#I feel so uncomfortable just generally in my body today

[ananxiousgenz]

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[scholarhect]

additional commentary that i did not put in the tags of last reblog out of respect for the op: i would like to see them lez out

[theophagie-remade]

I can't believe I can't find any information on how to do this thing that not many people need to do. smh

[always-andromeda]

𝐝𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⟡ Ellie Williams x F!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⟡ 1232

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⟡ You and Ellie enjoy an all-too-rare "quiet" moment with each other.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ⟡ soooo...this is my first time writing something for Ellie...please be gentle lmao. I decided to be a little easy on myself and start off with something light with absolutely no plot. Just pure, fluffy porn. That being said, I want to add that from this point onwards, anything I write based in the TLOU universe, I will be including links on what we can do to aid Palestine. From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free.

HOW YOU CAN HELP PALESTINE

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⟡ smut (minors, do not interact, please and thank you), reader has no physical description aside from being afab and able-bodied, fingering (reader receiving), oral (reader receiving), pet names (babe, baby), slight overstimulation, general softness, nothing else I can think of!

Early mornings suit you, Ellie decides. Especially when it's all cold and quiet and blue light as a thin layer of frost covers the outside of the window by her bed. You're both thankful that it obscures the view of any eyes that may have been peeking into Ellie's garage.

They would've seen you sprawled out on her mattress and Ellie slotted firmly between your legs, paying all sorts of attention to your thighs. And thank fucking god, you're the only one who can hear the filthy words that fall from that wonderful mouth of hers.

"You're so fucking soft, babe." Then she chuckles, "And so easy to work up."

Your thighs shiver with anticipation and you're far beyond the point of feeling any kind of shame about it. There's only urgency filling your chest as you hope that Ellie's teasing turns into something. It wouldn't be the first time that she'd spent so long on you that Jesse had to come and "wake her" for patrol.

Now that had been a special kind of torture: Ellie hoisting herself up off of you and yelling to Jesse that she'd be right out as she pulled on her hoodie and gathered her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck. She grabbed her backpack, kissed you on the forehead, and muttered, "See you tonight," with a cocky grin. Then she fucking left.

And you'd have to shake away whatever mounting pressure she'd built up inside of you and uncomfortably shuffle your way home in yesterday's clothes all while trying to avoid the watching eyes of Jackson's population. It felt like every ounce of deprivation was written on your face in those moments and you hated it.

So you thread a hand through her hair, gently urging her towards your cunt.

"Hey, hey, hey, I'm gettin' there," she teases and removes your hand.

“Now, please,” you whine.

But it’s no use. With a little laugh under her breath, she keeps peppering kisses along your bikini line. You know she relishes in it, listening to you gasp as she gets closer and closer to where you need her only to pull back moments before her lips could connect with your center.

She must be feeling nice this morning; she hasn’t admonished you for squirming or whining. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t have patrol today. Or maybe it’s because you spent hours after dinner the night prior relieving her stress as well. Or maybe it’s just the simple fact that quiet moments like these are rare. All you know is that you can handle it; you can handle her.

You ball up the sheets in your fists and adjust your hips ever so slightly, settling in for whatever Ellie has planned for you. She uses a finger to pull the thin cotton crotch of your underwear to the side and groans to herself.

She laughs, “I don’t even have to try and you’re soaked.”

You lift yourself up on your elbows to look down at her. “Imagine what would happen if you did try,” you quip.

“Tough talk for a girl in your position,” she says. Before you can give her another snarky reply, she licks a long stripe up the center of you. The sudden warmth is welcome but it still startles you. 

Ellie adds with a scoff, “Besides, I don’t need to imagine. I am well aware of what happens when I try.” With that, she eases a finger in you.

In and out, she patiently worked you open until asking, “Want another, babe?”

You give a breathy yes. A beat passes where you wait for her to request a please alongside it. But it never comes. She must be feeling really nice.

With a whine, you feel her slip that second finger in. She’s methodic, curling her lithe fingers with each pump and carefully itching an ache inside of you that begs to be scratched. Bit by bit, she only feeds the flame; only makes it climb higher and higher up your belly until it seems to burn at the back of your throat. That wet squelch between your legs intensifies as she fucks you faster. You let out a soft moan and Ellie curses under her breath.

“That’s right, baby. You’ve got it.”

You can’t quite see her expression but you can tell she’s got that smug smirk creeping across her face. It’s the face she makes when she can tell just how well she’s playing you.

Right then she decides to go for the kill. Her tongue flicks over your swollen clit in time with her scissored fingers and before too long, you’re chasing it. Rutting against her mouth, you follow that all consuming fire that burns away each and every one of your better senses. It craves nothing more than pleasure and the praise of the girl you love more than life itself.

Strangely, you don’t mind it. In another world, you could afford to be so needy and so selfish whenever you wanted. Perhaps that’s why you’re so drawn to the feeling now; to the fleetingness of it. It’s lightning in a bottle. And with the heat mounting, you feel ready to burst.

A string of wanton curses falls from your lips. Bones scorched with pleasure, you're quickly approaching the point where you’ll be nothing more than ash.

Ellie groans desperately against your cunt, “C’mon, give it to me. You’re almost there.”

That’s all you need to fall over the edge. You shatter as soon as your climax makes contact. You’re a mess of limbs. Legs wrapping around the woman attached to your cunt. Heels digging into her back, still chasing that endless more until it damn near hurts. Chest heaving as you start to realize that it never will be enough. But somehow, that’s alright. If it was enough, there’d be nothing left for her to give; nothing left to yearn. And you’d rather spend the rest of your life wanting her than wandering in oblivion.

Finally, the pleasure gets to be too much. You’re all but a pile of smoldering cinders, terrifyingly close to blowing away in the wind. You cry out and tap the side of Ellie temple, signaling the end of the

She quickly obliges and switches to pressing gentle kisses to your mound between whispered praises. Hands gripping your thighs, her thumbs swirl soothing circles to your trembling flesh. Her kisses work their way up your belly, between your breasts, across your collar, up to your lips.

“You alright?” she asks softly.

Your head still spins a bit but you manage a nod and a low hum which only makes her chuckle.

A thin layer of sweat on her forehead sheens in the light. The smattering of freckles you adore dance with the flush on her cheeks. Judging by the creases next to her eyes and the smile she wears, she’s languishing in how you look too.

“I sure did a number on you, huh?”

“A little,” you mutter. But you know you’re not fooling her.

Ellie settles at your side and weaves an arm behind your neck, loosely holding you to her. You stay like that for a few seconds; quietly intertwined.

You look up at her through your lashes and break the silence. “Love you, Els.”

She smiles and presses one last kiss to your nose. “Love you too, weirdo.”

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally Getting Help (pt 13)

Masterpost

Danny was holding Jason’s hand so tight he felt like his fingers were creaking but Jason wasn’t about to say anything. They were waiting in the doctor's office for Danny’s first ultrasound and Jason was accompanying him as promised, if Danny needed to squeeze his hand that was what Danny needed to do then so be it, it was better the bolting, which it looked like he was considering. Leslie didn’t usually make people wait long but when she had an emergency she had an emergency, it didn’t matter that Bruce funded her clinic, and was sitting awkwardly in one corner, they could wait.

It had been decided that as Danny’s guardian and maybe boyfriend? Bruce and Jason would be the ones to go in with him, with Danny’s agreement of course. Jazz and Dick had both wanted to come too but they didn’t want to crowd the room or overwhelm Danny so it was decided they would stay close by but not come In. Just then they were waiting together at a cafe across the road in case they were needed.

“Alright, I’m sorry to keep you both waiting but you know how Gotham is,” Leslie said a little grim-faced and still stripping off bloody gloves as she walked into their room and tossed them into the trash can. “So, Danny right,” Danny nodded. “Will you come with me into a private room for your examination?” She asked, because of course she did, the phrasing too was carefully worded to not put him on the spot so if Danny was feeling at all threatened or uncomfortable about Jason and Bruce being there he wouldn’t be blamed for following her. 

“You don’t have to,” She added quickly when Danny looked panicked and clung to Jason so tight Jason couldn’t help wincing. “We can move forward with the appointment if them being here makes you more comfortable?” 

Danny nodded quickly so she nodded as well and sat down at her desk, opening a file on her computer. “So, you’re here for an ultrasound right?” She glanced over and Danny nodded again, he seemed to be feeling really shy, Jason had never seen him so nervous, Bruce looked worried. “But it says here you haven’t had a check up in years so would you mind if we do a general exam first? I would like to make sure that You are healthy before we move on to the babies.”

“Yes that’s fine, but you know I’m not fully human right?” Danny asked, she paused for barely a moment. 

“I was told you had some differences,” she confirmed gingerly. “What should I expect?”

“Well, my heart rate is naturally slower than it used to be, and my body temperature is lower. Like I get to ‘healthy human’ temperatures when I have a bad fever. I don’t know what else has changed, honestly. I’ve been avoiding the doctor ever since my accident because I knew how my parents would react,” he said sounding tired and resigned.

“Well then we’ll take today as a paceline and monitor changes. If you’re feeling well today?” She suggested, she probably would have liked to get a baseline before Danny was pregnant but obviously that was impossible. 

“Ya that’s fine, my heartrate is probably a bit fast because I’m nervous but I’m probably healthier then I’ve been in a while. I haven’t been getting into fights and I’ve been eating regularly after all!”

“Alright. I understand but there’s no need to be nervous. This is a safe environment, I won’t do anything that’s not medically necessary.”

“I know, if Bruce and Jason didn’t speak so highly of you I wouldn’t be here. They don’t seem to see eye to eye on much so if they both trust and like you you must be good,” Danny said with a little smile though he was still tense and pale. That anxiety wasn’t going anywhere fast. In the corner Brace gave a sort of strangled cough that had Jason glaring at him even though he didn’t really know what it meant.

“Alright, then let’s get started,” She said before she started Danny’s check-up, all of the normal things a doctor would do if a bit more thorough. Checking eyes, mouth, ears, heart and lungs, and reflexes, circulation and blood pressure. His heartbeat was slow and his blood pressure was low but Danny thought that was probably normal for him? She gave an unconvinced hum. “We’ll have weekly check ups and check it again then. If it’s sustained and doesn’t affect you then we can say it’s normal for you.” She agreed. 

“Alright, well based on the information you’ve told me I think we’ve established a baseline and you’re healthy. Are you ready for your ultrasound?” She asked and Danny took a deep breath, Jason, still standing next to Danny, squeezed his hand gently.

“Ya, as ready as I’ll ever be,” Danny agreed. 

“Thank you, just lay back and pull up your shirt please,” Dr. Leslie requested and Danny did as she’d asked as she pulled up the little monitor and set things up. In the background Bruce shifted so he could see the screen better. “There won’t be much to see,” Leslie warned, shooting Bruce a look as she applied the ultrasound gel. “It’s still too early.”

She put on a fresh pair of gloves and grabbed the wand, “Alright, let's have a look.” She said, pressing it carefully against Danny’s stomach. 

Danny had let go of Jason’s hand while he lay down but now he grabbed around for Jason again, without looking away from the screen now showing inside his abdomen. Jason stepped closer and grabbed Danny’s hand, looking at his face rather than anything else, monitoring for signs the trepidation there might be getting to be too much. He knew Danny was nervous, but they didn’t want this to progress into a panic attack. 

“There they are. Oh! Two, twins. You’re further along than I expected, 10 weeks by the looks of it?” She asked glancing at Danny who nodded. 

“Ya, I’ve only been carrying them for 6 but they’re test tube babies,” he confirmed, his eyes fixed on the screen. 

“Ah,” She sounded, nodding her understanding. “The little round things below their hearts are odd. Do they have two hearts? No, those ones aren’t beating…”

“Those are their cores,” Danny murmured before it seemed to hit him and he looked at Jason, his eyes wide with panic. “Oh my god I AM actually pregnant, it’s not just the cores, I’m pregnant, oh my god I’m pregnant,” he was starting to hyperventilate. 

Dr. Leslie pulled back and Danny practically threw himself into Jason’s arm who held him tight as Danny hid against his chest and trembled. “Do you want us to call Jazz?” Jason offered softly as he held Danny and let him cry.

“No don’t go,” Danny hiccuped against Jason’s chest. 

“I’ll call Jazz,” Bruce added, of course. He would want to help, he did care, but he never had any actual idea how to help. The emotionally unavailable bastard. 

“Do you want me to leave?” Dr. Leslie asked gently. “I would like to have a better look at the twins to check on their development but if you need time I can come back later, or even another day.”

“Just-just give me a minute, please,” Danny sniffled as Jason rubbed his back.

“Of course. I know this is overwhelming,” Leslie said gently. 

Jazz barged into the room and immediately hugged Danny a well, sandwiched safely between her and Jason. “Scruff him, it’ll help,” she told Jason, who nodded and squeezed the back of Danny’s neck. 

He shuddered and then started to relax between the two of them, basically letting the two taller, and trusted, people hold him up. His sobs turned into sniffles and then a few deep breaths. “Okay, okay I think I’m ready. I want to know that they’re okay too. I know their cores are developing well but if they have human bodies, we need to make sure those are healthy too right?” 

“Right. Do you want me to stay, or do you want Bruce to come back in?” Jazz asked gently. 

“No, you and Jason stay please,” Danny said softly. He had thought it was right for Bruce to come in as his guardian, but it was Jazz who had really been looking after him for years. “There’s not much to see right now, just little blobs. We’ll tell him how it goes.”

Danny took another breath and then squirmed out of both of their arms and went to lay back on the table, pulling up his shirt again. Jason stood next to the examination table, taking Danny’s hand again, Jazz went and sat on the table by Danny’s head and stroked his hair while Dr. Leslie applied fresh jelly to his stomach since it had been worn off during his panic attack. Jason might have to change his shirt after this.

“Alright, let’s have another look shall we?” She said with a warm smile as she pressed the wand against his stomach again. She found the babies again fairly easily. “They seem to be sticking pretty close together,” She said with a little smile. “They’re active little things! It’s far too early to tell anything else about them but from what you’ve told me they seem to be on track and developing properly,” She said, pulling back and offering Danny a cloth to clean the gel off his stomach.

“Do you mind if we call Bruce back in? As your guardian I’d like him to be here for you treatment plan?” She asked.

“Sure, makes sense,” Danny agreed with a nod. 

She nodded back and looked at Jazz, who nodded as well and ducked out to get Bruce. “While we’re mostly alone I want to know, do you know all your options Danny? You know you don’t have to carry them. They’re just embryos right now, not even conscious. Your health and safety comes first,” Dr. Leslie told him gently. She knew Jason was firmly pro-choice.

“No, I know,” Danny said with a little smile and a nod, looking down at his stomach and gently caressing it. “I know I don’t Have to do this. But I do want them. I’m already attached to them, you know?” He said looking up at her, worried that she would judge him. He hoped he was making the right choice, that he wasn’t ruining his life at 16 or something. Fuck he could be on that trashy tv show! 

“I understand,” She assured, no hint of judgment on her face. Of course not, if she could treat rogues without judgment she sure as hell wasn’t going to judge a teen parent. She glanced up as the door opened again and Bruce and Jazz entered. “Right,” Leslie said, sitting down at her computer and starting to type. “You’re still a little malnourished so I’d like to get you taking prenatal vitamins immediately,” she said, glancing up to see Danny nod. “With your unique condition I’d like to see you more often than usual, weekly visits would be best for now. Once we’re sure you and the babies are okay we can go down to every other week.”

“I don’t think we need to do that,” Danny said, shifting nervously. “I mean you say the human side is looking good, and my ghost doctor says they’re developing well on that side, if slower than usual. I don’t need to come in every week,” He said looking hopeful. 

She hesitated for a moment, organizing her thoughts and considering his words. “Even so, there’s clearly some bleed over that makes it hard to tell how healthy you are. I would feel better if you came weekly, at least for the first month so we can establish a true baseline.” 

“Alright,” Danny said, drooping again, looking back at Bruce. “Can you make the appointment? I want to go home.”

“Sure Danny,” Bruce agreed, pulling out his planner to check their schedule. 

“I’ll take you back to the manor,” Jason assured, using his grip on Danny’s hand to help him up. 

“I’ll go back to the cafe with Dick, we were having a good conversation, I wouldn’t mind continuing it,” She said, giving Danny a smile. “Unless you want me to come?”

“No, that’s alright. Have fun Jazz,” Danny said, leaning against Jason and letting him usher Danny out of the clinic. Jazz waved as she crossed to the cafe where Dick was waiting, looking worried till he noticed them, then he smiled and waved. Jazz waved back and jogged across, about to tell Dick all about the twins no doubt. 

Jason led Danny to his bike, and got on first, pulling Danny onto the seat behind him. Danny wrapped his arms around Jason and pressed against his back, half hiding from the world. Jason didn’t try to talk to him, he needed time to process. He would talk when he was ready to.

Next

[anakinstwinklebunny]

DOCTOR!ANAKIN HEADCANONS 🩺

TW: at some point it contains mentions of body worshipping, blow job..just in general pretty filthy sexual content so, if you're uncomfortable with the warning, please do not read for your own safety and comfort 💓

Doctor!Anakin who was your doctor in the beginning but already caught your interest. He wasn't like other doctors here, in this clinic. He was actually polite, patient, made actually funny and, most important, no inappropriate jokes to lighten the mood. Plus, he was dead handsome and that alone brought your heart to race like crazy

Doctor!Anakin who surprisingly to you, liked you in a way doctor doesn't like his patients, rather like a lover does. He tried to make different jokes while you were visiting his office to somehow bring himself closer to you. Of course, as much as he wanted to ask you out, he wouldn't do it while he was at work, it'd be unprofessional

Doctor!Anakin who, when you started dating, became your private doctor 24/7

Doctor!Anakin who often gave you the contacts to the best doctors in town which happened to be his close friends

Doctor!Anakin who's absolutely protective over you and always cares about your health. That's why he often suggested to go with you for tests. Since, for example, he knew that you hate blood tests and get very anxious and emotional during it. But it's not like he's all the time filling your mind with testing yourself. He just very gently and calmly asks if you want to go with him (since he tries to test himself regularly) take tests and if you agree, he's more than happy to really be there for you during some of them (he knows how anxious and scared you can be)

Doctor!Anakin who did an operation on you when you had to have one;

Fun fact this was supposed to be a collab with beautiful @kingdomhate to which we agreed to do months ago so @kingdomhate , I'm waiting for you 🙄

As a doctor, Anakin had navigated the intricacies of countless surgeries with precision and unwavering focus. His hands were steady, his mind sharp. But today was different. Today, it was you on the surgical table. Despite the calm facade he maintained, a deep, unspoken worry gnawed at him.

