like a mental ward… or a prison.

You want to look around and try to open the door, but something is in your way. Something cold and heavy around your neck. "A collar?! What am I, a dog?!". Right when you thought about it, the door opened with a terrible creak and a masked man entered the room. Your face read animal fear, tears began to flow from your eyes, your voice trembled and begged for mercy.

Asa slowly came closer and closer, viewing you with a kind of… pity? Salty tears leave ugly red marks on your soft skin. So bad. They need to be wiped away. He runs his palm over your cheeks, stroking your face, so caring. At this moment, you feel weirdly…

You cannot remember, how you found yourself walking down an endless halls on all fours, with a chain around your neck like a leash. How long have you been walking like that? Judging by the chafing kneepads, it's been three months for sure, maybe more. Your Stockholm syndrome is kicking in.

And, after some more time, the abandoned building is replaced by a warm house. HIS house. You're used to being treated like a dog, no, you LIKE being treated like dog. You still walk around on all fours, with a leather collar and a gag in your mouth. Good girls should be quiet.

You now have your own little comfy place with a huge cot and a cage (in case you misbehave), somewhere in the furthest room that hardly anyone goes into. When Asa is in the mood, he lets you sit at his legs while he works, or lie on him on the couch. Amazingly, his ruthlessness disappears when you're around (this doesn't negate the fact of the situation you're in).

Clothes? Why do you need clothes? A big black t-shirt and black panties and an anal plug with a tail will suffice. He likes to see your legs and the way you wiggle your ass when you walk, the way your back sags. Asa can give you a sweater if he sees you freezing (sorry, but he doesn't want to have to deal with your fever and snot😢).

"What? Don't you get enough attention? Making puppy eyes because you want more?" with those words, Asa watched you rub against his leg and whimper. "God, what am I doing?" you say to yourself, but you can't stop. Continuing to stroke your head, he unzipped his pants and pulled out his, already aroused cock. It's medium-sized, slightly thickened in the middle, with veins at the base, looking well-groomed (who'd doubt it).

"Lick it. Like a dog. And no hands." It's exciting, but you asked for it. You start at the tip, with the tip of your tongue, in intermittent motions, as if lapping up water. The longer this went on, the more confident you became just licking his cock from base to end. All the way up and down. Running your tongue along every vein. Congratulations, you really have a jaw of steel!

You've lost track of time from the pleasure. Asa's breath hitches slightly, you realize he's about to cum. Yes, your mouth and face are now covered with his seed.

"Oh, look at you, and don't say it's not enough for you. Otherwise, I'll have to punish you, very roughly." Yes. Yes, you're not enough and you want him to take you. Hard. Right now. Bad girl.

[whiskeynwriting]

Yeaaaaah imma need more Simon x Bones content (if you’re willing, of course!) 🥵 The dynamic you created between the two characters is just ✨chefs kiss✨

Ahhh thank you so much my love!! <3 I very much enjoy writing them 🥰

Come Find Me

Simon “Ghost” Riley x OFC “Bones” 

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Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Dirty talk, size kink, praise kink-ish, oral (f receiving), somnophilia (kind of?), established relationship, fluffiessss

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A/N: Full version is here! Ghost is a tits man, you literally can't change my mind about this.

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Simon “Ghost” Riley Masterlist

Join My Taglist!

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Warm and firm, the weight crushing, yet comforting. There’s the smell of fresh pine, bergamot, the small chill of his chain. It causes a shiver to roll through your body, one you settle into. The bulk of his biceps cage you in, arms snuggled between your back and the mattress. The moment is private and above all, intimate. He’s resting on you, his head turned to the side so his cheek can rest on your chest, right between your breasts. And you welcome it, him and his positioning, legs opened slightly with his pelvis laying between them. Your own arms are around him, too, holding his hulking body above you. 

“How was the mission?” You ask quietly, body consumed by the tenderness of it all. Your hand is smoothing over the back of his head, caressing him. 

“Long.” Is all he says, holding you just a little tighter in those gorgeously sculpted arms. 

And then he groans. It’s a small, happy sound, made as he nuzzles further in. Yeah, he really did miss you.

Right now, on top of being completely at ease, you’re both wondering why the hell you haven’t done this before. Not only are Simon’s quarters smaller, but they’re colder, too, and not just physically. 

The air in the barracks is stiff and unwelcoming. But here, it’s warm, comfortable and inviting. Your space is much bigger than his, being that you’re on base far more often than him. Simon also didn’t prefer to have much in his room, easier to keep clean, he says. But honestly, he’s loving your fairly decorated space. Everything just seems… nicer. Your bed is full in size, opposed to his single-style military issued cot. It’s also softer, has more pillows and blankets, too. There’s also better lighting, you even have a window in here. But it’s closed with the curtains drawn, shutting out the night. To top it all off, you have a mini fridge and a small stash of snacks on the shelf above your desk. He’d kill for that. 

In the quiet lull surrounding you, Simon releases a warm breath over your skin, you’re just in your bra and shorts beneath him. Rubbing his cheek slightly across your chest, he gives the curve of your tit a tender kiss before snuggling in again. 

“Simon?”

“Mm?” He grumbles in response, his mask pulled barely above his lips. 

“I missed you.” You’re cooing to him like he’s a precious baby, and deep inside, he fucking loves it. He loves how caring you are. He’s never been cared for like this. 

Simon has opened up quite significantly since the start of your relationship. And still, nobody knows about it, not even Soap or Price. It’s not necessarily forbidden for the two of you to do this, but you both think it would be frowned upon. Ghost should be focused on his work, and you on yours. But neither of your performances have faltered since the start of this, so, why end it? 

As soon as he returned from their most recent mission, Simon found you. Just like before. But instead of dragging you to his barracks, you suggested your own room. You were less likely to be caught there. So, after showering up, he walked to C-Block, coming up with a multitude of excuses in the case that he’s seen. But he wasn’t, you were right. This block is empty as hell, especially at night. Not many people stay at the base, only essential workers for the team. The only people occupying the other rooms in C-Block were mainly janitors and the occasional assistant nurse. 

“Wasn’t gone that long, love.” He chastises gently, smirking. 

He’s right, he was only gone for a week. But still, you missed him; how could you not? 

“Does that mean you didn’t miss me?” You tease in response, grinning in the near-darkness of your room.

He hums, chuckling. You’re baiting him, and you’re winning. “I did.” 

During the mission, he thought about you, mainly when he went to bed. He tried to keep you out of his head during the day - otherwise it’d get him killed. But on your end, you thought about him all day, while you worked, while you ate, while you bathed. It’s like you ached for him, and you’re so thankful he’s back again. 

Every time they came back from a mission, they got the next day off. Meaning, Simon doesn’t have a strict bedtime tonight, nor an early wakeup call tomorrow. This is the best time for you to enjoy each other’s company. And even though he’s got the night off, and the following day, all he wanted to do was lay down with you. He’s exhausted, physically and mentally drained. And even though he’d never admit it… he wanted to be held by you. He wanted to be close to your body. 

With the blanket pulled over Simon’s large frame, your hands caressing his back, he releases a contented breath. Turning his head, he kisses your breast again, slowly laying his tongue over it. It makes you moan quietly, happily, the warm, wet feeling of it. And when he feels your fingernails drag lightly across his naked back, he grins, licking your curves again. 

“Baby…” It’s a small sigh, lolling your head to the side as you glance down at him. 

“Hm…” He groans slightly, releasing a breath. And then, he leans in, giving your covered, pebbled nipple a delicate kiss. 

Coming home to you feels… good. Good in a way he almost can’t describe. It makes him hopeful about life, you give him something to look forward to. And in the midst of this, he finds his chest tightening with emotion, that smile continuing to tug at his lips. 

“Come here,” He grumbles in that thick, baritone voice. “Closer to me.” 

It’s quiet and calm in your space, his movements reflecting the mood. He’s slow with it, thick fingers wrapping around the edge of your bra. Gently, yet firmly, he tugs it down, freeing your breasts, and you gasp. Lifting his head, his cheek slides over them, nudging the softness of your flesh with his face. 

His one hand slides along your side, finding your waist and squeezing lightly. He truly loves your body, absolutely mesmerized by your tits. Since the two of you started… whatever this is, he’d thought about all the things he could do to you, all the things you could do to him. Unfortunately, there wasn’t always time in the day for things like that. But right now, he’s reveling in this moment, in the night he now has to spare.

“Gorgeous, B.” Simon grunts, gently sucking your nipple into his mouth. 

Now, you moan fully, arching ever so slightly into his touch. Simon always seemed to love your breasts, ever since he got to see them, got to touch them, got to lick on suck on them. 

“Baby…” Cradling his head against you feels different when he’s in your bed. But regardless of where you are, you’re still able to feel how incredibly large he is. His body is dwarfing yours, caging you in and making you feel small and secure.

Laying his tongue out, he runs it over the slope of your breasts, dipping into the valley between them. His mouth suctions to the soft skin on the side of your boob, sucking a mark onto you. It made his insides stir with excitement, seeing you during the day and knowing his mark is resting just beneath the layers of your clothing. 

“Oh my god, I missed you.” Rutting up against him prompts his pelvis to grind down into you, his lips returning to your pointed peaks. 

“Yeah… I know you did.” He responds teasingly.

And his cheeky attitude doesn’t even phase you, because the motions of his mouth have become hungry, and he’s groaning, his humid breaths huffing out across your chest. You can practically feel the heat radiating from him, the muscles beneath his hot skin moving against you. He feels strong, keeping his weight in mind as he presses into you. 

He’s more than eager to have you again, but honestly, he’s not looking for a hard fuck. Right now, he’s yearning for a sweet sense of intimacy. He’d never ask for it, though, not verbally. But when he was gone, it’s all he thought about, holding you close in his bed, feeling your little limbs wrap around him again.

“Baby,” Comes that deep accent, his baritone voice. “Fuckin’ love doing this to you.” 

Only your table lamp is on, the one sitting atop your nightstand. And in this atmosphere of barely-there darkness, you grin. He’s never called you baby before. 

“I love when you do it.” Your voice is sweet and soft, just how he likes it. 

