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mochie85 · 4 months

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I'll Follow You

One Shot Masterlist | Complete Masterlist

Summary: You came back to the compound, a year later after you left to make your own career, and you are worried about meeting Loki with how things ended when you left. Pairing: Romantic!Loki x OC Female Reader (Foxglove is her Superhero alias.) Word Count: Over 5.3k Warnings: Explicit. Fluff. Angst. Smut. Oral (female receiving). Shadowplay. Hallucinations.

Loki flipped through the magazine at a hurried pace, not looking at the photos or any of the articles. His hands needed something tactile to do. Or else, he feared, he might choke someone with them.

He paused when he saw an advertisement for a watch you were modeling for. There you were—a close-up of your beautiful face. Your eyes were bright and round. Your lips were dewy and sensual. Norns, he missed those lips. Especially when they were wrapped around his…

Ugh. Why can’t I stop thinking of her?! Loki snarled under his breath as he threw the magazine halfway across the room. It landed on the floor right by Sam’s feet. “You dropped this!” Sam said picking it up from the floor. He held it up in the air, not even looking, his attention fully absorbed on the TV screen.

Everyone had gathered to watch the talk show you were appearing on tonight. They couldn’t wait to see you come out and gossip about your life or inconsequential things. The entire team supported you in your decision to leave and start your acting career—everyone, except him.

Loki wanted to leave the room. He should’ve left and not agreed to come and watch the show with the others. He was about to stand up when-

“Shh. Shh. Guys quiet down. Here she is!” Wanda said shushing the entire room. Loki watched the enormous television, enraptured. The camera panned over to the audience, their loud applause and cheers were deafening. Signs and pictures were held up from a time when you were an Avenger. He couldn’t help but sink further into his chair and get caught up with your grace once again.

“So, Foxglove- can I still call you Foxglove?” The host asked as you sat down.

“Of course, you can,” you beamed at the man behind the desk.

“I- I don’t know the protocol for these things. Do you get to keep the name even though you’re not an Avenger anymore?”

Your practiced laugh showed through your gritted teeth. “It doesn’t work exactly like that. Foxglove is the name I gave myself. I had it with me when I started with the Avengers and took it with me when I left. It wasn’t a title or anything.”

“And did they just let you leave? I would think it was like being in the mafia. ‘You know too many of our secrets. We can’t let you out alive!’ sorta thing,” the host said, thinking he was being clever.

“My friends and colleagues have all been supportive. And I remain in close contact with most of them.”

‘Most of them.’ That statement swirled the emotions Loki was feeling inside. He was not one of those who supported you and was very vocal about it. The fact that you still keep in contact with almost everyone here left him envious.

“And that’s actually part of the reason why I’m here tonight,” you continued. “My dear friend Tony, whom many of you know as Ironman- again, not a title…” you chuckled. “…Is throwing his annual charity gala this spring. This year he decided to make it a month-long occasion with different charities and events happening once a week culminating in the yearly gala at the end of the month.”

“That’s wonderful! That’s all he does when he’s not out saving the world, is party, huh?” the host said looking straight into the camera.

“Asshole!” Tony sassed under his breath, earning a few chuckles from the team.

“And what exactly is your part in this month-long event?” The host asked you.

“Well, I plan to raise money for The Nature Conservancy here in New York. I ask everyone to come and help us plant new trees or donate. Every dollar will be matched, and we can help restore some of the forests, in other parts of the country.”

“The Nature Conservancy is a special organization for you, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s where I first worked. It’s where I first started noticing my powers.”

“Your powers are amazing! You can talk to plants!”

“Well, it’s a lot more complicated than that,” you said with restraint. “Chlorokinesis allows me to excel a plant’s growth to a thousand times what they normally can. I can also enhance their natural defenses and abilities. And like my namesake, Foxglove, I can give you hallucinations when touched.”

“Can we get a demonstration?” the host asked to the cheers of his audience. You reached out to touch him “No, no, no!” he said nervously. “I don’t need any more hallucinations right now!” you both chuckled. “Thank you. But maybe you can make a flower grow?” he suggested, and the audience cheered you on.

“Sure, of course,” you smiled, happily. You rotated your wrists and flicked them around, gesturing for a plant to grow from the host’s wooden desk. The branches wrapped around itself forming a steady trunk. Soon the branches grew out further and further. Blooming wisterias in varying colors began to sprout, amazing the audience.

You used to be unstoppable. You used to tear down enemies left and right, numbing them with your visions before you cut them down and made them regret opposing you. Now you do party tricks for the camera so you can get a laugh from people who don’t care about you. Who didn’t even love you! Loki was furious.

Once again, Loki made to get up. He was almost through the exit of the room when he heard the next question that made him stop.

“So, Foxglove, will you be attending these events alone?” The audience ‘ooh’d’ at the question when the host decided to get a little more personal. “I heard you were cozying up to a certain superhero. Do you like those types? Do you have a type? What does Foxglove look for in a partner?”

You laughed embarrassedly. “These rumors! I swear they pair me up with someone new each week.”

“Oh, but you were seen leaving a nightclub with your costar, Superman himself, Henry Cavil.” The photo was put up on the screen. A picture of the two of you laughing in front of a busy club as Henry gingerly put his arm around your shoulders. The entire room of Avengers whooped and hollered cheering you on.

“We were celebrating. We had just wrapped our movie and it was my first time in London. So, Henry just wanted to show me around. Very friendly. All platonic.” You smiled, blushing. Loki noted that blush. I’ll break him like a twig!

“Ok. Ok. What about your former colleague, Loki of Asgard?” The host asked as a picture of the two of you replaced the one on the screen.

It was a photo taken when the two of you had gotten back from a mission. You had failed and cried about it on the flight back. Loki was wiping the tears from your face, trying to cheer you up. You didn’t know the PR department was there taking shots as all of you disembarked off the jet.

The camera cut back to you and you blushed harder. Once again, Loki noted that blush. He let out a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding and swallowed. Does she miss me too?

“Loki and I have remained good friends. I look forward to seeing him again,” you told the host.

Lies. Not a single word was exchanged between the two of you since you left. The last words you said to him were “I hate you! I never want to see you again!” Loki couldn’t detect any falsehood when you screamed those words at him. That hurt the most.

Everyone turned to where Loki was standing. Some, like Thor, were smiling. Mostly everyone else was shocked.

“What?!” Loki snapped back at them, making everyone turn back to the television.

“Oh! Did you hear that? She wants to see him again.” The host embarrassed you. Your powers grew erratic as a new sprout of branches grew from the tree.

The whole audience was eating it up, clapping. You tried to hide behind your hand, but the different cameras provided different angles of your mortification.

“Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Foxglove, everybody!” The host said pointing towards you clapping. You laughed and waved at the audience as Wisteria petals fell from the ceiling.

Weeks later, you sat in the back of a Maybach that Tony hired to chauffer you to the gala. This year it would be held at the compound which garnered more donations because everyone wanted to see inside the heavily guarded facility. Your intricate beaded dress fit you snuggly and covered you from shoulders to toe. It ensured that no one would accidentally come in contact with your skin. Especially with how crowded Tony’s parties got. The only wrinkle was from all the times you’ve grabbed it in anxiousness and wrung the fabric.

Why did I let Tony talk me into this?! I should’ve faked sick or something! What if Loki’s there? Of course, he’s there. Where else would he be? What if he doesn’t want to see me again? What if he has a date?! Maybe I should’ve invited Henry? No, no. He’d get the wrong idea. Just drop in, say your hellos, then leave. I don’t have to stay. I’m a grown adult. I can do what I want! FUCK! What if Loki comes and talks to me?

Once past the gates, the car crawled through a winding road with lanterns adorning the pathway. The car stopped at the front steps of the Avenger’s compound and you could hear the heavy bass of the music pounding through the car windows as bright lights and lasers littered the night sky.

You made your way through security to the massive, yet highly decorated, quinjet hangar and a sweeping staircase that descended to an impressive room below. You smiled, reminiscing about all the parties and events you attended as an Avenger- sweet memories that erased the worry you had when you were in the car. Picking up your gown, you gracefully descended the staircase. Keeping your eyes trained on the steps below, you tried not to look around, to look for him.

“Fox! I can’t believe you’re here!” Wanda shrieked as she ran up to you. She squeezed your sleeved arm and pressed her cheek on your shoulder.

“I’ve missed you, Wanda!” you said kissing the top of her hair.

“Come on. Everyone’s here- well, almost everyone,” she corrected herself. “We haven’t seen you in so long. Everyone wants to catch up.” She led you along to the bar where you were greeted by your former teammates. You were grateful that Loki wasn’t among them. He always loved these parties. You actively refused invites the past year just to avoid him. Awkward hugs and pleasantries were shared. Drinks were offered along with your first few dances promised to Sam and Wanda.

After hours of conversations with the team, and some drinks with Tony, you fell back into a sense of belonging and family. You didn’t realize how much you missed your friends here. How much you missed being an Avenger. It got so lonely most nights not having anyone to talk to. At least here, you would have had Nat or Bucky to train with in the middle of the night.

Or Loki to keep you company.

You groaned internally. You couldn’t help but be on edge all night, thinking about him and wondering if Loki was ever going to show up.

Before leaving for the night, you excused yourself to get some fresh air. There was a greenhouse in the back glades of the compound that you frequented most nights just to be alone. You used to make the hedges grow all around, giving you a private garden away from the rest of the world.

Inside, it was as if you had never left. The plants stood tall as if to greet you. Bright flowers bloomed in different colors as if in competition to win your adoration. And in the back corner, hidden behind large monstera plants, was a cove of plush blankets and chairs that you hid from anyone ever finding. Everyone except, “Loki?”

Loki sat in the rattan chair; his legs crossed reading a magazine with your picture on the cover. He looked as breathtaking as the first time you saw him, like trouble and a promise all wrapped up in his pressed monochromatic black suit. His mischievous smile appeared, tempting you closer.

“Hello, Foxglove,” he greeted you. His voice sending shivers down your spine. Fight or flight? Fight or flight? You kept repeating in your head.

“I…didn’t know this spot was taken. I won’t bother you. Goodnight,” you hastily said as you turned to leave.

“Wait!” he cried standing up. You could feel him grab hold of your wrist. You looked down to see his shadow holding on to you like a dear friend, shadow to skin. It’s been so long since you’ve been touched. It’s been so hard to be intimate with anyone because of your body’s defense mechanism. And here was Loki, the only man who figured out a loophole to your little enigma.

“I just wanted to say…” Loki paused, staring only into your eyes. “Y-you look beautiful tonight.” You pulled your hand away from his shadow and stayed quiet. “I saw you. We… the team… saw you on the talk show. You’ve done amazing things this past year. One movie, a television show, countless endorsements.”

“Still don’t think I can make it?” you challenged.

“Fox, it was never about that!” he argued. His sudden outburst propelled him like a predator. He stalked his way closer to you, making you back into the glass wall of the greenhouse. You caught whiffs of his cologne mixed with the tropical scent of the flowers all around you. He stopped when he realized he had alarmed you. “I should not have advanced on you so quickly. I apologize.”

“It’s all right. Just habit, I guess.” You were always conscious of people touching you and getting too close. You never wanted to be the cause of their hallucinations. Loki felt relieved that he hadn’t scared you off. His shadow stood ahead of him, rubbing your arm with the back of his fingertips, trying to mollify your anxiousness.

Loki watched and waited as you settled. Jealousy festered in his body at the sight of his shadow being able to comfort you and he couldn’t. “You look… breathtaking, by the way.” He tried to soothe.

“You already said that,” you said curtly, blushing. Loki loved your blush. He loved getting under your skin and teasing you.

“Is your new lover here with you tonight? Got sick of the real superheroes, had to get yourself a pretend one?” he tried deflecting. Loki smirked looking through the glass and out to the party to see if he could spot Cavill.

“As I recall, you wanted nothing to do with me once I stepped foot out of your room,” you said quoting him from the last time you spoke. “So, it’s none of your business whether or not Henry and I are together.”

“But you are…together?” he asked. His stare was unwavering, demanding an answer to his desperate question.

“I don’t need this right now!” You were angry and speechless. He doesn’t have the right to question your life’s choices especially when he wanted no part of them in the first place.

You moved to get away from his shadow’s hold and out of the greenhouse. Loki followed you close. “Fox, please. Stop.”

“Why are you even here, Loki?” you called back, briskly walking towards the exit. “You knew this was- This was my spot. MY SPOT!” you yelled, turning abruptly towards him.

“Because I wanted a chance to talk to you in private! Without the cameras or the paparazzi. Without some life-or-death mission hanging over our heads. I needed to see your face again, without all these people trying to steal your attention away from me.” He stopped and watched you reach for the door to go outside. “I’m sorry, Vixen.”

Vixen.

Feelings you thought you had buried deep down inside of you started to resurface. All because of that name he used. The one he would whisper as he called for you in his arms late at night. The name he used when he made you laugh so hard the only way to stop you was to kiss you.

The one name he knew would stop you in your tracks… because it was the one name he used when he was about to touch you himself.

“I am sorry if I ever made you feel…”

“Unworthy? Incapable? Useless?!” you turned as you accused him.

“Unwanted,” he finished.

Real tears fell down your face now. Loki cupped your cheek and wiped it away with his thumb. You could feel the heat in his touch. The energy. You’ve felt it with his shadow, but there was always something electrifying and passionate when Loki touched you himself.

It was a luxury to feel this connection with someone. To feel the warmth from his fingers. The callouses in his palms. You imagined feeling his soft lips on you once again until you stopped yourself. It was a dangerous path to have such expectations right now. You opened your teary eyes to find Loki watching you.

His eyes darted around to your surroundings before he closed them and tried to focus back on you. “You are very much wanted, Vixen. I just couldn’t admit to myself how much I wanted you back then.”

He opened his eyes to yours. The swirl of emotion in them was breathtaking. It was then that you saw his true face for the first time. His emotions. His thoughts. He was stripped of his armor and his pretenses. You felt as if you two were the only thing that existed in that time and space. As if he were holding his life, right there cupped in between his hands.

Your heart pounded in your ears as he continued his confession. “I am a jealous god. You know this. I didn’t want to share you with anybody. I wanted to keep you to myself. To keep you from the world. I was afraid that you would tire of me like you did with being an Avenger. Cast me out after seeing what the world out there could offer you.”

Loki placed his forehead to yours, feeling your breath on his lips. He bared it all for you tonight. He admitted something you knew was difficult for him to confess.

But could it erase what he made you feel for wanting to follow your dreams? Horrible and selfish. Untalented. Unwanted.

“I love you.” Your eyes grew wide at his expression. “I loved you then. I’ve loved you since. I am still deeply in love with you. Even now, when you’re about to run away from me, my heart won’t let me forget you. I was afraid that I would have no place in the world that you were creating for yourself. So, for that, I am sorry.” You closed your eyes and lingered in his touch a while longer.

“I wanted to apologize. I never got a chance to see you again after our fight, and I regret that I never made amends to you. You had every right to follow your path. I shouldn’t have stopped you. I should’ve supported you.” His thumb caressed your cheeks back and forth. You always did have the softest skin, unblemished by anyone else’s touch, he thought. “You don’t have to say it back. You don’t have to say anything at all. And if you want to leave now, I won’t stop you. Never again. But I just needed you to know how I felt.”

Do you love him? You asked yourself as you looked into his variegated eyes. Did you spend every night thinking about him? Did you ignore the compound, and your friends, this past year just to avoid seeing him again? Afraid that he would have someone new in his life? Did you miss his voice when he says your name? His kisses? His touch?

“Yes,” you answered yourself. Loki’s brows knitted in confusion. “Loki, I understand now. Thank you… what I said to you back then, I was angry, but...” you tried to start.

Loki smiled, placing a kiss on your forehead. “We were both angry and said things we didn’t mean. Me more than you. Please don’t apologize. Least of all to me.” He exhaled as his eyes darted around again. You nodded your head, accepting his grace- forgiving you without having to apologize.

You looked up at his eyes, filled with wonder, “What do you see? When you touch me?” you asked gently. All this time you never thought to ask him.

“I see what I always see. Since the very first time I touched you. Do you remember?” You shook your head no. “They showed a picture of it on the talk show.” Realization sunk in. “I was wiping your tears just like now.”

Loki looked around again and smiled, putting his hands in his pockets. “I see home. I see the woods that used to grow behind the castle walls. Thor and I used to sneak out when we were children and climb the trees. The same woods we used as hunting grounds when we got older. Would you like to see it?”

No one had ever asked you that before. No one had ever had the power to do that before! You nodded and faint green smoke rose from his fingers. Your vision got blurry as the greenhouse was replaced by a dense forest. The trees were tall and luscious. Strands of warm light filtered through the canopy above shining down on the emerald grass below.

“Come with me.” Loki held your hand as he walked further into the woods. Dead leaves and twigs crunched at your feet as a soft breeze blew through the lace of your dress giving you goosebumps. “There’s a glade up ahead where we can just lay on the grass. I used to spend my free time there, letting the hours idle away.” The thought made you smile.

Sure enough, a clearing began to form up ahead. Long, soft grass weaved itself as it grew amongst large wildflowers. The filtered light from the canopy above made the blooms shine like jewels on a bed of velvet.

“I have yet to see anywhere comparable to this place on Midgard,” Loki said circling the glade, a look of homesickness in his eyes. “That metropolis has nothing compared to the splendor of these woods.”

“It’s beautiful.” You said walking towards him. A path of small wildflowers blooming with every step you made.

“Thank you. It is beautiful. But still an illusion. We are still very much in the greenhouse by the compound. You’re just seeing what I’m seeing at the moment.” You reached out towards a tree and felt cold glass instead of bark.

“You see this every time you’ve touched me? Every time we’ve…”

“Hmm,” Loki nodded solemnly. “Sometimes it's these woods. Other times it's my bedchambers in the palace. Yet, every time I’m with you, I see this- my childhood home. I haven’t been back since you left.” Loki bent down and picked up a wildflower that had grown in your stride. “I try to conjure it myself, but it never feels the same. The colors aren’t as vibrant. Not as much warmth.” He placed the flower on your ear, pushing your stray hair back. His hands ventured further down, tracing the beads of your sleeves.

“I’ve missed you,” he admitted.

“You’ve missed me? Or you’ve missed my powers and that they can bring you home?” you asked slightly jilted.

Loki looked deeply into your eyes as he turned you into his embrace. Your hands fell onto his arms and the look he gave you stole your breath away. “You are my home,” he confessed with a passion and honesty you’ve never heard from him before.

He wasted no time. He gave you no warning as he conceded to his urges and kissed you fervidly. The soft lips you were fantasizing about earlier painted a poor picture of his actual kiss. Soft yet demanding. Giving, yet always ravenous. It was as if no time had passed between you two. You were back in his arms kissing him and it felt like he described it. Home.

“All I ever wanted was to have you here in my arms,” he breathed in between kisses. Your hands found their way into his hair, pulling him back to you for another kiss. His arms wrapped selfishly around you, holding you tighter to him.

The heat was too much. It’s been so long since you’ve been held so intimately. But with Loki’s lips devoted to your neck, you would burn gladly. You would die happily on this pyre- as the last thing you would hear would be Loki moaning in your ears.

You were lost in his haze, caught up in the moment with the feel of his body against yours. He pushed you against the tree and you felt the cold glass of the greenhouse against your back.

Loki towered over you, “Tell me you want this,” he whispered onto your noxious skin. “Tell me you’ve missed this and want this with me.” He looked into your eyes, imploring something deep and vulnerable inside you.

“I do, Loki. I want this with you” You moaned holding tight against his grip. You felt his hands gather your dress skirt. Slowly his hands wandered, savoring the feel of your soft skin. His hallucinations were getting more and more vivid. Believable. Or perhaps it was just his kiss, sending you into slight delirium yourself.

Loki hurriedly took off his suit jacket and flung it across the room. He knelt in front of you, in between your parted legs as he raised your left knee above his shoulders- kissing his way up to your inner thighs. “Loki is this real?” you asked looking around you.

“Gods, I hope so,” he prayed, leaving a mark on your thigh. He kissed his way up to your core and licked you through the fabric of your panties. You heard the sheer cotton tear as his fingers brushed up against your eager clit.