Your eyes, wide with a mix of curiosity and fear, followed the syringe as he prepared it, the clear liquid shimmering ominously inside. "What’s that?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, laced with anxiety.

Anakin’s heart ached at the sight of your uncertainty. He met your gaze with eyes full of warmth, a soft frown creasing his brow as he gently explained. "It’s just the anesthesia, sweetheart. It’s going to help you drift off to sleep, and when you wake up, everything will be over. You won’t feel a thing, I promise."

You nodded, your trust in him unwavering, though the apprehension still lingered in your eyes. "Okay," you murmured, a slight quiver in your voice.

Anakin’s smile was tender, a small attempt to comfort you as his fingers brushed delicately against your cheek, tracing the familiar contours of your face. "We’re going to start now. Are you ready to let go and get some rest?" he asked, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.

You managed a faint smile, trying to muster some lightness in the midst of your fear. "I guess I could use some more sleep," you replied, your tone soft but still tinged with anxiety.

A quiet chuckle escaped him, a sound filled with love and reassurance. As he carefully administered the anesthesia, his touch was as gentle as a whisper. "That’s my brave girl," he murmured, his voice a soothing lullaby. "Just relax and let the world fade away. I’ll be here, right by your side."

As Anakin made his way to your room, fatigue weighed heavily on his shoulders. The operation had been long and demanding, every second requiring his full concentration. But despite the exhaustion tugging at him, a deep sense of relief washed over him knowing that the surgery was a success. The thought of seeing you again filled him with renewed energy.

When he entered the room and saw you lying in bed, a soft smile touched his lips. He moved closer, his eyes warm and filled with affection as they took in your drowsy form. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice gentle, almost a whisper.

You didn’t respond immediately, your eyes hazy and unfocused from the lingering effects of the anesthesia. Instead, you gazed up at him as though you were seeing an apparition, a gentle, almost dreamlike expression on your face.

A quiet, affectionate chuckle escaped Anakin as he noticed the dazed look in your eyes. You were undeniably under the influence of the drugs, and the sight of you like this was both endearing and amusing.

"You're so high right now," he teased, a fond smile playing on his lips as he watched you struggle to focus on his face.

With a clumsy movement, you lifted your hand and poked at the fabric of his smock, your touch light and uncoordinated. "You’re... fine-looking," you mumbled, your voice slow and slurred, as though the words themselves were drifting on a cloud.

Anakin couldn’t help but laugh, the sound deep and rich, filling the room with warmth. There was something so utterly charming about your drugged-up state, and the way you were trying to compliment him despite it all. He raised an eyebrow, still grinning as he leaned a little closer. "Just fine-looking?" he teased back, his tone playful, his eyes sparkling with humor.

Anakin leaned in closer, his gaze softening as he took in every detail of your face. Now just inches away, he could see the delicate curve of your lips, the gentle rise and fall of your breath, and the way your lashes fluttered slightly as you struggled to focus on him.

"You're absolutely gorgeous though" he murmured, his voice low and tender as his eyes traced over your features, lingering on every part of your face like a painter admiring his masterpiece.

You gasped softly, a rosy blush creeping up your cheeks as his words sank in. Your eyes widened in surprise, and you whispered in awe, "That cute guy likes me..."

Anakin’s laughter was warm and full of affection, his heart melting at how sweetly the drugs were affecting you. Your reaction was innocent and utterly charming, like something out of a dream.

"Yes," he replied, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity, "that cute guy really, really likes you." He knew exactly who you were talking about, and the thought made his chest swell with love.

Without a second thought, he leaned in even closer and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment as if to seal the words he had just spoken.

Your eyes widened again, the surprise and delight in them unmistakable. "That cute guy is kissing me!" you exclaimed, your voice rising with excitement, almost as if you couldn’t believe it was real.

Anakin smiled against your skin, pulling back just enough to meet your wide-eyed gaze. "And he’s never going to stop," he whispered, his eyes full of adoration as he looked at you, his heart full to bursting with love.

Doctor!Anakin who can’t help but give you medical advice, even for the smallest things. If you so much as sneeze, he’s ready with remedies, and if you’re hurt, he’ll drop everything to take care for you

Doctor!Anakin who finds solace in your presence. After particularly tough days, he seeks you out to decompress, finding comfort in your embrace and sharing the emotional burden of his job. He’s not afraid to show his vulnerable side with you, whether it’s admitting how hard a day was and etc

Doctor!Anakin whose bedside manner are impeccable (especially when you're sick). He’s attentive, gentle, and goes above and beyond to ensure your comfort

Doctor!Anakin who's favorite show was 'doctor house'

Doctor!Anakin who, even with hectic schedule, tries to prioritize your time and you alone. When he finishes work, he finishes work. It's time for you both. Yes, sometimes he has emergencies but mostly he tries to not pick up his phone when he's with you

Doctor!Anakin who's a coffee addict. He’s practically fueled by coffee, and you often tease him about his excessive consumption. Despite this, you always make sure there’s a fresh pot waiting for him at home after a long shift. Sometimes, you’ll surprise him at work with his favorite coffee order, just to brighten his day.

Doctor!Anakin who is a highly dedicated doctor, often working long shifts that leave him exhausted. He’s passionate about helping people, but it sometimes takes a toll on his mental and physical health. You’re the one who gently reminds him to take breaks, eat properly, and get enough sleep, even if it means dragging him away from the hospital when he forgets to put himself and his wellbeing first

Doctor!Anakin whose relationship with you is the one thing that softens his rough edges. Around you, he lets down his guard, showing a more vulnerable and affectionate side. Just being close to you, whether it’s lying in bed together in silence or holding your hand, helps him cope with the weight of his work.

Doctor!Anakin who knows how important it is to keep the romance alive, so even if it’s something simple like a homemade dinner or a late-night walk, he puts in the effort to make you feel special.

Doctor!Anakin who finds cooking therapeutic after a long day. You often come home to the smell of something delicious on the stove, with Anakin in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, and a content look on his face. He doesn't even know how hot he looks there

Doctor!Anakin who will send you quick texts during breaks—just to check in, see how your day is going, or tell you he loves you. It’s his way of staying connected, even when he can’t be there physically

Doctor!Anakin whose mornings are usually chaotic, especially when he’s on an early shift. You’ve developed a routine where you both navigate the morning rush together—he makes the coffee, you pack his lunch, and you share a quick breakfast before he heads out the door. Or sometimes, more often, when you're too lazy to do that, Anakin just wakes you up gently before leaving for work with small kisses and soft whispers

Doctor!Anakin who is such a worshipper of your body;

Anakin's lips trail over your skin with a reverence that borders a worship. Each kiss is slow, deliberate, as if he's memorizing the taste and texture of every inch of you "so soft..so beautiful.." he kept murmuring between gentle kisses.

He started with your collarbone, the kisses lingering on your delicate line, his breath warm against your skin. His large, overworked and hands gently cradle your sides, pulling you closer as his mouth moves lower, brushing over the curve of your breasts. "Gonna tell you everyday how beautiful you are so it'd stick to that little pretty head of yours"

His touch is precised, tender. His overworked yet skilled hands seem to know your body better than you do. He knows where to touch, how to touch.

He makes you responsive. breathless. loved.

His kisses are unhurried, simply savouring your lovely body in one go. His lips pressed against your stomach, to which your breath hitched and your fingers tugged at his short hair, as much as they could

Doctor!Anakin who doesn't mind some love making in shower

Doctor!Anakin who loves plants. He literally most of the time goes with you to local green marketplace, filled to the brim with different flowers, herbs or plants

Doctor!Anakin who easily gets bold in bed. So, he's a dom but rather a soft dom. And he always makes sure that not only he finishes but you especially, even before him

Doctor!Anakin who really doesn't mind you changing before him;

Anakin glanced over at you as you muttered a curse under your breath, mentioning your need to go to the bathroom. He could see the hesitation in your eyes, the way you were being a bit shy about it, and he couldn’t help but find it endearing. To him, your embarrassment was entirely unnecessary—he had seen you at your most vulnerable, more times than he could count, and it only deepened his affection for you.

"Just do it here," he said casually, his attention still mostly on the TV screen, though his tone was laced with genuine care.

"But—" you started, your voice trailing off as the embarrassment took over.

Anakin shifted his gaze back to you, his eyes locking onto yours with a reassuring warmth. He could see the flush of your cheeks, the slight uncertainty in your expression.

"Babe," he said softly, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, "I literally performed surgery on you. Trust me, seeing you change is the least of my concerns."

You bit your lip, still feeling a bit self-conscious. "Did it gross you out tho?" you mumbled with slightly pinky cheeks

He chuckled warmly at your question with a head shake "No, not at all. I’m a doctor—things like that don’t gross me out," he reassured you, his voice gentle yet amused. "Besides," he added with a playful glint in his eyes, "I see you naked almost daily. There’s nothing you could do that would make me think any less of you."

Doctor!Anakin who sometimes send you flowers to your workplace without much occasion

Doctor!Anakin who definitely knows how to finger you and make you a gasping mess

Doctor!Anakin who does not mind making you cry (during some love making of course). It just gives him the possibility to haunt you with 'crybaby' nickname

Doctor!Anakin who sometimes isn't there to satisfy your needs and you have to something else;

It was common for anakin to leave for some serious medics meeting in (or out of) town that lasted days. Each time, you felt yourself missing his strong arms around you, his warm body in bed, his soft words yet what you especially missed was those sleepless nights where nothing was more important for him than making you his all over again

So, without him near, you couldn't help but find something to satisfy your primal hunger and what was better than Anakin's pillow?

It felt embarrassing..it felt wrong..yet so good at the same time. With your imagination running wild, you humped on the soft material. Recreating the images of his beautiful face gazing as you ride him, you actually cursed the medical company that managed to took him away from you. Even for those three days

Your actions only brought moans and gasps from your parted lips. It's all you could hear and with your eyes closed, you haven't even acknowledged who appeared in the room

When Anakin took steps through the stairs up to your shared bedroom, the light betrayal and shock spun around his body to sank to his skin. At first he was sure he caught you cheating but that would be impossible - he thought - because his sweet girl would not let any other man touch her, right?

But when he quietly got inside the room, ready to caught you in the act, he was not prepared to see you riding his pillow, moaning out his name like a prayer

his expression was rather puzzled and he still tried to fully understand what's just happening when your eyes met. The embarrassed blush crept on your cheeks and tied your lips.

So that's how embarrassment feels like

“Don’t mind me, please, continue.” his words brought your embarrassment mix with confusion

But when you didn't do as he said, suddenly too shy and embarrassed, on the brink of tears for being found out, he lose his restraint and made his way to you. Taking the soaked pillow out from between your legs, he pushed your face down to the bed and made sure your hips stay in the air. “I didn’t expect my kind, sweet patient to be so dirty.” his eyes took a good look at your sex with a tired yet somehow pleased smile, “You should have told your doctor to help and wait for him to appear” the sound of unbuttoned belt rang in your ear. This was happening all so quickly. You haven't even had a chance to say anything, just submitting to him but still feeling so.. humiliated, awkward “And since I stopped you from helping yourself, I’ll take the responsibility to help you Miss y/l/n"

Doctor!Anakin who you sometimes surprised in his office during his lunch break and things can go wild..;

As you suck on him, his body arches off the chair, a low moan escaping his throat. His large hand tangling in your hair as he loses himself in the sensation of your mouth on his cock "That's it... oh fuck..." His hips start to move rhythmically, seeking more of you as his moans fill the air "just like that... suck on it baby..." He pants "Oh fuck... don't you dare stop.. didn't know I have such little warm throat to bruise.. shit--"

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @erosmutt @haydensprettyprincess @mistress-amidala @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @fuckmyskywalker @slutforfinnickodair

(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know 💋)

[transmascissues]

12 weeks post-top surgery thoughts

most importantly, i’m absolutely fucking in love with how things look! it’s still not set in stone yet, my surgeon said i won’t really see the final result until up to a year after, but I’m so happy with it already.

my surgeon’s default timeline would’ve had me starting scar tape at 4 weeks, but i still haven’t started yet because some little scabs are still hanging around even though most of my scars are completely healed. my surgeon didn’t seem concerned about it taking longer than expected, she just said everyone’s body is different. given that i have a connective tissue disorder and skin that just hates being messed with at all, i’m not surprised that it’s been slow going and i’m just happy that the rest is healing so well. i just had another post-op today and was cleared to start using scar tape because the scabbing is so minimal at this point, so i can finally move on to the next stage of healing.

i can (mostly) lift my arms now! they still can’t quite go all the way up, but i have enough of my mobility back that the only things i really struggle with are super high shelves like the ones above my fridge, and things like the washer and dryer that i have to reach really far to get into. technically, i was supposed to wait six months before raising them because that’s what my surgeon usually recommends for aesthetic purposes, but i have to be able to raise them to do my job anyway so i’m not limiting myself beyond the natural limits of discomfort at this point.

my chest muscles are mostly back to normal too, but they’re still very sensitive. when i flex them, it doesn’t hurt or feel uncomfortable but i am a lot more aware of the feeling than i was before. they also still tire out more easily than they used to — i’m back at work now, and i’ve learned the hard way that i tend to favor one arm over the other for certain tasks because when i do any of them for too long, i start to feel it in that side of my chest. it’s not anything too bad, but i’m still making sure my shifts are spread out because i don’t want to risk overdoing it.

i’m getting used to touching my own chest, but being touched by other people still feels super weird and honestly uncomfortable at times, particularly when it’s my bare chest and not over my shirt. i’ve been touching it a lot to try to desensitize it since around week 3 or 4, and it seems to be working as far as my own touch, but other people is a whole other story — when my boyfriend is touching my bare chest and their hand touches the scars, it doesn’t actually hurt but i react to it like it does. i suspect it’s more of a mental thing than anything, that since i’m still instinctively protective of it and not quite used to how it feels, touches that i’m not in control of just automatically set off alarm bells. it’s also just a generally foreign feeling even without the weirdness of healing because my boyfriend never really touched my chest before surgery since i was dysphoric about it, so it seems to require desensitization on multiple levels. i’ve given them permission to keep touching it even when i flinch (unless i explicitly ask them to stop) because i want to make sure i start getting used to the feeling.

i’m also still very sensitive to pressure against my chest, especially the front of it. it’s getting easier to lie down on my side now but i’m still using my body pillow to take some pressure off of the scars under my armpits, because if i don’t i usually can only stay in that position for a little while. my boyfriend can mostly lay their head on my chest for short periods of time now, but the position matters because if the weight isn’t distributed evenly enough or if it’s on the wrong part of my chest, it hurts. that being said, less intense pressure on the front like a hug or holding something to my chest is pretty much fine, i’m just still more sensitive to it (as with everything). i’ve been able to lay face down on top of my boyfriend a couple times without discomfort too, but i’m still erring on the side of caution and not laying on my chest too much yet.

when i was around a month in and thought i would be starting scar care soon, i was really nervous about it — particularly about the scar massage — because of the state my chest was in. i still didn’t feel like i could press on it or move the skin around or pick it up with my fingers at all, and the scar tissue underneath was still really thick and firm. i assumed that all of that would stay the same until i did the massages to break down the scar tissue and loosen things up, but i can now confirm after another month and a half of doing nothing while things healed, my skin is naturally a lot more mobile and a lot of that really thick scar tissue has already broken down. obviously i’m still going to start massaging now because i want to give myself the best possible chance of healing well, but i wish i had known how much my chest would be able to bounce back on its own. in hindsight, i’m glad i ended up having to wait to start the massage instead of doing it back when my chest was much less healed, because i’m much more comfortable manipulating it now.

every once in a while, i’ll get sharp pains in my chest. they aren’t horribly painful, mostly just unpleasant. they feel a lot like the nerve zaps i was getting earlier in recovery so it might be another round of nerves reconnecting, but it also happens more often when i’m working so it’s hard to say if it’s nerves or over-exertion. either way, i always make sure to take it easy when i start to feel that, just in case it is a sign of me doing too much.

i typically almost never eat meat, but i chose to reintroduce it into my diet after surgery to get more protein, because i wanted to make sure my body had everything it needs to heal and protein is a huge part of that. now that i’m pretty much all healed skin-wise and just waiting for everything to settle, i’ve decided it’s time to go back to my usual diet of not-fully-vegetarian-but-pretty-damn-close. i’m sure the diet change wasn’t strictly necessary but i don’t regret doing it, though i am glad to be switching back now.

putting on shirts still hasn’t gotten old. seeing how they look over a flat chest honestly feels surreal, but in the best way. hugging people and being able to press all the way into it js also still such a great feeling. i’m far enough in now that i can do all of that stuff without worrying about it, but still early enough that it all feels really new and special, and i’ve been thoroughly enjoying that.

wearing a more genderfucky outfit out in public for the first time post-op was a fucking blast. my boyfriend and i went to a new year’s eve party, and getting to show off my chest through a sheer lace top and my facial hair alongside makeup was so much fun. it was the first time i’ve been able to go all out without the lingering feeling in the back of my mind that dressing up means inevitably being seen as a woman. i definitely didn’t look like a cis man to any of the people who saw me, but they could clearly tell i wasn’t a cis woman at the very least, and knowing that made me so much more confident.

i’m far enough away now from being in the trenches of early recovery that the reality of the fact that i got such a big surgery has started to fade. when i really think about the fact that my body went through all of that and about how hard early recovery was, it doesn’t quite feel real anymore. i’m starting to reach the point one of my friends told me about, where my chest being like this feels so normal that it’s just like “yeah, of course, it’s always been like this, right?” it’s wild, really, the difference a couple months can make — it wasn’t that long ago that i was exhausted and arguably depressed from the early recovery process, and now it all feels so normal that i have to remind myself it took all of that to get here. i never really doubted that it would be worth it in the end, but i’m still more sure of that now than i ever have been.

the last couple months have been a long road, but somehow they’ve also flown by. it’s given me so much appreciation for my body — its potential to transform and what it’s been able to withstand. i wouldn’t trade the experience for anything.