Something inside him stirs, feeling incredibly grateful for you. In the two times you’ve had him, it was clear to see that he wasn’t a selfish lover. He liked letting you know just how attractive you are to him, no matter the situation. And these thoughts prompt him to move down, mouth slowly sliding over your rib cage and belly. It makes your insides tingle, feeling him crawl down your body. 

“Wanna do somethin’ else, too.” He’s mumbling against you, his stubble just barely scratching your skin. And by now, he’s dry humping you, repeatedly rolling his hips into your pelvis. 

The way he’s touching you makes you moan, releasing an airy breath. Lightly, his teeth nip at your skin, tongue soothing the sting. You want to ask him what, baby? What else do you want to do? But he’s distracting you. 

“Wanna lay between your legs.” Jesus, you could listen to his voice for hours. It’s so sexy, the deep rumble of it. He’s mumbling over your skin, his eyes closed when says, “Wanna taste you again.” 

Naturally, his words make you perk up, lifting your head to stare down at him. The hand on your waist squeezes again, thumb brushing over your belly as he kisses it. He can feel its inhale, the push and pull of your breath. And when his lips meet your skin, his eyes lift, finding yours and sending a shock through your being.

“You want to… taste me?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” 

“Simon…” You’re rolling your eyes, but his words bring you right back to him. 

“Wanna eat that pretty little pussy.” He says it so easily, so casually. 

Simon’s only done this with you one time before, and the entire ordeal was pretty quick. But by the way he’s moving, by the way he’s talking, it’s like he wants to put his mouth on you and just keep it there. While he was gone, he thought of it constantly - going down on you, you going down on him. The ladder has yet to happen. He bets you’d be good at it, but he doesn’t know for sure. All he knows is that he is good at it, and he knows it because he’s made you cum before. He remembers your taste, your smell, how you wriggled beneath his arms and cried out for him.

“I’ll let you sleep, lovely.” He promises, his breath fanning over your chest. It smells like mint, clean and fresh. “I just want it, B, please.” And this shocks you; he’s never begged like this. “Can I?”

It’s grown late; originally, he got back to base around ten. But he still wanted to find you. It’s become an unspoken rule between the two of you. No matter when he returns, no matter how late or early it may be, he’ll come and find you. He knows you wouldn’t refuse. 

Your quiet voice speaks into the night, “Yes.”

Dropping his forehead onto your stomach, he groans. A quiet fuck leaves his lips, his body moving forward so he can kiss you. Bulging biceps hold his body up as he leans in, one of his hands sliding beneath your hair to hold the back of your head. The kiss isn’t brief, it’s deep, his tongue invading your space. It dives into your mouth, languidly and passionately rubbing over your own. It’s so easy for you to get him going, too easy, in his opinion. 

Sighing into his kiss, your hands slide down, holding either side of his mostly-hidden face. Rhythmically, his lips move against you, tongue allowing you to taste his spit. And the more he shoves it into your mouth, the more excited you become, eager to feel these same movements between your legs. As the two of you continue to grow close, you’ve noticed how much he likes kissing. And he’s rather good at it. 

“You want me to lick you, B?” Ghost asks hurriedly against your lips. “Want my tongue in your sweet pussy?” 

“Fuck, Simon.” Bringing him in, you urge him to press his forehead to your own. “Yes.”

Maybe it’s because he spends most of his time with his mouth covered, maybe that’s why he’s so eager to use it on you. It’s almost like he’s curious with it, wanting to experiment with you. 

Broad palms finding your hips, his fingers dipping past the hemline of your panties and shorts to pull them off in one go. He’s gentle with you, sliding them down your legs. And then he notices the uncomfortable position of your bra, reaching up to free you of this, too.

“You get cozy, love.” His voice is rough, gravely, his accent thick and wafting through the air. 

Sighing happily, you do as he says, relaxing your muscles and laying back for him. And while you begin to rest, Simon does the opposite. His body is becoming more aroused by the second, and his thoughts won’t stop running laps in his head. While he was gone, he thought about you… so much. Honestly, almost nothing else made its way into his head. Simon felt like he needed you, and that scared him. But in the same sense, thinking of you also comforted him. 

“Pretty…” He mumbles, kissing his way down the inside of your thigh. Settling on his stomach, he sighs, looping his arms beneath your legs, hands resting on your hips. 

“… fucking annoying?” You ask with a laugh, repeating his ongoing joke with you.

And it makes him chuckle, shaking his head. “Nah, not this time.”

Widening your legs for him, you reach for another pillow to support your head. You want to watch this. And with the extra support, you do, witnessing Simon’s gorgeous lips become wet with his tongue. 

With a heavy exhale, he’s leaning in, closing his eyes when his mouth meets your thigh. His fingertips curl into the meat at your hips when his teeth come out, nipping at you before his tongue swipes over your skin. Releasing a small moan, Simon begins to relax, his mouth languidly sucking on the sweet flesh of your thigh. 

“Gonna take my time with you.” 

“Baby…” Your hands are on his head, fingers sliding over the back of his mask. And he leans into your touch, humming from it. 

When he’s done leaving his first mark on you, he drags the point of his nose up your inner thigh, nuzzling it into the crease of your leg. Sliding his tongue out, he licks up this small valley, moving it over your labia. Your lips part when he does it, brows raising as he continues to lick you. An open-mouthed kiss is then placed directly on your center, his lips briefly sucking yours in. 

“Pretty,” He grumbles again, eyes remaining closed. Another kiss to your center, then another little lick. “Pretty baby… pretty ‘n pink…”

It makes you giggle; he’s really starting to let go around you. 

“You like when I call you names?” He asks, gently laying his tongue over your hooded clit.

Nodding, you grin, nibbling on the corner of your lip. And then, your hips jerk from the sensation, his tongue running over you again. “Yes.”

“Yeah,” He replies easily, cockily. “I know you do.”

“You think you know me so well, don’t you?”

“I know what you like,” Again, a quick and easy reply. “What makes you move.”

Okay, yeah. That’s true. But you’re not giving up that easily.

“So, what?”

And then he’s shoving his tongue into you, directly into your warm center. It makes you yelp quietly, moaning dramatically when he begins pumping it into you. 

“I’m gonna need you to stop talking.” Ghost says when he removes his mouth from you. Turning, he wipes his face off on your sensitive skin, kissing it before returning to your sex again. 

One of Simon’s broad hands slides up your side, fingertips curling around your right breast and squeezing lightly. 

“Fuck,” Groaning, you plop your head back. “You make it so hard to -” 

And then that same hand is on your mouth, covering it. “No talking.” 

For some reason, this makes your eyes roll back, sighing into his hand. The skin of his palm is rough but you love it, you love feeling the ruggedness of him. And it works in his favor, because you immediately stop talking. 

With his eyes closed, he mouths at you, siding his tongue up through your folds and using the tip of it to circle your clit. Keeping his hand on your mouth, he slides his thumb across your lower lip, the motion making you moan. Applying gentle pressure, you part your lips, allowing his thumb to slide in. Wrapping your mouth around it, you suck, one of your hands leaving his head to cup the breast he left. And while you suck on him, he sucks on you, just barely pulsating his mouth around your tiny nub. 

“Mm,” Helplessly, your hips buck up, eyes pinching shut while you moan around his thumb. 

“You like that?” He asks, keeping pressure on your tongue. 

All you do is nod, whining quietly and pushing your hips closer to his face. Grinning, he dives back in, wet tongue laying out over your sensitive skin. 

It feels so lewd and exciting and it makes your insides tingle, having him between your legs like this again. He’s so good at this, he’s fucking amazing at this. And it makes you wonder, how many women has he been with? But that thought flies out of your head when he takes his thumb out of your mouth, lowering it to himself. Licking the pad of it, briefly tasting your spit, he then rubs it over your clit, watching your hips buck from it. 

“Simon, please.”

“You’re supposed to be enjoyin’ this, remember? Supposed to be relaxing for me.”

While you’re whimpering from both frustration and agonzing arousal, his mouth finds your leg, sucking another mark into it. He keeps pressure on your sensitive clit, rubbing it gently but most certainly enough to stimulate it. 

“Just lay back, sweetness.” He urges, taking his thumb away once again. “Let me lick it.” 

“Oh, Simon.” Again, your head drops back, a fresh wave of arousal spilling from your lips. His voice, his words, they affect you so much.

Happy with your compliance, he sighs, releasing a cool breath directly over your sex. He watches your skin pebble from it, the muscles in your legs tightening ever so slightly around him. Using the strength in his hands, he lifts your legs, placing your knees on his shoulders with your calves resting on his back. Holding you in this position encases him between your thighs, his mouth now focusing directly on you. 

Both of your hands return to his head, fingers scraping along the black fabric. Accidentally, they pull up the back of it, but just barely. You expect Simon to freeze, to jerk away from your hold and scold you for it. But he doesn’t; he’s trusting you. With your heart racing inside your chest, you slide the mask back down so it’s completely covering the back of his head. And when you do it, he hums, a small sound of gratitude and approval. 

“Baby…” 

Lord, he loves when you call him that. It feels so soft and domestic, so sweet. Especially coming from you. 

“Mm… that’s it.” Mumbling over your sex, he groans. “It’s okay, sweets. You can be as loud as you want here.”

And he’s right. You’re sure no one will hear you, not in this block. With that realization, you feel yourself let go, a wanton moan slipping from your throat. 

“That’s it,” That particular sound riles him up quite a bit, his tongue diving into your pussy once again. “That’s more like it.” 

Quickly, he flicks the tip of his tongue over the peak of your sex, but with a deep, rugged breath, he reels himself back in. 

“No, nonono. Baby, please. Please, do that again.” You’re reaching out for him, whining and begging him to continue that pace. 

“Mm-mm,” Shaking his head, he sighs. Turning his head, he nuzzles his nose into the inside of your thigh. “Don’t you wanna sleep, B?”

“I, well…”

“Just sleep,” He coos, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips. “Let me take care of you.” 

Those specific words make your heart fucking burst. Doing as he says, you lay back, taking away the extra pillow beneath your head. After all, he’s right. You’re absolutely exhausted, and so is he. But he doesn’t want to sleep, he wants to enjoy you. So, you decide to let him.