Your fingers ran through his hair, pulling when he licked a wide stripe in between your folds. Your knees buckled at the sensation and soon you were reaching around yourself for something to hold. Something to keep you up as Loki lost himself in your wet arousal.

The cold glass of the greenhouse was replaced by the feeling of something warm and sturdy behind you. You looked up to see that Loki’s shadow had positioned himself to where his chest was flushed against your back- his dark hands roaming your body. His arms reached forward to hold your dress up above your waist, aiding Loki in his endeavors.

You felt a kiss on your neck, a quick peck as if he was asking for permission or giving you a warning. You yelped as his shadow quickly lifted you by your hips and Loki pushed both your knees up for his shadow to hold.

“Loki!”

“Yes, my love?” he asked as he continued to latch his mouth and draw on your aching cunt. Loki’s shadow spread your legs. You were splayed open and exposed. Leaving Loki to devote his tongue to you. You reached up and ran your hands through his shadow's hair, pulling as he sweetly kissed your neck.

You couldn’t help the moans and loud whimpers escaping your lips. You bucked your hips onto Loki’s face as your head reared back onto his shadow’s shoulders.

“Come for me, Fox. Let me hear you,” he commanded as he continued his consumption of you. “Let me taste you again. Give me what I’ve been missing. What I’ve been craving.” He said the last words to your tormented clit. You shuddered violently as moans and whimpers of his name fell from your lips. “That’s it. There you go, Vixen,” he cooed as he drank your arousal and lapped around your thighs.

His shadow laid you down gently and you felt the plush pillows and cold blankets from the greenhouse corner underneath you. A warring sensation against the heat of Loki’s body pressed on top of you. A bit of reality mixed in with the illusion Loki was scarcely hanging on to.

His hands fondled your every curve and every soft line. You cupped his face and led him to your kiss. His soft lips quivered when you reached in between your bodies and stroked his clothed erection. So hard and so tight. He breathed a sigh of relief when you unzipped his pants and stroked him.

“Fuck,” he moaned. Your name followed next as he bucked his hips into your hand. “Vixen…tell me you’re mine,” he panted. He kissed you hard, not letting you reply, afraid of your answer. You lined him up next to your expecting cunt and pulled him inside you.

You bit your lip and moaned as the look of pure pleasure radiated through your face. “Tell me…” he tried again as he pushed his hips into you repeatedly.

“I love you, Loki,” you moaned. His eyebrows slanted skeptically, stilling his movements and letting your words sink into his thoughts. “I’ve always been yours.” You admitted.

His kiss was magic. It was passion and life. Remorse and reconciliation all at once. He began his movements again at a steady pace, savoring your tight walls around him. You could feel the ridges on his shaft with every euphoric pull and thrust. His head bowed at the sheer power of your declaration. “Say it again…” he whispered.

“I’m yours,” you moaned.

“…say it…” he bit his lips. “…ag-again…please…” His eyes were closed as he focused on the agonizingly drawn-out movements of his hips to yours.

“I love you, Loki,” you cried as he slammed against you. You squeezed around him finally pushing him off that edge. Loosening the tight hold he had on his pleasure and pouring it all into you. The wave of bliss hit you hard and you came onto his throbbing cock at the same time.

Spent and panting next to you, Loki held you close. His kisses were endless. Your cheeks and jaw would be bruised tomorrow from the affection he was showering you with. His hands were always touching you. Your neck, your face. Your thigh that was wrapped around his legs. You lost all track of time being with the god of mischief and soon the bright sunlight that trickled down to the forest floor was replaced by the harsh glare of the greenhouse overhead lamp.

Loki had little strength left to keep the illusion up any longer. He seemed weary but content. You kissed him fleetingly as you sat up back to reality. “Stay,” he said softly. “The one thing I didn’t say last time…I’m saying it now. Don’t go. Stay.” His hands held yours tightly.

So many feelings were attached to that one word. The weight of it crushing your heart. “I’m not asking you to give up your life. I’m not asking you to stay just for the night either. I’m asking for you to just be,” he smiled at you. “Be who you want to be and I will support you like I should have.”

You crawled back to him, settling your head on your propped-up elbows, while your other hands played with the buttons on his shirt. “And if I decide to go?”

“Then I’ll do the one thing I should’ve done last time but didn’t.” he smiled as you looked at him expectantly. “I’ll follow you.”

A/N: This was a request sent in and I'm sorry to say it took this long for me to finish it. I hope you like it my lovely @gruftiela. I tried to stick to the vibe of the song. But I also added lyrics from one of my other favorite Depeche Mode songs. See if you can spot it 😝.

🏷️ @emarich7 @michelleleewise @coldnique @psychospore @lokisgoodgirl @silverfire475 @fictive-sl0th @springdandelixn @wheredafandomat @goldencherriess @peaches1958 @salempoe @thomase1 @kkdvkyya @a-witch-with-words @mischief2sarawr @sarawr-reads @vbecker10 @peachymallow @irishhappiness @cakesandtom @simplyholl @here4thefanfics @tallseaweed @holdmytesseract @immersed-in-mischief @joyful-enchantress @lokisninerealms @kikster606 @glitterylokislut @loz-3 @slytherclaw1227 @chantsdemarins @the-lady-amphitrite @eleniblue @km-ffluv @lokidokieokie @n3rdybirdee @melsunshine @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokischambermaid @cjand10 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @chrisevansmaindish

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shakethatsassyass · 2 years

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Sleeping with GOM Headcanons

So I accidentally deleted this request... which was sent in by someone who was off-anon. I can’t remember the un for the life of me but I hope you see this

SFW. Kuroko, Kise, Midorima, Aomine, Murasakibara, Akashi

Hello!! I was just wondering if you could maybe do some Hcs for GOM and what it would be like sleeping next to them??

KUROKO

He sleeps like a dead man. Kuroko literally doesn’t move.

He keeps the room at a freezing temperature too you would die if you only had a thin blanket to cover you

So Kuroko sleeps with layers. Even during summer he must be in layers of clothing and blankets.

How his indoor plant is still alive is a mystery

Kuroko doesn’t mind cuddling orb either the little or big spoon but it is quite hard to get away from his grasp once he’s asleep

He sleeps through anything… earthquakes, construction work, Nigou jumping him, you leaving his side cause you were going to get frostbite if you didn’t move to the living room…

His bed is REALLY SOFT too. There’s a topper on his mattress and another comforter on top of it. It feels like a cloud

He is obsessed with scented candles and has a nice collection of the jars inside his closet.

KISE

Kise talks in his sleep.

Kise’s room is surprisingly huge. He as a walk-in closet with sponsored clothes and a vanity with different skincare products. His bathroom also has a tub.

He also has a small fridge in his room where he keeps some wine, drinks, and some skincare products like sheet masks.

He takes his evening skincare routine seriously and encourages you to do it with him. You oblige, knowing there’s so many products to choose from!

Every day is spa day with this model and it’s just your form of self-care and bonding time with one another.

He’s big on cuddling and always insists on spooning your or being spooned to sleep. You oblige of course, he’s always so vocal when you don’t and when you do… he just says the dirtiest things. *parental guidance* just moaning into your ear and rubbing circles on your back oh lawd…

Kise also likes watching shows with you before going to bed so you almost always fall asleep mid-episode with the television on……

He’s A HEAVY SLEEPER and Kise TALKS IN HIS SLEEP. Like the first time you slept together, he was just talking normally and you were responding only to realize he was fast asleep and his responses were not making any sense!!!

He doesn’t remember whatever he says or what you say in the next morning, though.

The only downside with sleeping with Kise is that he’s kind of A BITCH in the morning…. Before he gets his caffeine… like just kind of rude sometimes LMAO

MIDORIMA

Midorima is very particular about his bed. He has rules.

No outside clothes. If you were just outdoors you aren’t even allowed to touch the bed let alone sit on it.

He has a humidifier on his bedside because his nose and skin gets really dry

His bed and closet is also full of stuffed toys of different sizes that he previously bought as lucky items and kept just in case he needed them again.

Midorima also is very strict about the pajamas he wears. They have to be matchy all the time. Even if they seem mismatched, trust me, he has specific pieces coordinated together and folded as one in his wardrobe.

He smells really really good, too. Like just clean soap smell… or like a baby… Mmmm Shin-chan…

Midorima is a really warm person so his scent just radiates your senses whenever you sleep next to him.

He’s a quiet sleeper. He’s still quite reserved when it comes to cuddling but when he’s extra sleepy, tired, or even buzzed… he’ll initiate skinship with you

Having this 6’5” man’s warm skin against yours is an experience like no other. He’s strictly the big spoon though. Over his dead body would he let you see his flushed face. besides… that way he can bury his head on your hair to smell you lmao

Bonus because you get to see Midorima without glasses and admire those oH SO LONG LASHES of his…. ykwita

AOMINE

Surprisingly the best one to sleep with

You’ve been caught by Momoi sleeping in the university rooftop more than a couple of times…..

And you didn’t even mean to fall asleep… it’s just that it was after lunch… and it’s Aomine… soo….

Aomine can literally sleep anywhere anytime and if you’ve shard a bed with anyone YOU KNOW THIS TYPE OF PERSON IS THE BEST TO SLEEP WITH

Aomine’s room is likee a typical bachelor pad.

But it’s quite neat due to two reasons:

1) Aomine’s a perfectionist. Idk if it’s been acknowledged in KNB but he always seemed like someone who liked to keep things in order. He knows when something is out of place (like that magazine is 3 inches farther to the left than when I last left it…)

Maybe because Aomine’s a Virgo sun, too.

2) Momoi, though she very rarely has to, she helps clean up Aomine’s place when she comes over.

You can toss and turn all you want in bed and Aomine will still be in deep slumber

You can jump on the bed and sing karaoke at full volume beside him and he’d be snoring

Aomine also gets cold pretty quickly, used to being outdoors all the time so he’s always drawn to your warm body

But there is one thing that can wake him up…

He subconsciously knows when you’ve left his side.

He’s always finding a way to hold you one way or another at night… like he has this sixth sense that just knows where you are in bed and magic spatial vision of how he can pull you close against him

MURASAKIBARA

He has a custom-made bed (the rest of his family barely fits in their mass-produced ones) and it’s full of so many pillows you wonder how you both could possibly fit in it

He also has a fridge in his room.

Snacks closet, snacks under the bed, snacks in all his bags… movie nights are the best because it’s like a mini grocery there

Murasakibara sleeps really early too. He’s knocked out by 10pm and is an early riser.

He’s a gentle sleeper. Doesn’t snore and turns in his sleep minimally so you don’t have to worry about being crushed

His limbs ARE PRETTY HEAVY when he accidentally hits you at night but his skin is so warm too so it’s welcomed during winter

Buuuut he does love being the little spoon (don’t ask me how) and prefers sleeping with you that way

You don’t even need a blanket… Murasakibara just engulfs your body so completely that it’s more than enough

He’s THE BEST HUGGER. I don’t make the rules.

Also he has the softest skin oUT OF EVERYONE, Mura’s limbs are so long and so soft it’s comforting.

AKASHI

Akashi smells IMMACULATE. He spares no expense when it comes to hygiene and has a great selection of body gels and creams.

His room and sheets always smell like fresh laundry and are replaced bi-weekly.

As for sleep… your sleep is 100% elite class thanks to all the goose feathers and amazing fragrances…but only if you’re comfortable with a certain someone sneaking his way into your duvet in the wee hours of the night… giving you a forehead kiss before lying on the pillow next to yours

Akashi does his best to maintain a balanced sleeping schedule but with so much responsibility, he’s grateful if he even has time to chat with you before getting up in the morning

It’s really the small things that matter most to you and Akashi

Akashi sometimes snores… when he’s extra tired. He doesn’t know this and you have no plans of telling him. It’s your little secret.

As for Akashi’s sleeping habits, he’s kind of a light sleeper so he sometimes sleeps with earplugs just so he wouldn’t wake up at random times.

He’s also a great cuddler but somehow his toes and fingers are always so damn cold you shudder when he makes contact with your skin. You always hold his hands as a result so even if you’re sleeping on your respective parts of the bed… he still searches for your hand under the covers…

He’s knocked out on Fridays, exhausted from work so staying in bed during weekends is just priceless

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whispermask · 1 year

Text

gasoline in your heart ch.10 | soap/ghost/könig

read on ao3 | first ~ prev | ch wc: 3.7k, total: 34k | completed

tags: smut, eventual ot3, fwbs to lovers, porn with feelings, jealous!ghost

dead dove time: this fic as a whole features a brief mention of a past suicide attempt, briefly graphic past child abuse (not CSA), past abuse of alcohol and present alcohol use, and at times dubious consent (consuming alcohol and engaging in sexual activities; dubcon voyeurism; dubcon sexting)

summary: soap and ghost start hooking up; soap and könig have apparently been hooking up; ghost doesn't know how to deal with it (eventual polycule)

preview: Simon scoffs a wet laugh and rubs furiously at his face with his other hand. He meets König’s eyes again and sees his worst fear mirrored there, an acknowledgement of the reality they almost had to endure. A world without Soap. A thrumming tension still so fraught that it might grow tangible and actualize itself if they even speak its name. An understanding passes between them: they have to stay vigilant, or else.

Soap gets captured by an internationally wanted arms dealer in Azerbaijan.

It’s not something he or anyone could have anticipated; what had been a relatively simple, one-man recon op to infiltrate a mid-security hydropower plant in Yenikend pivoted into a desperate scramble to stay alive as armed guards swarmed the facility and descended on Soap in an unexpected display of firepower. Ghost had listened over comms helplessly, just two clicks west of the plant. Sending Soap alone was a stupid decision of monumental proportions on Price’s part, which Ghost had all but roared in Price’s face as the blinking light of Soap’s tracker faded from the toughbook screen.

Ghost counts Soap up there with the best of them, knows he didn’t go down without first giving his captors absolute hell. But it’s been forty-eight hours since Soap went dark and Ghost’s worried enough that he’s called for backup.

“I understand how we’ll get in, but what’s the plan for exfil?” König asks. He’s in his full tac, veil, helmet, the works, a far cry from the last time Ghost had seen him.

(completely naked and spread out face down, hips and arse up on the sheets while Soap sank inside him, so slowly, making sure Simon had a good view from where he sat on the armchair propped in the corner of the room, close enough that he could see the shine of the lube in the low light, far enough away he couldn’t reach out and touch if he wanted to—and he wanted to)

“The way I see it, we’ve got two options,” Ghost says. They’re standing over a series of maps and schematics for the facility and surrounding territory. Ghost’s highlighted, in very uncertain terms, the loose plan for recovering Soap (alive, fuck Johnny, please be alive) in bright red marker.

“If we enter here through the auxiliary room and use the maintenance tunnels that run through the safeguard buildings, we can gather intel on where he’s holding Soap from his last known location, which is here, Division Four’s—that’s this area that’s built along the hillside and not over the dam, primarily administrative.” Ghost uses his gloved index finger to walk through their steps as he talks. “We can’t know what the exfil will look like until we know where Nazim is holding Soap.”

“Achso, what a shame,” König says. He brings his thumb and forefinger to his chin through the veil as he thinks—Ghost will find the time to be charmed by it later. In the last two days, he’s compartmentalized the part of him that has that attachment to König, to Soap even, though there’s an ocean of jumbled and overwhelmingly violent feelings simmering under the surface likely ready to overflow at the slightest provocation. König knows him well enough by now to not rock that boat, to maintain his calm, which in turn is keeping Ghost grounded through this ordeal.

(and the way he had taken Soap, writhing so beautifully for him, the long lines of his body tense and trembling, thrusting against a pillow Soap had placed underneath him to keep his hips raised just so, and Soap, Christ, the bunch and flex of his arse and thighs, the sinew of his back, the strength in his biceps as his hands clutched at König’s thighs and waist, pulling König back into his brutal, booze-sloppy thrusts)

“We’ll find him,”

(now’s really not the time)

This part is easy.

They move through the maintenance tunnel that leads from the auxiliary room where they’ve just wrenched the door off its rusted hinges. He’d shared a look with König over the laughable ease with which they’d breached the plant. He’s starting to get why Price assumed it would be get-in-get-out for Soap alone, but as they’re coming up on the entrance to the first safeguard building, it’s evident that Nazim must be on high alert. Two guards are posted outside the thick double-doors, chatting in Azerbaijani, distracted.

Ghost doesn’t hesitate, never was one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He moves in on the left guard, sees König slinking along the wall towards the right. He buries his dagger in the man’s heart through his clavicle, lowers him to the ground still sputtering before he falls quiet.

König’s stabbed the guard from behind through the kidney first, has him whipped around to jab the blade once, twice in his lung and neck. The guard is falling to his knees and choking on his own blood by the time Ghost turns around to look.

They move through the facility like smoke, dispatching guards as they go, making efficient, almost elegant work of it. As far as Ghost can tell, Nazim likely isn’t even here, and Ghost’s more concerned with finding Soap than exacting revenge.

In no time at all they’re standing before the heavy metal doors that lead to Division Four, where a guard fumbles to reload the clip he’s just futilely emptied, a fatal mistake.

When König has the guard pinned to the ground with a knee between his shoulder blades and the guard’s right arm twisted up in König’s grasp at a dangerous angle, Ghost puts a gun against the back of the guard’s head and says in broken Azerbaijani, “The SAS officer you took captive yesterday. Where is he being held?”

The guard lifts his head at an awkward angle and tries to look into Ghost’s eyes as he spits at Ghost’s boot. Without missing a beat, Ghost moves the barrel just left of the guard’s head and shoots the ground. The guard screams, either from fear or because Ghost’s just ruptured his eardrum.

König leans down and speaks into the guard’s good ear, “You should really tell him what he wants to know, or we could shoot you and find another guard. Your call.”

“Sub-basement level of Division Four, in an unused boiler room,” the guard responds in English. “That’s all I know, I swear!”

Ghost puts a bullet in the back of his head. He’s not Nazim, but it will have to do for now.

Four days after they recover Soap, he’s released from the hospital in Azerbaijan and into Ghost’s care. Ghost files him back to the air base, and then immediately onto a plane to London, mission be damned. Price can figure it out.

Soap had been unconscious when they’d finally come upon him, chained up and bloody in the corner of a dingy, rotting room. His face had been a riot of bruising and nearly unrecognizable, his left arm broken in two places and bent at a horrible angle. The worst of it is a puncture in his chest that had penetrated his right lung. When they’d found him, he’d been rasping wet breaths, head limp on his chest. He looked so small.

Ghost had stepped out of the room fighting nausea and gasping in great lungfuls of air bent in half with his hands braced against his knees. He got control of himself, compartmentalized some more. They were here to bring Soap home, there would be time for feelings later.

“Johnny,” König says when he sees them in the doorway of Simon’s flat, voice gone quiet and breathy. He’s dressed down to civvies, bare face unbearably young and vulnerable in the low light.

“As handsome as you remember, right Klaus?” Soap asks, eyes shining as König approaches to pull him into a crushing hug. Soap looks better from the last time König had seen him, though his face is still swollen in some places, his right eye blackened and the sclera blood red where a vessel has burst. His broken arm is in a neon green cast.

Soap gasps as König’s hold tightens, and König releases him, taking a step back as if to keep himself from touching. Soap laughs and says, “That’ll take some getting used to.”

“Öha, maus,” König says, “I’m just so happy to see you.”

“Believe me when I say the sentiment is mutual,” Soap says, and glances back at Simon where he’s still standing in the doorway, face mask settled over his nose as he watches the two of them. Soap beckons him closer with his good arm. Simon closes the door.

It’s close to midnight when Soap requests that they retire. König had made dinner for them, some kind of lemon-y chicken broth soup with rusk on the side. Simon had helped himself to seconds and was considering thirds when Soap had stated he was too tired to keep his head up.

Simon hadn’t considered sleeping arrangements when he’d instructed König to rendezvous at his flat, and as he turns down the sheets, he realizes that sharing with Soap while he’s still recovering might not actually be feasible. He sits heavily on the half un-made bed as clarity settles over him like a lead blanket. They had almost lost him.

Since that time at the New Year’s party, it’s like a dam’s broken, and Simon finds that his eyes grow hot and moist more and more easily these days. Without even realizing he’s started, he’s crying, fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Simon?” König says, darkening the doorway of the loo where he’d been helping Soap strip down to his briefs. Concern creases his brown when Simon meets his eyes. He looks away too quickly, and König must see the glint of the wetness on his face. Simon expects him to call out for Soap, but he surprises Simon again by lowering himself onto the bed next to Simon, and carefully takes Simon’s hand from where it sits uselessly grasping at nothing in his lap in both of his. Anchors him.