[triptychgardener]

i saw you mentioned that transfem!calliope was practically canon, could you maybe elaborate on that? (im not dissing your hcs btw im just confused on where its suggested in canon)

Hey so it took me a while to get to this just because I wanted to solidify some thoughts about it! Won't go into as much detail wrt my other posts, but we can at the very least start with her handle: uranianUmbra

Uranian is an old-fashioned term, generally used for gay men, though also used in different ways to describe other-gendered people or ways of being, occasionally used as a catch-all similar to how Queer is used today. Its history is complicated and occasionally uncomfortable, as a lot of queer history can be, but notably, one potential root of this idea came from Urning

Now obviously conceptions of gender and sexuality were a lot different then, and I don't want to simplify this, but in Homestuck, it's pretty undeniable that Calliope is a woman stuck in a man's body, and this is likely why Hussie used that very specific word in the first place: to foreshadow the eventual Cherubian Twist.

And not that framing: a woman trapped in a man's body. Cherubs (at least as we are told) have two equal halves who can predominate. But the framing of their entire dynamic makes it very clear that this is Caliborn's body, not Calliope.

Callie's ideal self, in Callie Ohpeee, her Trollsona, is positioned as something to be taken off to reveal her true self. She feels that she needs to conform her exterior to match her interior self, something Caliborn never has to do.

Hell, even as she goes to sleep for the last time, she removes her jacket to reveal Caliborn's shirt underneath. It's his body, not hers.

Not only that, but throughout the story, we see that Callie experiences something close to either dysphoria or body dysmorphia. She hates the way she looks, and affects an especially sweet demeanor in order to not scare people away. She sees herself as a monster because her body becomes the most hideous masculine monster the story has ever known! Literally Lord English.

And shockingly, even though it (in my opinion) handles it poorly, the Epilogues do give us a brief insight into cherub gender, where it basically illuminates that Aranea was kind of talking out of her ass about cherub reproduction, and that Cherubs have no actual biological sex or gender. Meaning that somewhere along the way, Caliborn and Calliope CHOSE their genders, likely influenced by the human and troll internet they were permitted. Callie perhaps forming her own gender in opposition to her brother. This also probably created the ouroboros through which gender became a thing in the first place but thats besides the point. Point is, Callie was likely not a woman until she chose to be a woman. I.e. transgender.

Now the epilogues took it in what I find to be a kind of boring direction, i.e. "well cherubs have no real biological sex so that means I have to be nonbinary now" which is just such a lukewarm take on the imposition of gender but whatever. Point is that Callie is transgender end of story goodnight!!!!!

[erenjaegerwifee]

Summers In Pandora 🌸 Day 3 - Angry/Hate Sex

Paring: Lo’ak x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Summary: Lo’ak doesn’t like it when you spend time with his brother so he shows you he’s the best you’ll ever have.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, established relationship, mentions of alcohol and drinking, smut, hate fucking, angry sex, rough sex, spitting, explicit language, choking, marking, overstimulation, begging, gagging, orals (m receiving),

Word Count: 3.6K

Index: kelku - house,

Disclaimer:  All my characters are aged-up! If this makes you uncomfortable feel free to scroll and don’t interact with my posts.

Main M.list | Event M.list

You struggle to tie your new top around your neck, it was beautifully made using red and yellow beads by your boyfriend. He was always so generous when it came to you, and that wasn’t just with gift giving. Getting into a relationship with Lo’ak was one of the best decisions you ever made, you were so excited when he asked to court you. You love him dearly but of course it’s Lo’ak, he tends to have a knack to piss you off.  

It’s not really his fault though, you try so hard to show him you’ll be a good wife to him when you both officially mate. And you know he is aware you’ll treat him with love and respect when it happens, what sets you off is the way every woman in this clan wants to climb on his cock. 

In the past few months you’ve grown quite close with Lo’ak’s family, hanging out and having dinner with them daily. They have grown to become like your family. Tonight, there will be another clan celebration, as much as you love your clan wholeheartedly, you hate seeing girls trip over their feet to be close to your man knowing that he was courting you. You are so tired of them getting in your way constantly, you can’t even kiss him without getting side eyed by the next bitch.  

You decided to get ready with Kiri at her family kelku and leave from there, but when you arrived everyone was at the house but Lo’ak was nowhere to be seen. You didn’t think too much off it as everyone was finishing up either attire for the party. Everyone looked ethereal as they should as the leading family, sometimes you wonder how you got so lucky to join it.   

Kiri stepped out to help her mother with some last-minute health paste which left you with everyone else in the kelku. Neytiri had asked you so kindly to get Tuk ready while she was gone so she wouldn’t be rushing and you couldn’t say no. You styled her hair pretty and helped her knot her clothes properly and she ran out of the room excitedly to show her big brother and father who were seated in the common area.  

When you turned around and she disappeared you go back to struggling with your top and not getting anywhere. You keep ducking your head out to curtain to see if either Kiri, Neytiri or Lo’ak comes in but instead Jake and Tuk leave. So now you stand helplessly in the house with Neteyam.  

He has always been a sweet big brother to you, always defending you and protecting you when he sees necessary. The only reason he hesitates to ask him for help is because Lo’ak hates it when you have to ask or depend on Neteyam for anything instead of him. But at this moment you don’t have a choice. You loosely tie your loincloth on your hips not finished with your body jewelry and stuck your head out the room. Neteyam sits with a tablet in his hands scrolling through something you can’t make out from here, you glance around to see if there was anyone else before you call out to him, “Hey, nete” Neteyam’s head snaps to your voice and chuckles at your floating head, “Yea?” it made you smile how quickly he was ready to drop what he was doing, “I need help, come here” you duck your head back into the room and make sure to hold the top covering your body properly before he walked in.  

When he entered, he stood at the doorway looking at you in the mirror reflection, “Hm?”

“I need help to tie my top, my fingers are slipping I don’t know why today of all days I can’t tie a knot” you giggle. Neteyam laughs at you and walks up behind you pushing your hair over your shoulder, you watch his hands disappear behind your back grazing your skin to tie the knot. It feels a little more intimate than usual but you chalk it up to Lo’ak’s opinion of you asking Neteyam for help.  

“How long have you been struggling in here you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to finish?” he laughs as he focuses on securing your top. “What do you mean?” you ask him watching his eyes dart to make eyes contact with you through the mirror. “Dad went with Tuk to meet mom and Kiri, Lo’ak is Eywa knows where so he said wait for you until you’re done so we can go to the party.” his explanation makes sense he has always been that kind of gentleman.  

“I don’t know where Lo’ak is either and I’m not done I still have a couple things to do so it looks like you’re still waiting” you laugh and he joins in with you giggling about stupid stuff. All of a sudden Lo’ak yanks the curtain open and barges inside catching you and Neteyam in front of the mirror, “Hey baby Kiri said you were- what's going on here?” 

You can hear it in his voice, he feels sour Neteyam is in here with you, they always had a good relationship but Lo’ak has a serious sharing problem, he just couldn’t get it past his head that Neteyam respects your relationship, he doesn’t want you, and you don’t want him.  

“Nothing baby bro, I’m helping your girlfriend tie her top.” Lo’ak notes the loosely tied loincloth around your hips, you could see the gears turning in his head, he must think something happened between you while he wasn’t here, speaking off, where was he? 

“No one else was here and I wanted to finish getting ready” you voice spoke up, “And where were you? I thought you’d be here when I got here” you look at him in the mirror as Neteyam finished securing your top and stepped away from you looking at Lo’ak. 

Neteyam is also well aware Lo’ak doesn’t like it when he is around you, it honestly amused him how much you apologize to him about Lo’ak’s behavior in those matters. “I was busy, and I think she’s good now bro don’t need to wait anymore I’ll Walk her to the party.” Lo’ak said to Neteyam. 

Neteyam left the room after sending you a quick goodbye and you turn to Lo’ak, “you don’t have to act like that I just asked for his help, and who were you with?” you ask him as you start fixing your clothes better. “Oh, so you care so much about how I treat him why don’t you let him help you take your clothes off now he can see how sorry you are” he rolls his eyes. 

“Lo’ak don’t be like that you know that nothing happened and if you were here, I wouldn’t have had to ask him in the first place” you know the argument is brewing, he’s gonna say something he doesn’t mean much like he just did and you’re both gonna be at that party glaring at each other instead of dancing on him, “And where were you, Lo? What were you so busy with?” you turn to face him now one hand on your hip as you wait for him to respond. 

“I was helping out a friend, I just ran a little late.” 

“Who?” 

He sighed he knew you were gonna take this in the wrong way but he was honest anyways, “Cilia, she asked me to restring her bow a couple days ago, today was the only day I had some time” your brow furrowed at his response, “Cilia? That girl you flashed you at the river a week ago? The one who is constantly trying to bend over your lap? You went into her kelku willingly?” your voice raised with every question.  

“Why are you always on my case about this sluttly girls? It's not my fault they want me-”  

“No Lo’ak but it is your fault when you entertain them, how many times must I explain this to you?” 

“I don’t know what more you want from me. Ever since we’ve been together, I never crawled into bed with any of them. You on the other hand always wait for me to turn my back so you have a reason to run to my fucking brother” 

“I’m sorry, hold up. Don’t let me misunderstand, are you telling me I’m in some kind of secret relationship with your brother?” 

“Well, are you? I mean come on your basically asking for it tying your loincloth like that while he was in here? It just sat on your hips waiting for a light breeze to blow it off”  

“Oh, fuck you Lo’ak, how can you even accuse me of something like this, you're such a dick” you storm out of the room walking to the celebration by yourself. You know he is right behind you; you can hear him walking behind you but you make no effort to slow your pace or even turn to talk to him.  

When you made it to the party your branched off going in different directions, you walking over to the drinks table and he went somewhere else. Kiri came up to you while you were pouring yourself a drink and asked why you were looking so pissed. You explained what Lo’ak did and how you two argued and no surprise she understands your issue with it. It seems only Lo’ak has his head up his ass. 

You start to feel the music a bit and sway your hips from side to side, Lo’ak was nowhere in sight even though you were fully ready to forgive him and dance like you originally planned. But it seems that asshole has other plans, you walk through the crowd politely greeting people who tried talking to you until you spotted Lo’ak across the clearing. He sits next to Cilia a little to closely laughing at some stupid joke she just said.  

Why is he doing this to you? Why is he torturing you like this? He knows you don’t like her; he is well aware you would throw her ass off a cliff if you could and right now you feel like you might. Your eyes dart to everyone else sitting around them. Spider making small talk with a na’vi girl. Tuk runs circles around the fire with her friends and Neteyam has a girl pressed up against a nearby tree looking like he’s ready to eat her. 

You felt bad for what you were about to do, you know it will only add fuel to the fire but Lo’ak fucking deserves it right now, he has done nothing but be mean to you and ignore your wishes you’ve had enough. You prance your way over to Neteyam tapping on his shoulder to get his attention away from the girl. 

He doesn’t seem too happy about being interrupted but his face softens when he sees yours, and not only that but your glassy eyes make him concerned, you look like a sad baby kitten. He never liked when you cried, no matter who’s fault it was. “Hey, hey what happened?”  

You pout your lip out like you were about to sob and glanced at Lo’ak giving him the hint, “I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to interrupt I just don’t know who else to- to-” you sniffle clearly holding in your cries “It’s okay, don’t cry, let’s get you something to eat” he walks you over to the food table that was a couple feet away from Lo’ak, his arm was rested around your shoulder as you dried your tears laughing at his bad jokes in attempt to cheer you up. 

He stood with you while you ate, even cleaning the side of your mouth when you got a little messy. On the other hand, Lo’ak was pissed, he could kill a palulukan. Why on this planet is his girl eating off a leaf Neteyam is holding? Why is his girl so close to him, he knows Neteyam can smell her, why is she so close they are smelling each other.  

Lo’ak gets up and storms over but to his surprise Neteyam don’t budge this time, “bro back up let me talk to my girl” 

“Your girl? Has talking to that girl make you lose braincells? You know y/n doesn’t like her; anyone can tell you that. Why are you over there grinning your teeth at her?” 

“Not that it’s any of your fucking business but Jackson asked me to put in a good word”  

Neteyam’s angry turning into confusion, “Avatar Jackson? He’s into that bimbo?” 

“I know right, her conversations are fucking mind numbing” Lo’ak matched his tone easily, it was not Neteyam he was mad at, it was you, for being dumb. “Now can I talk to my damn girl?” he said in a less angry tone and Neteyam raised his hands in surrender and went back to his girl. 

Truthfully you felt kind of bad, you had no idea he was helping out a friend, but it’s too late for you to not be mad because you are sure he is. He doesn’t say a word only pulls you in the direction of his family kelku, he knows no one is home so he can have privacy.  

When you entered his private room, you turn to face him watching him close the curtain shut, “Do you just leave home every day thinking about how to piss me off? Seriously, you fucking know I hate it when you do shit like that. And fake cry? What are you a child? Did I take away your fucking lollipop?” 

“Well by that logic Cilia is trying to take away my lollipop” you cross your arms over your chest. Lo’ak ran his hands over his face trying to gather up the patience to deal with you, problem is he ran out of it when he caught you getting dresses with another man’s help. He knows he could have ended this whole thing earlier if he told you he was just being a wingman but he was too caught up in the shit you were doing, he didn’t think that far. 

“Are you crazy? No one is tryna take anything away from you baby. I’m right here missing a perfectly good party to put your ass back into place”  

“Excuse me? Put my ass back into place? She was practically grinding on your lap; you should know by now I don’t fucking like her and I have good fucking reasons to.”

Fair enough you do but still it’s the principle, you tried to one up him with his own brother, what were you planning to do if he didn’t interrupt you? “Do you hear yourself when you talk? Honestly, I don’t see how you could have blown this more out of proportion, I am your man, I’m happy to provide for you for the rest of my life but Eywa knows you have to pat down his fucking attitude.” 

“Make me” you voice was stern you aren’t giving up, yet those words make Lo’ak growl. 

Lo’ak didn’t say anything more only walking you to you and grabbing you by the throat, he pushed you back until your back hit the wall behind you and you were up on your tippy toes. “You need to fix that fucking mouth.” he growled out. 

Lo’ak was towering you even on your toes and pulling your body forward by your neck to meet his lips. His kiss was rough but his lips were soft, he took your bottom lip between his teeth pulling on it before he lets go and comes back in for your lips. 

His heated kiss make you blush, you felt the heat run down your neck and you whimper. Your hands move from your side to hold around his neck but with his free hand he grabs them both pinning them on over your head, “Nah no touching” he said meanly. 

“Lo’ak I-” he shushed you with a kiss and sucked down the skin of your neck. Lo’ak felt marks on your collarbone and neck admiring the way your skin bruised so easy. He let go of your body completely pushing you down by your shoulders roughly. Your knees hit the floor hard but you didn’t think about the pain to focused on you boyfriend untying his loincloth watching his cock spring out. 

Lo’ak brough a hand up to stroke it over your face, you looked so cute crossing your eyes to watch his length before you. “Open” he demanded and when you obeyed, he spit on your tongue, “Don’t swallow, stick your tongue out. You're gonna learn what this fucking mouth is good for”  

He stuck his cock down your throat without warning, making you gag on it. He threw his head back as he thrusted back and forth into your tight mouth not giving you a chance to breath. Lo’ak moaned when your throat tightens around him, your mouth felt so good on him. “Gonna let anyone else fuck your mouth like this?”  he pulled his cock out for you to answer and he rubs the tip from your lips to your cheeks and back while you answer a strained ‘no’ shaking your head. 

Lo’ak rams his cock back into your mouth making your breathing uneven while you gag on him. When he pulls out of your mouth, he pulled you up by your hair and grabbed your bicep pushing you towards his bed. Lo’ak ripped the sting holding your top on behind your neck and snatched your loincloth off. You gasped at his actions but it really wasn’t out of the ordinary for Lo’ak to rip up your clothes. You'd say you quite liked it when he fucked you this rough because he doesn't always do it. Whether it is because he is angry at you or in his rut, Lo’ak still knows how you like it.  

He pushing your body up on the bed and got on his knees spreading your legs. He didn’t say much as he tapped his cock on your clit making you jump. Lo’ak didn’t want to say right now but you looked so pretty, tear stains down your cheeks and puffy lips, he did a number on you, and you’re just getting started. 

He pushing in harshly not giving you a chance before he’s fucking into you. No matter how much times you take him, you never really get used to the feeling of his stretching you out like that but it always feels heavenly. Lo’ak thrusted into you with a brutal pace, rocking your entire body as he did, “no smart comments now? You all out baby?” you couldn't even answer him you could only moan and whimper under him. 

Lo’ak pulled out and flipped you over on all fours, “You wanted to be a little slut huh, prance around my brother knowing I fucking hate it, tell me who do you belong to?” he thrust back into you gathering up your hair into a makeshift ponytail and pulling your head up to stare at the ceiling. He fucked into your cunt using your hair to pull you back into his thrust you mewl feeling his gritty cock stretch you out.  

“Y- you Lo, I belong to you-” your cut yourself off with a moan, as he pounds into you. Lo’ak knew you were close, he knew you wanted to release, but did you deserve that? “Wanna cum baby?” he bent over your body to talk to you, “Yes, Yea wanna cum on your cock” your words are jumbled but he understands anyways.  

“You sure it’s my cock you wanna cum on? You sure it’s not my brother’s?” you barely process his question before you answer, “No yours- yours" you shout. “I don’t know baby I'm gonna need a little convincing” he said cockily. 

“Please Lo- wanna cum so bad please?” he doesn’t respond to your pleads as you muster up the breath to do it again. “Love your cock yawne, not his pleasee” Lo’ak again said nothing to your words, he loved here them but he didn’t want you to know how that just yet. “Lo’ak I’m gonna cum gonna cum!” you were reaching the end of your resolve. You can’t hold this much longer you’re about to burst.  

“Lo’ak, Lo’ak, Lo’ak-” your chant his name as if it would change his mind, “Can’t believe you purposefully used him to get me jealous, you get off on watching me get man at Neteyam?” his mistake for saying Neteyam’s name, your cunt gush on his cock unintentionally just as Lo’ak utter his brother’s name and he felt it. 