You’re not sure how long he plans to do this for, but regardless, you get yourself cozy. Dragging a blanket over your upper half, you make sure to keep it above his head, not wanting him to get too hot beneath it. 

“B-Baby,” You’re mumbling now, eyes beginning to drift shut. His licks and kisses are light, tender. 

“Shh…” He mutters, softly ordering, “Turn off the light.”

Leaning over, you do, settling in even more than before. He feels you shuffle, nestling into your extraordinarily comfy bed. Resting between your legs, he holds onto you, gently massaging your muscles while he mouths at your sex. It’s something… different, something incredibly new and intimate. And when he hears your tiny yawn, it makes him happy. He really does want you to relax. Truthfully, this is all he’s thought about doing. 

At first, you’re listening, your eyes drifting shut to the subtle sounds of him licking you. The sensation of it is delightful, his head resting on your right thigh while he keeps his mouth on you. The gentle vibrations of his occasional moans and hums lull you to sleep, drifting in and out of slumber as minutes quickly turn into a full hour. And Simon still hasn’t moved, still hasn’t stopped, nor slowed down, nor sped up. He’s just tasting you, enjoying this timid exploration. It’s a gentle indulgement, something he’s only dreamed of doing to you. 

Your wetness trickles from the seams of your sex, and he continues to lick it up, hearing your little snores while he does. Lazily, his head rocks to a slow rhythm when he feels your thighs begin to quiver. But you’re still asleep, your breathing still steady.

The taste of you is tangy, but still genuinely sweet. It’s something he really does love. He could and will stay here for hours, for as long as he can. In the darkness, it feels so… private. So wonderfully personal and delicate. 

It’s slow and lazy, the sleepy orgasm he brings to you. Your hips roll up against him, his lips suctioning ever so gently to your clit. He rides it out with you, feeling one of your hands pet at him. You’re smiling, just barely, still lost in the thoughts of your dreamscape. 

Wetness spills from you, and he cleans it up with his tongue. You’re wet from him, his saliva lingering after your cum is gone. The roughness of his taste buds are dragged along your inner thighs, catching any juices he might’ve missed. But really, he just wants to savor it. 

“B-Baby…” It’s small and quiet and just so… cute. You sound so sleepy and delicate. 

Grunting quietly, Simon lifts himself, leaning onto his left forearm. With his free hand, he uses the back of it to wipe off his face, groaning from your subtle smell. 

When he looks down, he can just barely see you in the darkness, one of your hands reaching for him. Leaning in, he nuzzles his cheek into the palm of your hand, smiling before turning to kiss it. Shuffling around, he manages to maneuver his body next to yours. Your bed is backed into the corner of your room, and you’d been laying on the outer edge. But that side is closer to the window, and you sleeping right beside it just doesn’t sit well with him. So, he gently nudges you, moving you with his strong arms until you’re safely next to him. 

“Baby,” You softly call again, whining quietly.

“I’m here, sweetness.” He finally returns, sliding one bulky arm beneath your head.

Turning on your side, he feels you bring yourself into his chest. For some reason, it surprises him, someone wanting to be this close to him. On his back, he relaxes, feeling one of your small hands slide across his chest. And then you do something that really shocks him, something that makes every vein in his body feel electric. Gently, you find and hold onto his dog tags. 

Using his other hand, he slides it over yours and up to your forearm, holding you with it. And now, with one arm beneath your head and the other on your arm, he’s got you wrapped up in the secure cage of him.

He doesn’t know if he should say it, but with a deep sigh, he decides to go through with it. “I’m really… really glad I found you.”

In your sleepy state, you assume he’s talking about when he got back to base. The past few times, he’s always come looking for you. Little do you know, his words hold a deeper meaning. Sleepily, though, you respond to him.

“Always want you to.” Mumbling, you kiss his naked chest, sighing. “Always want you to come find me.” 

[brightaxe]

PROMPT : Carta. DRAGON AGE: INQUISITION ERA. Words: 1006. Characters: Suri & Velrand Cadash.

“The Knight-Captain here from Hasmal seems… squirrely.”

Velrand did not so much as glance up from the leather-bound journal in front of him. He scribbled something down, then scratched out another something higher on the page, his heavy brow knitting. “Hasmal is out. The Garvish family has dealings with the Marchers from up north.”

They’d been given their own quarters, if only just. There was a bed, a cot the size of a footrest, a vanity that was more than half-mirror, and a bucket to piss in. Behind a simple wooden divider was the other half of the broom closet they’d been shoved into, which was unoccupied as of yet. If they hadn’t flashed one of the Orlesian templars some of their product, they might have been truly roughing it.

There was no desk, so Velrand used his thigh for a writing surface. And below him, sitting on the cot with her short legs folded, was his sister.

“So everything along the Minater is out?”

“Yes.”

Suri let slip an annoyed snort. “By the fucking Garvishes?” She knew enough about Lutag Garvish to fill their piss bucket, and it was all bad. Or dull, rather. “How’d they land an agreement like that? From Hasmal to Wycome?”

The scratching of Velrand’s quill slowed, then stopped. He looked up at her, his dark eyes bleary and his concentration well and truly shattered. “What?”

“Lutag Garvish is dumb as a sack of nugshit,” Suri said, rather than repeating herself. “Fresh nugshit.”

Velrand’s massive chest heaved in a sigh.

“Yes, and?”

“How’d he get Hasmal and Tantervale and Starkhaven and Wycome buying his lyrium?”

Suri watched as the sharpened end of her brother’s quill tapped anxiously at the edge of his journal. The tap tap tap made her eye twitch. “Starkhaven’s Circle isn’t an option for any of us. Burned out about a decade ago, and the mages were sent to Kirkwall.” With his free hand, Velrand scrubbed a hand through his thick, brown beard with such ferocity that the three, gold-clasped braids under his chin bounced in response. “And he doesn’t have Wycome.”

“Then we should –”

“The Kadrat family has Wycome.”

That stopped her short, and she sighed the heaviest of sighs, her shoulders deflating into a weary slump. The Kadrat family didn’t just deal in lyrium. They dealt in everything – lyrium, weapons, textiles, wine. One of their lot ran a dye business in Orzammar that was swimming in gold and had been for longer than even her mother had been alive.

“So, what’ve we got left?”

Velrand began writing again. “Mother wants Cumberland.”

“You’re shitting me.”

That brought a half-smile to Velrand’s serious mouth. “Not shitting,” he grunted. “She pulled me aside before I left. She wants Cumberland, and she wants Sezda out.”

Suddenly, the fog she’d been carrying since the incident in the Deep Roads cleared. Suddenly, there was brilliant sunshine and a song playing on the wind and the weight of gold in every single one of her pockets. That was how you measured a mother’s love, wasn’t it? It couldn’t be anything else, not with theirs.

If opportunity was a woman, she’d have her tongue down her throat.

“I can do that for you.” The words sprinted from between Suri’s eager little lips. Before her brother could interrupt her, she lifted a hand with an, “Ah!” that stole his voice out of his throat and replaced it with an annoyed growl. “I know I’m shit in a large-scale fight, but you know I’m good for something that’s one-on-one. I’ve beaten you. Let me put a knife in the bitch.”

Velrand gave his heavy head a shake. “I know what this is.”

Suri stood up from the cot and planted her feet in front of him. The wound on her jaw was healing, if only just, but her smile was as uneven as his own. Just for different reasons.

“Don’t say I’m just doing this to get back into mother’s good graces,” she demanded, the edges of her raspy voice sharpened in her own brand of frustration with her brother. “It… might be that a little, but that’s not all. I’ve always wanted to do good by you, too, you know? And you’ll be taking up the business soon. Let me get you Cumberland.”

At first, the rigid line of Velrand’s broad shoulders made her think he was going to snap his quill in half and make her eat the damn thing. But then, they relaxed, and he looked up at her, and his half-smile turned into a full one. There was an undercurrent of surprise that she didn’t appreciate, but what could she expect, after all she’d done recently? Who could believe in her, except for herself? Except for – maybe – her brother?

“I’ll look around the place tonight,” Suri continued. “I’ll check things out and get my bearings, and tomorrow afternoon, I’ll put Sezda Varmi in the Stone.”

That night, as Suri was doing as she said she’d do, she happened upon something else entirely. She did not find an old dwarven woman with a crisp white braid and twin bruisers for sons. She did not find a letter or a trap or an empty bed, indicating that Sezda Varmi was long gone or had grown wise to her plan. She did not find another trio of dwarven merchants, counting their gold against the bottles of glowing blue lyrium that remained.

What she found was an old woman in fine Chantry garb and a god, floating above the ground, with lyrium that shone red rather blue rising from the pallor of his skin. What she found was a dropped orb, rolling towards her feet. What she found was another path in her story, another twist, another loss, as she lifted the orb into her hands and the world split open.

She would only see Velrand once more – a smoking corpse in a field of bodies, stuck in motion, stuck in agony that would chase him forever.

It was her fault.

It was all her fault.

[thesweetnessofspring]

Roses and Pearls by HalfHope (thesweetnessofspring)

Rated: E

Description: Peeta Mellark is the sole victor of the Quarter Quell. With District 12 nothing but ash, he rebuilds his life by moving to the Capitol and falling in love with Rosalia Snow, granddaughter to Coriolanus Snow.

Then people Peeta thought long dead kidnap him and Rosalia, including the one person he hates more than anyone: Katniss Everdeen. They say he's been hijacked. They say that he used to love her. Locked away in District 13, Peeta is determined to protect his mind and his fiancée from the rebels. But while imprisoned, videos disprove his memories and his feelings toward Katniss grow confusing. Who can he trust, and what really happened in his past?

Thank you @louezem for beta-ing this chapter! It's been a long time coming and one we've been looking forward to.

Chapter One | Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Each day, more people from District 13 come to Three. They first utilize the homes in Victor Village, four people to each bedroom, with families and couples getting priority and the single people then lining the living rooms with their cots to sleep. I get assigned to the Everdeens’ room, the same one Katniss and I shared. Once we wash the sheets, we let Prim and Mrs. Everdeen have the bed while Katniss and I put our cots next to each other on the floor. It means we don’t have the same privacy as before, but we manage to find time to ourselves, especially when Prim and Mrs. Everdeen work at the same time.