“He lived, you know,” König offers.

Simon scoffs a wet laugh and rubs furiously at his face with his other hand. He gets the meaning behind König’s words, to stop acting like Soap died in Azerbaijan. He meets König’s eyes again and sees his worst fear mirrored there, an acknowledgement of the reality they almost had to endure. A world without Soap. A thrumming tension still so fraught that it might grow tangible and actualize itself if they even speak its name. An understanding passes between them: they have to stay vigilant, or else.

“We will too,” König adds, maybe more a reassurance for them both.

“Daunksche,” Simon says, and squeezes König’s fingers. He doesn’t give himself any time to overthink it, which has been his modus operandi where König is concerned, and presses his mouth to König’s, a sudden fervor to touch burning just under his skin.

“Oi!” Soap says from the bathroom. “Don’t start without me!”

“You good?” Simon asks. He nuzzles his mouth against Soap’s jaw. Soap breathes out slowly, then nods, sinking back into Simon’s bare chest where they’re propped upright against the cushioned headboard. It still feels daring to touch Soap like this, to let König touch him like this too. To be touched at all in return, maybe. He doesn’t remember ever wanting someone this much, a desire so sharp it aches.

“Can I—?” König asks, slipping a finger under the waistband of Soap’s briefs.

“Oh fuck,” Soap breathes, and then, “Yeah, yeah, I want to.”

It feels like a revelation to watch König free Soap’s half-hard cock from his briefs, slip the waistband under his balls, leaving him bare. Even though he’s still mostly dressed, Simon feels exposed in a way that would feel mortifying if he weren’t so turned on. He tries not to grind too roughly against Soap’s arse where it’s pressed flush against his groin. His cock drags against his briefs inside his jeans, already so hard he’s leaking. König’s hand smooths over the curve of Soap’s thigh and hip, then grips into the meat of him as he sucks at the head of Soap’s cock, electric blue eyes glancing up to find both Soap and Simon staring down at him.

“Fuck,” Simon says, lips parting on the word and he finds that he’s panting slightly. Soap moans in agreement.

König hollows his cheeks and swallows Soap down to the hilt and Simon swipes a thumb against each of Soap's piercings, toying with his nipples. When it’s all said and done, he’s coming down König’s throat in less than two minutes. Simon places a gentle hand on his chin to turn his head into a searing kiss as he finishes, and Soap moans his pleasure into Simon’s mouth, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.

With Soap settled against the pillows, Simon reaches for König, fumbling at the button of his pants with one hand, his other gripped up in König’s hair to pull him into a brutal kiss that’s all teeth. The cut on Simon’s lip burns with the force of it.

They haven’t done this yet, not really, but it's something he's been thinking about since New Year's, holding König down, fucking into him while Soap watches.

Behind him, Simon hears Soap hum appreciatively as they strip down to nothing. Something lands on the mattress next to them, and Simon blinks his eyes open to stare at the bottle of lube he keeps in his bedside table. He glances up to see Soap smirking, because of course Soap knows how badly he wants this, needs it even, after everything that's happened. Simon curses and rocks his hips into König’s, their bare pricks sliding against each other, skin already sticky with sweat and slick. Simon grabs the lube and pops the cap open.

“Mein Gott, oh fuck,” König gasps against the comforter, face down next to Soap who strokes his head and back as Simon fingers him open, gets him ready. “Simon, please, please—”

“You want it?” Simon murmurs, crooking his fingers again. König’s breath leaves him like he’s been punched, sent staggering with pleasure.

“I want—bitte, I want you, I want—” König breaks off, rubbing his face against the comforter, trying to ground himself.

“I’ve got you, Klaus, I’ve got you,” Simon whispers, and presses another finger in. He admires König’s fluttering hole as it stretches to accommodate three of Simon’s fingers, and it’ll be nothing compared to Simon’s prick.

“Verdammt!” König rocks back, trying to push Simon’s fingers deeper, and Simon presses his other hand down hard against the small of his back, pinning him in place. König’s whole body goes hot and tight. A shudder rolls through, and Soap says, “He’s ready, fuck him now or he’ll come before you can even get inside him.”

Simon doesn’t answer, just leans over to kiss König’s nape as he slides his fingers out. He slicks his cock, his hand sliding over his bare skin obscenely, and then he’s settling on top of König, knees on either side of his legs, big and heavy enough to hold him down without even trying, something he’s learned König can’t get enough of. He spreads König open and guides his cock to nudge at his winking hole, swiping it a few times and rubbing the sensitive head through the lube slicking König’s skin.

“Relax,” he says in response to the initial resistance he meets. Commands, really. König obeys beautifully, and the tight-hot heat around him as he sinks in skirts the edge of pleasure and pain. Beneath him, König’s gasping with it by the time Simon’s fully seated, squirming helplessly, pinned, spread, open and aching.

“Fuck, Klaus, look at you,” Soap breathes.

Simon’s hips shift, pushing his cock impossibly deeper, and König gasps open-mouthed against the comforter. “Scheiße. You’re so good, you feel so fucking good,” König moans.

“You too,” Simon says, and means it.

König reaches back to grab at Simon’s bare thigh, knocking him forward and pulling him closer, close enough that Simon won’t have to bend too far to fasten his teeth in König’s skin, close enough that Soap can brush a hand against his forehead, grip his jaw and force Simon to look into his eyes when König says, “You can—gemma, move.”

“Yeah?” Simon’s hips shift, roll, his clock sliding out an inch, then back in. “Like that?”

“Harder,” König gasps. “I can take it; I’m not going to break.”

“I know you’re not,” Simon says in his ear. His next thrust is fast and deep, shoving König up the mattress, rucking up the blankets underneath them. König grips the cloth tight to brace himself, moaning, as Simon starts to move in earnest. His cock slides almost all the way out, then slams back in, then again and again. It all seems overwhelming: the feeling of König around him, the submissive line of his body where he arches his back to angle his hips for a deeper screw, Soap’s eyes on them, Soap’s parted lips as he watches them, half-hard again despite the obvious physical toll his orgasm had taken on him. Simon can’t image the sight they must make, starkers, a man of König’s stature spread open and held down while Simon fucks him hard and Soap watches. He’s never felt so out of control. He’s moaning raggedly on every breath now, rocking the bed on its frame with each thrust, holding König open so wide for his plunging cock that it must hurt.

Simon pulls König up suddenly so that his front is flush with König’s back. He wants Soap to see his face when he comes. He reaches around, fumbling for König’s cock, which he finds huge and aching, wet with pre-come that’s slicked the shaft and makes the glide of Simon’s palm smooth and fast as he jerks him. Soap shuffles closer, using his good hand to hold König’s face, thumbing away what must be tears as Simon fucks in harder, harder still, a punishing, brutal pace, life-affirming in all the best ways.

“God, I fucking love you,” Soap says and it’s not clear who he’s said it to, probably both of them, “look at you, fucking Christ. Klaus, he’s gonna make you come all over this bed and it’s all gonna be for me–” Simon risks a glance at Soap, eyes black, flushed from his cheekbones down to his chest, just from watching him fuck König.

“Oh Gott, oh fuck, Simon, please, please,” König begs, dazed.

A wave of heat rises in Simon, swallowing his senses, and he feels it start to crest when König starts to come on a sharp, bitten-off gasp, the rhythmic clenching of his muscles milking his orgasm from him. “Klaus, Klaus, fuck, you’re mine and you’ve always been mine and I’m going to keep you, I swear, I’ll keep you both—”

Simon slams in and goes still, his cock pulsing, and the liquid heat of König’s flexing hole as he comes creates a feedback loop of white-hot euphoria that keeps creating. Soap leans forward to kiss König who groans into his mouth so loudly Simon could swear the walls shake. He tightens his hand on König’s cock, feeling the molten spill of him as he spurts over Simon’s fist and onto the bed. He strokes him through it, and far past it, until König is batting away his hand, kitten-weak, even though he’s still rocking his hips back to grind Simon’s cock even deeper inside. Simon comes down a centimeter at a time, feeling a primal sense of satisfaction as he pulls his softening cock from König. He admires his handiwork, fingers his dripping come back into König.

“Fuck,” Soap agrees, and tips his head back on a breathless, ecstatic laugh.

Bam dotes on Soap with all the love and concern she’s shown Simon over the years, which Simon expected. She even takes a shine to König, and the two bond over colorful German swears and crocheting. What he didn’t expect was for Bam to conspire with Soap and König to get Simon to take a real holiday.

The three of them spend ten days in Mallorca— it’s less of a fuck you to his dad and more a lifelong childhood aspiration after his mum had described in tedious detail how wonderful the resort was. Now he can admit that yes, the resort is quite wonderful. Since it’s a few months before summer, the resort is largely quiet, which puts him at ease enough to let his guard down. When he does though, Simon finds that he’s forgotten how to unwind. Soap and König remind him, with sex, with food, with bourbon, with spa appointments for massages that leave him boneless and docile, with their love, their endless love, and by the end of the ten days he has no desire to return to London.

So they go to Edinburgh, back to Soap’s studio where it all started. König returns to active tomorrow, Soap and Simon not far behind him. They’re living on borrowed time. Simon tries not to think about it, especially after Soap’s most recent close call.

He wakes alone for the first time in weeks in Soap’s massive bed. He hears soft voices from the floor below and finds his briefs, pads barefoot down the staircase to find Soap and König standing in the art studio with their backs to the windows, facing the three easels. The sun-washed cotton covers that had concealed the canvases lie in a heap on the concrete floor. Soap holds a paintbrush in his good hand, the wooden tip between his teeth and his shoulders squared with the left easel. His brow creases in focus.

“I think you’ve got it just right,” König says, hand sweeping over whatever Soap is studying on the canvas. “Honestly, I don’t know how you artists do it, I couldn’t look at the same thing for— ah, good morning!”

Simon comes around to stand beside König and Soap. He looks to Soap first, who gives a vague wave of his hand, as if he’s accepted that he’d have to show Simon, so might as well.

They’re not portraits per se, more like loose abstracts with snatches of realism, painted in painstaking detail here, soft edges and muted colors there. It doesn’t register at first, but then—

“It’s us,” Simon whispers, because of course it would be, he should have known.

And it is unmistakably them, the left portrait sporting his skull mask pulled up partially over his face, his jaw and lips visible. König’s face is bare in the right portrait, his eyes a pop of startling blue. And at the center, Soap, the cut of his shoulders and quarter profile softened into something almost dream-like, or maybe that’s just how Simon sees Soap already.

“I’m not done!” Soap exclaims. “I really didn’t want you to see them until they were done, but then I hit a snag and needed Klaus’s opinion on something, and–”

“It’s—they’re perfect,” Simon says, in awe of Soap.

“That’s what I said,” König chimes in.

“You think?” Soap asks, eyes considering as he evaluates his work.

“Yes,” Simon says, but he’s not looking at the paintings anymore.

#soapghost #soapböx #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #könig #cod könig #mw2 #modern warfare 2 #mw2 fic #soapghost fic #soap/ghost/könig #gasoline in your heart #my fic

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yandere-sins · 2 years

Note

this is an ask! or could be head canons! but what’s the aftermath of father! Bakugou hitting his daughter? like is he more gentle or you know how abuse only gets worse after the first hit? also what are the emotions running through the girl’s head and what’s the reaction from his s/o? sorry about this; I get really curious about aftermaths, especially about yandere scenarios!

Thanks for asking! I hope this stills your curiosity ^^

[Part 1]

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

♡ It takes almost two days for him to get back on track, and not by his own volition. Two days that he hides in his home office, curtains drawn closed and leaning back in his recliner, a glass of whiskey in his hand being his only companion. In the matter of one night, he completely turned his life upside-down. Bakugou doesn’t want to talk to anyone, see anyone, or do anything. Though he can take vacation days at his job, it only suffocates him more to know he’s taking time off that the world needs him for. But he drowns it in any alcohol he can grab from close by.

♡ His partner tried to start a conversation with him, but it led nowhere. Just a broken glass, a bleeding hand, and the fear he’ll throw another one in their direction again if they keep bothering him about what he did to their daughter. It’s not their position to judge him, not when they weren’t there to prevent it from happening like they always did. Bakugou blames himself the most, but once he can’t take it anymore, he does go off on his darling where they were when they needed them and when they should have taken the hit for their daughter like always. Where they hid while he lashed out at her. And if they drive him too far, he might do worse to his darling than just scream and throw glasses at them, so they quickly disappear, only going inside the office to clean the glass from the floor and bring him new food that he won’t eat.

♡ Bakugou is needlessly strict with himself, always imagining the “what if” instead of seeing things as they truly happened. He constantly plays with the thought of accidentally killing his daughter instead of being happy she’s alive and well. The anger he felt when he hit her hasn’t dissolved yet either, so he makes up excuses and reasons for his behavior when really, all he feels now is the fear of losing her more than ever before.

♡ Meanwhile, his daughter is probably not doing so much better either. Locked in her room just like Bakugou decided, there’s not much to do but rest and heal as best as possible while not being overtaken by the many fears her room now holds. While no one in this household is okay, Bakugou’s partner might play mediator just to regain some peace, telling their daughter about what her dad is doing all day long and how affected he is by what he did. It might be harsh to ask her to go to him and show him she’s okay. Still, since the situation is getting worse and worse, some very unhealthy ideas are planted in the young girl’s mind about showing forgiveness and being the bigger person in this scenario; since, technically, it’s the daughter’s fault that things escalated.

♡ It’s not the healthy and correct way, but it does help—unfortunately. Bakugou might be annoyed that his partner is yet again bringing food, but when a timid voice calls out to him, “Papa?” all the anger is completely forgotten in an instant. Gazing upon his daughter in shock, it’s not long until he beckons her closer, pulling her on his lap and hugging her tightly. Apologizing yet again for what he did and praising her for being so strong. Hearing her apologize in return and tell him she understands why he did what he did does so much good for his pained heart, and soon enough, even with his alcohol levels, he’s back at the dinner table with the two most important people in his life, smiling and basking in the praise they rain on him.

♡ Everything goes back to almost normal. The stricter rules are still in effect, and things still feel off, no matter how much everyone forces themselves to pretend all is good. His daughter is much easier to flinch now when he lifts his hand, Bakugou feels weird going into her room, and his partner pretends none of these things happened and are happening right in front of their eyes just to keep the peace. It’s a disaster in the making, a pot full of unspoken truths threatening to boil over any day.

♡ It just needs one more mistake, one more overstepping of Bakugou’s new boundaries. One is enough to make Bakugou realize he still holds the reigns in these relationships, whether it’s with his darling or his daughter. They can plead and beg him to stop, but if he must teach his daughter another lesson to see reason and stop ruining his patience with her, he will. Sometimes lifting his hand is enough; other times, she’ll have to feel it against her skin. It’s easier now, and Bakugou knows how to temper his strength and apply it less critically. But it hurts regardless, and he gets trigger-happy much easier every time. He forced one person into submission before, he can do it again. He can take all the joy from his daughter, lock her in her room until she begs him to be her old, well-meaning father again and not this aggressive monster he turns into when she doesn’t do as he wants.

♡ But why does it hurt him so much, he wonders? Why is he regretting lashing out even though he’s much more careful now, skilled even? This is not the clumsy dominance he had when it was just his darling. He is now much more settled into his role as the executor of his will. Why is it so much harder seeing either of these beloved people look at him with tears in their eyes when it had always been the way he did things? Why does it hurt to feel them flinch against him when he goes to hug them even though everything is okay at that moment? Where has all the trust he built with them gone after all this time?

Why did one mistake ruin all he loves?

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windupantenna · 2 years

Text

content warning: i address a lot of very heavy things in this poem, so please take care before continuing. this has been a work of several days’ worth of writing and rewriting that began with me reading something i really was not in a place to read; and though i did end up with a work i’m quite proud of, i don’t exactly want it to happen to you.

also, the title of this pertains to a very important part of curanderismo (traditional mexican folk medicine): the thirteen airs. from anguista (anxiety) to susto (shock, trauma), they blow through all of existence, plants and animals and humans alike; through them we are gifted the opportunity to learn great lessons about life… and ourselves. we become unwell when these aires get stuck within us, whether because they have no way out, or because we have grown attached to them. i still have so much to learn, but i know the things i have been working through, in both life and this poem, have come from the aires. this is my way of thanking them, serenading them, really, as i watch them go. so i hope… it’s been a long ride, the past few months.

as always, thank you for reading.

—

los trece aires

i. we kneel to the north, heart-drums beating, and i

kneel to the future and the spirits that shape it. the wind

rises in response to our prayer in movement, powerful

but soft, always, when it meets our skin. it speaks

of things to come and those that have already arrived.

ii. the drive home is quiet, music bleeding out the windows

as the wind roars in. the evening is alive, and so am i,

he who breathes its air.

iii. i stayed inside today, so i breathe the same thoughts over

and over again. it is possible to suffocate in the purest air

when there is no one else to share it with. you only think

of yourself.

iv. the earth breathes, too, in days. the wind carries seeds

that travel far, waiting behind the movement of time

for the right rain. they are spread by birds that eat the worms

and survive the change.

v. i forget to breathe. i don’t know why.

i begin to get used to getting by

in gasps.

vi. the earth keeps spinning, and so do i: in words, in dance,

in confusion, in a trance. i breathe the same thoughts,

though i move on to newer things. the gap between what i do

and what i am going through grows greater.

vii. i roll down the windows to let out the despair.

but the way the wind whips through the car,

it only makes me feel how fast i am going

and how little i care

viii.

ix. sometimes when you open the door, you do not know

what you are letting in. a leap of faith

is a jump off a cliff, and a deep breath in

fills the room with gas

when you are trying to start a fire

trying to keep yourself warm.

x. the air moves slow, caught in a fog.

i take a breath and my throat is clogged.

as i choke, i remember

sweetly that last september.

if i could go back and do things right, i think,

i would make sure that this time i drink

the draught that you served

and label it, “the love i deserve,”

but maybe i already did. the fog has become a noose

of all the memories i’ve hid, that now run loose

in my waking thoughts and unconscious mind.

i must have, for them to grow so unkind.

i come to, alive, and gasping for breath.

i had a dream on the edge of death:

“i’m holding hands with someone dear.”

but it’s now morning, and i’m in tears

wishing that the hand was yours

not because i love you anymore

but because i hate myself

for the parts of me

i still can’t forgive.

i’ve had a year to live.

i still have not learned:

there are i things i cannot have

if i cannot kill my fear.

it scares me, how little it takes to want to die.

i look at your photos laced with cyanide.

xi.

xii. the wind settles, gentle

whisper in my heart:

“child, you are saved

by the things you make.”

there are things you cannot fake.

there are things you could not take.

xiii. i’m walking home in the rain, the wind

singing quietly through the rustle of leaves.

i get to the gate when the sun starts to shine

and am greeted by a spider

rebuilding her web.

i watch.

this is what i was meant to learn.

soon the wind

ushers me in, where i towel off the wet hair sticking to my skin.

so that is why i write the things i feel;

so that is why i weave:

the spider’s web is strong as steel;

her creativity outlasts grief.

posted September 1st, 2022 in three parts to @ ang.lade (link is to the first part)

#instagram archive #ang.lade

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astaroth1357 · 3 years

Text

Demigod MC Series: Demeter

Have I been using this series to vicariously punish Belphie for the events of Season 1? I cannot confirm nor deny that statement.

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter

Lucifer

Didn't think too much of the "human" when they popped out of the portal. Sure they had a straw hat and a huge basket full of produce but it wasn’t like they were… Wait… No… Were they…?

Oh no. Oh nonononono, this is not good…!!

Demeter is notoriously doting and protective of her children (see her freakout and breakdown after Hades abducted of Persephone as proof) and they've pretty much done the EXACT. SAME. THING. here!!

It was a mad scramble by him and Diavolo to contact and appease their godly Mother Bear before she came roaring down to Devildom herself to turn them all into barley. Thankfully, Zeus must have intervened at some point because though she was indeed PISSED, she didn't threaten to barge in… yet.