“Oh, I see, you want him so fucking much you’re cuming at the sound of his name now?! Such a fucking slut.” Lo’ak doesn’t let up, he pounds in your cunt making you scream in overstimulation, you beg and beg him to give you a break but he never lets up. You cum three more times in his cock due to it, “yea take it, fucking take my cock, he’ll never be able to fuck you the way I do and you’ll fucking remember that”  

Lo’ak bent his head down to your neck and bit you, making you scream out and leaving a nasty purple bruise on your skin, he loves hearing how he makes you scream, gives him a nice since of pride knowing his girl gets off on his cock so well. “Gonna cum in this tight cunt, make you mine for real now, let’s see you flirt with other men.”  

Lo’ak jackhammered into your cunt letting his cum shoot deep inside you. You left his cock twitch before you drop down onto his bed sideways with him spooning you form behind. Lo’ak made no move to get up or pull out he simply rubbed along your skin gently as you fell into sleep for the night.  

🌸 I hope you all enjoyed reading this one! Ik it learned more towards angry sex than hate sex but I do still like it! Please don’t repost my work on any other app or website!

🌸 Reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated

Taglist:

@rivatar @strongheartneteyam @xylianasblog @delusionalwh6re @nilahsstuff @neteyamsoare @inlovewithpandora @m1tsu-ki @teymars @kylimarz

[aliidarling]

first time requesting 😋😋

But i went through all your danny ones bro please i luv how crazy you make him.

I would like a wesker one, smuttiest thing you could think of 😫🙏🙏 Yk how sable has the new swimsuit cosmetic? Basically Mc/reader? (idk how you would describe) Runs into wesker in their cute bathing suit 😼 pls abd thanks for being my source of entertainment at 5 am

HAHAH thank you so muchhh!!! i try to make danny as canon-like as i can :)) ive never done wesker before but i can just for u😝

i’m not very educated on wesker lore, i’ve only played re2,3,4,6,& 7 which is basically the games without him 💀 so excuse me if i don’t write him that well! but i love dbd/stars wesker 🤗

the beach

ALBERT WESKER x fem!reader

nsfw content — pls scroll if uncomfortable!!

summary; you’re spawned into the trial wearing a cute swimsuit and albert likes it veryyy much!

warnings; pervy wesker, dub con kinda, fingering, mean weaker, male masturbation, fist fucking, no penetration but he cums on your pussy :3

from the moment you spawned into the trial, you felt the cold air brush against parts of your body it should not be available to. why could you feel the wind blowing against your ass? this had to be some sick joke.

it was like the entity was laughing at you. you looked down at your body to be met with the sight of a cute little bikini— a pink plaid set with strawberries littered over the two thin piece of clothing. the tiny straps holding up the bikini were flimsy and tied into little bows at each side of your hips with two matching ones at your shoulders.

this couldn’t get any worse, you thought.

you were thankful to spawn alongside your fellow girlfriends, feng-min, yui, and claire. all their eyes immediately cast to your outfit, feng-mins cheeks going pink as she gasped softly.

“oh! you must be so cold—“ she says immediately, scooting closer to shamelessly ogle your breasts. you blush and push her away with a playful grumble.

“let’s just get started on those generators..”

you all find the nearest generator and quickly get to work, fingers fiddling with the wires. a few times you accidentally get sparked by it but never bad enough that it causes an explosion. you’re on your highest alert, hoping the killer is one of those mindless monsters instead of the human ones, like ghostface or the legion. the mastermind probably wouldn’t even bat an eye at you, he’s so stuck up his own ass he probably isn’t even into others.

after a short minute of you all working together, the generator finally pops and the bright light begins to shine, alerting the killer of your location. it doesn’t even take five seconds for the chase music to begin, the loud heart beat taunting you.

it was as if the entity was making fun of you today, bullying you relentlessly. you wondered if she was sitting in the clouds eating popcorn, giggling at your facial expression dropping once you saw the mastermind scanning his surroundings.

once his eyes set on you, you immediately yelled at the girls to run and work on the other generators. you’ll loop him for as long as you can, you told them. you don’t have much time to react before the blonde man lunges at you harshly from afar, missing you by a few inches. you rush off to the side and break out into a sprint towards a jungle gym.

“don’t waste my time, deary. you’re wearing a slutty swim suit, you think you’ll last before it gets caught on a twig?” he mocks, his deep voice making you shiver. you hug yourself at his words, scowling as you run around a pallet with him, trying to greed the pallet.

“don’t be a pervert!” you scold, running pass the pallet to trick him, only to double back and drop it on his face last second once he’s standing close enough. a guttural groan is heard from him as he stumbles back, his sunglasses falling off his face. he glares at you.

the few seconds he’s caught off guard your eyes graze over his figure, admiring his rare outfit. it was a uniform of some sort, blue button up with a tactical vest and black slacks. his sleeves were cuffed and tugged up to the crook of his elbow, showing his veiny fore arms and expensive looking wrist watch. you could bet it had a dozen cracks on it by now.

“you haven’t gotten laid in what, months? years? no wonder you’re so uptight!” you yell. “maybe some pussy would do you a favor!” you shriek, still feeling a little offended over his comment on how slutty you looked. as if you had a choice wearing this!

“you’ll regret those words.” he hisses, lunging towards you and managing to grasp ahold of your body, throwing you over his shoulder roughly. you squeal, thrashing around as he starts to lead you to the secluded basement. great, you had really pissed him off.

you’re caught by surprise when he throws you onto the cold floor without any care, a small yelp leaving your throat as you try to stand up. he immediately pushes down on your back with his foot, crushing you into the floor. he grinds his boot into your soft skin, admiring how much of your body was revealed by the flimsy bikini.

“did you anger the entity, darling? no wonder she cursed you with such a scandalous outfit, your frustrating personality must of done what it always does.” he mocks, feeling his pants tighten at the sight of you on the floor under his boot, your pretty skin dirty.

“oh, fuck you! you’re so god damn annoying i swear to—“ you start, getting interrupted when you suddenly feel his boot shove itself between your thighs, rubbing down against your bikini bottom. you squeak, your body jolting at the unexpected friction.

“what? what’s wrong?” he coo’d, a cocky grin on his stupidly handsome face, his sunglasses hiding his eyes. he grinds his boot against your clothed pussy, relishing in the noises you suppressed. he could hear the small gasp leaving your system.

“you pervert, get your boot off my..” you whimper, voice cracking. you blink in surprise as he kneels down behind you, admiring your body from his angle. your butt was pretty much in his face, in your hands and knees. you gulped hard, feeling humiliated. and slightly aroused.

“what? what’d you say?” he tchs, large fingers tugging at the straps that hold your bikini together, the little bow threatening to give out. one little pull of his fingers and your bare butt and pussy would be on display for him.

soon enough he pulls on the thin strap and it falls off your hips, discarding onto the floor. you gasp as the cold air brushes against you, clenching down subconsciously.

“i hate you.” you whimper, pouting as he runs his fingers over your glistening pussy, his other rustling within his clothes. you heard wrinkling and the unzipping of his slacks.

he pulls his half hard-on out, pre cum dripping off the firm tip. he was extremely turned on by the sight of you bent over with your butt in the air line a dog, pouty lips and flushed cheeks. you looked so adorable.

“shut your lips and stay quiet. i can’t have anyone seeing me with you.” he spits out your name like you were a disgrace to be upon his tongue and you can’t help but feel a little offended. you weren’t that bad of a person!

“what is that supposed to mean?!” you gawk at him, pressing your lips together once he swats at your butt, silencing you. you go back to looking down at the basement floor as he smoothly slides two of his glove-clad fingers into your hole, watching how you take him in perfectly. it was a small squeeze but he manages, his other hand wrapping around his cock to lazily pump.

the precum drips down his cock onto his hand, a husky moan leaving his throat as his head leans back, bathing in the pleasure of the little fantasy he has in his head— fucking your tight pussy. but he knows he can’t achieve that, not here, that is. maybe another day. and he didn’t want you to know how damn desperate he was to be inside you, rutting against your butt like a’ animal in heat. he’d rather die then let you see him in such a submissive and vulnerable state, pussy drunk.

“cum for me, dearest.” he rasps, fingering you harder and deeper in attempts to push you over the edge. your orgasm takes you by surprise as he grinds hard against a very deep part of you, making you bite down to conceal your shriveled up scream. white flashes in your eye sight and you go limp, face down with your ass hanging in the air, cum dripping down your soft thighs and onto the cold concrete floor.

he pulls away with a gasp, focusing on fisting his cock now. he clenches his fist and slides it up and down at a rough pace, low deep noises leaving his throat. he positions his head right at your entrance, giving himself a few last pumps. he shoots out his load— aiming for your pretty hole, mixing his fluids with yours.

“ooh, that’s a pretty sight, doll.” he croons, panting. he fixes up his pants, watching how you lay on the floor like a dumb puppy, catching your own breath after that hard fingering he gave you.

“don’t be pathetic, dear. i didn’t even go that hard.” he scoffs, standing up to his full height, towering over you. he gives you a nasty stink eye before walking off, leaving you in your glory on the ground with your bikini by your side.

[otomehoneyybearr]

The Beast's Love is Unstoppable

Kagari's Story MDNI please!

This is the script version of the story. The lovely @caffedrine posted amazing summaries of Kagari, Matias and Azel's story! Please check them out (≧◡≦) ♡! Thank you!

Today’s the day Kagari will be coming to Rhodolite.

There’s still a few hours until our meetup, so to calm my excited heart, I went out, but then—

Kagari: "Princess, I've finally found you."

Emma: "K-Kagari!?"

My eyes widen at the sight of him as I was dragged into an alley and pinned against a wall.

Our long-awaited reunion was unexpectedly sudden, and my surprise outweighed my joy.

Emma: "You came much earlier than the scheduled time."

Kagari: "I wanted to see your face, even if it was one second sooner."

(So Kagari felt the same way.)

Emma: "I've been restless wanting to see you too."

As he caressed my cheek, a warm feeling spread in the center of my chest.

(As much as I want to savor this reunion.)

(Right now, taking him home is my top priority.)

Kagari "...Princess."

(…!)

Suddenly, his perfectly handsome face came close enough that I could feel his breath...

Kagari: "Finally, I get to be with you. Hold me as tight as you can."

(I was too late… No, I think he was already like this.)

Before I knew it, there was a thick, syrupy heat in his emerald eyes, and alarms started going off in my head.

Dealing with this needy general outdoors is akin to fighting a losing battle.

Emma: "Of course, I'll give you plenty of hugs and kisses. Now, let's head home."

Kagari: "I've had enough of holding back. Now is fine."

Emma: "Please just hold off on... Ah..."

Ignoring my plea, Kagari entwines his legs with mine as he presses his body against me and starts to kiss my forehead, cheeks, and neck without reservation.

I struggled desperately to escape, but he didn't budge. Needless to say, my resistance only encouraged him more.

Kagari: "Your heart is pounding so hard and your body is so warm... It’s adorable how you're so conscious of me, Princess."

Emma: "It's not because I'm conscious, it’s just because you’re coming on so strong—ah, please don't bite too hard..."

Kagari: "I'm being a good boy, so I won't leave any marks.”

Emma: "Doing this outside makes you a bad boy...!"

(It seems like the disliking for doing this outside doesn’t apply to the current Kagari.)

While enduring frustrating stimulation, I desperately searched for words to break free from this situation.

Emma: "I want to be alone with you without anyone interrupting, so please wait until we get home!"

Kagari: "To be alone with me, huh…? I'd like that."

The sparkle of anticipation I saw in his emerald eyes wasn't just my imagination.

Kagari: "You won't go back on your words, will you?"

Emma: "..."

Kagari: "Princess."

Emma: “I… I won’t."

As if urging me for an answer, he nibbles on my neck, and I nod repeatedly...

Kagari swept me up in his arms and dashed towards my house at a terrifying speed.

.....

Kagari: "Ah, I love you... Without you, Princess, I'd be left with nothing but killing people."

(Well that’s alarming... But what's scarier is that it doesn't seem like a joke.)

Kagari: "Princess, you're loosening your grip."

Emma: "Oh, sorry."

As I readjusted my arms, I ran my fingers through his red hair, and he, much like an affectionate beast, nuzzled into my neck.

For the past few hours since we arrived home, I had been sitting on Kagari's lap on the bed.

As expected, our time apart seemed to have turned him into quite the needy general.

(No matter how many times I see it, this behavior is always such a stark contrast to his usual self that it baffles my mind.)

Emma: "Isn't it uncomfortable to have me on your lap for so long?"

Kagari: "Not at all. In fact, I've been wanting to do this."

Kagari: "Your warmth, heartbeat, weight, scent, texture, touch... It’s all of you. Having you here with me."

(He looks so happy.)

(But since I've invited him into my home, I should start offering some hospitality. And if possible, prepare dinner too...)

As I gently moved my hand from around his back, he held onto me tighter, as if unwilling to let go.

Looking up at me with his face buried in my chest, it was clear how much he yearned for this.

Kagari: "No, I still want to hold you. Please, don't leave me."

Emma: "I'm just going to get the tea and dorayaki I prepared."

Kagari: "As tempting as the tea and dorayaki sound, right now, I just want your attention, Princess."

Kagari: "Are you going to leave even when your kitty is purring so contentedly?"

Kagari: "Your kitty can be quite a handful when he’s sulky, you know."

(I... I'm well aware.)

I still vividly remember the time when I got so engrossed in reading that I ended up ignoring Kagari.

…Only to be kept in bed the next day, unable to get up due to his overwhelming affection.

(At least if I get the dorayaki—)

Kagari: "Please dote on me... I'm begging you, Princess."

(Welp, there goes that plan...)

Under the rain of pleading kisses, my lips naturally part, tickled only in the most vulnerable spots inside my mouth.

His eyes and voice were so sweet they almost made me feel dizzy, and my resolve wavered...

Emma: "...Just a little longer, okay?"

Kagari: "I love you, Princess."

Seeing his smile, overflowing with affection, made me realize I could never truly win against him.

Suddenly, the hand that had been around my waist moved to my head, gently stroking my hair as if combing it.

It was unexpectedly soothing, and I tilted my head in response.

Emma: "Um, what is this?"

Kagari: "Turning the tables. You could also say I’m returning the favor."

Kagari: “I must have made you feel lonely while we were apart.”

Kagari: "That’s why this time, I’ll be the one to dote on you, Princess."

Pulling me closer, he embraces me and resumes stroking my head.

Kagari’s hand moved downward, gently patting my back in a soothing rhythm.

(Being pampered like this feels a bit embarrassing.)

(But somehow, it’s also comforting. Maybe because it’s Kagari doing it.)

(…I was pretending to be fine, but I was actually feeling really lonely.)

Unable to resist the realization of my own feelings, I buried my face into Kagari's neck.

Kagari: "You're just as needy as I am, Princess."

Emma: "I don't think so."

Kagari: "Is that so? Maybe you’re also just as clueless as me."

Emma: "Ah, it tickles!"

Kagari: "...is that all it does?"

Emma: "Huh...?"

(Come to think of it... His touch feels different…)

His previously indulgent hand had somehow slipped off its gloves, boldly trailing up my thigh and slipping beneath my skirt.

The moment I felt the warmth through my underwear, alarms went off in my head once more.

Where did the gentleness from earlier go?

Emma: "Ah, Kagari...if you keep this up, it won’t be ‘just a little longer’."

Kagari: "I know."

Emma: "So you lied...!"

Kagari: "Can you really say that when you've been carried away the whole time?"

(Uh...)

As I stumbled over my words, his green eyes narrowed with what seemed like amusement.

No matter what I say now, they’ll just sound like excuses.

(If that's the case, maybe I should just throw away all restraint and let my true feelings flow.)

(Just as Kagari was doing in front of me.)

Emma: "...Then please don’t hate me if I become an insufferably selfish, needy brat."

Kagari: "I never planned to."

Before I knew it, I was lifted and gently pushed onto the bed.

His eyes, gazing down at me, were endlessly sweet, binding my body and soul so tightly to the point where I could hardly breathe...

Kagari: "I won't let you go for as long as I live. No, even in death, I'll always love you."

Kagari: "No matter what you do, I’ll fall in love with you over and over again, Princess."

▼・ᴥ・▼

[stillfoodforguys]

I try my best to stay fit, going out for a run every weekend to help keep my toned body in shape. Quite the opposite of my boyfriend, who sports a huge belly from his years of lounging around and stuffing his face.

I’m used to his gluttony by now, which is why I knew exactly what would to happen when I returned home from today’s exercise. He welcomed me back with a big bear hug, which was just an excuse to sniff my neck before he pulled my shirt off. “You must be exhausted, why not lie down and I’ll give you a nice foot rub?”

His generous offer was obviously had more selfish intentions, which I could tell from the way he eyed my body up and down. Despite offering to give my feet attention, he continued to strip off the rest of my clothing, leaving my socks until very last. As he unveiled more of my sweat-covered body and released my musk into the air, he started to drool uncontrollably as he took in my scent.

“You really worked up a sweat, didn’t you? Your body is absolutely glistening…” My boyfriend licked his lips while working his thumbs deep into my soles, until he couldn’t hold back his desire any longer. He raised my feet up to his face, dragging his tongue across them before slipping them into his mouth. He moaned as he sucked the flavour from my skin before his greed took full control, gulping them down his throat so he could enjoy more of my taste.

I let him swallow me while his wet tongue explored my body, searching for every drop of salty sweat before taking each gulp. The sensation of being consumed was always surprisingly nice, like the massage had gone from just my feet to a full body experience. When only my arms were left sticking out of his mouth, he placed his hands either side of his massive gut, feeling it swell as the last of me was slurped down and sank into his stomach.

“Damn, you always taste so good!” My satisfied partner rubbed his full belly, belching a few times and moaning when they brought the flavour of my body back into his mouth, even for a brief moment. He was merciful enough to let me out, but didn’t care about how uncomfortable I was while curled up inside him. The walls of his stomach were squishy, yet their grip on me was incredibly tight, and the atmosphere was overwhelmingly hot and steamy.

I’ll have to put up with this for a few hours, then enjoy my freedom until the next time he gets hungry for me.

[python333]

Hello!! I absolutely adore your 141 platonic fics, I litterlay giggle and kick my feet when you post new storys about it. Especially since they're always gender neutral! Litteraly always check to see if youve posted a new fic, but anways!