The propos air in all of the Districts while Beetee and Electra continue to work on how to break through the Capitol’s airwaves long enough for the propos to run. The feedback, they say, is largely positive. Unknown to me, as I’d been shielded in the Capitol, had been the fact that many in the districts grew distrustful of me when I started dating Rosalia. The propo revealing the details of the hijacking and Katniss accepting me as her lover again had increased the fury toward the Capitol and restored my image. Most importantly, Katniss and I coming together again after six years apart gave people hope that after all of these years, the Capitol can be toppled.

With the positive response, Plutarch and Cressida want to keep the momentum going, and Katniss and I are told we’ll be given a tour of a factory in Three for a propo. So far, Three is the only district to completely push the Capitol out, because of the force fields they’ve set up around key parts of the district. This was largely thanks to Electra, who had designed a force field stronger than the one that had contained all of the arenas for years. The so-called “chink” Katniss had described to me had gone from the size of an orange to a pea. 

Continue reading on ao3

[angelmichelangelo]

“i know, i know it hurts” with 2003 leo and mikey? 👀👀

LEO MIKEY WHUMP SWEEEEP lets go :D

read on ao3!

x

The days that come are bleak and cold, almost endless in the way most hours seem to blend together into one blur of one day to the next. It makes it hard to count off certain events, but to Leonardo, he’s able to keep a mental check on the ones that matter; the days that stand stark to him in his consciousness. He can remember the day Donatello went missing, failing to ever return home again. He can remember the day Mikey was plonked down on the med bay cot after a botched mission with a concussion bad enough to knock him for six for a week and the arm that’d come away mangled and messy as April had cut around it best she could into a neat little stump. He remembers every single one of the days Raph would get loud and angry in his face before he’d eventually left. He’d remember each of those long nights when Mikey would go quiet and refuse to eat. He remembers a lot, mostly the really painful stuff. It’s hard to forget when it was scorched across his mind like an ugly, mean scar. 

It’s been a relatively crummy week. One of their resistance camps on the other side of what used to be Flushing had been compromised and overrun. Only about a third had made it out, barely alive. Some of them were just about teenagers , only passing the age that Leo and his brothers were when the war had started. It leaves the rest of the camp in a rather sour mood. Mikey’s been entertaining the younger kids in all the ways he knows best but even his signature smile is starting to slip a little, and the shadows around his eyes are growing deeper and setting more as the days pass. It’s raining hard, little bullet sized pellets of water bouncing off the top of his tent, a dull plink-plonking sound that would have once upon a time lulled him to sleep. But not now. He lays there on his shell, the usual slew of all his self doubt voices whirling about in his head, a tornado of thought when it’s momentarily interrupted by a voice at the door. “Knock knock.” Leo sits himself up, stretching out the knot that’d starting forming at the base of his neck. “Come in, Mike.” His brother spills into the tent after he yanks the zip down, somehow managing to squeeze his hulking form through the smallest of gaps – his little brother forever embodying the spirit and soul of a cat. It makes the corners of his mouth lift upwards slightly until he catches sight of Mike’s tight expression. “You alright?” He asks, moving towards him with a little more urgency. Mikey, who’s already started to dig through Leo’s canvas bag, hums a non committed sound, a little estranged by what appeared to be from pain. “The usual, amigo,” he tells him without looking up, whether because he was just that much determined to find what he was looking for, or because he didn’t want Leo to see his face again and worry himself anymore. “Lefty is off in arm heaven doing a number on me again.” Ah. The phantom pains.

Ever since Michelangelo had awoken on that bed, groggy and confused and a whole arm down, April had pretty much launched into every tidbit of information she could gather from memory about the after effects of an amputation like his. “It’ll be like you can feel it still,” she’d explained. In the hue of his trauma, he’d just laughed and grinned and said, cool . Turned out, it wasn’t cool at all. He could feel the arm alright; an itch in his palm or pins and needles in an elbow that wasn’t there anymore. But it also came with the bone deep ache of the stretch and burn of tendons that were long gone missing. 

“Hey, lemme.” Leo says standing up he has to stoop over his brother, nudging him gently out of the way to root through his own bag to find the right kind of painkillers that were going to help. When he comes up short, he curses under his breath. “We’re due a supply run in the morning,” Leo tells his brother, voice slightly clipped. “I can send April and some of the others up to that pharmacy downtown, it should be relatively untouched I think.” It doesn’t seem like his brother really takes in any of that information, but nods his head politely like he’d been listening at all. He uses his one hand to rub at his stump and hisses, face screwing up entirely, beak wrinkling. “Aw, Mike. I’m sorry,” Leo says, unsure of what to do next. The last of their drugs was currently being used on the wounded from the resistance camp. He could go poke his head into the tent that was tending to them and snoop around for something but there were kids in there. People with wounds that were fresh and infected and dangerous . It breaks his heart clean in two to have to prioritize their pain over Mikey’s. In another time, he’d not thought twice about it. Never in a million years but…

But this was their future. This was their world. This was the hand they’d been so cruelly dealt. “It’s cool,” Mikey says, trying to shake off the way his voice buckles slightly. There’s a gathering of tears at the edges of his eyes and the smile he plastered across his face is wonky. “Hurts like a bitch, though.” Leo does something he hasn’t done in a long time, working on pure instinct alone, he moves forward and wraps his arms around his brother, chirping a sad little sound as if to enunciate his sympathy in a way much deeper than words alone. “I know,” he soothes him. “I know it hurts.” Mikey melts into the touch, a chirp of his own escaping past his lips. It’d be a while until he could get his hands on those meds for his brother, if they even existed that was, but this right here was about as good as he could offer him. In another world, Mikey wouldn’t have to endure such pain. In another world he wouldn’t have to swap out much needed medication with hugs that did nothing to chase off real pain. In another world, he had all three of his brothers to wrap around their littlest. He had his world un-fractured and unbroken. But this was their reality. Torn apart and in shred. This was the hand he’d been dealt, catching him across the jaw making him bleed. This was the hand that he had, and he was ready to bite at it.

[ghoul-foolery]

Kink/Flufftober, Day 16

Mutual Masturbation / Only One Bed

Prompt List - Kink/Flufftober Master List

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> Mutual Masturbation / Only One Bed > Nora/Hancock >Tags: MDNI, only one bed, mutual masturbation (non-explicit), surprise angst?, inconsistent tenses (sorrryyyy) > Words: 1088

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The house is a derelict little thing out in the middle of nowhere. There isn’t even a living room, not really. It’s a space shared with the kitchen, and it features a dilapidated recliner, and a lonesome tv tray. The bathroom is so miniscule that it can’t even fit a proper bathtub, and the bedroom is so small that the queen sized bed has to be shoved up against the wall to afford a little bit of walking space. The place is pathetically small, but it’s a place deemed safe enough to be considered home for the night. 

There is an unspoken agreement between them, at this point.

The back and forth about who got the bed, and who got the couch, or the recliner, or the cot on the floor, no longer occurred between them. If there was a single bed, they would share the bed. Being a little close was better than being uncomfortable all night – and sometimes they both needed a little closeness. 

Sometimes they held hands, fingers twining together as they drifted towards the brink of sleep. Other times it was an arm looped around the other’s waist, and the warm press of a body that offered security, and fragments of intimacy before they parted ways to sleep. And sometimes it was wandering hands, petting and stroking as they worked together to find their pleasure. 

The agreement is unspoken – they share the bed – but that doesn’t mean Hancock misses the opportunity to waggle his brows at Nora when they learn that there is a bed to share. It makes the pointed front rim of his ridiculous hat bob up and down. 

There is another unspoken agreement between them, one that was established without discussion and neither of them have ever brought it up. 

The closeness – the holding hands, the cuddling, the wandering hands and gasping pleasure – is reserved for bed. They have a tendency to gravitate towards one another while out and about, of course, but they don’t ever hold hands, or exchange sweet kisses. Not unless they are sharing a bed, and they only share the bed if there is only the one…

Both of them want to address the agreement, but neither of them want to stir up any undo awkwardness or strain between them. 

For Hancock, he wants Nora – wants her so bad it hurts. He wants her to be his, but he can’t help but acknowledge that she deserves someone so much better than he could ever be. Their little agreement lets him experience what it's like to be loved by her while still keeping self-built boundaries in place, and keeping his heart protected. Ish.

And Nora doesn’t think she’s ever felt so seen by anyone in her whole damn life. She wants to hold onto Hancock and never let go, but she is so afraid of scaring him off. He’s said so himself that he isn’t the committing type, and if he knows that that’s what she wants he might make a run for it. Their little agreement helps remind her that it’s casual for him, and it will never be anything more lest she run the risk of scaring him away. 

When there was only one bed, they shared the bed, and when they shared the bed they unknowingly shared in the fantasy of having and keeping the other… 

…

They don’t go to bed immediately, despite both of them wanting to. They instead run through the motions of preparing and having dinner, sharing a cigarette, and some idle chatter. They both act like they aren’t patiently waiting for the sun to set, and for night to begin. They both act like they aren’t aching to crawl into bed so that they can finally be together.

But when they do finally get there, it’s perfect. 

Barely even settled against the mattress, Nora’s hand slips beneath the low, frilled, neckline of Hancock’s shirt. She revels in the feel of his mottled skin, palming the place above his heart. Hancock reaches for her, too. His hand drags over the dip of her waist, and then up along her hip just before they indulge in the first of many kisses. The first is slow, paired with soft sighs and softening bodies, as if a mere kiss eases every ounce of stress and tension that had built since their last little tryst. 

The kisses turn warm, silken and lingering – and their hands do, too. They fumble with clothing. The zipper of Nora’s vault suit always seems to snag right on the underside of her breasts, and Hancock has to grip the thing and give it a good yank for it to zip down the rest of the track to her waist. And Nora has to figure out the knot in the sash that hangs from his waist, and the excess material of the frill-necked shirt is always in the damn way.