She made one thing very clear. Bend so much as a single hair on her precious child's head and there would be WAR…

The MC received a 24 hour security detail after that. Just Mammon wasn't going to cut it, he needed NO chances. It was a full rotation of Mammon, him and Beel for the entirety of their stay (Asmo and Levi both threw hissy fits at the prospect of babysitting, Satan couldn’t be trusted not to kill them just to irritate him, and Belphie was out for… obvious reasons).

In some ways, it wasn’t so bad. The MC was a very mild sort of person, rather even tempered. He’d dare say they were pleasant, mostly content to just tend to their gardens and be out in the moonlight…

But the problem was, he just could not convince them to stay OUT of nature. Including the forests, which were full of hellish beasts fully intent on gnawing their flesh from their bones… and their specialty was plants, not animals, sooo…

Their habit of sneaking out to wander the woods got so bad that he very nearly considered pulling a Belphie 2 and locking them in the basement for their own good. But Devil knows what damage their mother would do if she found out…

At least they make for pleasant company… And Diavolo seems to like them quite a bit himself so the mortal gets a pass from him. Now if they’d only consider their own safety for a change…

Mammon

They make him a KILLING.

Like, no seriously. Their produce is insane!! He’s never tasted food so good, especially stuff that’s come fresh from the ground! It only took a few berries for Mammon to throw on a straw hat himself and start harvesting! He’s a farmer now, baby!!

Weeellll not quite. He’s still absolutely only in it for the money, but anything he brings to a farmer’s market goes so fast that he can hardly care about the labor! He’s never made this much Grimm in his life!! And it’s totally legit for a change!

He bought himself another car, paid off half of his debt, and even got Levi back that 2 or 3 grand he leant him centuries ago. Really, Mammon’s living his best life and it’s all thanks to MC!

It’s a good thing his blatant grifting doesn’t hurt his relationship with them at all, in fact they seem to enjoy having his help regardless. They bring him drinks on hot days or invite him on picnics and stuff, it’s… it’s really sweet. They’re very nice to him and he appreciates it…

But… COULD YA JUST STAY PUT ALREADY???

It drives him INSANE that they won’t stay out of dangerous places!! After he started caring about them for more than just a meal ticket it only got even worse!!

He’s not usually one for monitoring someone’s every move (that kind of control freak behavior is more a Lucifer thing) but he eventually had to set up familiars around the House just to keep them from sneaking out at night...

What was so interesting out there anyway?? There wasn’t any kind of plant that he could bring them himself! They didn’t have any need to be out there!!

They’d keep telling him they’d be fine but it’s not like he’s going to actually buy that. They were too… nice to be dangerous or anything so why would he believe them?

No more running off, MC! Please, he’s beggin’ ya!!

Leviathan

Wait, gardening? Like, being outdoors and stuff? Ew. No thanks, he’ll pass.

That was more or less his first reaction when they showed up and it never really got much better than that…

He admits that they’re friendly and it’s not like he dislikes them or anything, but their thing so far from his thing that they just don’t have a lot in common… you know?

For starters, they get So. Antsy. when they’re inside for too long! He tried to invite them to a marathon once, but they could hardly keep still and kept looking around like they were searching for a window… He said, “to jump out of.” They insisted just for some fresh air, but he didn’t buy it...

They’re nice enough to listen to his rants, but they’re barely ever inside for him to do so and like HELL is he going to leave his room and stand around out there for that long. Ranting is at least a one to two hour engagement! What if he gets hot out there? And have you SEEN Devildom bees?? Hell no!!

He has, however, asked them on multiple occasions to reproduce flowers he’s seen in different anime, especially ones that have a very unique look and they’ve done some real wonders with that!

He can now claim to be the only person to ever own a Ruby-Jade Vine plant, straight from the pages of TSL when it was used to brew tea for the Lord of Lechery during his brief illness and-is anyone even still listening anymore?

The point is, it’s a flower so rare it was imaginary but now HE has it!... or had it for about a week until his utter incompetence of all things plant killed it…

He begged the MC for another but they were out of the plants they needed to make it and would have to go back to the human world to find more… He’s still mourning his loss… Poor Henry 4.0…

Satan

Well… He’s called this MC “salt of the Earth” and he does truly mean it. Take of that what you will.

He doesn’t get much in the way of intellectual conversation out of this mortal UNLESS he’s talking about plants, farming, or botany… Interesting topics and complex in their own right to be sure, but that’s pretty much their wheelhouse and they like it there.

That being said, the feats that they can perform are genuinely mind-blowing! They are the ONLY person he has ever met who can cultivate the Devildom’s own ultra-rare Phantom Orchid, a plant only blooms when it reaches a perfect state of undeath (i.e. both taken care of and neglected just enough so that it's only barely alive. The balance is so tricky to master that one hasn’t bloomed down there for centuries!)

There’s also something just genuinely relaxing about watching them work or helping them in the gardens… More so than he’d ever expected from such a simple activity.

He admits that he’s taken quite a few strolls through the flower-filled courtyard of the Demon Lord’s Castle just to admire its beauty... But anything that they can grow just blows all of that out of the water!

They even taught him several magic botanical techniques so now he can grow some pretty mad plants himself. Lucifer never expected to find that giant Venus Flytrap in his closet, but one was there regardless. 😏

Just… out of curiosity one day, he asked the MC if they could make him a new kind of catnip. Not for any nefarious reason! You know… just for research purposes…

The nip they made was so effective that the House grounds were FILLED with nipped-up cats for a whole month! He was in Heaven!! (and Lucifer practically wiped those plants from existence so he couldn’t get any more… asshole...)

That must have inspired them because they apparently made a demons-only version that they told him about WELL after the fact. Had he known, he probably would have burned the stuff on principle... Do you know how dangerous demon-nip could be to them? Experiment responsibly, MC!

Asmodeus

Ehhhh, gardening SOUNDS like one of those things that should be super Devilgram-able, but then you realize how sweaty and dirty you get in the process and it’s a huge turn off… Sorry MC.

When they first came down to the Devildom, he thought two things: 1) Such a sweet little flower child, as adorable as they were, would never survive; and 2) even if they could, he would never ever see eye-to-eye with them on the “wonders” of getting all up in the dirt.

Well, he was right about 2, but certainly not 1. Personally, he thinks his brothers worry about them too much, they ARE still a demigod.

At one point he saw a pack of hellhounds almost trample one of their vegetable gardens and they lost it. Word to the wise, never try to take on a child of Demeter in their own garden. Those hounds were wrapped up in rose vines before they could even yelp...

Yeah, the MC would be fine.

That being said, while everybody else clamors over their produce, he thinks that their flowers are really where it’s at!

Taking just five minutes in one of their gardens is something else... He’s never seen blossoms as healthy and immaculate in all the Devildom before! Their beauty could (almost) rivals his own! What they do isn’t just a hobby, it’s an art.

He’s taken multiple pictures with their blossoms and they go viral every time. It’s so rare to actually see gorgeous, petal-filled flowers in the Devildom, most of the native plants are of the man-eating variety.

His only complaint about this MC is that they seem to feel much more at home in work clothes and dirt than they do in any sort of party-look he tries to give them… Cute as they are, they can afford to gussy up sometimes can’t they? Mud and grass stains don’t make for a good look, sorry.

Beelzebub

Beel gardens and the MC gardens as well. Add on that they seem to be able to grow all manner of fruits and veggies and he likes this one. A lot.

They had just finished apple-picking when the portal nabbed them so they had a massive basket of apples at the time. Naturally, Beel more or less stole the thing on sight, but the apples inside were so juicy and good that he almost shook them down for more on the spot!

Imagine his surprise when they, half pleadingly, explained to him that if he got them some seeds they could just grow more… and it wouldn’t even take that long.

To be clear, the formula he saw was this: Get seeds > bring seeds to mortal > mortal grows seeds > mortal makes endless supply of food….

Congratulations MC, you’ve now earned the sixthborn’s eternal loyalty after a grand total of… two minutes. He didn’t even know their name, but he was willing to take a bullet for them (provided he got more of those apples).

The next several months were spent with Beel attached to them to the hip in some way, but honestly? It was just so wholesome anyway…

If he’s helping in the garden, he never complains. He does most of the heavy lifting and actually likes being out there with them (unlike others...)

Many afternoons were spent sitting under fruit trees and talking. Sometimes, they go to the trouble of preparing a picnic or something but it would always inevitably end with Beel plucking the whole tree clean of whatever ripe (or unripe) fruit he can get his hands on with a smile.

The MC never minded though. That’s just another excuse to grow more, right?

His only problem was when the MC would sneak out to the forest… especially when they get too antsy and just go alone.

He HATES it when they do that! How is he supposed to keep them safe if they just wander off?? He knows that they have a special connection to nature and all, but it isn’t safe…

He’s flown in and scooped them back up to the House on numerous occasions and his “talking tos” get sterner after every rescue... Please stay put, MC! He’d have so many reasons to be sad if you were eaten… 😔

Belphegor

Okay, he was looking for a capable, if not gullible, human. Not a shoeless flower hippy!

He honestly wasn't expecting much out of this one... Damn their little heart because they did genuinely believed his lies, it’s just that they weren't… well… They were really good at gardening.

… And it grew kind of hard to keep hating them whenever they'd show up just to give him fresh berries or a bouquet to see him smile… He may claim that his heart is made of nightmares and orphan tears, but who doesn’t enjoy being given a batch of flowers?

Damn their sweetness too… Right to here.

When it came time to kill them he had a heavier heart than he thought he would, but kind of saw it like putting down the sacrificial lamb. Gotta be done to reach better goals... Stiff upper lip and all that.

Unfortunately for him, they had taken to carrying packets of demon-nip with them as a self-defense measure…

He wasn’t exactly sure what he expected when they shouted “Get nipped!” at him mid-attack, but it wasn’t a face full of some smelly herb! Like, really smelly…! Actually, that smelt kind of good… Hold on.

Turns out murderous rage really doesn’t last long after you get what is effectively ultra-strong catnip thrown in your face. They ended up having to go and tell Lucifer what happened themselves because Belphie was way too blissed out on the floor to do anything... They were legitimately worried they might have fried his brain...

He’s told the effects of the demon-nip lasted three days. He doesn’t know, because he hardly remembers any of it... They described him as like he was high on “weed” and “ecstasy” at the same time but he doesn’t know what either of those are either so it wasn’t helpful…

Truthfully, they were so nice to him while he was recovering that he couldn’t even be mad afterwards so all's well that ends well? Either way, he’s sleeping under their orchard trees from now on. It’s peaceful out there...

They burnt all that nip though. It’s some strong stuff...

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me demigods #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

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sidemari · 3 years

Note

Sorry if I’m doing this wrong- it’s my first time using tumblr and I’ve never requested anything </3 Anyways, could I reques a Venti x reader, where reader has hanahaki? Ou! Also with a bad ending please :} please and thank you!

"I was here all the time only you didn't see"

Pairing: Venti x GN!Reader

Warnings: None, it's angst.

Author's notes: Hey Mei, I hope you enjoy this text! Ty for the patience and also for the rq! I loved writing this. Could you or a pure soul give me feedback on my asks, pretty please? 💕

Picture by @Saasaamee on Pinterest.

Your grave looked really beautiful.

Cecilias were spread right above the earth, giving the place a hurtful melancholy.

The heart of the bard now ached like many years ago, when he lost a good old friend.

"Rest in peace, my muse"

His memories brought him back to the warm day you confessed to him.

You looked so beautiful.

So beautiful he could write many ballads and poems about you and your beauty.

But he didn't love you.

His heart didn't belong to you, even though your heart belonged to him.

He never felt anything else than admiration for you.

The lack of reciprocity started killing you.

They called it the Hanahaki Disease.

What a beautiful name for such a cruel path the ones affected by it should cross.

You hide it from him until your condition got worse.

You were able to hide it until the very ending of your life.

All the times you saw Venti running through Monstad carefreely, angst formed in the pit of your stomach because you knew he wouldn't be yours.

All the times he performed his songs to the Monstadians made your emotions became a wreck.

"The number of petals is growing with every day" You mumbled weakly after a coughing fit one day.

You knew what would happen.

You'd eventually die.

And you were willing to do so.

Venti wouldn't start loving you so you could be free of that mortal disease.

And you were completely against the idea of loosing all your memories and feelings only to continue with your meaningless life.

That was it.

Your life was completely meaningless without his love.

You didn't care if you loose your life if that meant you'd prove him how badly you wanted him by your side.

You couldn't care less about keep going with your life.

3 months.

3 months had passed after your confession.

The petals you coughed every single became actual flowers.

It was happening fast.

Perhaps the velocity the Hanahaki disease killed you was proportional the devotion you had towards your loved one?

You didn't know. And you didn't want to know so.

The flowers you coughed for the first time looked beautiful.

Cecilias.

They were his favorite flower.

They were the proof of your love towards him.

You were happy with the flower your disease had chosen.

The white petals you once coughed could be from any flower out there but now you were sure they were indeed Cecilias.

"(Name), you should choose the surgery so you can stay alive before it's too late. I don't want to loose you, you're so precious to me" One friend of yours told you the first time they saw you coughing the pretty white flower.

You were ashamed.

Someone had discovered your secret.

You should have been more careful.

How could you let someone visit you while you were suffering from the Hanahaki Disease?

"If I choose the surgery I will forget about you. I will forget about who I truly am. I will forget about him" The salty tears couldn't stop streaming down your pretty face. "I can't do that. I will loose my essence if I do so"

Your friend was completely destroyed inside by your words.

But they weren't so broken like you.

You were feeling way worse than them.

How could the mind of a person who chose die for love be any calm?

5 months.

The pretty flowers became little bouquets of Cecilias.

You couldn't save your life anymore.

The surgery to take off the plant roots from your organism wouldn't work at that point.

The only two options you had now were:

Gaining his love.

Or dying.

One day you were at Stormterror's Lair, enjoying the peaceful yet sorrowful atmosphere.

Another bouquet left your throat and mouth.

Dear archons, it hurted.

It hurted like pure hell.

It hurted you physically but even more emotionally.

You knew you couldn't fight against your fate any longer.

That same day Venti saw your suffering for the first time.

He was the one who made you like that.

And he felt completely guilty about it.

He felt sick to his stomach the moment you told him you hadn't chosen the surgery.

He even tried to seek anything more from the admiration he felt towards you.

But the feeling didn't hit him.

He was completely unable to love you like the way you did with him.

He couldn't save you from your destiny.

7 months.

The bouquets got bigger.

And your pain got worse.

The day you saw Venti playing his lyre at the central plaza of the City of Freedom was the day you knew you'd be gone.

No escape.

His green eyes glowed with pure happiness as he hugged some people of his nation while your tears made your eyes burn and the need to cough became too hurtful to you hold it, even in public.

Blood.

Blood stained the bouquet of Cecilias.

Your end was near.

You just wanted to farewell him.

He saw you even with the crowd that suffocated him.

He saw you even though your frame was distant from him.

Running towards you, he took your almost lifeless body to the place where you both first met.

Starsnatch Cliff, the place where the Cecilias grow.

"I love you, (Name). Please, don't leave me"

"Venti, I know it's not true. Instead, I would be cured from this suffering. You don't love me and there's nothing wrong about that"

You caressed his cheek.

"I don't want to loose you! Please, stay with me a little longer!" He screamed when your body collapsed against the ground, but his voice sounded low.

Why did his voice sound so quiet?

You blinked slowly continually while Venti tried to bring your energies back.

"And it's no use looking for me in other timbres or other laughs. I was here all the time only you didn't see" His heart skipped a beat with your line.

"(Name), please. Listen to me! Stay with me, I will find a cure somehow"

"I love you, Venti. And I will always do"

Your grave looked really beautiful.

Cecilias were spread right above the earth, giving the place a hurtful melancholy.

The heart of the bard now ached like many years ago, when he lost a good old friend.

"Rest in peace, my muse"

He whispered, before leaving the place your grave was at.

The stunning location you both once met, long years ago, had became extremely dreary as you rested from your suffering.

#venti #venti x reader #venti x you #venti x y/n #venti genshin impact #hanahaki #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin angst #genshin imagines #genshin oneshot #genshin fanfic #genshin impact fanfiction #venti genshin x reader

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lucaawrites · 3 years

Text

ron weasley with a trans slytherin boyfriend

masterlist

requests are open!

pronouns: he/they

warnings: romantic relationship, mention of dysphoria, period (if i missed something please let me know!)

request: Hi! I recently found your blog by high key stalking the Ron Weasley x male reader tag and was wondering if you’d be up for/willing to do a fic/head cannons or anything for a Ron Weasley x trans (FtM, He/him he/they pronoun) Slytherin reader? Ron brings joy in my life and even more when I’m feeling dysphoric myself and I can never find any good trans reader stories I fully understand if you can’t or don’t want to though☺️

note: thank you so much for requesting! it means a lot <3 I hc ron as trans but we are going to pretend he is cis for this one, but this inspired me so I probably will be doing a trans ftm ron x trans ftm reader very soon, I hope you enjoy! I put a warning before the period stuff, in case you don't want to ready it :) im sorry it took so long. feedback is always very appreciated!

here ron knows how to knit

i'm sure he would make sweaters that say "trans rights are human rights"

he would even make trans flags

or just things with the trans flag colours in general

when you came out to him he had so many questions

he wanted to make sure to never hurt or misgender you

and even called you “boyfriend” in every chance he got

“hello, love. how is my handsome boyfriend on this beautiful day?”

he is the biggest trans ally

he is just the sweetest, if you want to transition he would stay up late searching in books potions or spells that may help you with your dysphoria

if you bind he totally would say that only the manliest of men bind, "because it's like you have to keep all your masculinity inside, like it's too much for the world, you know?"

on really ugly dysphoria days he would lay next to you and without crossing your boundaries be with you, if you want physical touch he would hold you and whisper sweet things on your ear

“you are my boyfriend, the best person I have ever met, your body doesn't dictate what you are, and what you are, is a boy, my pretty boy”

even he would mark and say little things about you that “are masculine”

“and your eyes? that shade of e/c is super masculine”

he would make you feel as safe as he could at any moment

and if someone misgendered you on purpose? that man would throw hands, he is ready for everything, a punch would fly before they could end their sentence

you don't like him fighting or violence? he would respect you and not do it, but they would not misgender you ever again

you prefer to do it yourself? he would support you 100%

“pretty boy” definitely would be an every-day pet name

“hey, pretty boy” “hello, pretty boy” “what are you doing, pretty boy?”

he is the most supportive boyfriend

you have a special interest? he would ask you all about it

he would never get tired of listening to you rant about something you like or you are passionate about

and he would definitely rant about his special interest too, his eyes would shine and he would move so much his hands while talking that he probably would throw something accidentally

if you get very concentrated in something and you lost track of time he would bring you water and some snacks, and if its cold he would bring a blanket or he would be the blanket

he would make you stand up and sit on his lap (if you are comfortable with it), he basically would be your chair and blanket at the same time

for your birthdays he would give you a handmade gift, even if you don't celebrate, he would definitely make you gifts on random days too, even flowers that he saw on the hogwarts grounds and made him think of you, he would learn a charm that keeps flowers alive after all the plants/flowers he gave you keep dying

ron enters your dorm with an extended blanket on his hands “I have brought you a gift” he said giggling a little behind the blanket, “its a blanket, nothing more, but if you turn it this way” he then turned the blanket the other side, revealing in the other side that instead of being just the same color it had a draw knitted in it, it was you two like stick figures holding hands with a heart in the middle, then he would pop his head above of the blanket “do you like it?”

he would not be able to hide how much he loves you (not that he wanted to tbh)

when you two started dating he would ask you if you let him introduce you, when you confused say yes he would go “and they are y/n, my boyfriend” with the biggest smile you've ever seen

he is a proud boyfriend, not matter what you do

if you have a plant he would totally talk to it, he even would put a name on it (if it already didn't had one) and call it "our child"

"have you watered our child today, sweetheart?"

he would totally leave little notes on your books/beside your bed with smalls "hello, beautiful ;)", "I love you :)", "have a good day <3", "drink water pls" "im proud of you"

he would have a picture of you on his wallet/pocket, prove me wrong

if someone asks if he has a partner? oh, god.