I'm a really big sucker for found family mental health fics, especially when I'm experiencing rough times. If your comfortable with it, I was wondering if you could make the 141 catch Reader self harming or maybe just seeing the self harm on their arms accidentally and comforting them. Always love a comforting found family fic on cold nights.

If it's easier, I really love really any of your hurt/comfort type 141 fics with all my soul and eat them up anytime you post them. Especially since there isnt much gn!reader and TF 141 platonic hurt/comfort fics. So if you aren't busy than that's another option I would love to see!!

If your uncomfortable with it then that's fine and you can just ignore this post! Make sure to take care if youself aswell author. You're absolutely amazing! 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

self-slaughter — python333

— — — —

synopsis reader is a medic and is caught harming themselves by the 141 in the medbay!

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 6.6k

warnings self-harm [specifically using a scalpel], self-harm scars, dark thoughts [nothing too bad, but thoughts of pulling off your skin and harming yourself], painful wound cleaning [with iodopovidone], 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note hello anon!! i too am a big sucker for found family mental health fics, and completely understand this request, and i will happily write it for you!! a lot of this is based on my own experiences with this, so i hope that's okay and that you enjoy the fic!! as well as this request, i'll use this fic as an excuse to write a few prompts on my bad things happen bingo card, which will be displayed at the end of the fic! the prompt used will be: painful wound cleaning! expect wayyyy more angst after this LMAO. also, if this feels like glorification or anything else inappropriate for a fic like this, then please let me know! since it's mainly based on my own experiences, i assume it wouldn't feel *too* much like that, but still!

It gets kind of old after so long of doing it. 

Almost like it’s a chore—as if stealing glances at your medical equipment, tools meant to save the lives of others, and wishing that it were being used to draw blood from your body was just an inconvenience. You complain about it in your head like you used to about school, like it was nothing more than some homework that was due a minute before midnight. 

Right now, you’re alone in the medical bay. It wasn’t often that you were, typically two bumbling idiots would stumble in every few minutes talking about how they got injured while sparring, but for the past thirty minutes it’s been silent. While you appreciated the break from the constant explanations of why the soldiers you were to tend to had gotten injured, with the silence came very unwanted thoughts. 

And with nobody to focus on came your unwilling lingering stare at the sharp scalpel on the small metal equipment cart that was just a few feet away from where you sat. It didn’t help that you felt oddly guilty today, either. 

Well, the guilt wasn’t odd. You knew where it came from. It just felt odd, considering the cause for it happened a week ago. 

The cause had been on a critical mission last week, where you were responsible for carrying medical supplies and ensuring the team’s well-being and general health. The medical equipment wasn’t particularly expensive or hard to get, but it was still incredibly important. 

However, on that same mission, right towards the end of it, you’d been caught in the midst of an intense gunfight. Distracted by the heavy enemy fire, you dropped the small bag you’d been using to carry the medical supplies, and hadn’t noticed you did until it was too late. By the time you and the others were out and heading back to base, you had just realized you left behind the medical equipment. 

All week, your fellow task force members had reassured you that it was okay and that it wasn’t that big of a deal, considering nobody got hurt. Still, even a week later, you’re hung up on it. Had someone gotten injured, what could you have done? You didn’t have any supplies to help them, so what would you have done then? Just the thought of that possibility makes you shudder. 

The scalpel looks so tempting.

It’s not like you hadn’t used it before—you have the scars to prove you had, ranging from small lines that could be mistaken for cat scratches to tiger-stripe length cuts that make your thighs look as though they’d been mauled by a large animal. As elegantly as you describe them in your head, the visuals of them aren’t nearly as pretty. With the help of that scalpel, a few sharp needles, and some medical scissors, you’d successfully made it look as though a bear had tried to attack you and tear your legs off. 

Ironic, isn’t it? A medic harming themselves? 

Your job is to literally save the lives of others, and here you are, staring at the closest thing you have to a knife in the medbay. It’s become as easy as blinking for you—which is scary, honestly, the way you’ve developed a tolerance for cutting yourself and stapling your skin back together if you’ve cut too long or deep. 

It’s no longer enough to just scrape something sharp across your skin and watch blood bubble up from the broken seams of your flesh, no, now you have to cut even deeper to actually feel anything. You have to feel the scalpel being buried to the hilt in your flesh, and you have to see the way blood spurts out of the self-inflicted wound after you pull out the tool. 

You continue to stare at the scalpel, sure that you look like you’re in some sort of trance right now. 

It looks so tempting. You can remember the last time you used it—three days ago, the longest you’d gone without it in a while. Similar to cigarette-addicts, you often tell yourself that you’re able to stop whenever you’d like—that you’re able to quit at any time. It’s a lie, and you know it, but you still like to pretend that it’s true. 

You’re still staring at the scalpel. 

Its sharpened edge reflects the overhead light, creating a bright glow that strains your eyes when you stare at it for too long. The metal of the handle is worn down from use, even though it’d only been in the medbay for maybe a few months—something nobody had questioned yet, thankfully. The clean blade, replaced just yesterday, had no traces of filth or grime on it, making it even more tempting. 

You blink. You hadn’t noticed the burning of your eyes until you forced them away from the small knife. 

You move your gaze to your lap, where you fiddle with your fingers, gently tugging at a hangnail that’s been lingering on your thumb for the past few minutes. As you pull on it, you feel the sting that it brings, though that sting now feels dull compared to the other things you’ve done to yourself. 

It almost feels like a small pinch compared to the ways you’ve mutilated your thighs on certain nights that didn’t allow you the energy to do anything else, or the ways you’ve carved apologies in the forms of lines into your arms to try and gain forgiveness for your thoughts and temptations. 

You pull the hangnail off completely and watch the miniscule droplets of blood bleed through your flesh and meet your skin and nail. Before you only had the energy to do your job and harm yourself, you would’ve hissed at the sting pulling off the small bit of skin caused you and grabbed a bandaid immediately, but now, all you can think about is how it isn’t enough. 

About how much better you’d feel if you pulled all your skin off. If you could feel every inch of your skin stretched to its limits and torn off of your body, because God knows you deserve it. 

The thought makes you wince. That is… disgusting. Why am I thinking about that? You shake your head in hopes that it would shake away the dark thought, but instead the action makes it rattle inside your brain and break off into tiny bits in pieces, small unwanted thoughts of wounding your flesh rolling around your mind. 

Similarly to Sisyphus and his boulder, you try to push those thoughts out of your mind, your hands starting to curl into tight fists, but you just can’t. Every time you push a thought back, it comes rolling back to the forefront of your mind, the momentum it gets from being pushed back so far only to get rocketed forwards making it even more unbearable to think about. 

The fists your hands have formed become tighter. 

Each thought that gets pushed back only jumps forwards once again, ricocheting around your brain, the effort of trying to ignore them making your ears ring. 

Before you realize it, your gaze snaps back to the scalpel. 

You don’t even notice the blood that begins to spill from your palms from how deeply your nails cut into your skin. 

Every thought tries to be louder than the other, creating an unholy cacophony of sound; a terrifying harmony that only grew louder every second that passed. You stare at the scalpel. It continues to reflect the bright gleam of the overhead light, and it continues to make your eyes strain the more you look at it, but you can’t find it in yourself to be all that bothered about the eyestrain. 

You unclench your fists and stand up, walking the short distance over to the metal medical cart where the scalpel lays, and you grab the handle of it with shaky hands. You look over at the door for a moment, and stay there for another few seconds.

Once you see that nobody’s coming in, you rush yourself to one of the beds, sliding open the curtains in front of it and sliding them back so that they’ll obscure anyone else’s view of you using the scalpel on yourself. 

You sit on the bed and although the scalpel almost slips out of your hand because of the blood from your palms, you manage to keep held in your tight fist, holding it like you would a pencil; tucked under the base of your thumb, and going through the gap between your index and middle finger. 

With your hands still trembling and your breath uneven, as well as a bustling mind that only grew louder as the scalpel in your hand grew closer to the skin of your forearm, you made the first incision. Almost immediately, your mind quieted, and your headache dimmed. 

Quickly becoming addicted to the feeling of a clear head, you lift the scalpel from your skin, not waiting to watch the blood bubble up from your open wound like you usually would, instead opting to make another incision right next to it.

Being a medic, there was nothing you could really do to stop yourself from thinking about how deep each incision was, and how deep you were cutting into your flesh—so while you cut yourself, a train of thought begun. 

Half an inch deep, You push the scalpel deeper, Now a full inch. Should take a month or two to fully heal. Wouldn’t scar. 

The thought of it not scarring should make you happy, or at least, neutral, but instead the thought makes you frown. Some odd hunger that comes from the indefinite pit in your stomach craves evidence for the malice you’ve shown towards your own skin, something that would prove your self-hatred. 

So, you go another half inch deeper. Scarring would be possible, but not as high of a chance as if you went another half inch. With that thought, you go the last half inch. There we go. 

You slide the scalpel blade through your flesh, the blade cutting through it like it would a firm fruit like a pear. It’s easier to cut through skin when the skin is pulled taut, You think, If only I had an extra hand.

You pull out the blade and repeat. You feel less guilty already.

All that worry about fucking up during your last assignment washes away, like the wave of guilt that overcame you earlier receded and pulled back that worry with it, lowering the tide of shame and self-reproach within you. In fact, the tide lowers so much that it almost completely disappears from your mind—like it never existed in the first place.

Reminds me of a tsunami, You repeat your actions with the scalpel, When the tides get low, so low that the ocean floor shows and you could walk where you’d originally have to swim, it’s because a tsunami is building up.

You look down at your work. Your forearm is a bloody mess, crimson red dripping down to your fingers and threatening to drop onto the stark white sheets of the bed you’re sitting on. You sigh tiredly and get up from the bed, putting the end of the scalpel’s handle into your mouth—ignoring the voice in the back of your head that reprimands you for not thinking about bacteria or contamination—and biting down to hold it whilst you slide the curtains in front of the bed to the side, walking out of the small resting area. 

You grab the scalpel and set it onto the metal medical cart by your desk, grabbing the gauze on that same cart, opening the small box it’s kept in with your non-bloody hand. It’s a struggle, but you manage it open, and you shake the roll of gauze out onto the cart. 

In the middle of you attempting to pull the end of the gauze off of the roll so that you could begin to wrap it around the red lines decorating your forearm, you hear loud footsteps walking near the medbay. You freeze in place, the gauze roll in one hand, your eyes burning holes through the door with how intensely you stare at it. 

There’s a knock. Then another. 

The door handle twists. 

You stare at the door, and everything feels like it’s in slow motion for a second. 

The door opens. 

“Hey, dae ye hae any—” Soap walks in, the sergeant taking one look at you before cutting himself off with a confused and immediately worried, “Holy shit, whit happened tae yer arm? Are ye alright?” 

He rushes over to you and takes your bleeding forearm into his hand. You almost immediately rip it away from his grip. 

“Nothing! Everything’s fine! Just an accident,” You lie, holding the blood-covered forearm close to your chest, “I was just about to clean it up.” 

“Dae ye need help wrappin’ it, an cleanin’ it up, or anything?” Soap asks, eyebrows furrowed and his expression beyond worried. 

“Nope,” You insist, “It’s fine. All good here.” 

“... Ye sure?” 

“Uh huh,” You nod your head, “All good. Don’t worry about it.” 

“‘kay then,” Soap tilts his head and crosses his arms, “Whit happened?” 

“Just a little accident with some of the equipment,” You nod down to the bloody scalpel on the medical cart, “That’s all.” 

It must be obvious you’re lying, because Soap sighs and says, “I think we baith ken that that’s a lie.” 

You stay silent for a few moments, before Soap speaks up again, “Ye ken if ye dinnae tell me, I’ll jist jump tae conclusions, richt?”

You take a deep breath before mumbling something under your breath. When Soap’s eyebrows draw together in confusion, you repeat louder, “I used the scalpel. On myself.” 

“Ye whit?” 

“I used the scalpel on myself,” You look away, and rush out, “and I’m really sorry, I just couldn’t help it, it’s not like— like a normal thing or anything, it’s just this once, I swear, and— and—” 

“[c/n], calm down,” Soap quickly uncrosses his arms and sets both hands onto your shoulders, furrowed eyebrows now taking a more concerned shape, “It’s okay.” 

You take a deep breath and look at him, looking at his nose instead of his eyes because you don’t think you could handle eye contact right now, “I’m really sorry.” 

“Why would ye dae that tae yerself?” Soap asks, voice soft and almost pitying, which makes you want to curl up and die. 

You shrug, not wanting to answer verbally. 

“Dae ye— dae the others ken?” Soap questions. 

“No.” 

“I’m—” Soap looks conflicted for a moment, “I hae an assignment… I’ll get Gaz tae help ye, aye? An’ I’ll check in wi’ ye as soon as possible?” 

You hesitate, but end up nodding in agreement, thankful that Soap offered to get Gaz rather than one of the others. The others seemed so oddly scary right now that you don’t even want to think about how they’d react to this whole situation. It’s all gone by so fast—one moment you were sitting on a hospital bed, the next you’re found out by Soap of all people—you’ve barely had time to think about the others. 

“Okay. Okay, okay,” Soap repeats the word under his breath like a mantra, thinking to himself for a second before sighing and looking down at you again, “Jesus, fuck, okay. I’ll go get him, ye stay here, aye?” 

You nod again, this time your vision begins to get more blurred. 

“Ye’re gonnae be okay, okay?” Soap tries to reassure you. You nod once again, sniffling a little bit, making Soap’s gaze soften.

He takes his hands off of your shoulders and gives you one last sad look before turning around and rushing out of the medbay, his thundering footsteps growing quieter as he gets closer to Gaz’s location—most likely his sleeping quarters. 

You wait a moment and when you hear no footsteps, your gaze goes back to the blade. It’s not like it’ll hurt to do a few more. I’ll stop when the others arrive. 

You grab the handle of the blade, and as quickly as you can, akin to an addict scrambling for substance, you slice through the skin of your non-mutilated hand. You make several quick and deep gashes before dropping the scalpel onto the medical cart again, breathing heavy, the cuts this time actually hurting. It felt like fire was running rampant through your nerves, all stemming from the self-induced wounds, and you winced at the new pain. It wasn’t anything you weren’t used to, but still.

When you hear footsteps again, you can tell they aren’t Soap’s. 

The door clicks open and in walks Gaz, already looking very worried—presumably from what Soap told him about your… situation—with another person in tow. Right behind him, Price walks in, expression neutral so far. 

Gaz looks over at you, his eyes widening as he sees the bloody gashes in your forearms. Without a second thought, he rushes over to you, his hand reaching for your forearm. Before you can stop him, he grabs your bloody forearm and pulls it up a bit so that he can look at it closer. You flinch, and Price quickly walks over to you two before Gaz can even utter a single word. 

“Let’s not, okay?” Price’s version of ‘knock it off’, “I’m here, I’ll take care of their… thing. You hand me what I tell you to. Understood?” 

“Yup— Yes, sir. Captain,” Gaz corrects himself quickly, making a slip-up that in any other situation would’ve made you at least chuckle, but all you can do now is stare at the pair as you hold your bloody arms to your chest. 

Price looks back over to you and nods over to one of the many empty curtain-surrounded beds and says, “Go sit over there and wait for a few seconds.” 

You nod, not knowing what else to do or say, and immediately walk over there. It’s the room furthermost to the right, the one that’s also the closest to the door and the one you’d coincidentally gone into to cut yourself. 

You slide the curtains to the side and sit down on the white bed, and just a few seconds later, just as Price said, he walked in as well. He sat next to you, Gaz in tow, the latter carrying a jar of cotton pads and balls as well as a bottle of Betadine.

Betadine—or iodopovidone, whichever name you preferred—was a sort of antiseptic that was generally used for cleaning cuts and wounds. Maybe not ones as deep as yours, but it would still work just as well. 

Despite it not being alcohol-based, or really having any alcohol in it, it still hurts the same as rubbing alcohol would, which you were… definitely not looking forward to.

“Sergeant,” Price takes the jar and bottle of Betadine from Gaz, “Go and grab the skin stapler for me.” 

“Yes, sir,” Gaz nods, walking out of the room once again. Price sets the jar and bottle of Betadine onto the bed beside himself after he leaves.

With you and Price now in the room alone, he turns to you and holds out his hand with his palm faced up for your arm silently. You carefully put your forearm onto his hand, watching as he gently pulls it closer to him, looking a bit closer at it before sighing through his nose and using his free hand to open the jar of cotton pads. 

“How did this happen?” He asks, breaking the silence. 

“Soap didn’t fill you in?”

“No.”

You think about what to tell him for a moment. What’s too straightforward? What’s too vague? How do I not overstep? How do I not sound like I just want attention? 

Eventually, you settle on, “I was— … I saw the uh… scalpel, and I just… decided to use it a little bit. On myself.” Definitely not the best you can do, but what else could you say? ‘Oh, I cut myself with a scalpel because I felt guilty and if I didn’t I probably would’ve had a panic attack or a mental breakdown’?

“…” Price pauses for a moment, eyes twitching for a split second before he continues his movements to grab a cotton pad and questions you, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“You know what I’m asking, [c/n].” 

He’s asking why you did it. There’s not one simple answer you could give him—sure, you could tell him that you felt guilty and it was a bad habit that you’ve told yourself you could stop but never tried to, but that wouldn’t be the whole truth.

You can’t fully express or dictate why you do it, you just do. It’s like when you cut slits into bread before baking it. Without those slits, the bread would crack and split at the seams on its own, but with them, the splitting and expanding of the dough is controlled. 

Except, with you, it’s like you’re cutting yourself before the tension building inside of you makes you burst at the seams. Taking a blade to your skin has given you a sense of control—maybe that’s why it’s so addicting, You think, it’s the only way I’ve been able to control my feelings. 

But you can’t just say all of that. Well, you could, but did you want to? Fuck no. 

Instead, you opt for shrugging, which doesn’t satisfy Price one bit. 

“I could see you thinking about it,” He sighs, “I know you at least have some sort of real answer.” 

Well, fuck. “It’s a long answer.” 

“I never said it couldn’t be.”

He doesn’t move to grab the Betadine at all, instead waiting for you to talk. 