When she finally manages to get her hand into Hancock’s pants they both moan when her fingers curl around his steely length. She grips him hard, dragging her palm up and dragging it over the crown, over the slit. Nora has to imagine what it would feel like for him to be inside of her, because outside of his fingers he never has. It’s some other thing that they just never speak about. When two fingers slip into the heat of her body she practically begs for a third, and they match pace. Delving fingers, and stroking hands - in and out, back and forth, up and down.

When they share the bed Hancock tells her she is perfect, and beautiful, and calls her ‘baby’, and ‘love’. 

It feeds the fantasy that they both steep themselves in. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Hancock croons as Nora’s body clenches around his fingers. “C’mon, baby. Come for me.” he says as she whimpers and comes, pressing her face into his neck. “Oh, love, I’m so fucking close.” he says as she pistons her fist over the length of him, as her free hand grips his balls, or toys with one of his nipples. “That’s it, love. That’s it. Please, just like that…”

When they are sated, and cleaned up, there is a moment in time that stretches between them. Their eyes meet, and it’s as if they are trying to convey everything that they are feeling, and everything they want to say.

But they ultimately say nothing.

And when they get out of bed the following morning, they act as if none of it even happened at all. 

[jujutsukgojo]

How All For One came to be

Summary: All For One is the most notorious villain in history. But he was a big brother first.

TW: death, abuse, violence, angst, AFO is his own warning. If there is anything else pls let me know! I don't own bnha and this is not canon. it does have spoilers tho!

cross posted from ao3

8k+ words

-----------

 Giichi swings his fist but misses the bastard by a hair. The jerk with the shorts, who Giichi assumes is “Saito”, hits him right in the gut as Saito’s friend aims for Giichi’s back. Before the friend’s elbow can land a blow on his back, there is a harsh swing of a branch at the kid’s face. The friend spits out blood and a tooth.  

  Giichi looks up to see his younger brother, Yoichi, glaring his green eyes at the two bullies. “Leave my brother alone!”  

Saito tries to get Yoichi but he swings the branch again and ends up hitting the boy’s knuckles. Swollen and possibly broken, he cries out. “Stop it! There’s no reason to continue. Giichi c’mon!” 

  His brother reaches out to him, hand extended. Although Yoichi is younger than him, Giichi admits he is brave and has his wits about him. Just as Giichi reaches for Yoichi’s hand, a third boy pops up and hits Yoichi right in his ribs. The kid laughs until Giichi’s brother throws up on his face.  

It ends up being worse for Yoichi. Even still, he tries to stand. Giichi has had enough of these fools. Enraged, he releases it. He can’t let something like this happen again. Not when Yoichi takes just a couple of hits and is down for the count.  

  They end up running away from the two brothers. Yoichi continues to cough as he reaches for Giichi’s hand. 

---- 

It wasn’t fair. Every day, every single day he pushes against society for nothing but scraps. People like Yoichi get bullied every day and no one stops it. He comes across worthless dirt too but at least they are somewhat reluctant. With Yoichi it’s different. He might be brave but he can’t do much.  

Once they entered their shabby home, their mother gives them the news: him and Yoichi are finally going to be placed with their father.  

Giichi Shigaraki would rather die than stay with that bitch of a mother. As Yoichi’s older brother, it is vital for him to protect Yoichi. Yoichi is frail. Born around three months early and wasn’t given the proper care, it affected him greatly. That bitch didn’t have the slightest clue what to do. Or perhaps she just didn’t want to what is right. After having an affair on Giichi’s father that resulted in Yoichi, Giichi’s father was furious and repeatedly took it out on their mother, who took it out on Yoichi.  

  His father left early and just now wanted to help. To repent for his sins or something. Whatever. Giichi will just use the bastard for shelter since he  knows  that there is a catch. Giichi can smell the lie from a mile away. His father wanting to help has to be a lie. No way would that worm take them in. Especially Yoichi.  

Giichi hears shuffling behind him. Over the years he has developed a slight flinch. People have to be alert. “Sorry, big brother. I should have told you I was here.” 

Yoichi holds their current favorite manga,  Atomic Boy . They are so close to finishing it! This is the very last chapter of this amazing series. Giichi puts a blanket over their heads as they sit on their new bed. One twin sized cot for two is a step up from the floor.  

In Yoichi’s hand is also their flashlight that they use to read it. Yoichi flicks it on and like always, Giichi starts out reading with his hero voice and Yoichi deepens his as best he can to play the villain. 

“Why do you smile when you’re the bad guy? Villains aren’t supposed to smile.” 

“They do it to fill a void.” Yoichi reasons. Snorting, Giichi replies, “Fill a void?” 

Nodding his head, Yoichi explains it. “Well, I heard mom talk about filling a void and when I asked her what it is, it made sense. Everyone has to smile to make something better.” Giichi doesn’t know what to do with his little brother.  

--

“Why? Why can’t you listen, Giichi?!” His father goes to hit him again. When it first started happening, Giichi was shocked. This jackass was supposed to be a step up. Never had his father laid a hand on him or Yoichi. Yet, time took its toll on his father. Now older and greying from his once brown hair, now thicker around the middle. Money was not coming in as it used to. Giichi knew that there was a catch and there was. A check would come in the mail due to raising two children. That’s what his father wanted. The check.  

  The shock was the violence.  

 Giichi is prepared for his hit. But it never comes. The harsh impact never rushes to his face and leaves an ugly mark like his father planned. No, instead what he sees is his sickly brother on the floor with blood in his mouth, taking the hit for him. Just like when his mother would threaten Giichi in order to make Yoichi submit to her violence. Trying to be a hero like always.  

Yoichi tries to stand. “D-don’t hit my brother.” Rolling his eyes, his pathetic excuse of a father goes to kick him while Yoichi is down. Coward.  

Giichi has never been so angry. This is his dad, not Yoichi’s. He gets why his dad doesn’t like him. Their mother had an affair and then a child yadda, yadda, yadda. Who cares! Yoichi can’t take the hits. Yet, he takes the punishment that is meant for him. Why does he do this? Why does he try to save him when all he does is get hurt? 

  Giichi reaches down to grab his dad’s foot and twists it with all of his strength. It goes all away around, completely broken. As he howls in pain Giichi jumps on him and doesn’t stop releasing his rage in the form of his fists until he is pulled off by his coughing brother.

----

  

Giichi has gotten used to fending for himself and his little brother. His dad has proven to be a damn useless nobody. An absolute nobody that Giichi wants to run over and destroy. What is his use? He barely pays for anything other than beer and cigarettes! All he wanted from this bastard is a roof and he can barely do that. It’s all so disappointing. That jack off limps around saying woe is me. So what!  

Giichi would gladly do it again out of sheer hatred.  

Yoichi walks behind him, animatedly talking about the latest manga that he thinks they should read. Given to him from Haru, a neighborhood kid that hangs out with Yoichi from time to time. Clutching it to his chest, he excitedly tells his older brother, “I heard from Haru that it’s the best. Better than Atomic Boy. Can you believe that? I mean-”  

  Giichi waits for him to finish his sentence but he all he gets is horrendous hacking. He turns around to see his frail brother coughing uncontrollably with his hand over his mouth. “Yoichi? H-hey c’mon.” He pats him on his back, hoping that it helps.  

Yoichi wheezes and removes his hand from his mouth. With teary eyes, his baby brother calls out to him and faints. 

Giichi doesn’t waste time. He places his brother’s arm over his shoulder and goes to the nearest clinic. It isn’t much, but that is all he can do right now. He’s only sixteen. His brother’s fourteen. This is too much. Way, way, too much for them to handle. No, no, he’ll handle this. Right now, Yoichi has enough to deal with.  

He better be okay. I swear to God I will destroy this world where it turns if he isn’t.   

“Help! Somebody, please!” He screams as he runs down the street. No one even bothers to look. They don’t even care. These blind and selfish people ignore them. 

He pushes past the door and to the front desk. The lady looks at him with wide eyes. Her bun is pulled back so tightly that it seems to be stretching her face. Giichi doesn’t have time to tease her right now. Later, he promises himself. “Okay, okay. Do you have an appointment?” 

“What?” 

“An appointment. We don’t allow walk-ins.” She informs with a bored expression. This world. This is how it is, how it always will be, huh? “He could be dying you heartless  bitch.”  

“Look, we see this all the time. Kids running in here pretending to be sick just to steal the condoms. That’s why we no longer allow walk-ins. You think you’re slick.” She pops her bubble gum at him.  

“Fucking condoms? I don’t want your condoms I want you to help my brother! Just look at him!” Why in the hell would she accuse him of such a thing?! Yoichi is literally dying right now. 

He starts getting closer, growing angrier by the second. His brother’s breathing is still wheezy. Security is called in no time as Giichi goes across the counter and grabs the woman’s jaw so tight that it is bound to leave a bruise if not more.  

“Why won’t you help us?! Why will none of you help him?! He fainted and his breath is wheezy, and his heart beat’s all over the place. At least tell me what it is!” 

They don’t.  

“Tell me what it is!”  

And as luck would have it, as they are thrown out (literally), a kid with an inhaler is close by. The kid in the ugly stripe shirt takes a puff and doesn’t realize that they’re in danger by being too close to a desperate boy that will grow up to be an apex predator. 

 

  Yoichi has gotten better since then thanks to Giichi’s quick thinking. When they got home, he forced his father to drive them to the hospital, he discovered that the problems that his brother face will be lifelong. They gave him the treatments he needed for that current issue but the bill was outrageous. His father was furious and almost took it out on Yoichi. So, Giichi took it. What didn’t sit right with either of the brothers is the verbal abuse that was given to Yoichi.  

Yoichi knew that he wasn’t biologically his. He knew this. Having it thrown in Yoichi’s face as an insult and acting as if he is a burden stayed with him.  

Giichi was perturbed about everything. The incident at the clinic, his brother’s health, his father, the bill, humanity, all of it. He’ll change it all. Without a friend in the world, he will still change it. For the better, he swears.  

---

“Do you want to read the manga with me?” His brother comes up to him with that stupid purple puffer thing. It’s temporary, the doctors said. How can they be so sure? Have such confidence when they just glanced at him? At both of them? 