“yes! I mean, yes, I do, do you want to see him?” and without letting the other person respond he would take the picture he carries always with him and show it to who asked “they are my boyfriend, his name is y/n, he uses he/they pronouns, they are a slytherin-” and he would go on with things about you (and how handsome you are) until someone stops him

TW: PERIOD MENTION

this man is surprisingly good at taking emotional hints

if you are in your period he knows

but he would not mention it until you do because he would not want to make you feel weird

he does things for you before that tho

he would give you blankets, "the weather is being weird, you have to be ready"

don't get me wrong, he does that normally, but this blanket is specially weighted and is really warm, perfect for cramps

he would make sure you eat all your meals and drink all the water you need

"oh, love! I casually have more water with me than the amount that I want, do you fancy some?" it was not casual

"oh! look! some of your favorite snacks! aren't you lucky?"

he would leave you snacks beside your bed with post-it notes that just have a <3 on them

one day you were looking for him and you find him talking quietly with ginny on the common room

and as you get closer you hear him going “so what should I do for him? like what do I get them? what do you use? what’s helpful? is there anything he definitely needs-”

he is just so cute I love him so much

the first time you get your period and you are dating he is extra soft

and specially that cycle was not being easy

he had helped you on your period before, but that day he just went to you, held your hands with one hand lightly and put the other on your cheek and you're like huh???? but then you see the expression on his face and holy shit

the softest smile is on his face. and you can't help but smile back at him.

the two of you stare at each other for a bit, smiling. then he breaks the air.

"why don't we stay on the dorm today?"

you didn't feel great that day but you know by the way his thumbs were lightly caressing your cheeks you knew that everything was going to be okay

151 notes · View notes

littlegodzilla · 3 years

Text

Stay Together Bauer x Fem!Reader (AIR Movie)

Hi! It’s me again! After Daryl's story and seeing that it was liked, I've decided to post this one short as well. I've seen that there's not much material about this movie, but when I saw it the idea of being alone with "Norman" in a bunker... I liked it too much and... this popped up in my mind.

As always, sorry for my english, It’s not my first language!

I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it!

Stay Together +18.

Bauer x Femele Reader.

Air film. World destroyed by biochemical weapons, life underground. M. Smutt.

Summary: You and Bauer are partners in the underground bunker where you work to keep alive the most important people who will repair the world when it stops being toxic. You only see each other for two hours every six months, but for you it's day to day and it seems that something more than a friendship is starting to grow between you...

You hear an unpleasant ringing in your right ear and gradually begin to wake up. Your capsule opens, the serum that has kept you alive for six more months runs out and you can breathe on your own once more. You gasp, as your ears become accustomed to their surroundings again. You still can't move, but you open your eyes very slowly. Your vision is blurred, you recognize the ceiling of your tank, but everything else is blurry. You lift one arm, it feels like it weighs a ton, but you manage to get the oxygen line out of your nose and out of your arm. You gasp once more, your joints and muscles slowly waking up. You detect movement next to you, you glance sideways, still unable to focus your gaze properly.

"Take it easy, girl." You hear his voice and smile a little.

"Good morning, Bauer." You greet him and he appears in your field of vision, though his figure is blurred to your eyes still, you know him very well.

You've known Bauer longer than you can calculate. You've been down there so long that you're not sure if it's been thirty years or three months. The two of you signed up for the project to monitor and care for the most influential and important people the Earth would need once the air was no longer toxic in the future.

Before all that, bombs, biological weapons were unceremoniously dropped on different countries. Nobody knew, or did not want to admit, who was behind this act, but it had an impact on the entire population, the air began to become toxic, plants, animals, little by little humans, everything was dying in a cloud of dust, blue ash floating in the air.

The American government gathered great minds, scientists, engineers, military, to create subway bases where they would remain in a state of hibernation until the air became viable for life again.

You volunteered for the project, your medical knowledge could help keep these people alive. Few people were willing to accept the conditions, although you didn't quite understand why. The fundamental requirement was that the volunteer had to be single, no partner, no children, no family, nothing that could make him doubt his work, nothing that could make him come back or try to save them by putting them inside the bunker. It was either that or die an agonizing death when your lungs began to be poisoned by the blue dust. It might sound cowardly, but you had no hesitation in accepting your position when you were summoned. You can remember all the women who accepted the project, you can almost count them on the fingers of your two hands. Some were lucky and were assigned together, others like you would share the job with a male partner. In the serum you prepared when you returned to your capsule after maintenance time, you added a sterilizing formula to avoid unwanted anomalies. Your period, like your aging, had stopped, which prevented you from waking up bathed in blood every six months or, in the case of desperate rape, the partner from dying with the baby inside her capsule in the most horrible way possible.

Lucky for you Bauer has never touched you that way. Or any other way. Despite always being with his porn magazines, he always keeps a distance from you. You're not sure why, but you appreciate it too. You still have a lot of time to spend together and you don't want the situation to be awkward between you.

You sit up on your capsule carefully, your body is still waking up and feels numb. You manage to sit on the edge of the tank and cough loudly as the air burns a little inside you. Bauer puts some distance between you again by sitting on the edge of the table you use to eat or repair your instruments if necessary.

Your eyesight is perfect again, you look up at him and laugh through your nose at the sight of him holding one of his magazines in his hands. He is like a teenager. Always with his dick in his hand. You're thankful he at least uses the bathroom for that. His blue gaze is fixed on you, you tremble and you don't know if it's because of your numb muscles or because he's looking at you with a crooked smile.

"I have two hours to live, excuse me if my priorities are mundane." You hear him joking sarcastically and you can't help but laugh loudly.

"No, I have nothing to say." You laugh and raise your hands in peace.

You get up from your capsule to get going. You sleep for six months, have two hours to supervise the place, take care of maintenance, socialize if you don't go crazy and go back to sleep. So you don't want to waste time sitting there. But when your feet hit the floor, your right ankle is still numb, causing you to lose your balance and rush forward abruptly, slamming your knee against the table where Bauer is sitting.

"Fuck!" You exclaim in pain. He jumps up in a leap to come over to you.

"Are you all right? I told you to take it easy, girl. " He says hovering around you making sure you can handle the situation on your own.

Now you're the one sitting at the table biting your lip to keep from telling him where to shove his advice as you rub your knee trying to soothe the throbbing pain running up and down your leg. You have an involuntary spasm when Bauer crouches down right in front of you and his hand brushes your bare heel. You gasp low at the warm sensation of his palm against the bare skin of your foot. It's been so long since you've felt another person's foreign touch on you that it makes all your skin crawl and your toes dig into the metal surface of the table.

"I'm fine." You assure him without knowing whether to remove your foot from his hand or not. "I'm still waking up..."

"We don't want you to get injured, Doc." He jokes carefully moving your ankle. It doesn't hurt, in fact the worst part has been taken by your knee, but you appreciate his gesture.

"Oh no, you won't get rid of me that easily. " You joke too and hear him laugh. He lifts his head shaking his hair over his eyes and smiles at you. You feel your cheeks redden a little and you finally pull your foot away, resting it back on the ground.

Bauer clears his throat, getting up from the floor and rubs his hands against his sleeping pants. He has not yet prepared to start maintenance, which means he hasn't been awake long either. Normally your pods open at the same time, but he always seems more awake than you. You watch him walk to his locker and take out a cigarette. You're surprised he still has one after all this time. Bauer lights it and letting the smoke fill the room for a moment, he walks to the pantry where you have the sachets of prepared meals. Most of them are dehydrated food or powder that turns into a paste that doesn't taste exactly what it promises. Bauer catches his cigarette between his lips and pulls out a small bag and walks back to you. He shakes it in front of your eyes and you take it. Cereal. You're not really hungry when you wake up, but it's nice to think that he cares about you. You open the bag and drop some of the contents directly into your mouth. You hand the bag back to him and see that Bauer does exactly the same as you.

"Okay, are you feeling better?" You hear him ask and you look at him, he blows out the smoke from his cigarette and holds it out to you. You shake your head, you are not a smoker. It's funny because he's never offered you one before, at least that you remember.

"Yes, I'm fine now, we can start getting ready and get to work." You say and you see him nod. He finishes his cigarette and returns to the table picking up one of his magazines.

"Well, in that case, if you don't mind I'll go to the bathroom first." He tells you with a knowing smile and you roll your eyes. "I have a date with my favorite girl." He jokes and you snort in amusement.

"They're eventually going to lose their color from so much 'pampering'." You laugh again, but your partner is already heading for the bathroom and locking himself in there.

You sigh and smile. It's nice to be able to talk to him about anything, joke around and not have the situation become awkward. It would be stressful to spend the only two hours you have angry or embarrassed about something. So taking any topic, whether it's regular or sexual, as normal, is really nice. Plus you can't be hypocritical about it. Bauer may use his magazines to masturbate like a fifteen year old, but you use your imagination and lately the vast majority of your fantasies are starring him. You should feel bad for mentally raping him or something.

At first you tried to ignore your own desires, but as the days went by you realized it was absurd. You had no more contact with the world than some old black and white screens, in the personal stuff box there wasn't a single magazine in which a single naked man on them. Bauer is the only man that you see everyday so you just can help yourself with him in your imagination. Of course you'll never tell it to him. Never.

You finally manage to get up from the table. Your knee still hurts, but time is running its course and this is no time to complain. Bauer looks at you one more time making sure you're not going to fall again. You smile at him to put his mind at ease and walk over to the control panel to make sure the rest of the enclosures are connected. You do the same, watching all the screens for any glitches, any anomalies that should concern you. Bauer says nothing, but walks to the bathroom with one of his magazines under his arm and an amused smile forms on your mouth. You hear the door close and walk through the rest of the room continuing your maintenance work. You have individual water tanks that you use to shower and wash your clothes, it is true that four hours a year does not make the clothes smell bad, but it is purely hygiene and routine.

You are checking the seismos chart when Bauer comes out of the bathroom again, with his work clothes, gray jacket and pants of the same color, carrying a belt full of tools. Bauer is brushing his teeth, his hair damp, bangs stuck to his forehead.

"Are you done, can I use the bathroom or will I slip after your little moment with your girlfriends?" you joke and watch him as he smiles cleaning his toothbrush and returns to your side, looking over your shoulder at the chart.

"You can go to the bathroom, have you seen anything new?"

"A little seismic, but nothing serious, anyway when you're checking the air filters, can you check to see if you see any cracks or anything that shouldn't?"

"Sure ma'am, as you command." Bauer smiles and you snort.

"Idiot." You mutter slapping him on the arm with the papers in your hands and head for the bathroom grabbing your clothes to change.

You always split the work between the two of you, Bauer has taken on the role of mechanic while you take care of the serums for both the Sleepers and yourselves, not just because you are the nurse there but because Bauer is repulsed to go down into the Sleepers' chambers, he has never handled it well. When it's his turn to change the air vents he does it quickly, without getting too close to the pods of the people who sleep there, the ones you care for until the world is habitable again. It's funny because Bauer is a grown man, well cultivated and experienced in life, and yet he's quite skeptical of some things.

You walk out of the bathroom, arranging your hair in a high bun, and return to the control panel to begin your own tasks. Bauer is hovering around you again, you see him picking up his tools and the new filters. You smile as he picks up his walkman leaving the headphones around his neck. His blue gaze fixes on you and he shakes his head.

"What?" he asks you with a half smile.

"Nothing, are you taking care of the Sleepers today?" you joke as you see his disgruntled look on his face. "Come on they're just sleeping people."

"Nope, I'll pass, I always get the feeling they're going to open their eyes and I'm going to shit myself."

You laugh good-naturedly as you shake your head. You give him his list of duties and watch as he walks away from the room closing the door behind him. Whenever you change rooms, the door has to be closed to avoid unnecessary loss of uncontaminated air. You enter the drug storage room, prepare the doses of the nearest levels and carry everything on a tray and leave the room as Bauer did before.

An hour later you are back in the main hall. You have finished with the second floors of Sleepers and now you have to go to the other side of the base to take care of the rest, but first you will eat some food. You take the bag of cereal Bauer left on the table and empty it completely into your mouth, throwing the empty bag into the garbage can which instantly disintegrates it. You are picking up some of your utensils when you hear Bauer not far from the room babbling and humming some song. You can't help but laugh, of course Bauer is the exception that every American can sing, play an instrument and act; the last two you don't know, but singing is certainly not part of his gifts. Nevertheless your hearing sharpens as he tries to find the note and his voice becomes husky, your hair stands on end and your mind throws some images into your head that have nothing to do with the man singing. You sigh long trying to get your mind to stop torturing you like that and try to focus on your work, but then you hear Bauer protesting and shouting furiously. Frightened you run to the next room, but before you enter he appears, closes the door and turns to you, he has one hand resting against his chest and is bleeding profusely staining his jacket and a little on his pants. Panic takes hold of you.

"What happened to you?" You ask him running to his side. You want to reach for his hand, but he hisses it away.

"I cut myself on the fucking air filter grille." He growls angrily, embarrassed by his clumsiness. At any other time you'd tease him a little, but now you're worried because you don't want it to get infected and spill over into something worse.

"Come, let me see it." You ask leading him over to the table and sit him in one of the chairs.

Bauer doesn't seem very comfortable with your contact and that you want to take care of his wound, but he doesn't open his mouth either. You go to the storeroom where the medicines are and take some absorbent cotton, alcohol and some bandages to treat his hand. When you return you leave everything on the table and kneel down in front of Bauer to get a better look at his hand. You carefully open it up to see a long, but not very deep, cut on the palm of his hand and sigh with relief. Luckily he doesn't need stitches. You grab the absorbent cotton from the table and the alcohol with which to clean the wound. You are not aware, but in your movement your chest brushes against your partner's knee a couple of times and he looks at you sideways, clenching his jaw. You rub the cotton carefully around his wound removing the blood and squeezing a little at the cut. Bauer gasps in pain and tries to pull his hand away, but you don't let him.

"It fucking hurts." Bauer grunts and you give him a sidelong glance, from your kneeling position in front of his legs, it's something he's having a hard time handling.

"You're like a baby. I'm almost done." You joke, but he seems quite tense, you don't want to upset him so you bandage his hand carefully and get up from the floor picking up the used gauze pads from the table. "That's it. When you wake up again it will be healed."

"Fucking great, now how am I going to jerk off?" He says with annoyance getting up from the chair as well.

"Use your other hand." You reply with a shrug.

"What if I need both?" You both look at each other at his response. You raise an eyebrow and can't help but laugh. There it is again, the pleasant, relaxed atmosphere that always envelops you.

"If you need both you can use mine." You say turning back towards the warehouse.

You clearly haven't heard what you yourself just said, however Bauer has and it is echoing in his ears cruelly and repetitively dulling his senses, getting his blood to travel to his cock giving a little tug. You walk out of the warehouse once again ready to continue your round, however Bauer's body slams into yours leaving you momentarily breathless, pinned against the wall and himself.

You stare at him confused, trying to guess what is going through his mind, but his eyes are fixed on you, his pupils dilated and his blue irises now a dangerous electric color.

"Bauer?" you ask with a gasp that gets his pupils to dilate a little more if possible.

"Would you?" his voice sounds low, like a growl. "If I asked you to. Would you?"

"Do what?" you ask because you are still unaware of what you have said. Or maybe you are, but your intention was not to provoke him. Bauer pushed his body a little more against yoursand you gasp as you are finally aware of what he is talking about. You are amazed at the strength he has manipulating you with only one hand.

Your cheeks flush and you try to say something. Your voice sounds in a stutter and you don't really say anything coherent. Bauer's gaze follows your every gesture and movement, as if he wants to be sure you're both on the same page.

"Would you?" he repeats.

"Why not?" You manage to say at last. Why are you going to hide? Why are you going to pretend you haven't thought about it once? You were afraid before, you thought if you were too obvious he might get uncomfortable and make your living together a disaster. But Bauer is asking you directly, so you don't have to pretend anymore. "We can also open a tank and have one of the Sleepers do it, would you prefer that?" you joke and he grunts.

"Fuck no" he snorts but doesn't move away from you. "I'm not kidding, little girl."

"Neither am I..." You murmur and dare to raise a hand caressing Bauer's chest over his jacket.

Bauer holds your hand and leans forward brushing his lips with yours asking for permission. Your free hand travels to the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair and you pull him in kissing him eagerly. Kissing him triggers a desperate reaction in Bauer. He growls against your mouth kissing you intensely. His tongue tangles with yours, pushes harder against your mouth as if he wants to melt inside your mouth. Devour you. You moan and gasp, your fingers tangle around the back of his neck and you tug lightly. His healthy hand reaches for the zipper of your jacket, slides it down and his mouth leaves some kiss, some nibble on your neck, down your shoulder pulling your skin between his teeth. You moan in pain and aroused, you throw your head back enjoying his kisses. You open your eyes and your gaze turns to the clock, startled to see how much time you have left.

"Bauer..." You gasp trying to push him away, but he pushes you harder against the wall. "Bauer... the clock!"

"Fuck the fucking clock." He growls against your skin and tugs at your jacket throwing it to the floor. "I haven't touched a woman in years. I can assure you it's going to be trippy fast." He snorts and you try to keep your mind cool, but his hand tightens on your chest and you're unable to stop him again.

You have to admit he's right. Neither of you have been in contact with another person in too long and your bodies are so hot that neither of you can take much. Your legs wrap around Bauer's waist as he lifts you off the floor, with you in his embrace he awkwardly walks over to the table and sits you on it. You separate, Bauer rips off your shirt and bra, you pull his jacket off and pull his shirt up over his head. You gasp at the sight of all his messy hair falling over his face. He kisses you again, his hand travels to your hair and pulls your bun letting your hair fall over your shoulders. The fingers of his hand tangle through your tresses pulling it gently. You tilt your head back and moan as his tongue runs along the mark of your throat, making your hair stand on end. You kiss him again, wrap your legs around his waist and your hand squeezes his already hard cock. He gasps and grabs your wrist, pulling you away from him.

"Don't do that, little girl, or we'll be done before we start." He assures you with a grunt, kisses his ear pulling on your lobe making you moan.

"Too bad..." You move closer to his ear, licking his skin. "I wanted it in my mouth..." You moan into his ear and Bauer gasps at the thought.

His hand moves down to your legs and squeezes at your center feeling the fabric is damp. He glances sideways at you with a crooked smile as you blush. You've been wet since his husky singing voice has sent other kinds of images to your brain. He unbuttons your pants and his hand caresses the inside of your panties, his fingers squeeze your clit in circles making you moan. You hug his shoulders digging your nails into him and move your hips towards his fingers. Bauer increases the speed of his fingers a little, kisses you again and lowers his mouth to catch your nipple licking and sucking eagerly. You moan louder grabbing his hair pulling it slightly.

"Bauer...!"

He breaks away from you again to remove your pants and panties. Bauer gets rid of his own clothes dragging you to the edge of the table and his fingers enter you moving slowly, dilating you, he moves his fingers in and out, circling inside you, grazing a perfect spot inside you that makes you throb and tremble. You moan and writhe in pleasure hugging yourself to his body moving against his fingers.

"Bauer, fuck me!" you almost beg.

"Oh God, yes, little one, you can be sure." He says in a husky voice pulling his fingers out and quickly places himself between your legs and pushes slowly.

You moan almost at the same time. The sensation overwhelms you both for a second. Bauer's cock dilates you with every thrust he gives inside you. Thick, long, it widens your wet walls making you shudder.

"Fuck, so tight..." You gasp thrusting again and need a moment not to lose control completely.

You moan and kiss him, moving against him giving him permission to do the same. Bauer holds your waist and changes his gentle thrusts to fast, hard lunges that go much deeper inside you. Pleasure completely overwhelms you, he has managed to leave you on the edge with his fingers and you feel the sensation of climax swirling in your lower belly again, desperate to explode.

"Don't stop!... Harder!" You ask holding onto his shoulders and Bauer obeys bringing his hips into an almost violent rhythm.

As promised by the mechanic it didn't take too long for either of you, the pleasure hit you hard, Bauer spilled completely inside you and his fingers against your clit again made you follow soon after.

You need a moment to catch your breath. You gasp loudly, still with your bodies pressed together. Bauer rests his forehead on your shoulder and you stroke the hair on the back of his neck while keeping your legs tight and trembling around his waist. You can't help but giggle as you glance at the clock and discover that you still have plenty of time.

"I told you we wouldn't last long..." You hear your partner's muffled voice and you shrug, downplaying it.

"If we finish early we can always repeat." You propose and Bauer raises his head, looking at you in surprise.