You purse your lips and think for another moment before finally talking again, “I was feeling really guilty and tense, and I guess it just got too much, so I just kind of… had to. Like I felt like I was gonna fuckin’… I dunno, have a nervous breakdown or something. And honestly, it’s a really stupid reason, because the thing that I’m feeling guilty about happened like a week ago, but still—I’ve been feeling really guilty about it. It—It’s not like I can’t stop, if I tried I could, I swe—swear, and I just— it’s been really easy to just— you know? I— honestly, it’s not that big of a deal—” 

“Hey, hey—” Price brings a hand to your shoulder and softens his voice, “It’s okay. I understand.” 

“I ju—st… I’m sorry, I—” 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Price reassures you, quickly bringing that same hand up to cup your jaw, “You’re okay. You don’t have to say sorry.” 

“But I—” 

“Shh.” You hadn’t even noticed how frantic your breathing had gotten during your small word vomit. And to just make things worse, there’d been tears gathering at your water line, well on their way to spilling over and creating tear tracks down your cheeks. 

You can’t help but let go of all the tension in your shoulders the moment Price starts gently rubbing his thumb back and forth over your cheek. The moment he does that, it’s practically game over for you. 

Those tears spill out from the corners of your eyes and you can already feel your next breath get caught in your throat, leaving you to just let Price gently guide your head to lean forwards against his chest, letting out small hiccups and trying desperately to hold back the sobs you want to let out.

It all happened so fast, you don’t even know how you got here. One moment you were doing a good job of somewhat keeping your guard up, the next your resolve was crumbled completely by the gentle and oddly caring touch of Price’s hand.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door, then someone walks in while you’re burying your head further into Price’s chest—Ghost. You can tell it’s him by the way he walks. He has long strides, he never drags his feet, and the moment he slides the curtains to the side to see you, his footsteps stop. They start up again a moment later, and he sits by your side, opposite of where Price is sitting—to your right instead of your left. 

Gaz must’ve let him in while he was looking for the stapler, You think, sniffling against Price’s chest. Normally, you would’ve felt some sort of shame by now, but given the current situation, you didn’t find much room to give a shit. 

You feel Price’s head move up slightly, and judging by the way he occasionally nods and sometimes moves his hands a bit, you can only assume that he’s having some sort of nonverbal conversation with Ghost right now. This conversation goes on for about a few minutes longer before you’ve managed to control your breathing a bit more. 

Price can tell, and he asks just for confirmation, “Is it alright if I clean your cuts now?” 

You nod and sniffle once before taking your head off of Price’s chest, looking down at your lap, simply holding out one of your blood-crusted arms to him. You can see Ghost stiffen up behind you almost immediately at the sight of it. 

Price grabs a cotton pad from the jar he was handed earlier, as well as the bottle of iodopovidone, and soaks the cotton pad with said iodopovidone. Once it’s soaked with the antiseptic solution, he hesitates before pressing it to your bloody arms. 

Almost immediately, you inhale a sharp breath and feel tears stinging your eyes again. 

“It’s okay,” Price tries to calm you down, seeing the tears forming in your eyes again, “You’re okay.” 

You sniffle and shift on the bed, trying to blink away tears that threaten to spill over your water line. Ghost, sitting by your side, puts a gloved hand over your shoulder, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into your shoulder. His eyes twitch as you bite the inside of your cheek to muffle another sob while Price presses another Betadine-infused cotton pad to your self-induced wounds, and although you can barely see him, out of the corner of your eye, you still catch the glint of new tears gathering at the corners of his eyes as he watches you. 

Gaz slips back through the curtains in front of the bed, this time with Soap in tow, and hands a skin stapler to Price. Seeing the skin stapler, something you used fairly often—often enough that the others knew how it worked and how to use it—automatically made your stomach turn.

“Told ye I’d come back for ye,” Soap murmurs, kneeling down to get about eye-level with you. You huff out the smallest laugh at his words and he gives you a small smile that makes you want to go lock yourself in a room with a scalpel and repeat what you’d done earlier all over again, his empathetic expression paining you more than taking a blade to your arm.

As a matter of fact, the expressions that you wish were pity coming from everyone around you hurts more than anything you could’ve ever done to yourself. Their concern was so unexpected—not that you don’t think they care, but you never thought they cared this much. You didn’t think that, if caught in the act, you would receive empathetic looks and solemn smiles, rather thinking that you would receive reprimanding. That you’d be punished for punishing yourself. 

Price thanks Gaz silently with the curt nod of his head before turning back to you with a solemn expression that in all honesty makes you more guilty and disappointed with yourself than before. He holds the skin stapler like he would a hot glue gun, looking down at the open wounds in front of him, and holds your forearm closer to him so he can see the edges of the cuts better. 

"Keep your arm like that," He murmurs, to which you respond with a nod and stiffening your arm so that it stays in the air where Price positioned it. He uses his now free hand to gently pull the edges of the cut you'd made closer together, aligning them the best he can before pressing the metal staple dispenser to the cut and pushing down on the trigger, stapling the two edges together with a click. 

He holds it down for an extra second before releasing and pulling the stapler away from your skin, and although the process only took around three seconds, you'd never get used to the feeling of getting your skin stapled. You make a small, pained noise that has Soap wincing as well--as though he can feel it too--and Price looking more solemn than earlier. 

“Finished with this one,” Price mutters as you swallow down another sob, holding his calloused-but-soft hand out for you to put your other forearm in. You do just that, nearly breaking into a fit of new sobs at the small ‘thank you’ Price utters. 

You watch Price soak another cotton pad with iodopovidone with his free hand and suck in a deep breath as he presses it to your forearm, the originally white cotton pad almost immediately going red. Tears spill over your waterline and roll down your cheeks as he continues to clean and disinfect your wounds, and before you can move your free hand to wipe them away, Ghost does so for you, his rough gloved hand swiping below your eyes quickly. 

You mumble a small 'thank you' that's barely even audible, sniffling as you can’t help but lean forward the tiniest bit into Ghost’s hand as it lingers on your cheek. He pauses, keeping it there for a second, before bringing that same hand up to the crown of your head and pushing gently on it to urge you to lean your head back. You do so, the back of your head quickly making contact with his Adam’s apple and the top of your head becoming tucked underneath his chin. 

His hand goes back down to your shoulder and continues its ministrations of rubbing small circles into said shoulder, bringing you intermittent moments of comfort throughout the painful wound cleaning you had to endure. 

Soap keeps a comforting hand on your knee as he’s kneeled down in front of you, his thumb occasionally copying Ghost’s, but otherwise remaining still on your knee, careful not to force you through too many different sensations at once. 

Gaz watches you from by the curtain, seeming not to do and looking completely lost. He stands there for another moment, watching the others, seeing what they’re doing for a second, before giving Ghost a ‘one moment’ signal by holding up his index finger and stepping out of the curtain-surrounded area.

Right after he does, another painful sting shoots up your nerves from your forearm, and you make the mistake of looking down at it. 

Wounds that only fifteen minutes ago had brought you to a calmer state of mind and were nothing more than incisions made by the scalpel you’d used to cut other people for entirely different reasons now almost hurt to look at. Once you could’ve compared them to marks left by wild animals, and you could’ve described them as though they were trophies, but now, as you stare down at them being cleaned by your own captain, they look nothing like the sort. 

They don’t look like any of the pretty descriptions you’d given them. They don’t look like cat scratches you’d gotten in an accident, or like something you would get out of a fight with a bear—they don’t make you look strong and brave like you thought they did. 

They look like tally marks. Sanguineous, gruesome tally marks, made by you, like you’d been counting down the days—or seconds, minutes, hours—until you’d had enough. Until you’d had enough of just carving your skin with medical equipment, and needed something more. Craved something more. 

Price must notice you staring down at the wounds, because he pauses in his movements to clean them for a moment, the sudden stopping of the stinging sensation the iodopovidone-soaked cotton making you shiver. You look up at him, and see him already looking down at you, concerned. 

“You’re thinking about something,” He points out softly, “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.” 

You hesitate and look back down at your arm that Price had stopped cleaning, before mumbling, “Just thinking about how these are gonna scar.” It’s not entirely a lie, but not entirely the truth either. 

Price tilts his head to the side a bit, questioningly, “Do you know how they’re gonna scar?” 

“Well, when you work in the medical field for a bit, it gets easier to tell.”

You can tell he wants to ask how they’re gonna scar, so you decide to just say, “They’re all about one-and-a-half to two inches deep, so they’ll heal fully and then scar in a few months. Once they do, they’ll be visible, but not too prominent. The scarring tissue will stick above the skin a little bit, and it’ll make it look a little bit puffy.” 

“Alright,” Price hums, tone neutral, “So they’ll be… visible.” 

He sounds disgusted, A voice in the forefront of your mind insists, while one from the back of your mind tries to tell you, You have no way of knowing that, just see where the conversation goes. He has no reason to be disgusted with you.

“Yeah.” 

“Okay then,” Price sets the cotton pad down and grabs the skin stapler he’d been using earlier, “And it’ll take a few months to heal, you said?” 

“Several months, yeah.” Price considers this for a moment, pausing in his movements to hold the stapler to your skin. 

“Do you think you’ll need any help re-wrapping the bandages while they heal?” He inquires, resuming his movements after asking the question. 

“…” You think for a moment, Will you?, and after a few seconds, hesitantly, you reply, “… Yeah.” 

“M’kay,” Price hums softly, neutrally. “And would you want me to be the one who does it?” 

You think for another few minutes. Preferably, you’d be doing them yourself, but you didn’t trust yourself enough for that—so getting one of them to do it for you is your next best option. You wouldn’t mind if it was Price doing it, but at the same time, you wouldn’t mind if Ghost, Gaz, or Soap did it either. 

“It doesn’t matter,” You settle on, before tacking on, “As long as it’s one of you four.” 

“Us ‘four’ being… ?” 

“You, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz.” 

“Got it,” Price nods. You see Soap smile softly out of the corner of your eye before he quickly stops, trying to purse his lips into a line. He’s probably thinking that he shouldn’t be happy about that, You think, almost amused. You feel Ghost’s thumb stutter on your shoulder as well, before it starts back up normally. 

Your words affect them more than you thought they would. 

Breaking your train of thought, Price staples your skin with a muted click, making you wince. 

It’s silent for a few more moments before Gaz finally comes back, now out of breath and carrying a bar of chocolate. He hands you the chocolate bar and says, panting, “I almost had to spar someone for that. Why do you have to like the chocolate one of the other fuckin’ Lieutenants do?” 

You take the chocolate bar with your free hand gingerly and blink at it for a few moments before setting it down next to you. 

“Nobody told you to get it,” You shrug, before tacking on, “Thank you, though.” 

“Uh-huh, yeah, totally, hey so uh—” He looks at Soap and jabs his thumb towards where the door would be behind the curtains, “We’re both needed somewhere else. Again. They said they forgot something… again.” 

“Worst fucking timing ever,” Soap grumbles, before clearing his throat and standing up, looking down at you, “Right, I’ll check in on ye later, and help ye wi’ anything ye need me tae, aye? I’ll come wi’ mair chocolate than Gaz did, ‘cause I’m better than him.” 

“Got it,” You smile up at him, making him grin back and pat you on the shoulder Ghost’s hand isn’t occupying, before heading out with Gaz. 

Then, you’re left with Ghost and Price. 

“I should get going too,” Ghost mutters, slowly taking his hand off of your shoulder and gently pushing your head back off of his chest, almost regrettably. 

“M’kay,” You watch as he gets up and hesitates, looking like he’s about to give you a hug, before he decides to instead give you a simple head nod and head out the same way the two other operators did. 

And then, it was just you and Price.

It’s silent for a bit, until Price speaks up.

“You think a lot,” Price comments, finishing up the last staple. 

“Does that surprise you?” 

“A little bit, yeah.” 

You pause for a moment before sighing through your nose, “It’s nothing. Just the same stuff I was thinking about before.” 

“Wanna give me some more detail than that?” 

“Not really, no,” You admit, letting your hand fall into your lap as Price lets go of it, “But I have a feeling you’re gonna want me to tell you.” 

“I do.” 

“It’s just something stupid, like earlier—” 

“That wasn’t stupid, [c/n], that was you hurting.” 

“I— I know. It’s just that this is actually stupid.” 

“Well, tell me what it is, and I’ll be the judge of that.” 

You think about how to phrase it in simple terms for a moment, before finally speaking, “I used to think that the scars sort of… symbolized how I was able to control myself and my emotions, and that made me feel…” You can’t think of any synonyms to make the simple words you want to say sound less childish, so you’re forced to say, “… brave. And strong. I just— I thought it showed that I was good at controlling my emotions and stuff, for some reason. But now I’m questioning all of that.” 

“You’re very brave,” Price reassures you, and God, it sounds like he’s reassuring a child, “And you’re so strong. But this… this isn’t how you show that. This—cutting yourself—doesn’t make you either of those things. It doesn’t show that you’re either of those things. It shows that you need help.” 

“But you just said that I was strong.” 

“I did.” 

“… Aren’t you contradicting yourself?”

“How would I be contradicting myself?” Price asks. 

“You said that me— me… harming myself shows that I need help.” 

“It does,” Price hums, and at your confused expression, he continues, “You needing help doesn’t mean you aren’t strong. Needing help and being strong aren’t connected like that.” 

You open your mouth to argue but you close it, not knowing what to say. Price sees this and smiles knowingly, simply grabbing your hand to squeeze it once before getting up. 

“I’ll check in on you later, okay? I need to get some stuff done, but as soon as I can, I’ll be back to keep you company. Or I’ll send someone else over—whichever you prefer.” 

“M’kay,” You mumble, squeezing Price’s hand back before letting go. “You can do whatever. I don’t mind either one.” 

“Sounds good.” Price pauses for a moment before leaning down and giving you a quick hug, and then beginning to slip past the curtains blocking any outsider's view of the bed you were sat on.

Before he can leave, you quickly say, "Thank you. For the wound-cleaning-thing."

He pauses at the curtain for a second, before smiling and replying, "You're welcome."

for those curious, the bthb card so far:

[mywritingonlyfans]

Church Crush. // Fetus!Alex Turner X Reader. (SMUT)

prompt: Psalm 119:131: I open my mouth and pant, longing for your commands. / Where you notice how he looks at you and behaves in your presence, during church sessions and you decide to bring his dreams to life (in the church parking lot too). He's a sub! Here.

words: 3,7K

session/setting: I'm following a prompt based on parts of the Bible (blasphemy), and I'm using this post: link, if you're interested you can choose one and suggest an idea! (Maybe we have about him as a priest)

Your eyes landed on his figure, sitting a few chairs behind you. His hair fell softly over his forehead, and if you weren’t so observant, you might not have noticed the heart-shaped outline of his hairline. But you had, thanks to all those classes together. He was illuminated by the light from the main room, his eyes a lazy, lovely caramel. So solemn, and you liked to imagine that sometimes they were watching you too. You fiddled with your cuticles impatiently, noting his nails, perfectly trimmed down to the quick, as he rubbed his well-shaped, sculpted nose, picking at his slightly flushed skin. You couldn’t help but picture them in other scenarios; adding meaning to such generous fingers. Without realizing it, he was mesmerized by the slight smirk on your face, only to quickly turn away to avoid the intensity of your gaze. That feeling was new. He couldn’t tell if you liked how his body reacted to you or if it made you uncomfortable, exchanging glances like that in such a place. After all, shouldn’t he be paying attention to the church’s service?

“We’re done for today, ladies and gentlemen,” the voice of the finely dressed man filled the room, snapping you out of your thoughts. You hadn’t heard a word he’d said since you arrived, you were busy. And thanks to Turner, every one of your Sundays had become like this—a vain attempt to surrender your body and soul to something that was supposed to be sacred. Still, there was a purifying aura about the way Turner’s curious gaze rested on you. Not that you thought he saw you as someone pristine, but because, clearly, he saw you. He saw you as someone worthy of that affection. Turner had become the reason you kept coming back. You counted the days for moments like this. The distinctive, colorful marble of that sanctuary wouldn’t be the same without him. You wouldn’t even think of returning otherwise.

He tried to ignore you, avoiding glances or any chance of crossing paths. He gathered up his backpack, frantically organizing himself to leave as quickly as possible. Yes, he was awkward—in a genuine, innocent way. Maybe he was still new to this, inexperienced, and clearly flustered. But based on how he acted in class, those assumptions seemed accurate. He briefly adjusted his hair, clearly uncomfortable in his too-small blue polo shirt that clung to his sweet fragile frame. His eyes were on you, even though his body language denied it. You smiled at him, boldly, leaving him even more flushed and disoriented.

When he opened his car door, he threw himself onto the seat, letting the backpack strap catch awkwardly, making him look like a ‘ninja turtle’ as his body contorted. He sat down; he was a mess. He reopened the door, discreetly, making sure he looked ridiculous in your eyes. Given the circumstances, he wondered if he should think of you as someone he'd marry someday, but that wouldn’t be fair to himself, not with how he idealized you every single time he saw or thought of you. His mind was far from pure, though he wished you well and admired your independence. However, his ideals about you weren’t exactly built on divine foundations.

Trying to recompose himself, he grabbed the steering wheel, resting his forehead against it. His breath caught in his lungs, knowing just how wrong he was for feeling this way and that he would be punished for it. Still, he pressed his thighs together, body and soul present, though not for any greater good—except, perhaps, for the thought that you might be his ‘greater good’ if you wanted to be. He was getting tight in his pants, just from seeing you. His throat burned from the effort of trying to forget it all—forget his obsession with you, even though he made it all too easy to dwell on it.

Yet, he couldn’t let go. His mind was stubborn. He wanted to see you, to feel your eyes on him, to hear what your voice sounded like, no matter how wrong it felt. It was inevitable that he would spend all week waiting for Sunday, just so he could see you again—admiring the way you dismissed people who criticized your looks or how relaxed you seemed, unconcerned with the judgment of others. And, of course, how you smiled at him after catching him looking at you.

Alex did his best to avoid you in the halls during the week. You still had the same confident essence and leather jacket, but he didn’t want to disrupt your popularity or how adored you were with his primitive presence. It was such a small town.

“Hey, youuu!” A deep, feminine voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Startled, he first thought the sound had come from outside, but when the door slammed and his eyes confirmed a familiar figure inside, right next to him, his entire body froze.

“You can’t be ‘ere,” he stammered in a pathetic whisper, earning a mischievous smile from your lips. His accent was stronger than ever, hurting his throat. It felt wrong, yet like a dream.