Did they not see the pain, the suffering? There isn’t a way for them to be absolutely sure like that. Yoichi lifts it up and takes a breath out of it.  

“Alright. Just don’t strain yourself.”  Please. You’re all I got.  

Holding the first volume of the new manga he was talking about, he gives it to Giichi and goes to get the blanket and flashlight. Slightly tripping, he chuckles from embarrassment. “Whoops.”  

“Pfft. Klutz.”  

  What if his heart starts acting up next? They could never afford to help him. Giichi  looks at the cover.  Captain Hero.  He wonders where the author got such a crappy name. Captain Hero, whose real name is Justice, wears a cape and poses like Superman. With his hands balled into fists on his hips. A blue cape, yellow boots, and no mask to conceal his identity. How vain of him. To walk around without a mask on. It screams to Giichi that this “Justice” or “Captain Hero” guy wants people to know that when they see his face, they see justice, salvation. Well, it is obvious within his name.  

  Giichi starts to question it all.  

“Got them!” Yoichi walks over to where he sits and places the blanket over him. Giichi, before the cover goes over his eyes, realizes, digests, how weak he is. Only a year and a half younger, Yoichi could be easily pushed by him. So fragile.  

“Hey, I know this is probably girly to you, but I got us these!” Yoichi pulls out two chains. He hands one to Giichi with a bright smile. Slipping his on he says, “They match, see!”  

  Giichi does think it’s girly but he puts it on anyway. They read the manga, completely intrigued. When it is his brother’s turn to read it, Giichi looks at the chain his brother gave him.  

Giichi admits that this manga is good. He also admits that the Demon Lord had a magnificent point.    

He only read to chapter three, when the Demon Lord won. It was all he needed. Yoichi kept reading it to the very end. He constantly asked Giichi to join him like old times but Giichi rejected the offers. As time went on, Giichi grew up and knew that they could never afford his brother’s care. So, he worked hard. He worked his ass off to support himself and his brother who supported him emotionally. Who was always there to lend a hand. That is what he loves about his brother. Yoichi can’t do much physically but at least he’s there with a smile.

  

  Giichi worked hard. He worked in Mcdonald’s and several retail shops throughout his time in community college. Graduating early with a business degree, he then worked as a receptionist. All while his brother decided to write and become a moderately successful manga artist.  

Now a full-grown adult and out of school, he is a successful business man. In no time he ran the company. He made a small business grow into a monster of an enterprise. Wearing suits that as a child he could only dream of, shoes that shined like stars, had women at his call, and gold that never lost its touch. Giichi made sure that Yoichi was set as well. Yoichi was bound and determined to live by himself, to support himself. So, he helped him secure an apartment not too far from him.  

Giichi would hate it if Yoichi just died one day and he didn’t know because he wasn’t there.  

That is his worst nightmare.  

---

“I’m telling you, I am  fine.”  His brother walks with a red mug to give to him. “You always say that, little brother.” 

“Please don’t miss this opportunity because of me. Seriously, okay? I’m taking my meds, my treatment, all of it.”  

He sounds out of breath. Kind of wheezy too. Giichi gets up from leaning against the olive-green couch and places his head against his brother’s chest to hear his heart. “It’s erratic, Yoichi.” 

“I drank coffee.” Yoichi admits. He breathlessly laughs and ends up coughing. “It’s the coffee, I swear on our mother.” 

“You’re not supposed to! And why the hell would you mention that whore?” Yoichi scoffs. “It’s a jok-”  Giichi places his head there again. This time, Yoichi hugs him. “Giichi, please. I'm fine, I swear it.” He tries to comfort the worried one, hoping that his condition doesn’t scare him that bad. Giichi is no fool.  

He removes himself from his brother’s touch. His cold and slim fingers no longer hold onto him. “You told me that someone pushed you. Is that also why you’re wheezing? You hit your ribs again?” 

“It was just some guy. Actually, he looked a little familiar. Saito, I think? Remember that one kid that always popped his gum. Man, he’s gotten old.” Yoichi chuckles, trying to brush it off. To ease the tension but it isn’t working.  

Giichi hated it. How can someone do that? How can someone not stop that bastard? Where were the police? The ones who are supposed to stand for people like Yoichi? 

Then again, how can Yoichi stand for it. Why not put that ass-wipe in their place? Suddenly, Giichi’s perception on Yoichi starts to differ than what it was before. Only slightly. He still does greatly care for his brother, truly, but frustration starts to set in.  

Why does he not fight back? Does he wait for a hero like the mangas? Is he looking for Captain Hero to pop up and save the day? Giichi wonders how long will he be like this.  

“I think I will go. In the meantime, why don’t you think about why the ever-living fuck you don’t do  anything .”  

“What?” Yoichi is taken back. He reaches out to his brother again. “What do you mean?” 

“There are no heroes, Yoichi. And I am certainly not one.” 

He leaves and slams the door on his way out.  

----

In China, Giichi looks out of his open window where he can see the hospital. Taking a final puff of his cigarette he puts it out on his window sill. A light erupts from the hospital building all the way to the sky. His body starts to tingle. It starts to shake. Goose bumps pop up, he can  feel  his blood move in every direction. A spark like feeling all around his body makes him want to vomit. His head starts to spin as he stares at this golden light. With an aching body, he falls to the carpeted floor.  

  For an unknown time, he blacked out. There was no warning of this. He went to the doctor’s earlier this month and has a clean bill of health. His body feels heavy but what he felt has subsided. Looking out the window again, the light is out and people run and scream. Cars are tipped over and buildings are broken. Giichi reaches for the remote to turn on the news. Something must have happened at that moment, right? Unless he ignored what they were saying on the news which is unlikely. He likes to keep up with the world. To see its disfunction. Perhaps that is not a healthy way to live. He'll take it wholeheartedly though.  

  Propping himself up with the help of a table, he sees himself in the mirror. White hair, red eyes, but his normal face. Did he age this quickly? He feels fine. He doesn’t have wrinkles or creaky bones. How can his hair turn whiter than snow and his eyes like rubies? 

  “Just in, an infant born just today  glows-”  All of the reports say the same thing. A glowing baby, people changing subtly, people start performing miracles, a new age.  

That baby is not a light baby. That baby is a beacon, calling for evolution.  

------

  Leaving his luxurious hotel room in China, he cuts the visit abruptly with a short phone call without an explanation. Placing sunglasses over his eyes and a hat on his head, he gets on the plane. People are screaming at others. A child, who starts to cry at the ever growing mob, she throws her fist down and stomps her feet out of a growing anger. Out of her fists are a strong gust of air, as strong as a canon. The ground starts to crack. People run for their lives. “Oh no!” The little girl runs from the cracking of the ground.  

  She bumps into him. “Sorry, sorry!” He reaches down and pats her head. “Are you okay?” 

So strong... 

Her black hair cascades past her shoulders. Her brown eyes are round from fear and still teary. “No. I’m not.” 

  With another pat on her head, he feels it. Almost like a need for air, a pulsing feeling. He can’t describe it! But he knows what to do. 

  “Do you want me to help you, make you normal again?” She shakes her head yes and squeezes his legs. “Can you help our daughter?” 

A man that looks so much like her says. He keeps a distance away from his child. Pathetic. Running away from his own kid. “Yes, I can.” Giichi doesn’t know how but his response is automatic and as always, charismatic. Giving into the odd feeling is a desperate need. He can’t help himself.  

Placing his large hand on her head, he feels a smooth sensation coming through his hand and up his arms. It feels like something drawing inside him. There isn’t a rough transition at all.  

“Try it now.” She does, with all her might, and nothing comes out. Happy, she bounces and giggles. He chuckles but for an entirely different reason. 

----

 

Back at home, he is greeted with his brother’s voice. Giichi gave his brother a key.  

“Please let him be okay...” 

“Yoichi?”  

  Giichi can hear his brother come to the foyer. “Giichi! Something awful happened! Are you okay?” Like him, his hair has turned white. Instead of curly brown hair like his was, Yoichi had long, straight, black hair. What they shared were their green eyes.  

  Taking off his sunglasses, his red eyes meet green, a color once like his. That was the only way you could tell they were siblings really. They had the exact same eyes. Eyes like their mother. “Giichi...” 

“I’m fine baby brother.” 

“H-how? Are you sure?” Walking up to his frail brother, he places a hand on his head to see if he can feel it. He can’t.  

“Of course not. Of course, you had to remain this way.” Frustrated at his brother, he leaves his own apartment. “Giichi! Don’t go back out there it’s madness!” 

And madness it was. And Giichi enjoyed every moment of the ruination of the country that screwed him over time and time again.

----  

In no time did Giichi get to the top. In no time did the world see the corruption of how it was before. Giichi offered salvation, a haven if you wanted to be weak. Be “normal” like how he tricked that child in China. Giichi truly was the definition of sane. How could it not be sane to satiate this itch in his skin to take what is rightfully his? To destroy what he hates and at the same time acquire friends? 

Because it would be insane to not be the boss. It is madness to not make the world right. To take the meta-abilities that they do not want or need and replace it with utter devotion to Giichi is what he has always wanted. More, more, more, is all he feels right now. And the desire to be someone that will not be pushed.  

One thing that did bother him repeatedly was his beloved brother, Yoichi. Believing in heroes and unicorns. How is his world right but Giichi’s isn’t? How is it that Giichi is immoral? 

All he has to do is make Yoichi see it. Make him see that what he is doing is for the greater good. For them both. Everything is at their fingertips now. Yes, before he ran a company and was rolling in wealth. But was it truly satisfying? Was it what he really wanted? No. He conducted negotiations much to his chagrin. Rolling with the waves when he should have been eliminating them.  

 He wanted justice. He wanted to win for once. He wanted vengeance on everyone. How many times did he pass people on the street with torn clothes, bloody and bruised, dirty, while standing on the corner begging for change? How many people cared? None.  

What they had been through was hell. It was something out of a pamphlet that people take and ignore when they leave those centers. They threw them away and don’t look twice. Does Yoichi not remember the clinic? How they completely disregarded his life? What about the hospital? They took one look at him and he still has problems. However, that baby could be the answer.  