"Who are you and what have you done with my girl?" you know he's joking, but you feel something strange in your chest when you hear him say "my girl". You laugh nervously and your legs fall to either side of the table.

"That's okay, if you prefer, we'll save it for six months from now." You joke too and hear him snort in amusement. He leans in to kiss you and then pulls away from you completely. You sigh as he leaves your body and you get off the table picking up your clothes. Bauer does the same.

"How much longer do you need?" Bauer asks you when he's dressed again.

"I just have to prepare the serum for the east side of the Sleepers and I'll be done." You explain and look at the clock, you have half an hour yet, if you hurry you could have ten minutes to prepare your own pods and get everything ready until six months from now again.

"Let me give you a hand, we'll go faster and I also have to change the filters on that side." Bauer offers as he grabs the filters from his toolbox.

You look at him curiously, not sure if he's doing it because he really wants to help, since he knows the moment of passion has slowed you down in your taeras, or he wants to repeat before he gets into the capsule. You thank him mentally, but you're not sure that with that injured hand he can make much effort. However, you say nothing. You adjust your clothes and walk to the pharmacy to prepare the medicines, and the two of you change rooms when you are ready. Neither of you says anything, Bauer is back to wearing the walkman attached to his waist, but it's no longer singing, it's like a supplement, he uses his left hand for strength and places the grids with his right hand so as not to strain too much. You check the tanks, you check that there are no anomalies, everyone is still asleep, everyone has their vitals constant, the serums are still working properly, they just need to be refilled. You observe some of them with a small smile, if it really works, you still have a lot of work waiting for you. "I know the program said no family, but.... did you have anyone?" Bauer's voice startles you for a moment, you give him a sidelong glance, you know his story, you know he had family before he went in there, but he was recruited for his knowledge, though he could always try to refuse.

"No one important... I mean, I didn't have a stable relationship, my job was no big deal either... so I didn't think too much about it..." You look straight at him this time, place the last vial of serum and walk over to him. "Do you miss your family?"

"Every day I have a harder time remembering their faces and I hate myself for it... but I guess that's part of what this job does to us." He shrugs and the two of you walk silently up to your level again and enter the central room. You glance sideways at the clock and check that you still have ten minutes, as you had thought.

"When we can get out of here you'll have time to make new memories." You try to cheer him up, take the notebook where you write down every awakening to record possible irregularities.

"If we get out of this alive." You snort through your nose and he ditches his tools, walkman and leaves the belt on the toolbox as well. You can see him stretch out rattling his bones and you smile.

"So far we're not doing too bad..."

"Are you going to aim the sex too?" Bauer murmurs just above your ear and your heart pounds. Of course you had no intention of informing anyone about that, if anyone ever read it, that was just between you and Bauer.

"Not if it becomes a constant." You smile and you can sense a mischievous grin forming on his mouth.

When you're both ready, you prepare something to eat, the atmosphere is nice and relaxed, as always, only now Bauer allows himself to touch you, so you end up sharing a bag of prepared, you sitting on his knee and him wrapping an arm around your waist, resting his injured hand on your thigh.

It's five minutes before you go back to sleep, your lips making a wet, obscene noise as you pull away from Bauer's cock, licking up the remnants of his cum. You are both shivering and covered in a thin layer of sweat. Bauer licks your wet pussy one last time from your orgasm and you both get up from the floor. You don't mind being naked again, you walk with your legs still shaking and prepare the serums for your own capsules. Bauer moves close to you, his hands on your waist, his forehead on your shoulder. You smile and feeling how he embraces you.

“What a pity that fucking pods are so small…” He grunts and you laugh shaking your head.

“I think that could be very comfortable either.” Bauer protests once more before pulling away from you, leaving a kiss on your neck that makes you sigh. You prepare the serums and place them in their devices on top of the capsules. You can't suppress a small sigh, you really don't want to go back in there and be six months away from the man, again. However you know it's a stupid thought, for you sleeping is like day after day, but it still bothers you a little. Again your partner moves in and kisses you again; mouth, jaw and neck. You smile letting yourself do it, closing your eyes, enjoying the moment. You don't have much time left, you can't waste time.

"Bauer..." You whisper wanting to push him away.

"It's not fair, I've cum inside you, you're going to sleep with something of mine inside you and I'm going to sleep alone." He moans and you can't help a giggle.

"You're an idiot." You assure him, but you can see his amused smile understanding that he's not serious.

You each settle into your pods, only a minute left before the air goes out and you can begin your new rest. You see Bauer settle into his bed and bite your lip.

"Bauer!" You call out to him. he lifts his head and on the fly catches something you've thrown at him. He laughs when he looks at it and discovers they are your panties. He brings them to his nose and then lies back down. "See you in six months..." You whisper looking up at him, placing the oxygen cylinder to your nose. Before the capsule closes completely you watch as he keeps the press in his fist and smiles at you, winking at you.

You smile back and soon after you are completely asleep.

Thanks for reading!! I hope you liked!!

See you in the next story! <3

#norman reedus #norman reedus x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon #bauerxreader #bauerxfemreader #air #airmovie #smutt #smuttfanfiction #oneshort #bauerxyou #normanreedusxyou

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wincestisasincest · 3 years

Text

The Barrel - Ch. 1 (LOTR x Reader)

Okay, so time for a fun and sexy take on Modern Girl in Middle Earth that no one asked for - what if the Modern Girl had a gun? I wanted to try and write something where the Modern Girl in question was not completely defenseless, and had a fair amount of experience that the others lacked.

This will be very slow burn, I think.

Chapter: 1

Words: 1452

Warnings: Blood, guns (obviously)

Pairings: None (yet)

The butt of the rifle cracked against your cheek. You bit your tongue, but kept your arms rigid and eyes open. The taste of copper slithered between your teeth.

The orc staggered, his head reeling back with the force of the bullet that had just been lodged into it. His spine arched, and his arms flailed. Before he could catch his balance, his heart finished beating and he collapsed to the ground. Pungent, dark blood oozed into the dirt.

The wizard hardly flinched. His weary, sloped brow and buggish eyes were fixed on you thoughtfully. He tugged a strand of his curly brown beard - the one that had been blanched with bird crap.

You dropped your arms and let the rifle relax into the natural dent of your hands. They were clammy, but the crisp chilliness of the forest kept them from being sweaty. Everything about you, from the fresh redness pooling in your cheeks due to the recoil of the gun to the congested nose you had that made you sniff every couple of minutes, put you on the edge of sickness. And yet, here you were, shambling and corpse-like, but still upright and alive.

You stepped towards the wizard, your eyes occasionally darting back to the orc. You hadn’t registered yet that you were the one who killed it. You’d give it some time.

“Are you Radagast the Brown?”

You kept your voice monotone and deep to not risk exposing the rasp extending up the back of your throat.

“Who’s asking? Friend or foe?”

“Friend. I’m (y/n).”

“No family?”

“None that are around here. I’m, uh, not from here. If it wasn’t already obvious.”

You swayed nervously on your legs. Your combat boots were worn beyond repair, though their gaudy artificial stitching that was loosely holding them together still stuck out like a sore thumb. The black tank top clung to your body, and though you mostly kept it hidden with an oversized jacket, you couldn’t help the occasional peak of bare flesh and tight fabric. Oh, and, of course, your jeans were bright-ass blue and had a leather tag on the back with an impeccably printed logo.

“Indeed,” the wizard nodded, “I’ve never seen a bow quite like that before.”

You neither. This whole shooting business was about as new as Middle Earth. When you had woken up in a small pile of freshly fallen leaves, the gun, along with a few packages of ammo, were about 10 feet from your stiff body. You hadn’t dared to practice anything besides loading and unloading the gun, lest you run out of ammo in the middle of your hour of need. You had abstained from counting, knowing that it would just make you more nervous.

“Yeah...” you trailed, “but anyway, I know you don't know me, but you know Gandalf, right? He needs help.”

“Help? Now, there’d have to be something mighty strong that could get that old goat in trouble,” he raised an eyebrow hawkishly.

“Saruman.”

“Saruman? Well now, that can’t be.”

“He’s working with Sauron. Looking for the ring, and-”

“Hush!” he finally broke eye contact with you and warily scanned the tops of the trees. Nothing but a wall of silence.

“The forest... it’s quiet. Someone is listening. Come, come. Matters like these ought to be discussed inside,” he turned around and waved for you to follow, hustling in between long, imposing trunks that looked like they were ready to fall on you and crush the life out of you at any second.

******

You had killed the moth. Not on purpose, of course. You seemed to have fallen on it after you crashed through the sky of Middle Earth.

You could remember hearing its screams. You rolled over, looking for the source, grinding the roots further into your ribcage. When you finally saw the tiny thing flitting on the ground, trying to get your attention, you dumbly watched its crushed wings and snapped legs twitch with jolts of desperation.

“I have a message! A message for Radagast the Brown! Friend of the Eagles! You must take it in my stead - it is urgent. The fate of Gandalf the Gray depends on it.”

You said nothing, barely able to keep yourself conscious as you rapidly inhaled and expelled stilted breaths.

“Gandalf the Gray was betrayed by former friend Saruman the White. He is on top of the tower Orthanc, in Isengard, dying with each passing moment. He dispatched me to tell Radagast to seek out the aid of the Eagles - he fears that they may be his only chance at rescue from the tower.”

“Are... are you real?” you finally sputtered.

“I am alive, but not for much longer. My strength fails me. But you must go. Follow along the edge of Mirkwood until you find the brown wizard. The fate of Gandalf, and perhaps the realm, may depend on you. Please, time is of the essence. You must leave.”

The creature’s mouth never moved. You never heard the sound of its voice. But you felt the words in your head, bouncing around there after being injected by some foreign source. The moth pointed its head straight at you.

“Please. It does not matter who you are - your future depends on the knowledge that only Gandalf holds.”

A throbbing pain blossomed in the back of your head, just under your neck. The moth flitted its wings once more, and then the telepathic force that had been drilling into your skull blinked out.

You took a long sip of murky liquid in a cracked glass teacup. Warmth stirred in your void of a stomach, which you had been trying to ignore.

“My word. Then it is true. Saruman has turned to the darkness,” Radagast said to no one in particular. He looked out the window, as if waiting for the silhouette of his friend to appear over the horizon, completely fine.

“I’m sorry,” was all that you could say.

He turned to you, eyes still flickering with life but in danger of going out.

“So am I,” he said grimly, “but, no matter. Gandalf was right. The Eagles are his only chance of salvation from a place as wicked as Isengard. I’ll get the message to them at once.”

He looked at his feet. You couldn’t actually recall much about Radagast from the books - you knew more about how low of an opinion Saruman had of him. But the look of despair that was settling deep within his chest was a grave reminder that he was just as capable of complex thought as anyone else.

You realized that you had just seen a man accept that there would be war on their hands, and that there was nothing he could do to avoid it.

“It will be alright in the end,” you found yourself saying.

Finally, he looked up at you sadly.

“I know. The world will always be okay in the end. And I, who have lived many years and will live many more, will be around to see it. But what will happen to everyone in between?”

“I dunno,” you shrugged, “but in the meantime we’ll just... do our best to protect them. That’s all we can do, right?”

You tilted the edge of your lips up, not quite forming a grin but far from the hopeless neutrality that you had carried with you into the house. He analyzed you, squinting his eyes and pursing his lips, not caring if you noticed.

“Who are you?”

“I’m (y/n).”

“A person is more than their name, especially one such as you.”

“I’m nobody important to this world. I don’t belong here.”

“And yet here you are. You’ve become somebody important,” he scratched his chin, “this appears to be beyond me, but I suggest that you consult with Gandalf. You’re already heading in his direction anyway.”

“What?”

“I’m sending you with the Eagles. The fellow will be in a mighty poor condition when you find him, it’d be irresponsible for me to send him back all by himself. And besides, you seem like a useful person to know.”

He smiled coyly. Your mind buzzed.

“There must be someone else that you can send?”

“Nope. Well, no one humann, anyway. One of the quirks of dedicating your being to the plants and the animals. Now, on you get! I can hear them circling overhead.”

You had no idea how he had summoned the Eagles, and at this point, you were almost too afraid to ask. You gritted your teeth and let your stomach do a cartwheel as you realized that you were about to come to terms with your fear of heights in the worst way possible.

So be it.

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edenmemes · 3 years

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misc poetry sentence starters

❝ one gets so used to one’s own horrors, one forgets how they must seem to other people. ❞ ❝ you remind me what love lives in this skin. ❞ ❝ you are the most phantom-like of all; you are a mere dream. ❞ ❝ i’m not telling you a story so much as a shipwreck—the places floating, finally legible. ❞ ❝ the world was made so we can find each other in it. ❞ ❝ the night isn’t dark; the world is dark. stay with me a little longer. ❞ ❝ i want you desperately. i want your strength and your softness, your hands, all of you. ❞ ❝ is that too much to expect? that i would name the stars for you? ❞ ❝ against your cheek my hand is warm and full of tenderness. ❞ ❝ the world grows green again when you smile. ❞ ❝ your share of pains would fill a sea. ❞ ❝ i’m so stuck on the ‘was’ of people. ❞ ❝ what i love in you is your power of loving, a bit wild, a bit primitive, but absolute. ❞ ❝ i like figuring you out. you are so human and puzzling. ❞ ❝ the unwillingness to try is worse than any failure. ❞ ❝ you wanted happiness. i can’t blame you for that. ❞ ❝ i did violence to my own heart. ❞ ❝ i don’t know how to stay tender with this much blood in my mouth. ❞ ❝ like a magpie, i am a scavenger of shiny things: fairy tales and dead languages. ❞ ❝ and here you come with a shield for a heart and a sword for a tongue. ❞ ❝ you kiss the back of my legs and i want to cry. only the sun has come this close, only the sun. ❞ ❝ sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof you’ve been ruined. ❞ ❝ when will it cease, this monstrous rage of yours? ❞ ❝ i will plant my hands in the garden. i will grow, i know, i know. ❞ ❝ i had it all and i want it back again. ❞ ❝ i don’t care about anyone, and the feeling is quite obviously mutual. ❞ ❝ we are two reflections that cross swords with each other. ❞ ❝ as for me, i am a watercolour. i wash off. ❞ ❝ do you dare send me away as though you were were waiting for something better? ❞ ❝ my dear, you are in danger of being burned by your own flame. ❞ ❝ i am three oceans away from my soul. ❞ ❝ you, occasionally, glimmer with a light i’ve never seen before. it frightens me. ❞ ❝ i went to sleep last night so i could see you. ❞ ❝ even the eyes of gods must adjust to light. even gods have gods. ❞ ❝ how much can you change and get away with it, before you turn into someone else, before it’s some kind of murder? ❞ ❝ it does me no good to be good to me now. ❞ ❝ i may look alright, but if you were to look more closely you wouldn’t find a single healthy bit in me. ❞ ❝ i must clothe myself in other worlds. ❞ ❝ suffering is the privilege of those who feel. ❞ ❝ sorry about the blood in your mouth. i wish it was mine. ❞ ❝ the vigor, the fire, that enables you to love and create. when you lose that, you’ve lost everything. ❞ ❝ i can be bold, because i have you with me always. ❞ ❝ you are shaking fists and trembling teeth. i know: you did not mean to be cruel. that does not mean you were kind. ❞ ❝ not that i want to be a god or a hero, just to change into a tree, grow for ages, not hurt anyone. ❞ ❝ i laughed today. for a second i was unhaunted. ❞ ❝ you are sunlight through a window, which i stand in, warmed. ❞ ❝ there’s something electric in your blood. ❞ ❝ you say you are broken, but broken mirrors like you create the most beautiful patterns of light. ❞ ❝ time doesn’t obey our commands. ❞ ❝ i love you quite passionately, and with a touch of tragedy. ❞ ❝ to feel anything deranges you. to be seen feeling anything strips you naked. ❞ ❝ i love you --- like a storm bursts overhead --- i must confess it; all the more fiercely because you burn and bite. ❞ ❝ and i have seen rivers, not unlike you, that failed to find their way back. ❞ ❝ i am less a god now that you’ve touched me. ❞ ❝ your words are gentle; but my blood runs cold to think what plots you may be nursing deep within your heart. ❞ ❝ you said i killed you --- haunt me then. ❞ ❝ your soul is frail and solemn, loyal and spring-like. ❞ ❝ you look like you’ve eaten the sun, like you drank so much sunlight you’re drowning in it. ❞ ❝ strangeness is a necessary ingredient in beauty. ❞ ❝ you will hear thunder and remember me. ❞ ❝ ever think it’s possible for us to be happy? ❞ ❝ and i would wonder across all the deserts of this world, even after death, to search for you. ❞ ❝ since we’re bound to be something, why not together? ❞ ❝ i am ashes were once i was fire. ❞ ❝ this mouth will destroy you the moment you mistake it for something soft, for something that is yours. ❞ ❝ it’s no easy thing to bear, the weight of sweetness. ❞ ❝ kill the light! i’d rather wallow in the dark. ❞ ❝ i have thought of you often since the darkness. ❞ ❝ with your presence the sun becomes irrelevant. ❞ ❝ there is no god left in this skin. there’s just the ash. just the ash. ❞ ❝ open your eyes, look more sharply, see me as i am. ❞ ❝ what the hell is tragedy? i am. ❞ ❝ i’ve got a lot of feeling for you. you’re kind. ❞ ❝ how beautiful it is, how beautiful, that glow before the stars break. ❞ ❝ so much to do today: kill memory, kill pain, turn heart into a stone, and yet prepare to live again. ❞ ❝ i am myself. that is not enough. ❞ ❝ i may be mad, god-seized, but i will stand outside my madness. ❞ ❝ my power, which to me is still a curse --- ❞ ❝ ocean sea with its caressing swell; it has so often cooled my heart. ❞ ❝ do you bathe in perfume, and dry yourself in light? ❞ ❝ i like you; your eyes are full of language. ❞ ❝ let me tell you what i do know. i am more than one thing and not all of those things are good. ❞ ❝ you are the cause and the cure --- both. ❞ ❝ i have kisses for the back of your neck. ❞ ❝ your beautiful glance is unbearably cruel. ❞ ❝ we might meet again, someday between dreams at dawn. ❞ ❝ suffering is a terrible fire; it either purifies or destroys. ❞ ❝ lately it hurts more to imagine you are a stranger rather than a destroyer. ❞ ❝ and i say to myself: a moon will rise from my darkness. ❞ ❝ since you walked out on me, i’m getting lovelier by the hour. i glow like a corpse in the dark. ❞ ❝ i will not whine. i will obey and be forever still. ❞ ❝ you move like the moon. ❞ ❝ my eyes ache with the weight of unshed tears. ❞ ❝ in your eyes, the fires of twilight. ❞ ❝ do not haunt my soul; i have done well forgetting you. ❞ ❝ i am no one. i cannot love. it’s in my blood. ❞ ❝ you’re wearing your armor to protect your heart. who can blame you? it only makes sense in a world like this one. ❞ ❝ you are not real. you are a dream of a dream. ❞ ❝ there are so many things i’m not allowed to tell you. ❞ ❝ i am indeed a shameless, evil-minded and abominable creature. ❞ ❝ come this evening --- i am eager for stars. ❞ ❝ i am on fire with that soft sound you make, in uttering my name. ❞ ❝ i want you mostly in the morning when my soul is weak from dreaming. ❞ ❝ to me you are the desert and the sea; everything secretive. ❞ ❝ i thought i was wounded to the core but i was only bruised. ❞ ❝ it is a dead heart. it is inside of me. it is a stranger. ❞ ❝ i live --- but i’m mutilated. ❞ ❝ if there is a light then i am going to swallow it. if there is a god then i’m going to make him cry. ❞ ❝ i am condemned to be a saint or a monster: unable to be the one, unwilling to be the other. ❞ ❝ you will open your wounds and make them a garden. ❞ ❝ i come home --- and i feel like a ghost returning its haunt. ❞ ❝ i planted roses, but without you they were thorns. ❞ ❝ everything inside me is in revolt. ❞ ❝ how this darkness soaks me through and through. ❞ ❝ give me my robe, put on my crown; i have immortal longings in me. ❞ ❝ say something dangerous like i love you. ❞ ❝ listen, are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life? ❞ ❝ in times of crisis, we must decide again and again whom we love. ❞ ❝ breathe the scent of little, earthly things. let the twilight touch you. ❞ ❝ my heart is just like the ocean, has storm and calm and tides. ❞ ❝ you became for me a sacred being, not to be touched save in adoring thoughts. ❞ ❝ gods are stubborn. so am i. ❞ ❝ is it better to out-monster the monster or to be quietly devoured? ❞ ❝ there’s something soft in me. i killed it and it’s rotting. ❞ ❝ beware. beware. there is a tenderness. ❞ ❝ half gods are worshipped in wine and flowers. real gods require blood. ❞ ❝ i’m alive. like a wound, a flower in the flesh, the path of aching blood is open within me. ❞ ❝ you dangle on the leash of your own longing; your need grows teeth. ❞ ❝ i have it in me...to scare myself with my own desert places. ❞ ❝ my mouth still houses century-old magic. in my ears i hear a ringing and singing and no god. ❞ ❝ keep talking. i’ll keep walking toward the sound of your voice. ❞ ❝ i’m full of poetry now. rot and poetry. rotten poetry. ❞ ❝ this skin is sick with loneliness. ❞ ❝ memories are sharp. they bite. i have spent most of my life trying to grow a thicker skin just to make sure i would not bleed out whenever i felt those teeth scrape up against me. ❞ ❝ i wonder if i will ever find a language to speak of the things that haunt me the most. ❞ ❝ after fury, what do you do with the remains? ❞ ❝ come on, dance with me. the earth is spinning. we can’t just stand on it. ❞ ❝ let’s admit, without apology, what we do together. ❞ ❝ try to find the right place for yourself. if you can’t find it, at least dream of it. ❞ ❝ it takes grace to remain kind in cruel situations. ❞ ❝ i am too full of life to be half-loved. ❞ ❝ today you want nothing because wanting comes too close to feeling. ❞ ❝ there’s nothing more terrible, more alluring, more mysterious than love. ❞ ❝ heavenly wine and roses seem to whisper to me when you smile. ❞ ❝ my soul is devoutly and wholly under your spell. ❞ ❝ will you see the human in my being? ❞ ❝ if i had a flower for every time i thought of you…i could walk through my garden forever. ❞ ❝ part broken part whole, you begin again. ❞ ❝ i don’t know if love’s a feeling. sometimes i think it’s a matter of seeing. seeing you. ❞ ❝ i wonder which will get you killed faster, your loyalty or your stubbornness? ❞ ❝ whether you come as a lover or an exeutioner, i am ready to receive you. ❞ ❝ i think i understand your longing. it looks so much like mine. ❞ ❝ i’ve had so many knives stuck into me. when they hand me a flower, i can’t quite make out what it is. ❞ ❝ i like the sea: we understand one another. it is always yearning, sighing for something it cannot have; so am i. ❞ ❝ do i not live? badly, i know, but i live. ❞ ❝ something of you stuck with me. a splinter. ❞ ❝ i clung to your hands so that something human might exist in the chaos. ❞ ❝ sometimes i shut my eyes, and shut my heart towards you, and try hard to forget you because you grieve me so, but you’ll never go away. oh you never will. ❞ ❝ my golden love, if only you knew, what precious honey you are for me. ❞ ❝ i had an old wound once, but it is healing. ❞ ❝ always this in-betweenness, this almost, this it might be that... ❞ ❝ when i close my eyes, i see you. when i open my eyes i want to see you. ❞ ❝ dark as it is --- you see, that little flickering, is the light of my soul. ❞ ❝ am i a monster or is this what it means to be a person? ❞ ❝ i am talking about evil. it blooms. it eats. it grins. ❞ ❝ sapphires are those eyes of yours, ravishingly sweet. ❞