Up close, you wore a crucifix around your neck, dangling like a hypnotic watch, and your hair cascaded perfectly over your shoulders. Your eyes gleamed and stayed locked on him, leaving him unsure of where to look. You were invading his space. His hands, damp with sweat, shot down to his jeans in a nervous attempt to seem more composed in your eyes.

As usual, you seemed indifferent to the situation, as if this was entirely normal and you’d known each other for years. Your long fingers smoothed his dark hair behind his ear, drifting down to adjust his collar so his collarbones could be more pronounced, more visible to your praises. Your eye makeup was strikingly out of place for the setting—perhaps that was one of the small details that had captivated him since the moment he first saw you. The sharp, dark line framing your perfectly defined gaze made you all the more mesmerizing. A few droplets of sweat from the heat of the day clung to your cheekbones, and he silently cursed himself for wanting to lick them away; being responsible for keeping you clean. In a way, he wanted to let a single tear escape in front of you, not knowing whether that was a good or bad thing.

“Are you listenin' to me, Bambi eyes?” Your hand now rested on your thigh, your skirt clinging tighter and riding up slightly as you leaned forward in front of him. The crucifix floating, as well as your collarbone and breast in the tank top beneath the leather. He was dreaming—his mind had been in this exact place before.

“Alex,” he managed to say, he couldn't tell if his heart was beating. A small, plausible chance to let you know his name. He couldn't miss that.

You laughed, an amused, sweet sound that felt like a spell cast over him. “I know you, Bambi,” your hand slid up towards his leg, climbing up his thigh as your smile widened at how excited he was so early, pausing over the stiffness of his belt. He thought you were cute, he was getting so sure of that. His cheeks were flushed, his stomach restless above your touch, he was a good boy; definitely not as pure as the seconds passed with you.

“You do?” His voice came out choked, the words stuck as he tried to catch his breath. You were inside his head, crushing him into pieces, and he was utterly lost in you.

You nodded, reaching up and squeezing a part of his lower belly that had never been touched by anyone else before. He was warm and silently prayed that you would have him. On a choked sigh, in an involuntary act, he spread his legs as you got your fingertips over the prominent part of his jeans, making you play gladly with the buckle of his belt. “I do, or do you think I don’t see you looking at me? Giving me those poor Bambi eyes as you study me from top to bottom, rubbing your soft legs together in an attempt to clear your impure thoughts.” Your gentle touch reached his skin, soft and reassuring. You unbuckled the belt with a satisfying click, slowly sliding it around his waist, each breath he exhaled filled with relief as you granted him the sense of freedom. “I know everything about you, Turner” you said, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “I’ve done my research.”

“Did you look me up?” he asked softly, even though he knew it wouldn’t be difficult to learn anything about him, given that the town was as small as a speck. His mouth went dry, feeling your nails grazing the damp fabric clinging to the swollen skin on his white underpants.

He knew he was blushing, embarrassed by it (by himself), but you were happy, your lip between your teeth with an inviting look, revealing him hard and accumulated at the tip. You clicked your tongue, looking into his dark eyes, and already knowing the answer, you didn't hesitate to run your hand over his length, feeling him generously as his head went back in a sigh.

The doors were open, he could leave, the most exciting thing about it was that he didn't care about being corrupted by your actions.

As a quiet hum was being taken from him, you pressed your fingers harder into the spot. “So do you like my touch, Turner?” You ran your fingertips gently, running them through all his hardness, so tenderly. “Your so wet, babe. Did you get like this when you were in there thinkin’ ‘bout me while failing to pay attention on the world ‘round you?” Your hands cupped his flesh, making him dodge while closing his eyes. “When should you be listening to the Lord's words? Huh?”

Even if it was slow, even if you lingered, Alex didn’t mind. He wanted it to last as long as possible, as long as you were there with him.

“I’m sorry,” he grumbled, not knowing where to put his hands or how to act in front of you. He hated the fact that he was so quiet, making you think he wasn't enjoying it; even though his body wasn't capable of lying. “I just — I just don’t know what to do,”

“I know you don’t, babe. I know you don’t. Never ever been touched for someone else, right? Sounds like a good boy for me, a fuckin’ perfect boy for you parents, a english class winner, a saint in the eyes of the neighborhood, and a devotee of our little sanctuary. What’d they say if they saw you now? About to get lost in whimpers for me in a church parking lot, huh? Bein’ mine instead,” your sinful words brought shivers down his spine. And as he could imagine, you had done your homework. You had already noticed him beyond the church. Your compliment with words, taking away all his speech, made him open his eyes briefly, sulking his hips in your hand. You did that for him, and without knowing how to explain it, Alex found you angelic; a pure angel in disguise. “Tell me, Turner?” You kept moving, not increasing the pace, assigning to the ache between his legs (in your cares); yet firm enough as he needed. “How can you be good? Fantasizin’ ‘bout me like that? Or when you walk past me bumping into my shoulders on purpose so I can notice you devouring me with your eyes when I come close to you every Sunday, babe? You’re not a good boy at all, see? You only came ‘ere for me.” You had an indescribable effect on Alex. You were right, he had never felt this way with anyone before, you were the first and for him you would be the only one to take him out of that bubble of chastity.

How could it be fair that you talked to him like that? How was it possible that his conscience understood that as wrong but still his body was begging to be taken by you?

He thrust his hip pathetically into your palm, “I need more,” he said in a whimpering mess, just like you described. “Please, I’ll be good, just tell me what to do,” He rested his palm on your wrist, not disturbing your work, just rubbing loving circles in longing.

“I don’t want you to do a thing, pumpkin,” For never having done it that way, it was clear how sensitive he was. Your hand ached, but you continued, intoxicated by the pained expression on his face as you were guided by every sound and drop sliding down his forehead. He was beautiful. His mouth fell open in a silent sob, making his attempt to speak your name come out in clipped syllables. You were being good for him, he wanted to learn how to do the same for you.

As he had never been to that place, he was surprised to feel no pain but pleading relief enveloping his body as your fingers slithered easily into his excessive juices. His stomach was feeling funny. But he was ethereal, he felt like he was in a good place, or getting there as he had heard the well-dressed man say minutes ago. “I just wanna make you feel good, hear your beautiful sinful sounds just for me.”

As he dipped his head on the seat, you bit on your lips, hard enough to feel the metallic taste mix with your saliva. You were the reason for his erotic dreams since he had first seen you, so that was such a daydream for him as well as for you. Your hands, controlled, came out of his swollen length to the tip, and then closed around him tightly, giving you the advantage of seeing his face twitch with pleasure knowing that only you had provided this to him. Keeping the same pace–so he could spend more time in supplication, giving you a privileged view that you would save in your brain to watch every night before bed–you began to massage his angry and read tip with your thumb, feeling his body heating up as his hip go to meet with your fist, fucking himself into you.

He had realized that he was hasty alone, and that it was difficult to hold himself back with you. He would wet the fabric of his underwear more easily, which gave your delicate hand better performance. He wouldn't know how to use your dexterity, he would need you to keep from getting hurt.

“Please,” you breathed.

“Please what, Turner?”

"I need it, I need you, I need to be good for you, just want to—" He was cut off as you pulled away from him, sitting up. With tense fingers, sore from burning holes in the seat, he tried to hold back, not wanting to sound too loud.

“You’re being good to me babe. You were fuckin’ my hand so well, fuckin’ dripping on me, I’m just gonna need to hear you, pumpkin. C’mon, don’t hold back, we‘re far from everyone you can show me how naughty you are, right? Be loud for me,” you said, your raspy voice made him dizzy as you took off his shirt in a quick, clumsy act. He didn't even try to process the lack, he was completely intoxicated by you.

You lost control of your words, your fingers tracing along his waist as you placed them on his chest. He smiled softly, his lips moist and curved to the side, as usual. You liked his body, smooth and delicately sculpted; you enjoyed how wrong it felt yet couldn’t help but be guided by it. You caressed his collarbone, memorizing every groove along the way. Leaning closer to his seat, feeling his eyes on you, you kissed him. It was subtle, in contrast to everything that had come before, warm yet tender. He tasted the metallic taste, needing more. He took a moment to respond, but as he became more aware, he yielded and entwined his tongue with yours. Sweet and messy, just as you had expected, you laughed, making him blush even more.

A thin line of saliva formed as you pulled away, and he wondered if it made you wet, since he felt painfully stiff with everything you did. All he could do was stare, as if you were going to run away and be nothing more than a dream.

Without another word, you made yourself comfortable in the seat. He could see your thighs better. He took a deep sigh, letting a groan escape as your breath grew heavy with your warmth lingering on him. As soon as you moved your hair away from your face, Alex understood and held it back to give you better access and provide himself with a clearer view.

Your pink painted lips wrapped around his swollen head, sucking just a little until you lifted your head to the tip only to fail to take him completely all at once. You laughed, excited by that, and sighed with a drool running down the edges of your lips, "You're such a good size." And you could gaze at his red skin.

Understandable, yet painfully throbbing, he ran his fingers over your ear, examining the metallic earrings and caressing your velvety cheek. You were beautiful. Alex loved watching you pay attention in class, but he never thought he would be able to witness this. Your swollen lips were connected to him, your wet tongue making him squirm, and you were skilled at it. Your hand was firm at the base of him, where you couldn't reach without having your eyes water and your throat hurt, even though you let yourself do it on purpose, to please him and feel a little pain for being so unruly. But mostly, you focused on sucking him in comfort, closing your eyes, loving the taste and texture, until you could move your face up until you no longer had him in your mouth just so you could do it all over again.

He stroked your hair so gently, you couldn't stop even if you wanted to. "You're so beautiful." He whispered between full-bodied moans. It was deafening, it made you give even more of yourself to have his taste in your mouth. And little by little, his legs began to tremble and his hands pulled your locks hard enough to have them loose between his fingers, but it felt so good. He groaned your name, as if in a will, relieving himself in your throat with more whimpers. It was so adorable. He was weak, such a mess.

His sweet caramel eyes watched you tiredly as you swallowed the hot liquid. It dripped down your chin a little and his stomach had stained with it too, but you didn't hesitate to wipe it away with your tongue and sweet kisses. His breathing was weak, he didn't know what to say, but thank goodness he could look at you. You gave more wet kisses to his sensitive skin, ignoring his fingers trying to push you away. And from the view Alex had through the blurry windows, he could still see some people leaving the church; you had certainly been there too long. You sucked on his spot again, licking where a bit more juice was coming out and he could see your angelic gaze at him, as if you transferred all your sins to him and he was no longer pure. He wiped the tears from your face, knowing he had them too, and drove your head up, feeling too sensitive to take it anymore.

His muscles were relaxed, though tension started to build in his head. He fumbled with his own belt and the shirt bunched up around his waist, awkwardly trying to hide his softened body. You laughed, and he understood that it wasn’t because of his clumsiness, but because you simply enjoyed seeing him like that—flushed, unsure of his next move. "Thank you," he said. Your eyebrows raised. This time, you both laughed together. You stripped him of all his social skills.

Your fingers whitened as they gripped the hem of your skirt, your eyes never leaving him, yet they roamed across his entire frame. Alex felt guilty, embarrassed. "Did that make you wet?" The question sounded like real doubt amid his weak intonation.

"Don’t you think you’re good, Al?" You let out a soft sigh, relaxing into the seat as you leaned toward him, your lips brushing his cheek. Hearing you call him that made him wonder if you’d speak to him like this when you saw him in class or around his friends. He wanted you to. As usual, he couldn’t speak. His mouth opened, but no sound came out, and he simply waited for your commands and approval.

Your forehead rested against his, your attention solely on him, your breaths mingling in quiet comfort. He signed the notice, captivated by your delicate fingers brushing against the skin of his arm, taking his hands in your and guiding them beneath your skirt. His calloused tips touched the thin fabric of your panties, surprised, heart racing at how damp you were. You pulled the elastic away, lightly touching your spot as you contemplated the act. Alex had never heard anything so beautiful. Looking for more of the sound, he repeated what he saw, your head falling back onto the seat, looking at him pleadingly and tiredly, and he imagined that you had been like that since the beginning too (even though it could be a lie and he just wanted to feed his own ego). He pressed harder, not sure how to continue, and proposed to kneel in front of you, no matter how drastic that might be. He needed all of it, every drop. But your warm voice interrupted him before, "Turner, you need to park somewhere else, I don't want to be interrupted.” You had certainly been there for a long time, no one but you needed to know how you were poisoning each other in such a place.

...

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[wickedscribbles]

whoever makes my baby cry (is gonna lose some teeth tonight) ch. 1

Masterlist Ch. 2 Summary: Saving the timeline and moving in with Wade Wilson is one thing. Going on his first, real, official date with the man is another thing entirely.

*or*

Logan struggles to tell Wade that he doesn't want Wade's idea of perfect. He just wants what they already have. Pairing: Wade Wilson/Deadpool x Logan Howlett/Wolverine

Rating: Explicit

Tags: established relationship, domestic fluff, porn with plot, mental health issues, dirty talk, biting, bottom Logan/top Wade, blowjobs, come swallowing, praise kink, dry humping, PTSD

Word Count: 3.5K

If you like what I write and can afford to do so, please consider buying me a coffee! It would be much appreciated.

It wasn’t always this easy to wake up.

Before his new and surprising way of life, there were thousands of days when Logan hated this particular reminder of his immortality. Like he and the sun were in competition ��� which of them would outlast the other? And the worse the night before had been, the more bitter and ironic the morning. Day after day after day.

Lately, though, things are different. Things are good.

Today, Logan stirs awake in a warm bed shared with one other man, an ugly little dog, and a cat. Something that could almost feel like a family, even in their cramped apartment with all its issues. A hot and aching feeling hits his chest to even think the word; too many times he’d had that and lost it. Though he can’t lose Wade the way he’s lost others in the past, that fear isn’t quick to go away.

Wade’s face is buried in the collar of Logan’s t-shirt, and Logan doesn’t have to pull away to know that he’s drooling in his sleep. Maybe if it were someone else, he’d be irritated. With Wade, he’s just gotten used to it. Hell, he likes Wade too much to even care. Despite the constant chatter (yapping, as Wade says people call it now), the large generational gap, and the unconventional way they’d met, Logan does more than tolerate him.

He really, really likes Wade Wilson.

Though regenerative capabilities are a massive bonus, Logan also just enjoys being around him. He’s got a wicked sharp wit and sense of humor that get to Logan even when he’s trying to pretend they don’t. Wade’s damn good in a fight, light on his feet and agile in a way that Logan’s not sure he’ll ever be. He’s sweet, underneath all the talk.

The guy's interesting, talented, caring, and – fuck. This is a long list. Yeah, Logan knows where these sorts of feelings tend to lead. He’s not quite there yet, but he wants to be. He wants to try. Even if there's still a part of him that tells himself to get the hell away before something goes wrong. Because something always goes wrong.

In the tangle of fresh blankets and soft sun, Logan just lets himself lie there for a while. Get a little uninterrupted peace before the day has to start. It won’t be long before Puppins is hauling herself up and licking their faces, demanding breakfast and her morning walk. Currently she’s tits up at the foot of the bed, snoring. Bonnet is curled into a tight ball not far away, tail and paws tucked in.

Tranquility can’t last forever, though. Logan’s arm is at an uncomfortable angle under Wade’s body, and when he gently tries to pull it free, Wade begins to stir awake.

“Mm,” he mumbles, taking the time for a long, dramatic stretch. “Morning, kitty cat.”

“Morning,” Logan answers, leaning down to kiss him on the side of the head.

At their feet, Puppins is already beside herself with excitement, flipping and twisting to get upright so she can stick her tongue in someone’s nostrils. Logan takes advantage of the few seconds he has to shift a little closer, slinging a leg over Wade’s hip.

“You sleep okay?”

“Mmhm.”

Wade kisses him back after nodding, something sweet that could be their version of chaste. Logan would have a better time believing he actually meant it to be, if not for the way Wade slowly grinds his morning wood into Logan’s own, teasing even with a sleepy grin on his face.

“Yeah, I sure d–hey!” He’s interrupted by the inevitable dog in his face, tail going crazy as she plants her pointy little paws on each of them for leverage. “Okay, sweetie, we get it, you’re a bigger whore than Papa and you really want to go out.”

Bonnet cracks an eye open. He briefly looks at Logan as if to say what the actual fuck? before slipping off the bed and out the door.

“I’ll take her, you stay here.”

Logan eases his way out of bed and holds out his arms for Puppins to hop into, and she does so with gusto.

Wade gives puppy eyes almost as good as the dog does.

“Aww, you’re the best, angel face.” He gives them both a little wave from the bed as Logan carries her out. “Be good for Daddy, okay girl? No staring into the distance for thirty minutes like you’ve seen the ghost of a Victorian child.”

Trying to look annoyed at the antics and falling short, Logan shakes his head. The juxtaposition of being called kitty cat and then daddy within the same five minutes does something to him that he’s not even going to attempt to rationalize. Better to stuff it into the waistband of his shorts so that he doesn’t scare the neighbors.

She’s pretty fast about it, thankfully. Logan trots her outside the apartment in her little matching harness and leash and she does a lap around the block, sniffing at all the familiar spots. By the time they make it back inside, Wade’s got her fancy wet food ready and waiting, and Puppins launches herself into it like she’s never had an honest meal.

Not that he can really single her out. Bonnet eats in much the same way, his body hunched possessively over the bowl, growling through bites as if someone’s about to take it away from him. Like they’d risk their hand trying.

“Our sweet little freak shows,” Wade says fondly, bumping his hip into Logan’s as they take a minute to make sure there’s not going to be any roughhousing.

(Roughhousing loosely translates to Puppins finishing her food and wandering over to Bonnet, then screaming out her drama when she gets smacked in the face. She somehow fails to remember, every day, that he likes a firm boundary with his breakfast.)

Logan hums his agreement, sparing a sideways glance at Wade in nothing but Logan’s own boxers and a loose tank top that reads Satan Loves My Gay Ass. If he’s right, they’ll have about two more minutes before his cat– as Wade sometimes refers to Bonnet – horks down the rest of his food, leaving the household in peace. Then they can have their fun.

Seems like Wade’s right there with him. As soon as Bonnet prowls away from his empty bowl, extra claws clicking on the linoleum, he snatches the bowl up – just in time for Puppins to collide with his forearm on her way to lick it clean.