--

  Giichi walks to the hospital where a crazed doctor supposedly is. “Hello Dr. Garaki.”  

The man with black hair and a mustache stands. “H-hello.” His glasses accentuate his eyes, making them twice as big.  

  Giichi had heard a theory from a curious woman. One that he had to know the truth about. “I am only here for an answer. Answer honestly.” 

Doctor Garaki nods. “Is it true that those with meta-abilities have better health?” 

Clearing his throat, he starts. “I find that that is true. When the light baby appeared and meta-abilities right after, patients started to fair better. Not deep wounds or near death but those with sicknesses did get better. Some not by much and others made great progress. Not that everyone is completely healed but no one can deny this. I ran a study about it and took samples of DNA. Well, I saw something.” 

He hurriedly walks to the table. “Here are cells from those who are normal. Here are those who possess an ability. Injecting both with a disease...” He does as he says.  

“The cell of the one with an ability is more resistant. It fights it. Look, the disease didn’t take! This meta ability didn’t have the power to regenerate or heal yet it did this. It is something like extreme echolocation but more like a detector. It’s difficult to explain-”  

The man goes on and on and Giichi just listens. It's all very fascinating. He wants to find this meta-ability. Without eyes, ears, and a nose, this person can sense things anyway.  

“I believe you are right.” 

“Y-you do?” 

“Of course. It’s right here, isn’t it?” Dr. Garaki instantly brightens. “W-wow! You’re the first! Would you like to hear my other theory? Well, theories.” 

“Absolutely.” 

  Giichi sits down on a stool. “I don’t know what to name this one yet but it is about meta-abilities in general. Okay, what if all this time cells are actually like popcorn kernels and easily change?” He smiles brightly. 

Giichi stares at the man for a good hard minute with a blank face. “Pardon?” 

Dr. Garaki clears his throat and straightens up. “What if they mutated? What if the conditions that the light baby’s mother faced effected the fetus. The effect on the cells could be so miniscule that we may not be able to see it under a microscope," Dr. Garaki laughs, clearly excited that someone is listening rather than doubting.

"It's as if the baby’s meta ability is some kind of radiation and got rid of what we didn’t need and replaced it with something we did. Like the extra joint. Those with meta-abilities no longer have a joint in the little toe. Just like you and I.” 

“What would the woman had to have come in contact with in order for the baby to even develop it? Why only effect some?” They are good and genuine questions. With an even brighter smile the doctor answered.  

“Pollution. It is worse than it ever has been. It was only a matter of time before something happened. That child with a meta-ability of mega radiation effected people and that was it. Why only some? Who knows. But if I am right and the child got rid of what wasn’t needed, it could be that the pollution is so bad that we needed to evolve in order to deal with it.” 

  Tilting his head, Giichi asks, “Is that actually possible?”  

Messing with a pencil that was tucked behind his ear, Dr. Garaki responds. “Well, the meta-ability holder's cells were resistant. I think it is true. We evolved to adapt to the conditions. Either way, one thing is clear as I have shown you: those with meta-abilities are stronger. And soon those without it will not exist. Everyone will have a meta-ability because of cross breeding. It will be chaos.” 

This is what Giichi wanted to hear. That there is a chance at a longer and fuller life if you have a quirk. “And the chaos isn’t happening now?” Giichi recalls how it looked when in China. It was madness. People running around hitting others they assumed were gifted. Reactions like that were happening globally.  

  A gleam enters the doctor’s eyes. “Not nearly. I call it the Singularity Theory. Well, I'm still working on the name. In the future abilities will be too powerful to handle.” 

And Giichi will be there to tame it. What is more powerful than him?

 -----

Afterwards, Giichi finds exactly who he was looking for. The detector that the doctor had mentioned. A gift like that is perfect for him. Not only is it quite beautiful, but it will help him out tremendously in finding people, finding meta abilities. 

A man who was reading a book looks up, obviously being able to tell Giichi was there. Wearing boxers and a white tank top with a stain on it, Giichi scoffs as he compares the man’s ensemble to his own suit and the differences of class despite his origin.  

For a second, the man has no idea who Giichi is. Giichi, however, knows this bastard. He pushed Yoichi down just because Yoichi needed to get into the train. Saito, was it? He’s one of the fools from their past. One of those jackasses that would pick on them. That’s right! He was the one with the knuckles that Yoichi beat. Could it be that Yoichi felt bad for that after all these years and that is why he didn’t do anything? 

Either way, someone like  Saito  shouldn’t be gifted like this.  

Giichi allows himself into the apartment, takes what he wants, and the man, Saito, who begged for his life, is gone forever. Giichi shoves the body into the pantry. He doesn’t want to look at that man’s face anymore. His brother might be weak but he still doesn’t like when he’s pushed around by someone that’s not him. 

 “Dear, you would not believe it. There is a woman who has a baby and that baby is gifted already. It's all over the news, this woman defending her infant from the world. It’s crazy. She gave meta abilities a new name,  quirks . Isn’t that-” A woman walks into the apartment with bags, obviously struggling. “Hello?” 

  Giichi walks up to the woman. He starts to play, making sure she doesn’t run off. He turns his head towards the kitchen where the body is. “Hello, ma’am. Saito, you didn’t tell me your wife was this lovely!” 

He has no idea who this woman is. He is telling the truth though. She is gorgeous. “O-oh! Thank you!” Giichi has always been charming and it has doubled over the years. He grabs the paper bags and places them in one arm. ”Unfortunately, the big oaf didn’t tell me your name,” He jokes. “Which is?” 

“Emi.” He hums and kisses her hand to see what her meta-ability is. A stockholding ability? Like his almost? It...fits.  

 “Emi-dear. I like it.” He starts to take it from her. As her knees buckle, Giichi holds her up by her waist with one of his hands holding his. He lets go of her grocery bags which she doesn’t look happy about. “Y-you!” Fear flashes in her eyes as she tries to get away. She recognizes his ability, not his appearance, apparently. She tries to get away from him.  

“Nah ah ah, Emi-dear.”  

---

Soon, no one had that problem that Emi did. Everyone recognized Giichi Shigaraki, or as he is now known, All For One, the name of his quirk. People try to fight back but lose every time under All For One’s command. He is adored by all except those who believe the same as his brother.  

The weak, the “normal ones” are fading drastically. Years have passed since the Beacon was born and more people are having meta-abilities by birth and by the Beacon’s quirk going off several times. Garaki, just as All For One suspected, was right. All of those who have quirks are better off than those without.  

  All For One walks next to his brother on the street. People part for the two of them with admiration for All For One and disdain for Yoichi. All For One couldn't help but be a little smug about it yet somewhat proud of his brother's confidence. He is not letting them get to him at all. Yoichi has always been a strategist, a visionary too. Just like him. They are much better together than alone. After he showed Yoichi the people’s devotion, All For One compared the crowds of people to Yoichi’s remaining few. Of course, Yoichi’s stubborn ass believes they are being fooled.

Yoichi remains silent as All For One boasts. With a hand on Yoichi's back, All For One can feel his brother's coughing even when he tries to hide it. Anytime Yoichi coughs, All For One reminds himself that all Yoichi needs is a quirk. It doesn’t have to be the best. It just has to be there so he will be stronger and confident.

“I do care greatly for you, little brother.” All For One says as he walks his frail brother to the place that he lives. The large home is fit for a king. It is what he deserves. He only read up to chapter three of Captain Hero, but it was all he needed to believe that even the worst win. Yoichi might tell him different. Tell him that good guys always win. No, they finish last and their life is proof of that. All For One tried to play by society’s rules until now. There’s a reason he is so strong and it is because he was never meant to be at the bottom.  

Now, he wishes for Yoichi to understand this. That he isn’t wrong at all.  

Two men appear in front of them. One an average grumpy looking man and another with a jagged jaw that is clearly a quirk. After telling Yoichi of their sympathetic stories, All For One exchanges the quirk from one man to another. “Don’t! You will just his pawn!” Yoichi is instantly tackled. “Now, now. Gentle with him, he’s fragile.”  

All For One gives a grin at the sight. Over time, he has become increasingly corrupted. His smile is only reserved for misfortune and his brother. The offender backs off of Yoichi and picks him up. He tries to fight him off but instead coughs an abundant amount. “In the chamber, why don’t you? I will talk to him in a moment.” 

And in that moment, another cell of Yoichi’s believers are demolished. Yoichi waits in the cold room racked with guilt. What feels like hours of sitting there after banging on the door, trying to push it open, and kicking it, it finally opens to reveal his smug brother.  

There's an explosion on the tower where Yoichi’s hopes lie. When will he learn that believing in fantasies will only hurt him? “Look at them Yoichi.”  

“The bad guy always loses in the end, Giichi. You may think you’re right but you’re not. Murder is wrong. Manipulation is wrong.” 

 All For One scoffs. “Manipulation? Is that not what vigilantism, pretending to be heroes, is? Manipulating people to put their faith in them to take over? Why shouldn’t I be the one to?”  

“ No!”   Yoichi yells. All For One touches his brother’s head and transfers Emi-dear's quirk to him. All For One has been searching for a healing or regenerative quirk, those are such a rarity. Soon, soon he will. Right now, One For All suits Yoichi just fine. A quirk just for him.  

The quirk hits Yoichi hard. He can feel the change already as he struggles against All For One’s grip on his head. “I’m only telling you this, Giichi. Either way it’s wrong. What's not wrong is protecting the people around you. Standing for those who are weaker than you-” 

“Don’t you know weak.” Yoichi stands firm despite his brother’s jab. “I do. And because I do, I don’t want others to face what I, what we, had to. I want a better life for them. For all of us. Something peaceful, something beautiful without sin.” 

  All For One looks down at his feet. “I can provide a future where there is peace. Where we can have a better life-” 

Yoichi interrupts. “You want revenge and superiority.”  

“I deserve it. But now, I have friends who are willing to give that to me. I work hard for it, y’know.”  

  Shaking his head making his long hair flow, Yoichi wonders, “How did you become like this?”  

  The man standing straightens up at his brother’s question. “How did I become a winner, you mean?” 