#rp meme #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #long post for ts /#ill most likely add some more soon <3

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flecks-of-stardust · 2 years

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It is too late to say goodbye — A Hollow Knight Short Story

NOT set in the Dreamless universe. This is set in canon Hollow Knight, post-Dream No More ending. It’s very rough, but I honestly can’t muster enough of a shit to polish it. You get the Vibes.

Content warning for callousness around death.

Hornet pulls her cloak free from the grasping vegetation around her yet again, letting out a little sigh of annoyance as she hears the fabric softly tear. Just another to add to the collection. She will have to dedicate some time to patching her cloak up later.

These gardens are far more overgrown from when she was last here. Of course, it is hardly a surprise as no one tends to them anymore, least of all her. In some respects, it is beautiful, but she is reluctant to stop and admire the virid landscape around her. The sooner she can return to the little town above the well, the better.

A small, glowing root lying amidst the greenery greets her as she continues; she grips her needle tighter. She is on the right path, then. The hairs on her back bristle lightly as she marches on, keeping an eye out for more of the roots. Perhaps she will never grow accustomed to the saturation of Soul she feels whenever she is near her.

She has… never truly visited her. She was long gone, out wandering the borders by the time the bindings were placed. Higher beings withstand the trials of time well, though, so she is not expecting much to have changed since then. That, though, would imply her journey here is futile.

But she must know. She must try, even if it is in vain.

A few more steps, and the structure reveals itself to Hornet. It is… not unlike the Temple. Both unnaturally round, akin to an egg. Both containing a god she loathes. She lingers in the passageway, hand tight around her needle, observing the structure from afar. Many of her roots sprout from it, coiling towards the ceiling, their pale glow dusting the plants around them with an eerily vibrant shimmer. Soul hangs in the air, heavy and heady. Her presence, even from this distance, is palpable. No doubt she knows of her arrival already.

Her gaze shifts to Dryya’s body, slumped against the exterior of the structure. Where she expected grief, she finds only numbness. She had not expected the Knight to still be alive; she had long since accepted the reality that everyone she had known in her days in the Palace was almost certainly dead. Still, she cannot muster even a shred of sorrow. She is too used to death now, she supposes.

She finally steps toward the structure, keeping her footfalls sure and firm. The roots closest to her almost seem to twist in her direction as she approaches the entrance. She pushes away the urge to kick at them, clenching her hand around her needle in lieu of acting. She refuses to show weakness in front of her. She may well already know, but she refuses to overtly display it. She will not give her the satisfaction.

The passageway inside is narrower than she had previously expected, and she is forced to crawl into the main chamber. It is bright inside, illuminated by her glow. The Soul in here is suffocating, and briefly, she considers turning back.

The roots in the room audibly rustle. “Child.”

Hornet banishes the thought, straightening up and stiffly dusting herself off. “Queen.”

The White Lady’s eyes are fixed on her, though there is a faraway look to them. “So it is done,” she says, the statement matter-of-fact, impassive. “You aided it.”

Hornet grips her needle even tighter. “Yes.” It had not resisted. Perhaps briefly, initially, as she had driven her needle into its shell, but it was compliant. And the other… She remembers little after seeing it pull that shimmering blade out.

The White Lady’s gaze does not waver. It is hard to gauge any emotion she is feeling, if she feels any at all. “Curious, it was. I implored it to usurp the Vessel. It would seem this outcome is far more preferable.”

Hornet bristles, but bites back the angry words jumping through her mind. “You tasked it?” she says instead. “With breaking the Seals?”

A little titter comes from the White Lady. “No, I did not. When it came here, it had already broken two of the Seals. That was its own doing.” She blinks, her gaze finally shifting. Hornet’s shoulders sag, releasing tension she had not realized she had been holding. “Perhaps if it had been selected instead, this ruin would never have happened.”

Red hot rage sears through Hornet. “You only ever saw it as a tool,” she spits before she can catch herself. “Only as a means to an end.”

The White Lady blinks again, her gaze resting on Hornet again. “Yes,” she says plainly, calmly; Hornet’s carapace crawls. “Surely you know of its nature.”

“Of course I do.” She had seen its Void before, had been the cause of its spillage many times. Wiping the Void off her needle then, she had wondered if it was able to feel her doing so.

“Voidborn constructs are not like the living. You must know that.”

“That means little,” she bitterly retorts. “If you cared to look—”

“Child.” There is a certain sharpness to the White Lady’s gaze that makes Hornet want to squirm. “Such attachment is foolish. Void is mindless, thoughtless.”

She remembers the way it looked up at her as the door to the Temple shattered. Expressionless, yet all too expressive with its gaze. Had it been plaintive? Thankful? Afraid? It is far too late for her to wonder. It is far too late for her to ask. She wondered then, holding its broken shell as it crumbled into motes of Soul in her hands, and she wonders again now, pointlessly. But she wonders regardless.

“It is Voidborn. It did not suffer,” the White Lady reiterates. “Suffering is innate to the living, and Void is not alive.”

“How would you know?” Hornet snaps, hot tears brimming in her eyes. “How could you be sure?”

“It is Voidborn.” Something akin to pity, or perhaps contempt, lights the White Lady’s gaze. She resists the urge to raise her needle. “It is unable to feel. Whatever you may have seen, it is not reflective of life.”

“You did not know Ghost,” she growls, digging her fingers into her cloak. “You never bothered.”

“A name.” The White Lady’s voice grows curious. “How affectionate of you.”

Hornet snarls, giving into the urge to raise her needle. The White Lady stares back at her impassionately. “I may be bound, but you are in my domain. I should hope your foolishness does not extend to provoking others.”

“You never cared. You still do not care.” Her hand, her voice is shaking. “They are your children.”

“Once, yes.” She cannot read the White Lady’s demeanor through her tears. She would prefer not to. “But they were Voidtouched, and they are dead. I have no living children.”

She is crawling back the way she came before she even fully realizes it, her limbs moving of their own accord. Her tears sting, running down her face in warm rivulets. This all had been a mistake. Higher beings do not change. She had known the answer before she had even asked it.

Emerging out into the open, she drops to her knees again and screams. She had known. She had already known. She should not have asked.

Void, emotionless… How could she believe that when it had given Elderbug that flower? When she had found small memorials in various locations, addressed to bugs even she had not given a second glance? When it had reached out to hold its sibling’s face before driving that shimmering blade into its shell?

It felt. It felt everything. And it had given everything. There is nothing of it left.

Ghost, her sibling… fitting it should be named that, when it haunts her like one.

#hollow knight #little natterings #uhhhhhh do i tag characters. i guess i do #hornet #white lady #personal interpretations of canon hornet and white lady #they're very different from their dreamless counterparts #i just fail to see any situation in which canon!white lady isn't. like this.#she just doesn't get it. she fundamentally does not get it #and she doesn't care to understand #anyway take it idk #they never tell you about how grief can be so angry until you actually feel it yourself

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saphirered · 3 years

Note

Percy and Bad first times? I love these asks thank you!

I do not know why it took me approximately an eternity to write this but I finished it. I hope it will have been worth the wait. 😘

(Percy)

The moment Percy walked into your life you thought he was very much the egotistical rich kid. First impressions weren’t great as he concluded that wether or not you came from money or status, you rebelled against the social norms of high society. You two were polar opposites and anyone who said opposites attract; you were the proof against that claim for the longest time.

At the realisation you wouldn’t be leaving any time soon Percy tried to school you in manners for his sake correcting your behaviour and even words like you were some insolent child. You did not take this well and the argument that followed, unavoidable. Many things were said, some neither of you are proud of and you didn’t speak for days unless it were some snide remarks.

Then it came to a job to interact with high society people and you got to show Percy how wrong he was as you properly addressed the people, held your posture correctly and picked every word eloquently. Taken aback by your complete 180 in behaviour a conversation was in order. You got the pleasure telling Percy his ‘lessons’ had nothing to do with this and unlike some people you’d rather not be a pompous ass with a superiority complex like some people.

This lead Percy to dive into some research trying to find your name and family name, tapping into all resources at his disposal to figure you out telling himself you might be a threat if you were hiding things. He was not prepared to find out what happened with your family and faced you with the fact he found your past. The first one on one you had was Percy quite literally cornering you so you couldn’t avoid him. Admittedly not his proudest moment. You needed to talk so talk you did.

Telling Percy your story and trusting him with it might have been the first time you’ve told anyone since you left your home. In turn to set the record straight he told you what had happened with his own family. You came to the conclusion you’re not so different after all. A mutual understanding and trust formed between the two of you, though your arguments did not end with you disagreed on a matter. Rarely did you give the other the silent treatment and instead came to an agree-to-disagree conclusion if compromise was not an option. In time, they’d cease to be arguments all together and simply turn into conversations.

At this point you might even have considered yourselves friends. You found yourselves spending more time together. Percy was raised the so-mani-eth child extremely unlikely to be the heir of his family but with the tragedy that befell them, only he and his sister remained. You were raised to continue your family’s legacy but had lost everything. When Whitestone was returned to the surviving De Rolo’s you promised to give aide in any way you could.

Vox Machina, taken in a different direction you stayed behind with Cassandra. You took no titles or lands no matter how many times, Cassandra and the council offered them. In his time away from you and his home he came to realise he’d begun missing your company, the conversations and having to be the smart and semi-responsible one of the group. Not only that, you’ve been a rock in the current that’s his chaos and with you away he feels he’s more likely to fall to the temptations placed in front of him. Proof of that; the trip to the city of Dis.

When this realisation hits Percy he’ll take any opportunity to spend more time with you. He doesn’t inject himself into your daily life but any time there’s a reason for him to be present he’ll take it. Him coming clean about the contract and handing it to you for safekeeping trusting you that no matter the circumstance you’ll never give it to him, you absolutely go apeshit on him. How could he be so damn stupid. A deal with a devil? Really?! All the what ifs… It made you realise your anger and disappointment came from a place of affection.

You made Percy promise he’d tell you when he’s thinking of doing something stupid he’ll tell you before doing the thing. Before he leaves for another adventure or comes back from one you’ll go on a walk, have dinner or just relax somewhere. Sometimes you’ll talk, sometimes sit in silence, whatever you feel like in that moment. You’d begun holding hands, hugging or a kiss to the cheek before departure or upon return, tiny displays of affection.

You were informed Percy had died, but as Grog told you, he got better. Reasonably so you freaked out but you were also aware of the risk of the adventurer lifestyle, more accurately the lifestyle of someone with enemies like Percy. That didn’t mean you didn’t feel like your heart just shattered in that moment. You cared for Percy until he recovered. It’s the first time you truly saw Percy weak, not of mind wavering to a pact with an entity or the likes, but mentally done.

Percy first realised he might hold more than affections for you when you promised him that you’d always have one more thing for him to do. No matter how messed up the world looked, there’d always be a place for him with you. He’s not stupid enough to think this doesn’t come out of a deep affection of your own but he can’t be too sure it’s love either. It’s obvious you care for him, and maybe you do love him but are you in love with him? He’s not sure. Is he in love with you? He’s unsure. He knows he cares about you immensely and loves you just as much and that’s enough for him.

Percy is a man of impulse. This comes in especially handy when someone lacks courage to do something. He doesn’t approach you for your first ‘official’ date. It was just like any other outing you’d gone on or time you spent together except for the fact Percy asked you out, letting slip it was a date. If just asking you this was already so difficult he definitely would need a bottle of courage or two admitting his feelings out loud.

You’re clever enough and know how to read people enough that you weren’t oblivious to Percy’s recent changes in behaviour towards you. You were also clever enough to place them and, when courage fails you’re not one to beat around the bush. You called him out and half fearing you’d turn him down, he was proven the opposite when you pulled him in by the ascot and kissed him. Surprising but not unwanted.

Seeing no need in defining your relationship for others, you also didn’t ease the others into this development. Watching you kiss Percy passionately before he was off on another adventure leaving everyone around very surprised. So surprised they missed the mark on Keyleth’s transport via plants. Bombarded with questions about when or how this happened Percy didn’t want to indulge them with answers and instead spent more time with you.

Of course you had shared sleeping spaces before. You weren’t strangers to sharing a bed but you can comfortably say, it became much more comfortable after you first shared your bed together as lovers in the afterglow, waking up like a sweaty mess. Sharing baths after became the norm to freshen up and relax. The perfect excuse to spend more time together and have everyone else gagging after the look you’d share when asked why you missed breakfast… and lunch…

It took a long while before you first found yourselves able to exchange I love you’s but when danger came knocking at your door and you were thrown back into the fight for Tal’Dorei with Vox Machina’s allies it was now or never. Seeing things go south you got the pleasure of teaming up with a brass dragon to kick some undead ass.

“Before we both do something incredibly stupid I want you to know I love you.” Simple and efficient and to the point.

“I am tempted to hold these words for myself until after we’ve saved the world. Call it motivation to stay alive but since you made such an effort already. I love you too, dear.” Asshole. What did you expect. The feeling was mutual.

(Caduceus)

The first time you met Caduceus you’d killed someone in not too far out from Shady Creek. The down side, you killed someone important. They came after you, you protected yourself but then you had a body to deal with. You heard about the cursed place, and decided to just bury it there. You didn’t expect to find a dopey pink haired firbolg to be living at the heart of the place. He was surprisingly helpful in burying the body you brought to the point you were almost sure you’d be buried right next to your victim soon. Luckily for you you were proven wrong.

You couldn’t really return to Shady Creek and it’s not like you had much of a home there so you wandered the forests hunting and gathering for food and warmth at night avoiding the cursed places and dangers as much as you could. You couldn’t and returned to the safety of the Blooming Grove. So you made a deal, you’d stay with the firbolg, help him out at his graveyard, cemetery, whatever it is and he’d give you a place to sleep at night.

You resorted to staying inside the small temple sleeping on the floor but soon enough, Caduceus invited you to just take one of the beds in the house and stick around instead of leave at dawn to find food, removing some weeds, watering some plants, and return at dusk. No more wandering you fell into more domestic tasks solidifying your roommate life with the man. It had been a while since either of you were in (good) company so you appreciated anything that could talk and wasn’t trying to murder you.

In your time spent with Caduceus you heard bits and pieces about his family but what didn’t add up for you were the beds and belongings he didn’t touch or did so with care to keep them clean. When you got the courage to ask Caduceus told you the story of Clay, Stone and Dust and how his family left to save the Grove and perhaps even the Savalirwood as a whole. It felt odd to actually talk to someone about them that’s not him to himself. He appreciated your compassion, telling him that they’d come back home and with the stories he told you hope you’d get to meet them one day.

Caduceus’ expert prepping of meals left you wanting to be able to do the same. Of course he was happy to teach you and with his guidance you cooked your first meal. It wasn’t the best but definitely beat anything you could make on the road by yourself. The spices are to die for. You found yourself falling into the habit of cooking together; a nice way to end the day.

You were having a particularly tough day and ready to just curl up and let the world consume you, there was no hiding from your friendly firbolg roommate. He knew what’s up but gave you a chance to come to him. You didn’t so he came to you. He didn’t say anything, just sat next to you with a cup of tea, set another one in front of you and stayed quiet until you were ready to talk or get back to your business if you didn’t. He wasn’t going to pry in personal matters unless you asked him.

An encounter with a nasty creature you were unable to scare off and away had Caduceus pinned to the ground. With enough courage and some knowledge of physical combat you managed to get the creature off and injure it enough so it fled. Pulling Caduceus to his feet you were engulfed in a hug with a thank you. As is common knowledge Caduceus hugs are the best hugs you found yourself asking for more. Caduceus wasn’t at all opposed to keep this a thing as he’d always enjoyed hugs.

With the two of you growing closer, living together you decided to sit down and talk about what you had and where it was going as neither of you wanted to accidentally lead on the other or set expectations that could not be met. Neither of you were looking for romantic love or romance at all. Some might refer to you as bestest of friends or life partners but that didn’t really seem to fit. You’re just you and Caduceus is him and you liked hugging and spending time together, going through the motions of life and that’s all you needed.

When the Nein came along looking for help, Caduceus offered for you to stay behind, the Blooming Grove was just as much your home as it was his but you went along anyway. You’d never left the forest. Never travelled south either but many adventures found their way to you and you’d be spending them with you with Caduceus through all the ups and downs. The Nein got so used to your dynamic they never questioned it. It was just something that existed and was happening and quite frankly, one of the few normal things about you and the firbolg.

When the day came you found the Clay family you got to be there for Caduceus as he had for you. Meeting them for the first time they lived up to the stories you’d been told. The Clays were very happy to meet Caduceus’ friends but upon learning about your connection to him they were relieved he hadn’t been all alone for all those years they were gone and had some company. They offered you to come back with them but just like Caduceus, there was still some unfinished business and these people, the Mighty Nein still needed your help.