“No no no, my delicate little scrotum-faced wonder,” he coos at her. “We all know what cat food does to your already tumultuous digestive tract.”

No fucking kidding, Logan thinks. They’d had to rip out and replace a good strip of the carpet the first time they’d caught her in it.

“Anyway!” Wade deposits the pet bowls in the sink with a clang. “I’m pretty sure our dicks were in the middle of something?”

Logan grins, often unable to help himself where Wade is concerned. “They mighta been.”

That affirmation is all it takes to get them back to the bedroom, this time shutting the door with a click. Logan pins Wade to it in two seconds flat, his mouth hungry as they kiss, running his hands up and down the other man’s exposed biceps with a quiet sound of want.

He can’t help how good Wade looks wearing his boxers. They’re too fucking big for him, for one thing, slipping a little on his slightly slimmer build. Almost giving him the whole show, depending on the angle. Not a problem now, because he’s straining them hard with his tented cock. Like he’d planned on getting Logan this worked up before breakfast.

Their lips dance and tease each other for a while in that way they both adore; a little pain, a little fun, all of it mixing together until things are indistinguishable. Teeth nipping and pulling before tongues get involved, Logan’s hips pressing deep into Wade’s, a push and pull of oxytocin. One of Wade’s hands works its way into Logan’s hair, sending a thrill of pleasure up his spine as he gently scratches at his scalp.

“Should we take this party to the bed?” Wade asks as they break away for a moment. “Or would you rather I fuck you against the door so hard that the neighbors think we have a really insistent visitor?”

Honestly, that sounds fun – until Logan pictures banging his shoulders into the unforgiving door frame hundreds of times.

“Bed,” Logan decides.

It’s only a few steps away. Wade walks him backwards until the back of his legs collide with the mattress, and Logan lets himself fall. The bed gives a hellish squeak underneath the sudden weight, reminding them both of the four bed frames that they’ve gone through since they’ve started dating. They may be on their way to the fifth if this one keeps up.

They’re quick to arrange themselves more comfortably at the head of the bed. Logan surrendered long ago to the idea of how nice it felt to have Wade on top of him, like a weighted blanket that won't shut the fuck up. The same stays true now – Wade’s talking up all the things they could do and the many ways he could make Logan feel good, all pressed between fervent neck kisses that make him arch and pant and whine.

“Yeah, big guy?” Wade purrs down at him. “Aww, look at you. We’re all riled up this morning, aren’t we?”

As an answer, Logan locks his arms around Wade’s back. He grapples him, swinging a leg over until their positions are switched yet again, drinking in the broad grin on his boyfriend’s face.

Boyfriend. What a vast and terrifying concept.

“And whose fault is that?”

Logan pulls at the edge of Wade’s tank top, stretching it down until he can lick and bite at enough of his chest to be satisfied. Covering his skin with little nips and marks, then sinking down lower, hovering over his abdomen, pushing the shirt up to Wade’s ribs so he can lavish over his scarred and puckered stomach. The scent of arousal colors the air, thick and sweet, and Logan nudges his head against the waistband of Wade’s boxers – his boxers – with a moan.

Breathing faster with the anticipation of what’s about to happen, Wade’s having a difficult time keeping up with any potential banter. One of his hands returns to Logan’s hair, where he knows he likes them. Logan rises into the touch, his eyes dark and needy.

“I’d like to plead not guilty, Your Honor,” says Wade, watching with unmatched interest as Logan pulls down the boxers and slips his cock free. “Pretty sure you’re the one who started this whole shebang.”

Pausing to shrug as if to say you got me there, Logan smiles up at Wade before pressing a kiss to the base of his dick. If he really wanted to, he could argue that the way Wade looked in his boxers had compelled him to be a little hornier than usual. But honestly…he’s too eager to suck him off.

Because he fucking loves this.

Getting to turn his brain off and do something with his body that feels incredible instead of awful. Quite literally the polar opposite of what he’s been doing for the majority of his life – the fighting and violence, the brutal misery of it all. Sex with Wade still feels like something he shouldn’t let himself be doing, especially when Wade indulges all the guilty little pleasures that have long gone untouched in the back of Logan’s psyche.

Most of all, it feels so good to let go with a partner. Sure, he’s tangled with other mutants in the past, but there was always a part of him that had to hold back. Whatever he could possibly do to Wade, Wade can not only take, but will likely even enjoy. The possibility of anything and everything melts on his tongue like mint chocolate, something to savor. Something rare.

And now that he’s had a taste, he is never, ever letting go.

He tries to take his time, to make this sultry and teasing, but it’s so hard. Wade’s cock is inches from his face, dripping and straining for attention. Logan doesn’t stop to do any of the usual tricks – no fanning his breath over the length of it or lapping up the pre-come. No pausing to tease that extra-sensitive spot right under the head. Logan only has the patience to kiss a fierce, hungry line, look right at Wade, smirk, and then swallow him down.

“Fuck, kitty cat,” Wade hisses. “Going straight for the kill shot today, huh?”

Logan raises an eyebrow, giving him wordless snark. Pausing for a moment to see if this particular merc is keen on giving him more mouth before he continues what he’s trying to do. When the answer seems to be no, he continues, sinking down deep between Wade’s spread legs to take as much of him as he can. Opening up the back of his throat to make more room, aware that he’s going to start drooling any second.

The attention leaves Wade nearly senseless. When Logan remembers to look up – to get the eye contact that the other man loves, but still sometimes leaves him feeling vulnerable, even despite the intimacy of what they’re already doing – Wade’s gazing at him with the most punched-out expression of need. As if Logan’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen (though he's got greying hair and wrinkles and all the other things he secretly worries make him unattractive).

The way his mouth hangs open a little bit drives Logan fucking crazy. He can hear every gasp and whine, Wade’s earnest brown eyes on him, his throat bobbing, sweat beginning to shine on his exposed skin. Logan makes a desperate sound of his own, achingly hard in his boxers as he sucks Wade’s cock sloppy and fast.

“Baby, that’s so good, you feel so fucking good, fucking perfect on my cock, aren’t you?”

He increases the pace in response, growling low and pleased in the back of his throat.

“Such a good boy,” Wade gasps, the hand in Logan's hair twisting harshly. Logan whines again, feeling his cock jolt at the sensation. “God, you're perfect, first taking the dog out and now this – oh, I'm definitely about three paragraphs away from coming in your mouth –”

Logan can’t wait anymore. He ruts against the firm line of Wade's calf, aching to be touched in any way he can get. His eyes slip closed, a shiver of pure relief traveling down his sun-freckled shoulders. The simple friction is clumsy, reminding him for one burning second of the way he’d jack off as a much, much younger man – but he can’t be bothered to give a fuck. Especially not with the way Wade’s fucking into his mouth now, his voice threatening to pitch into a whimper.

Forcing himself to look up to catch the look on Wade’s face, Logan’s just in time to see him arch, gorgeous, off the bed, hands scrabbling out of Logan’s hair to cover his face.

“Logan, sweetheart, so fuckin’ hot, don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop–”

Breathing hard through his nose, Logan fucks his leg in earnest, slobber dripping down from his mouth to pool all over the base of Wade’s cock. Only seconds later, Wade bucks his hips one last time and comes, gushing praise that Logan can hardly make out. He's too focused on wrapping his free hand around what he doesn't have in his mouth, milking Wade for everything he's worth, swallowing down what he’s given. Pausing his own enjoyment for a minute to focus on his partner’s – because that in itself is beyond sexy.

When it's clear that he's too sensitive to take any more, Logan lets up. Wade, still a little starry eyed, pats the mattress in a gesture for him to scoot up.

“C’mere, peanut. Your turn.” And he goes, like a domesticated animal, crawling up until Wade can reach him. Hardly pausing to peel off his underwear, annoyed when they hinder the process. Knocking his forehead gently to Wade’s as he collapses on his side, sighing out a sound that turns into a moan of relief as a hand finally wraps around his cock. Knowing he won’t last more than a minute and knowing that he won’t get any shit for it, at least not any that would actually hurt his feelings.

On their sides, Wade jerks him off fast and rough, just the right way to get Logan to come if he needs it right now. He can feel more than see Wade grinning at him, quick open-mouthed kisses landing on his face and mouth and neck as Logan feels the rush of orgasm coiling up tight. One hand curls and uncurls into a fist, an unconscious effort to keep from slicing through Wade or the mattress below them.

Of course, Wade notices. He never misses a fucking beat.

“You’re alright, princess,” he says softly. “Go ahead. Give me your best.”

“M’gonna come,” Logan chokes out. He’s meeting Wade’s hand with his hips, shaking the bed. “Wade –”

The orgasm hits like a waking dream, and as promised, Logan covers Wade’s hand and stomach in warm spurts.

This is far from the first time he’s come, hard, while slicing through various parts of his boyfriend’s body. Today it’s his side, spearing into his skin like it’s butter. In the back of Logan’s mind, he registers which organs he’s punctured before the claws are sliding out, Wade’s skin knitting itself neatly back into place. Blood dribbles down his stomach and onto the sheets below – lucky for them, they got smart about buying dark sheets several romps ago.

Unfortunately for Logan, his fight or flight response doesn’t always think these sorts of things are consensual. His heart will sometimes stay pounding for long minutes after they’re done when the claws are involved. Which is fucking annoying, because they’ve already talked circles around it. Jess, his therapist, says it probably has something to do with a lot of unresolved trauma he’s had over the years. Like he’s supposed to just unpack all of that in the span of a year or even ten.

Wade notices him again. Their foreheads bump.

“Good?” he asks.

Logan nods. “Good.” He takes a deep breath, willing his pulse to resemble something normal. “What time are we headed out?”

“Hmm…” Wade rolls over on his back, contemplating. “Probably gonna need at least… two hours to up my glam factor? Maybe three?”

Scoffing, Logan hauls himself out of the bed on wobbly knees. He extends a hand to help Wade do the same.

“Thought this was a date, not your runway premiere,” he says, grinning at the resulting look on Wade’s face as he strips out of his blood-stained, come-covered tank. They open the bedroom door to a very excited Mary Puppins wagging her tail. Wade acknowledges her while Logan steps into the bathroom to get the water running for their shower. These things go easily now; most of the time, neither one of them has to ask the other how sex is going to go down. They flow through it, and help one another untangle any knots that might appear along the way.

“It could be both! I do things in my spare time that you don’t know about.”

Together, they step under the water, comfortable enough to know who wants to go under the water first and who’s washing what when.

“Haven’t seen you on Drag Race yet, so you must not be that prevalent.”

“Oh you are a catty bitch –” Logan ducks as Wade attempts to ram his face into the tile wall, laughing a little. Their shower is definitely not big enough for roughhousing, but that’s never stopped them. It does, however, piss off their landlord every time there’s a new crack in the wall. They’re on the verge of being some of her least favorite tenants – surely held back only by all the sweet talking Wade does and all the peace offerings Logan brings around in the form of homemade meals.

(Standing 4’11’’ at full height, nothing scares Wade more than Logan yelling it’s Rhonda over his shoulder from the front door – and Rhonda peering under his elbow, barking out Wade I swear to God if your ugly ass little rat dog pisses in the hallway one more time –)

He invokes her wrath now, and it’s enough to make Wade settle down and wash.

Once they’re thoroughly scrubbed clean, Wade drops the towel over Logan’s head, playfully tousling his hair.

“Seriously though,” Logan hears as he fights his way out of the towel. “I’m gonna need a hot minute, so you go ahead and get your war paint on first, peanut.”

“If you’re sure,” he shrugs. Not like he’s been on a date for far longer than he’d like to confess to, but Logan’s go-to takes less than twenty minutes.

“‘Kay bye!”

Wade shuts the bathroom door, leaving Logan alone with his reflection in the mirror. He’s smiling, all soft and stupid, the look almost unfamiliar on his own face.

Yeah, mornings could be pretty damn good around here.

[cottagec0relover21]

Ok so, the idea just popped in my mind and I RLLY need someone to write it LMAO

Your Chilchuck fics give me LIFE so you were me go to, no questions asked

Could I get Chilchuck with a reader (preferably male, but gender neutral is also ok!) who miscalculated the ammount of anxiety medication they had left and ended up running out in the middle of the dungeon? Reader is having a hard time with their anxiety ticks and one of the side effects of going a bit too long without them is his body starting to "shut down" and become slightly like a ragdoll. Reader is still talkative and behaves as normal besides their head going to the side aggressively, flopping to the side and body parts just going all weak when they sit, flopping legit like a ragdoll (this os very self indulgent and has happened to me once, it is not good to say the least LMAO)

I completely understand if this makes you uncomfortable to write! And if so, a reader with severe generalized anxiety would work in the place of this request!

Hii! I'm sorry if this took too long ;-; since I have generalized anxiety and therefore I'm more knowledgeable about that subject, I'll write for a reader with severe generalized anxiety. I don't want to fuck up the other option with the ticks and such, because I don't know about the condition and I don't want to offend anyone. So hopefully this is okay!! love y'all thanks for being patient!

(Also changing my POV today) I'm so glad you love the way I write, it means the world to know that💗

"A Comforting Half-ling"

[Chilchuck Tims x gn!reader]

Warnings: none - fluff

Your hands were sweaty. You had been fidgeting with your fingers for a while, feeling a pit at the bottom of your stomach that made you even more anxious that you already were. The slight pang of pain in the chest that came from time to time the more you thought about the problem at hand bothering you as you sat on the corner of one of the rooms of the dungeon that the group had stopped by. Why were you so anxious? Simple. There was another party in that same room, and the rest of the group had decided to be all social and chat for a bit as they sat down to take a break from walking around.

Gosh I must look really weird sitting alone in this corner. I think they didn't hear me when I said "hi." What if they think I'm an asshole? Or a weirdo? Or a weird asshole?! you thought, looking around the room.

—Oh yeah, and that one there is (y/n), they're kinda shy— you jumped, your head snapping back to stare at the middle of the room as Laios pointed a finger back at you. Everyone's eyes were on you. Never had you wanted earth to swallow you whole and never come back so desperately before.

As the conversation resumed, the half-foot's eyes stayed on you, a curious and worried expression on his face as he watched you fidget with your hands.

He excused himself softly and walked up to them.

—Hey, why don't you come with me for a second? I need your help with something— Chilchuck pointed to the door, and your feet hurried to stand up and get out of the room as quickly as possible. Once outside that room, and away from the hearing range of the others, he sat against the wall, patting the space beside him.— What's got you so jumpy?— he looks at you, genuine curiosity in his voice.

Looking at him, you wonder if it's okay to admit out loud how anxious you were about, not just talking to people, but almost anything that had to do with being in public.— You're always behind us when we encounter other parties, and you don't seem to want to be there. I'm starting to think you're not just "shy"— Chilchuck called you out.

Beginning to explain to him how you were always on edge around people wasn't the easiest task. Admitting that, you were afraid of not being seen as capable, but being seen as a bother or even a burden ate you up every second of your life to Chilchuck was hard but worth it, because now you had someone that understood you better than any of the rest of the group. Everyone gets a little anxious at times, but you were a little extra anxious about everything.

Sitting cross-legged and now intently staring at you as you finished your through explanation of how you felt almost all the time, Chilchuck sighed and placed a comforting hand over your shoulder.— I'm really sorry you have to feel like that. I get anxious for five minutes and I hate it, so you being on edge all the damn time must suck— he offered a sympathetic apology, understanding you easily.— Whenever you feel like that, just... uh– try and tell me, or nudge me, whatever works best for you— he smiles softly, and the look on your face makes him huff softly in embarrassment and look away, retrieving his hand from your shoulder. When you give a soft laugh at his reaction he starts protesting and huffing at you, although we all know he wasn't seriously that upset.

When you hug him, however, he falls silent and sighs, taking a moment to return your embrace.

From then on Chilchuck tries his best to comfort you and help you everytime he notices you feeling anxious.

You need to buy something but can't because you're afraid of taking too long and upsetting the line behind you? He'll go with you and hold your hand. Maybe you're afraid of the guy at the stall, selling whatever it is you want to buy. Don't worry, he'll talk for you when you get nervous and start to stutter. Or even if you don't even want to talk at all.

Afraid someone is judging you? He's jokingly rolling his sleeves up and asking "Who? Who is it? Point at them and they'll never see what got them!" (They won't but that's because he's small and he kicks their knee from behind)

If you feel like everyone is judging you, though, he holds your hand and guides you away into a corridor/hallway where it's less crowded

Ever start hyperventilating? The first time he'll panic, and he'll struggle to find the words and actions to properly help you calm down. But it doesn't take him long before he has it memorized.

You're basically the only one on the group who's got Chikchuck breaking his rules about innerparty relationships, because he's grown very close and attached to you.

You're such an amazing person, you shouldn't have to struggle like this.

He gets very happy for you when you manage to do something that makes you anxious on your own. Maybe you spoke up to a whole group of people completely alone, or maybe you went and bought something that you really wanted without struggling at all.

When that happens he's sure to give you a smile and a thumbs up or a pat on your leg (you're taller than him, don't tease him about it or he'll get all red in the face and start mumbling to himself)

Overall, Chilchuck would understand you and try to help. He struggles, and sometimes you might think you're being a bother for him, but he makes sure to tell you that "no, you're not a burden nor a bother. I'm simply... not used to comforting people that often."

+ romantic established relationship headcannons

If you tell him that having him by your side is comforting, even in the slightest, he'll cough and look away, hiding his growing embarrassment.

If you ask to borrow something of his to comfort you, he's scrambling all over his words but eventually giving said item to you gladly.

You hide your face in his scarf after wrapping it around your neck and softly inhale his scent— Ah... you smell so nice. And the scarf is so warm— so is his face. A beautiful tomato red all over his cheeks and ears as he looks at you, genuinely feeling better just by borrowing his scarf.

Or maybe you borrow his gloves (if they fit) and put them on.— Okay... but why my gloves?— he asks curiously, waiting an eyebrow as he looks up at you.

You smile, wiggling your fingers after putting the gloves on— Makes me feel like I'm holding your hand— he falls silent, and he opens his mouth to speak, but the only thing that comes out is a flustered exhale as he turns around and walks away from you as he mumbles a "you're unbelievably.... cute" that you're sure he didn't mean for you to hear.

A few minutes later he'll return by your side as you're walking and extend his hand up, looking ahead— You can just hold my damn hand, you know?— he mumbles, and you notice how his cheeks tint with red once again.