  With teary eyes, Yoichi stands to meet his brother’s gaze. “The bad guy always loses. You only read till chapter three and missed that. But I'll save you, Giichi! I am not much, but I will save you, my best friend.” 

“You’ll lose.” All For One turns around. “Wanna bet?” Yoichi returns. All For One has always been competitive and along with it comes aggression.  

“Don’t worry, little brother. When you lose, I will be there to catch you. You’ll face the truth, fool.” 

All For One, with a smirk, slams the door shut on his way out. Yoichi save  him ? Without a quirk he is nothing. Now that he has given one he may stand a chance at living longer and to the fullest. They deserve a life of ease and good health. As a business man, as much as he liked it, it was not fulfilling. This is as well since it is hollow.  

He hears the voices of those he has taken from but his brother makes it better. All For One may be taking too much but at least he still has something to hold onto so he doesn’t lose himself completely. Although, picking on his brother is always a joy ever since they were kids.  

  All For One closes his eyes only to hear the damage he has done. Seeing the people he has taken a quirk from rise from the ground calling out to him. They look skeletal and angry, yet like the souls he had no right to ruin, no right to take. Shivering, he snaps out of it and is called when there is a deadly issue.  

 Later, a complete nuisance, Haru, if he remembers right, breaks Yoichi out, infuriating All For One. Not only does Haru come out of nowhere after being absent for years in their life, but he took his doofus brother using the issue as a decoy.  

-----

A month later they meet again. One of Yoichi’s followers are close to killing All For One. Of course, Yoichi prevents it and tells them that killing isn’t the way to go. 

It impressed him, his authority. In such a short while he has become something. But if they wanted to be safe, then they should have done it. That day, he destroys Yoichi’s hide-out and obliterates that follower. He has never seen the look of pure anger on his brother’s face until then. All For One laughs at his brother’s attempts of “saving” him and the rest of Japan.  

Then, Yoichi’s face turns to a quiet heartbreak. No tears, nothing like that. Just furrowed brows and sad eyes. Green eyes that look like they sent a message that All For One wasn’t paying attention to. Only the victory over his brother and society.  

Nothing but two months after that, he sees Haru. Haru, has an enhancement quirk. Fast and is so strong that he needs gauntlets on his arms since they cannot take the full measure of it. It’s a good quirk if that little drawback wasn’t there. Anytime he tries to fight Haru, the latter escapes with his friend in the ponytail. All For One notices that he hasn’t seen his brother in a while.  

  After every meeting with Haru, All For One clutches his chain. 

-- 

Finally, a year after Yoichi’s escape, All For One attacks Haru. Beaten, Haru can barely stand. The fading light of the sun dances on something shiny on Haru’s gauntlet. All For One freezes once he catches it. Yoichi’s chain. And in Haru’s pocket of his ugly cargo pants, is the comic book  Captain Hero.   

Haru lays both of the items down and backs away from them. His determined black eyes now softened when looking at All For One. Yoichi would never take off that chain, would he? He hasn’t. “What is the meaning of this?!”  

  He wants a different answer than what he thinks.  

“You already know.” Eyes widening, he demands further explanation. Denial, guilty, and fear in his voice. At the sight of his brother’s favorite manga and the chain in Haru’s hand, the realization is growing more devastating at the minute.  

“He knew he wouldn’t be able to beat you. He knew he wouldn’t survive the transition of One For All to me either. It was a sacrifice he had to make.” 

 In that damn comic, there were no sacrifices such as this. Was his brother that mad at him that he condemned himself to death? Was his cause this great? A sacrifice he had to make. “Stop.” 

“Take them.” Haru gestures to his brother’s things that lay on the ground, growing dirty. “He wanted you to have them.” 

  All For One snapped. Haru may have been a friend to Yoichi, but God knows he isn’t one to All For One. The likes of Haru have no right to touch his beloved brother’s things.  

Lunging at Haru, he dodges each enhanced hit. Matching Haru’s enhanced speed out of pure anger, All For One knows it’s misplaced aggression. The fault lays with him, right? That brought his worse fear to life.  

Yoichi died without him being there. This is too sudden. Anti-climactic, no sobbing or a snotty nose at a bedside to grieve over him. 

Despite his sins, he never wanted this to happen. He wanted a healthy, long, and great life for the both of them. As a business man that towered over other companies, he provided plenty. But it didn’t have the joy that their mangas had. One thing after another and it became so obvious that they didn’t have a real friend in the world. Is it wrong to want to change that? 

  And now, there is no hope without One For All. He  has  to take it from Haru; the bastard who said Yoichi’s death was a necessary sacrifice. In no way shape or form did Yoichi have to die. With One For All, there is hope for some kind of resurrection with Garaki’s help. A few modifications with people have proven that there is life beyond an original’s form.  

  “ Give it back!”   He just has to get it back from Haru. When he does, he will be able to transfer his brother’s consciousness back to Yoichi’s body and let the doctor do his job. After all this time fighting, All For One has gotten good with hand-to-hand combat. Run ins with Haru have let him study his movements.  

 Suddenly, All For One touches Haru’s arm. Shock and a hint of what he can think of is betrayal is expertly covered by a fake smile. Haru only has the simmering embers of the quirk that kept his brother alive and healthy. A friend of Haru’s, one whose name he doesn’t care to know, shines in All For One’s eyes. He can feel the call to him. All For One decided right then that he needed to expertly hone in his skill on finding One For All.  

“Where is he.” 

 “He’s dead, Giichi. Don’t play stupid.” He squeezes tighter. Haru winces at the sudden tightness on his bicep. All For One uses a quirk he was recently given. With a single touch can pain be inflicted on the target. Using it on Haru is a pleasure. “The  body.”   The corpse of the frail man. With the body, Garaki can have an easier time helping Yoichi.  

 With a sadistic smile, Haru states what feels like the obvious. “You’re losing your mind.” Haru shakes his head then mouths the words that All For One assumes are ‘I’m not telling’.  

  The simmered ember user swings at him one last time only to have his neck snapped. His limp, lifeless body falls flat on the ground. The bastard never told him where he was. A man pops up to stare at his comrade’s body that All For One repeatedly kicks and stomps on. All For One stares at the third user, a man that has a pony tail and thin eyes. Now that his anger is unfolded, he senses One For All clearer without the need to touch. Perhaps this is the upgrade he needed. He hates himself for thinking that.  

“Give me back my brother.” He means this figuratively and literally.  

  Third user runs for the hills. Debris of the wrecked buildings swing around as another glass covered building falls. All For One tries to keep up with him but as it turns out, Haru’s quirk and the original quirk of the third user blends together perfectly.  

  All For One’s friends block him from retrieving One For All. They mean no harm; they’re just following his orders to attack what was once Yoichi’s believers. Still, he has no patience with them. No kindness to extend as he can feel Yoichi slip away from him even more.  

Finally out of sight, the third user escapes completely. His mind is everywhere and he isn’t able to focus Saito’s quirk. As it turns out, they ran in a big circle, making All For One end up at the place of stupid Haru’s body and more importantly, Captain Hero and his brother’s chain.  

   Rain starts to fall unceremoniously on the bereaved man. He wasn’t there. Without that quirk that was specifically made for him, Yoichi had died. All For One never got to say goodbye to the one person that had his back: his frail, brave, dumb, artistic, imaginative, helpless, stubborn, loving little brother. He never got to pay Yoichi back for everything he has done for him. Taking hits for him, giving him the rest of his lunch and faked his fullness when in reality he was still hungry because all they could eat was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Who would listen to him rant and give encouraging words even when his older brother was antagonizing.  

Yoichi, who truly was the greatest friend anyone could ask for is gone. All For One ranted about how they had no friends, no help, when truly he did have a friend. He had always had Yoichi. Why is he now just wanting to thank him when he is dead?  

  “Because he would brush it off and say there was no need if he was alive.” He chuckles at the irony of it all. He studies the items on the ground, picturing a young Yoichi who didn’t get to see All For One’s vision of how the world in their mangas would look. Yoichi loved mangas, they both did. He just wanted to make this world a place where they could be happy. With friends, peace, and the control that always seemed to get away from them.  

  So small he can barely hear it himself, All For One gasps. Does he already accept Yoichi’s death? It was so rushed and sudden, something that isn’t fit for Yoichi and him. They are brothers. It was not supposed to be this quick. It wasn’t supposed to happen at all. Now here he is already talking about him in past tense.  

All For One wanted to save Yoichi while Yoichi wanted to save him. Isn’t that a laugh how they both failed? He called himself a winner when in reality he is the biggest loser to hit the streets. He’s a failure like always. For the first time, he is actually alone in the world.

It has been a long time since he had cried. No one is near to see or hear his growing emptiness. Gripping his white hair, he screams at his brother’s things as if they were the culprit in Yoichi’s death. The wails of pain echo to the sky as he takes his pain out on everything. Not even the body of Haru is spared. The emptiness engulfs him completely besides the growing voices of people’s quirks that he has stolen over the years. They call out to him, terrorize him. His brother made it okay despite the noise. All For One found some type of happiness with Yoichi since all this started.  

 A wide smile that has no meaning stretches on his face. He silently laughs as he remembers Yoichi’s words that a villain needs to smile to help  fill a void.   

Hatred seethes out of him now that the anchor that really did weigh down the monster that still had some reserve is gone. Yoichi never stood a chance at life. It isn’t for the weak no matter how hard All For One tried to save him. Now, there isn’t anything left in him but greed and hatred. Self-loathing for failing the one thing that he held close.  

One day he’ll take back what is rightfully Yoichi’s. As long as Garaki keeps his longevity quirk and is willing to help him, he can still save Yoichi. He can still make a difference in the world using his own determination of how it should function. He can still make it. Although the new resolve is somewhat keeping him together at the moment, it doesn’t erase what took place.  

As thunder booms above him, his pain subsides to nothing. A soulless smile still graces his face as this new outlook places itself with his rage and hatred. The one thought that consistently stays like a thorn in his side to remind him that he is still human is the thought that he wasn’t there to say goodbye to his best friend.  

~~~~~~~~

AN: I hope you guys like it. I made it in 2021 so it is an older oneshot. Anyway, excuse any mistakes i may have made!