Then, when everything came to a close, you returned to the Blooming Grove and spent the rest of your days there living content. It had been your home and would continue to be your home. The Clays became your family and for the first time in forever you could see yourself content at home leaving with Caduceus to travel at times but always return to that little spot in the Savalirwood.

#critrole x reader #critical role x reader #mighty nein x reader #mighty nein #caduceus x reader #caduceus clay #critical role #percival x reader #percy x reader #vox machina x reader #vox machina

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redorich · 3 years

Note

For the canyon au, what would happen if one of the hermits got hurt during a scout? Like, if etho is out scouting, something happens, and he’s unable to message the hermits or get help. Would he be willing to be seen? Would any smpers besides Puffy help him?

Zedaph didn't mean to leave the canyon, honest! He was just looking for a sheep of his own for a completely ethical experiment involving pistons and a perfectly reasonable quantity of peanut butter, thank you very much. He wasn’t about to steal a sheep from someone else’s farm, and for some reason sheep don’t tend to spawn at bedrock level. So really, he had no choice!

Zedaph is rethinking a lot of his decisions. He’s also wondering if he left the jump-powered stove on. Then he remembers that it’s jump-powered, and as he is not currently jumping on it, it is most likely unpowered. Unfortunately, it seems as though Zedaph is going to be eating a lot of cold food for a while if he makes it out of this alive, because he’s not going to be jumping on anything with a broken leg.

Despite his punishment for trying to take a cross-section of something that he now knows is probably sentient (oops), he can’t help but want to go back, to learn more. What is the rate of growth of those red vines? Are they all from the same plant? Are they actually sentient, or is the crimson kudzu in possession of an automatic response to attempted harm? Did the vine know it was hitting him off a ledge which would break his leg, or did it just know “whack human away from vine”? Would the vines taste good in soup? Are they flammable? Could Zedaph theoretically knit a fashionable sweater out of them, and if so would the sweater be capable of independent movement?

He is torn from his musings of a wriggly evil sweater by another thrum of pain. He hisses. There’s... more blood than is advisable. Outside of his leg, that is. Inside his leg is likely less than the advisable amount of blood, and come to think of it, his head’s probably a bit empty as well, seeing as how he’s having so much trouble thinking straight-- well, straight for him. His jumps in logic are incomprehensible to most on a good day, but right now even he can’t follow his own thought process. What was he thinking about again?

Ah yes. The overwhelming pain from being yeeted off a ledge. Come to think of it, the ledge he fell off-- the one he’s sitting leaned against-- is shaped awfully unusually. It must be manmade. Whoever made this is not a good terraformer. Zedaph should bake Scar some cookies. Is Scar allergic to peanuts? Ow. Ow. Ow. Zedaph will need to borrow Impulse’s oven-- or he could set up his own oven with an armor stand that jumps for him?

“Hey there, who are you?” says a female voice. Zedaph looks up. He doesn’t have to look very far up.

Standing in front of him is a woman with a cool pirate-looking coat (red, of course; all self-respecting pirates wear red), with long fluffy hair like white wool and rainbow fringe! Oh, and she’s, like, half sheep or something. That’s cool too.

Wait. There’s something about sheep he’s forgetting... How could he have been so stupid?! He came to the surface in the first place in search of a sheep, and now he’s (kind of) found one!

The cool pirate lady says something, but Zedaph-- well, he does hear it, but it doesn’t process. Words are just mouth-sounds. He is in pain.

“Found a sheep,” he mumbles, “Come back to the canyon?”

“You’re hurt, man,” the sheep-pirate-lady says. She has pretty rainbow hair, and the white parts look like clouds.

She laughs. “Thanks.”

Clearly, this woman is a mind-reader! As well as a sheep. Really, two for the price of one. Zedaph isn’t quite sure what to do with a mind-reader, but his head will be much clearer and therefore able to dream up wacky hypotheses once he respawns--

He gasps, jerking forward and choking on his own breath when he remembers the cold truth. Xisuma won’t be able to respawn him, not for several days. Zedaph doesn’t want to spend that long in the void.

“Woah!” the woman exclaims, rushing to steady him. “You look pretty bad, dude. Let’s get you home or something. Where do you live?”

“Canyon,” Zedaph rasps. “I’m not supposed to tell you that, I don’t think. Can’t remember why.”

The nice woman goes very still. “Hey. My name’s Puffy. I’m gonna take you to the canyon. Do you think you can stand if I help you?”

“Puffy..?” Zedaph squints off into the middle distance, trying to remember something. “She’s the person who keeps coming back to that barrel, isn’t she?”

Puffy pulls Zedaph’s arm over her shoulder and gently pulls him up to his feet. “She is,” Puffy says softly.

“I hope she liked the enchanted diamond shears,” he mumbles.

“She did,” Puffy says softly. “She didn’t even know diamond shears were a thing.”

“I was going to make an emerald flint and steel,” Zedaph rambles, “but it turns out that items made of flint and steel aren’t conducive to being made of not-flint and not-steel."

"Who would have thought?" Puffy laughs, then trips over a vine. Zedaph makes a pained noise at the jostle to his leg, which is dragging a bit on the ground because Puffy is so much shorter than him. She notices this, and rethinks her strategy.

"At this rate, we'll never get back to the canyon," she gripes. "Climb on my back instead, I'll carry you."

Zedaph obliges, but warns, "Tango says I'm heavy.”

“I’m stronger than Tango, I’ll bet.”

The Hermit is actually a bit heavy, but this is a matter of pride now. And also, quite possibly a matter of urgency. The Hermit isn’t responding anymore. He’s still holding on, so he isn’t dead or completely unconscious; still, he’s not in a good state.

As soon as the elevator down to the bottom of the canyon comes into view, Puffy books it. Surely, in the canyon base, the Hermit will have healing potions? He (They? Multiple Hermits?) gave her a whole beacon, so obviously he/they are late-game enough to have plenty of potions.

Stepping into the elevator, Puffy presses the button, then puts her hand on the Hermit’s neck. It’s a bit of an awkward position, since his chin is hanging over her shoulder, but it makes her feel better to have a hand on his pulse. He makes a pitiful noise as the elevator descends.

“Easy there,” Puffy says, “you’re almost home.”

The moment the doors open, she ventures out into the village. The only safe place she knows is the barrel where she leaves her items for the Hermit(s), so she takes him there. Now that she’s looking, she spots shadows, eyes, movements, throughout the supposedly empty village. One such person comes out of the woodwork, sprinting.

“Zedaph!” exclaims a tall, musclebound man. His face is twisted in naked worry as he meets Puffy at the barrel, which she sets Zedaph down on.

The large man, who wears a black shirt with a creeper face on it (does that mean something, Puffy wonders?) scrutinizes the blond man on the barrel for a moment before springing into action, splashing potions and bits of lapis and-- holy shit, is that a Totem of Undying?! When the blond man, Zedaph, seems to come back to himself enough that he could reasonably eat a golden carrot with minimal choking hazard, the new man hands him one. Finally, he turns to Puffy.

“Thank you,” he says. The relief in his voice is tangible.

Puffy shifts awkwardly. “I was just doing the right thing. I noticed, uh, his bracelet.”

They both look to Zedaph’s wrist. It’s got a woven bracelet on it. The textile isn’t astounding, but the pattern on it is intricate. Puffy would know, she made it herself as a gift for the Hermit. As Puffy and the other Hermit look at each other, she realizes that he is also wearing something she made: a pair of fingerless gloves which are now stained with redstone dust.

He catches her staring. “We all have one-- oh, uh, my name’s Impulse, and this is Zedaph--”

“Impulse,” a new blond man hisses from behind the two. Puffy jumps. She didn’t hear him coming.

“Tango!” Impulse greets, suddenly nervous. Why a man as big as Impulse would be nervous when facing anyone, let alone a normal-looking guy like Tango, is beyond Puffy. Maybe Tango’s red eyes have some sort of significance?

“Impulse,” Tango repeats, looking around for anyone that isn’t a Hermit. “You’re not invisible.”

Impulse’s eyebrows draw together in a frown. “I had to see Zedaph.”

“Yeahhh,” Zedaph slurs.

“Besides, if we can trust any of the natives, it’s Puffy,” Impulse insists. He crosses his arms in what should be an intimidating display, but truthfully looks more like a pout.

“You know what Xisuma said,” Tango says. “I’m grateful to have Zedaph back, but...”

“Xisuma would agree with me,” Impulse says stubbornly.

Tango sighs explosively, full of nerves. “Alright, fine, can we at least get out of sight? Anyone could come wandering across the surface and spot us.”

“How many of you are there?” Puffy breathes. Everyone’s eyes snap to her.

“Twenty-four,” Zedaph says happily.

“Zedaph!” Tango admonishes.

Rolling his eyes, Impulse scoops Zedaph up off the barrel like he weighs nothing. He carries the dazed blond man down the path and into a cottage-style house. As Tango goes to follow, he catches Puffy’s eye.

“Sorry,” he says, “nothing personal. Just trying to avoid being explodificated, which means not being seen by the people who live on this server. You get it, yeah?”

He jogs off to catch up with Impulse, and Puffy hurriedly follows. Tango’s got a bracelet like Zedaph’s, but it’s one of the ones Puffy made out of different shades of red. She wonders if all the Hermits wear something she made.

The inside of the house is a bit cramped, but it’ll do. It’s got a bed, at least, so Zedaph’s got somewhere to keep his leg off the ground. This all feels surreal.

“So, uh...” Puffy says into the stuffy silence of the room. “How about that, uh, bedrock?”

Nobody has anything to say to that. Fuck.

Out of nowhere, yet another Hermit shows up. There’s a trapdoor in the wall that, now that she looks at it, Puffy realizes that Tango was hiding intentionally. That’s all gone to shit, though, because a man with white hair and a mask over his face peeks his head out from the hole in the wall.

“Hey guys, what--” The man takes a look around, spots Puffy, and freezes. “...On second thought, I’ll come back later.”

“Wait!” Impulse says to the man. “Get Xisuma, or at least tell him Puffy’s here if he can’t make the trip right now.”

“Karl thinks you’re Mothman,” Puffy blurts out to the white-haired man.

The man looks very self-satisfied for someone who’s only showing a quarter of his face. “Oh? Where does he live? For absolutely no reason, of course.”

“Etho...” Tango groans.

“Oh, alright, I’ll go get X.”

The man leaves. Oh boy, thinks Puffy, this is going to be interesting.

#mcyt #hc x dsmp #hermit canyon au #captain puffy #zedaph #zedaphplays #impulsesv #tango tek #xisuma #xisumavoid #ethoslab #me.cpp #me.txt

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ilcaeryx · 3 years

Text

Cultist [Sukuna/Reader] - NSFW

Summary: You have one god on this earth.

Tags: Sukuna/Reader, NSFW, Smut, Humor, Size kink, Cock Warming, Body Worship,

Words: Cirka 2k

Author’s Note: What’s up, sluts? I’m back. This is NSFW, so beware.

---

Sukuna did regularly mention that domination and conquest were his pastime hobbies and you would tentatively add that he adhered to them with slave-like zealotry. Whenever he insulted Itadori Yuji by calling him simple-minded, your heart ached with the desire to tell him that he was not any greater regarding his obsessions with strength. However, your self-preservation kept you alive, since a bitch that talks back to Sukuna is a bitch that gets their head separated from their body, after all.

Having sex with Sukuna is somehow leagues safer than speaking to him, you thought, gaze surveying how the apex of his back muscles cast shades upon the trenches of his spine. Inhalation, the shadows grew and deepened. Exhalation, the light re-conquered its territory. You suspected he never slept, even though he physically seemed in deep slumber. His arms were splayed on his pillow, face turned away from you.

You had self-preservation to save your ass 99 percent of the time – this time was probably that one percent where he would snap.

“Sukuna,” you called out, very lightly stroking his biceps with your nails. No answer, but his arm muscles flexed subtly as he moved his arm. “I want my side of the bed back. I can’t sleep on this side.”

You let out a shriek when his hand shot out at you, palm plastered over your lips. The sharp edge of his index nail hovered uncomfortably close to your eye, the thumb nail piercing your cheek. Out of reflex, your dug your fingertips into his upper arm and attempted to pull away from his show of force.

Sukuna turned his head to face you. His eyes glared with disinterest, though his grasp weakened slightly.

“You’ve been plenty loud during the night; why must you continue now?” he asked, squeezing your cheeks together to allow you to speak.

“I’ve slept like three hours max,” you said, ignoring his question.

“That is not my problem.” He let go of your face to return to his original position. “Go find somewhere else to sleep and I shall wake you whenever I have need of you.”

What an absolute dickhead. This was your bed, not his domination playground.

You released him and patted your face with your fingers carefully. There were no stinging scratches left behind, which was good considering his reasoning that if ‘you weren’t bleeding out, you didn’t need help’ would leave you with annoying scabs everywhere. Why you were even fucking this guy was beyond you, honestly. This was one of the top 3 worst life choices you had ever made.

You slid towards him beneath the covers and supported your upper body with your ribcage on his lower back and elbows on his upper back. His body heat intermingling with yours gave you a dull ache, from behind your breastbone flowing into a tidepool in the pit of your stomach. After pushing your hair to one side of your neck, you lowered yourself onto him. Your lips wet and breath hot across his skin, you blew softly before planting a kiss below his shoulder blade. Had it been another person under you, you would have had the gratification of seeing goosebumps forming across the area.

“Sukuna…” you said, barely audible between his skin and your lips.

The King of Curses arose from his relaxed position. “Did you not listen or are you an idiot?”

“Bit of both, to be perfectly honest.” You pinched a tuft of his hair strands between two fingers, pulling gently. “You don’t need to do anything – I just want your attention.”

He issued you a warning glare, daring you to pull some weird shit on him.

You shrugged one of your shoulders and gave him a lopsided smile. “It’s not like I can hurt you, right? I don’t have sharp claws.” To testify, you released his hair, buried your nails below his neck and dragged them down his back in one stroke. Four faint lines were left behind, a stylistic contrast to his dark markings. “I don’t have superhuman strength or speed.” You felt the muscular ridges above his ribs, your fingers travelling up and down each rib. “At my worst, I’m just very obnoxious.”

“How self-aware,” he mocked and laughed half-heartedly. He seemed to enjoy your tiny monologue, judging by the slight raise of his eyebrows. “Continue.”

His approval increased your confidence. While you scoured your brain for whatever concept that might amuse or interest him, you broke eye contact and directed your thumb to pad the black line running along his back. You followed it up to the crest of his shoulders and pulled yourself up over his torso. A low growl hummed beneath you, indicating that perhaps you were pushing your luck. When you brought your left hand down his chest the sound reverberated through your being, reminding you that you were not the apex predator in here. His eagerness showed as he willingly moved his hand into your range when you struggled to reach it.

“Look,” you said, just as eager to sate his curiosity, “at the difference.”

With his attention on your hand enveloping his, you settled your head on his shoulder, finally eye to eye with the King of Curses. You shifted so that your palms met. Even when ignoring his nails, his long fingers and thick wrist eclipsed yours. Finger pads with rough callouses created in combat, the evidence of a reign of lasting a millennium. You could feel the wisdom beneath your soft pads; you could’ve devoted your entire life to warfare and your hands would still not understand it the way his do.

“You know, I never used to consider myself a small person,” you lied, your voice perfectly stable, “but now I am not so sure anymore. It is quite overwhelming.”

Sukuna’s head tilted towards yours, almost tenderly grazing his cheek against your jawline. The movement gave you shivers, causing your toes to curl. You had no option but trusting his self-control when he dove below your jaw and put his lips to your neck. He sucked the flesh between his lips, occasionally tasting with his tongue.

You sighed, content for the brief attention you had earned. Sukuna’s heartbeat rate did not increase nor decrease beneath your hand, his chest just as firm. He detached from your neck, his saliva cooling down that particular spot. You were on the brink of complaining when the world swirled around and your back hit the mattress, your chest and stomach feeling the room’s chill without Sukuna’s body heat.

Sukuna was not playing around anymore; he aligned his forearms beside your face and blocked off whatever else existed outside with his mere presence, lips taut and eyes alert. He situated his torso on top of yours and separated your thighs with his knee. Not close enough to grind on.

“Tell me more,” he stared you down. “What does being completely outmatched feel like?”

You wondered if he meant how it physically felt or how the emotional part of being outmanned and outgunned felt like. Considering how his empathic ability was low-functioning to non-existing, you wanted to bet your money on a physical description… Yet, your tongue prepared to tell him about the terror and the uncertainty. It was not wise to divulge such details to Sukuna.

Scheherazade’s silver tongue might have saved her life a thousand and one times but not everyone’s talent was located in their mouth cavity. Like always, your hands bought you more time to think, to evaluate your words. You tentatively reached for his collarbones before changing your mind and guiding one hand to his lips. Perhaps he had meant to kiss your fingertips, perhaps he had yet another inquiry but his lower lip separated from his upper one and you cautiously pulled it downwards. A predator’s teeth greeted you.

“I can’t say it without sounding lame,” you said and crossed your arms across your chest. “Don’t laugh.”

Almost immediately, Sukuna leaned his weight on one forearm, allowing him to use the other to restrain your hand against the mattress. “I assure you,” he said, his eyes staring lazily at you, lids half-down, “you are not that funny.”

Suddenly, you wished Itadori Yuji would regain his consciousness to not have to deal with this asshole. Kind, encouraging Yuji would worship your existence. Perhaps you would eventually have learned to worship him in turn. ‘Learning’ being the key word, of course. You would fumble in the dark while attempting to appreciate him. This seemed like a good idea for about three seconds and then you returned to your occult god.

“I want to be inside you.” Sukuna, no longer interested in your thoughts, showed more interest in your body. He seldomly spoke of his wants, rousing your curiosity and – honestly – your arousal. The thigh between your leg shifted closer to your mound, touching your nether lips softly.

“You’re so demanding,” you complained, ending your sentence with a deep sigh. “You want me to be quiet, you want me to talk, you want to be inside me – will you ever be satisfied?”

You rolled your hips upwards in a slow movement, enjoying yourself as your lips parted against his flesh. It did not please you enough, so you continued to alleviate yourself.

“No.” His voice was unusually quiet. His lower lip brushed yours as he spoke. “Do you think you deserve it?”

You moved your chin downwards, the movement nearly imperceptible for someone who was not expecting it.

“I agree… if it’ll keep you quiet,” he said, releasing your arm to steady himself above you.

And you did keep quiet. Although he remained stone-faced, Sukuna seemed attentive to the way you opened your mouth and frowned in frustration, his crimson gaze traversing across your face.

He angled his hips downwards, pressuring your clit as you ground against him. You had never been more thankful for the things he did than when he let you use his body as a tool to get off. Each upwards motion elected a pang of pleasure, a beach in ebb and flow.

You don’t know for how long he tolerated your grinding but your lower body ached and his thigh was slick with your fluid when he removed his leg from you, its absence pulsating throughout your stomach. Despite your fear that he would push you away, you grabbed onto his neck to heave yourself against him, anything to regain that comfort. The relief that accompanied the heartbeat after he brought you up with him to sit upright lightened your entire being. His hands felt excruciatingly hot, almost unbearably so, on your ribcage.

Although you felt ready for him, your grip on his neck remained hard as he lifted you up above his cock. Sukuna descended you slightly, his tip bulging at your entrance. You knew your limit and didn’t hesitate to sink onto him, a movement less gentle than you wished due to your legs being wrapped around his waist. Your breath was uneven, hitching up whenever you strained against him. Avoiding getting your insides impaled by a guy’s dick was surprisingly hard labour. Eventually you settled at his base, a sense of completion glowing off you.

There were no comforting touches or encouraging words from Sukuna, whose tranquil expression made him seem more like Yuji than himself. His eyes almost shut, jaw relaxed... This was the alternate universe version of Sukuna, a man who did not lust for domination and who would settle down with his loved ones for an eventless life.

Hearing your dumb fantasies echo in your head, you rubbed your eyes with your knuckles until you saw stars. What idiocy. You had to cease these daydream scenarios or you’d be in deep shit in the future. You were an atrocious cultist.

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I hope everyone enjoyed this. If you liked this, please give a comment/like/reblog. I listened to the Professor Tox remix of LOONA’s Girl Front and Ariana Grande’s Love Me Harder while writing this.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna #jjk #jjk reader insert

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